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THE LOVES' AND t IER OIES OF THE POETS. EDITED BY RICHAtRD HENRY STO7DDAI)RD. NEW YORK: DERBY & JACKSON, 498 BROADWAY, M D CO0 LXI, EINTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1860, by DERBY & JACKSON, ti the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York. W. H. TINsoN, Stereotyper. GEO. RUSSEIJ & CO., Printers. PREFACE. MY object in this volume is to present specimens of English love-poetry, especially that which is, or seems to be, addressed to particular women-" the Loves and Heroines of the Poets," and to give, as concisely as possible, all that is known concerning them. I begin with the three great Italian poets, because I conceive their love-sonnets-above all, Petrarch'sto have been the models after which our early poets shaped their amorous fancies. Wyatt and Surrey, even when most original, are little better than imitators of Petrarch. Indeed, so notorious was this fact in the generation immediately succeeding them, that they were said to have travelled in Italy, and to have brought-their art from thence. I trace the course of love-poetry in English Literature from Wyatt to the poets of the present day. I have gone over the ground carefully, and have selected what seemed to me the best specimens for a volume of this kind. The poetic literature of the age of Elizabeth and the times of Charles the First and Second, is largely represented. I have arranged my materials chronologically, giving the dates at which the different poems were written, wherever they were known, or at least the dates and names of the volumes in which, as far as I could ascertain, they were first printed: where there was nothing positive to guide me, I have arranged them conjecturally. When I eould consult the early editions, I have done so, although I have not., Iw PREFACE. always followed their readings, when a later one seemled better. I have chosen authenticated portraits, when I could obtain them, in preference to ideal heads, greatly, I think, to the permanent value of the work. For some of the best of these illustrations I am indebted to my friend Barry, who has copied from their scarce originals the portraits of Laura, Beatrice, and Geraldine, and drawn from his imagination the ideal heads of Shakespeare's Mistress, Burns's Highland Mary, and Coleridge's Genevieve. R. H. S. CONTENTS. DANTE] ALIGIII]]RI. PAGE PAGB BEATRICE.. 1 " SO noble and so modest".... 4' To every captive soul.. 2 "' He the perfection sees. 5 " Young, tender, noble maiden".. 2 " A lady piteous, and of tender age".. 5' O Love! since while I gazed". 3 "Say, pilgrims, ye who go". 7' Tell me, kind ladies " 3."Remembrance had brought back ".. 8'All thoughts that meet". 3'Farewell, alas! farewell".... 8 "Many the times..4 FRANCESCO PETRARCI. LAURA..10 He envies every spot that she frequents. 18 He confesses the vanity of his passion 12 To the sun.. 18 He blames love for wounding him.. 13 To love, on Laura walking abroad. 19 On the portrait of Laura. 13 He leaves Vaucluse.. 19 Recollections of love... 1i Hearino no tidings of her. 20 He is bewildered. 1 He desies to die 20 Could he but see the house of Laura. 15 He prays that she will be near him. 21 Though he is unhappy.... 15 He would die of grief... 21 To the fountain of Vaucluse... 16 Since her death, he has ceased to live.. 22 TOtRGQUYATO TASSO. LEONORA... 23' Ah me! it is a cruel destiny". 30 "If love his captive'bind"'.. 28 "One day my lady at a balcony.. 31 "I see the anchored bark".. 28 "Three highll-born dames it was my lot. 31 "Thou, in thy unripe years".. 29' She, who a maiden, taught me, love ".. 32 "Till Laura comes, who now".. 29 Anger a champion bold ". 32 " I saw two ladies once ".. 29 " Wandering Ulysses".... 32 "'Twas night and underneath. 30 " A hell of torment"... 33 SIR _Ug O IT AS WYATT. NOTE.3 i The lover curseth the time... 37 The lover prayeth his offered heart. 35 An earnest suit to his unkind mistress.. 38 The lover forsaketh his unkind love. 35 The forsaken lover consoleth himself. 33 The lover despairing to attain. 36 The lover laments the death of his love. 39 The deserted lover consoleth himself. 36 IEI1NRY HIOWARD. EARL OF SURREY. GERALDINE...... 41 Request to his love.44 Description and praise of his love. 43 A praise of his lady. 44 Complaint..43 Vi CONTENTS. JOHN IHARt RI NG-UTON. PAGE PAGE ISABELLA MARKHAM..... 46 A sonnet........ 48 To Isabella Markham... 46 TI3O-A 01A S NWVAT SON. Sonnet 49 Sonnet...0 Sonnet.50 TI-IOMAAS LODGEE. Rosador's sonneto.. 52 I "Now I find thy looks were feigned".. 54 The shepherd's sorrow... 53 JOI-N EII[LY. " Cupid and my Campaspe played". 56 " yes, O yes, if any maid ".. 56 SIIR PHILIP SYDNIEJY. STELLA.58' Because I breathe not love... 62 "In truth, 0 love ".... 