Part 17

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And on with many a step of pain, Our weary race is sadly run; And still, as on we plod our way, We find, as life’s gay dreams depart, To close our being’s troubled day, Naught left us but a broken heart.

Percival.

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Nor would I change my buried love For any heart of living mould, No--for I am a hero’s child-- I’ll hunt my quarry in the wild; And still my home this mansion make, Of all unheeded and unheeding, And cherish, for my warrior’s sake, The flower of Love-lies-bleeding.

Campbell.

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Upon her face there was the tint of grief, The settled shadow of an inward strife, And an unquiet drooping of the eye, As if its lid were charged with unshed tears.

Byron.

MYRTLE.... Love.

The Myrtle has ever been consecrated to Venus. At Rome, the temple of the goddess was surrounded by a grove of Myrtles; and in Greece, she was adorned under the name of Myrtilla. It was observed by the ancients, that, wherever the Myrtle grew, it excluded all other plants. So love, wherever it is permitted to grow, excludes all other feelings. The ladies of modern Rome retain a strong affection for this plant, preferring its odour to that of the most fragrant essences.

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Our love came as the early dew Comes unto drooping flowers; Dropping its first sweet freshness on Our life’s dull, lonely hours.

Mrs. R. S. Nichols.

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Love is a celestial harmony Of likely hearts, composed of stars’ consent, Which join together in sweet sympathy, To work each other’s joy and true content, Which they have harboured since their first descent, Out of their heavenly bowers, where they did see And know each other here beloved to be.

Spenser.

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I have done penance for contemning love; Whose high imperious thoughts have punished me With bitter fasts, with penitential groans, With nightly tears, and daily heart-sore sighs.

Shakspeare.

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The Myrtle on thy breast or brow Would lively hope and love avow.

J. H. Wiffen.

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Comfort cannot soothe The heart whose life is centred in the thought Of happy loves, once known, and still in hope, Living with a consuming energy.

Percival.

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As in the sweetest bud The eating canker dwells, so eating love Inhabits in the finest wits of all.