I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms;
Pray so; and, for the ordering your affairs,
To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish you
A wave o'the sea, that you might ever do
Nothing but that; move still, still so,

And own no other function.

So singular in each particular,

Each your doing,

Crowns what you're doing in the present deeds,
That all your acts are queens.1

She's gane to dwall in heaven-my lassie,

She's gane to dwall in heaven;

Ye're owre pure, quo' the voice of God,

For dwalling out o' heaven.

O what 'l she do in heaven, my lassie,

O what 'l she do in heaven?

She'll mix her ain thoughts wi' angels' sangs,

An' make them mair meet for heaven.

She was beluv'd by a', my lassie,

She was beluv'd by a';

But an angel fell in luve wi' her,

And took her frae us a'.2

1 Winter's Tale, act iv.

91

2 Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, 15. the rest of this beautiful ballad ;-too long to be given here -C.

See

CHAP. VII.

LOVE.

I UNDERSTAND by this passion, Love, the union of desire, friendship, and tenderness which is inflamed by a single female; which prefers her to the rest of her sex, and which seeks her possession as the supreme, the sole happiness of our being.'

I know—no matter if by experience or the reports of others—but I do know, that to love, as I would love, would be to yield not an iota to avarice, not one inch to vanity, not to sacrifice the slightest feeling to interest or to ambition, but to give up all to fidelity of heart, and reciprocal affection."

Yes, it was love, -if thoughts of tenderness,
Tried in temptation, strengthen'd by distress,
Unmoved by absence, firm in every clime,
And yet, oh! more than all, untired by time.
Which nor defeated hope, nor baffled wile
Could render sullen, were she ne'er to smile;
Nor rage could fire, nor sickness fret, to vent
On her one murmur of his discontent-
Which still would meet with joy, with calmness part,
Lest that his look of grief should reach her heart —
Which nought removed, nor menaced to remove:-
If there be love in mortals-this was love.3

1 Gibbon.

2 Peveril of the Peak.

3 The Corsair.

In joyous youth what soul has never known
Thought, feeling, taste, congenial to his own?
Who hath not paused, while beauty's pensive eye
Ask'd from the heart the homage of a sigh?
Who hath not own'd, with rapture-smitten frame,
The power of grace, the magic of a name?

There be, perhaps, who barren hearts avow,
Cold as the rocks on Torneo's hoary brow;
There be, whose loveless wisdom never fail'd,
In self-adoring pride securely mail'd;
But triumph not, ye peace-enamour'd few,
Fire, nature, genius, never waked for you;
For you no fancy consecrates the scene,
Where rapture utter'd vows, and wept between;
"Tis yours, unmoved, to sever, and to meet,
No pledge is sacred, and no home is sweet.1

Love is life's end; an end, but never ending;
All joys, all sweets, all happiness awarding;
Love is life's wealth (ne'er spent, but ever spending),
More rich by giving, taking by discarding;
Love's life's reward, rewarded in rewarding:
Then from thy wretched heart fond care remove.
Ah, shouldst thou live, but once, love's sweets to prove,
Thou wilt not love to live, unless thou live to love.2

Shepherd! what's love? I pray thee tell;

It is that fountain and that well
Where pleasure and repentance dwell;
It is, perhaps, that sauncing bell
That tolls all into heaven or hell,
And this is love as I heard tell.

1 Pleasures of Hope.

2 Spenser, Britain's Ida.

Yet, what is love? good shepherd, sain.

-It is a sunshine mixed with rain;

It is a yea, it is a nay,

A pretty kind of sporting fray,

And this is love, as I hear say.1

Shep. See, love, the blushes of the morn appear,
And now she hangs her pearly store

(Robb'd from the Eastern shore)
I' th' cowslip's bell, or primrose ear:
Sweet! I must stay no longer here.

Nymph. Those streaks of doubtful light usher not day, But show my sun must set: no more

Shall shine till thou return:

The yellow planets and the grey

Dawn shall attend thee on thy way.

Shep. If thine eyes gild my paths, they may forbear Their useless shine. Nymph. My tears will quite Extinguish their faint light.

Shep. Those drops will make their beams more clear; Love's flames will shine in every tear.2

And wilt thou leave me thus?
Say nay! say nay! for shame-
To save thee from the blame
Of all my grief and grame.
And wilt thou leave me thus,
That hath loved thee so long,
In wealth and woe among?
And is thy heart so strong
As for to leave me thus?
Say nay! say nay! 3

1 Sir Walter Raleigh. See England's Helicon.

2 Thomas Carew.

3 Sir Thomas Wyatt.

To soothe thy woes, or watch thy broken slumbers!

And, when the silent tear o'erflows thine eye,

None, with the warm and cordial lip of love,
To kiss it off.1

To love thee

Is to be tender, happy, pure;

"Tis from low passions to escape,

And woo bright virtue's fairest shape;

'Tis ecstacy with wisdom join'd,

And heaven infused into the mind.2

A love,―that makes breath poor, and speech unable:Beyond all manner of so much I love you.3

Love still,

In loving thou dost well, in passion not,
Wherein true love consists not; love refines
The thoughts, and heart enlarges, hath his seat
In reason, and is judicious, is the scale

By which to heavenly love thou may'st ascend,
Not sunk in carnal pleasure.4

Yes; love, indeed, is light from heaven,

A spark of that celestial fire,

With angels shared, by Alla given,
To waft from earth each low desire.
Devotion wafts the mind above,
But heaven itself descends in love."

What are the summer skies to me,
Though bright and brilliant they be?
What are the garden's freshest flowers,

And the kissing breeze of its greenest bowers?