59 "Dear! why make you".... 62 " You that do search". 60 "Highway, since you"... 63 " Because I oft"... 60 "Stella! think not that ".. 63 " Come Sleep, 0 Sleep!"... 61 " 0 happy Thames! that did'st".. 63 " Having this day my horse"... 61 "Unhappy sight, and hath she"... 64 " In martial sports I had".. - 61 PROBEEIRT GIREENE. Doron's description of Samela. 65 l The praise of Fawnia. 66 SAM1-UE L DANIEL. DELIA... 67 " When men shall find". 69 "Unto the boundless ocean". 67 " Read in my face"... 70 " Fair is my love, and cruel". 68 " Beauty, sweet love". 70 " Restore thy tresses".. 68 I must not grieve my love". 70' Look, Delia, how w' esteem " 68 " And whither, poor forsaken". 71 " But love whilst that thou may'st " 69 MICIHIAEL DIRAYTON. NOTE 72 "Why should your fair eyes". 74 " Bright star of beauty". 72 " Clear Ankor".... 74 "'Mongst all the creatures". 72 " You, best discerned "..75 "I hear some say"..73 "' Since there's no help".... 75 "'Dear, why should you command". 73 An hymn....... 75 CHIEI STOPIPHIEE M1AERLOW. The passionate shepherd to his love....... 78 EDWARD VERE. EARL OF OXFORD. The shepherd's commendation of his nymph.80 CONTENTS. Vii EDMUlND SPENS:IR,. P AGE PAGE NOTE... 82 " The glorious image"... 86 " New Year, forth looking". 83 " Like as an huntsman". 86 "The merry cuckoo".3 "The famous warriours". 86 "This holy season".. 84 "Fresh Spring, the herald". 87 "While guile is this".. 84 "Being myself captivdd". 87 "Mark when she smiles". 85 "Since I did leave"..88 "When my abode's". 85 " Like as the culver". 88 "Fair is my love".. 89 " Sweet stroke, (so might I thrive)".. 90' I have not spent"... 89' Weep now no more, mine eyes".. 90 WVILLIAM SIHIAKESPIEARE. NOTE.91 "The forward violet".96 "So is it not with me"... 93 " My mistress' eyes"... 97 "My glass shall not persuade me". 94 "How oft, when thou, my music". 97'' Weary with toil I haste"... 94 "Thine eyes I love".97 "How careful was I".. 95'When my love swears". 98 "That time of year"... 95 "0 call me not to justify".... 98 " How like a winter".. 95 "0 me! what eyes hath love"... 99 " From you have I been absent".. 96 " Canst thou, 0 cruel"..... 99 SIR WArLTER RALEIG-HI. The silent lover..100 I His love admits no rival.. 101 SIR EDYWARPD DY:EIR. To Phillis, the fair shepherdess......103 NICHIOLiAS BETON A pastoral of Phillis and Coridon.. 104 I Coridon's supplication to Phillis.. 105 FIE'ULiEE G-RE EVIL E. LORD BROOKE. Of his Cynthia.. 107 [ Myra's inconstancy. 108 ]P'RAINCIS DAVISON. Of his lady's weeping.. 110 [ His farewell. 111 His sighs and tears are bootless. 110 BEN JONSON. Song 112 To Celia... 114 Song.113 A celebration of Charis....115 To Celia. 113 His discourse with Cupid... 116 To the same. 114 Claiming a second kiss by desert. 117 viii CONTENTS. WILLIA\IV ALIEXANDTE,. EARL OF STIRLING. PAGE PAGE AURORA.. 119' Now when the Siren sings". 120 I swear, Aurora".. 119 I dreamed, the nymph. 121 "' If that so many brave men". 120 " Ah, thou (my love) wilt lose "... 121 SIBR RBOBEI3RT AYXTON. On love..122 Song.124 On a woman's inconstancy. 123 Song. 125 TIIOTVIAS IIEYWOOD. Song.. 126 " " Ye little birds that sit and sing". 127 WVILLIAIIVM BROWNEV. " Shall I tell you whom I love". 128 1' Welcome, welcome do I sing".. 129.WILLI.ZA]iN DiUIMII ~IOND. NOTE....131 " Are these the flowery banks". 133 " In my first years".... 131 " Alexis here she stayed".... 134 O0 sacred blush"..... 132 " How many times"...134 " Trust not, sweet soul".. 132'" Sweet soul, which in".. 135 " Slide soft, fair Forth". 132 "Sweet spring, thou turn'st".. 135' She whose fair flowers". 133 JOZ-IN DO1N1NTlE. NOTE. 136 The relic.. 141 Song... 138 The anniversary..142 The sun-rising.. 140 FRANl CIS B: 3EAJ.TjlV]IONCT. The indifferent.143 1 Secrecy protested.. 144 JOHN FLETCHER. " Go, happy heart ". 145 To the blest Evanthe..146 Song... 146 Ode.147 GEORGE WITHIER. A love song. 148 I " Shall I, wasting in despair ". 151 SIR IiENeY WOr1LTON. THE QUEEN OF BOEEMIA... 153 | To his mistress, the Queen of Bohemia.. 155 CONTENTS. ix Th OMAS IRANDOLID-PI-I. PAGE To one admiring herself in a looking-glass.. 156 WIJJIA1V[I A_]B ING-TON. CASTARA.. 158 To Castara..161 To Castara.....159 To Castara.... 162 To Castara. 159 Love's anniversary...162 To the spring.160 To Castara. 163 To Castara. 160 To roses.. 163 To Seymors. 161 Upon Castara's departure.. 164 SIgE WILLIAiM: DAV}ENANT. Song..165 [ Song.166 JOI-IN MiV~ILTON. NOTE. 167 " Lady! it cannot be". 169 "Fair lady! whose harmonious name" 168 " Enamoured, artless, young ". 169 " As on a hill-top rude"... 168! On his deceased wife.170 To Charles Deodati.. 168 i TJHOOMAS CAAEW. CELIA..171 Ungrateful beauty threatened. 173 Song...171 Parting, Celia weeps.174 Song... 172 A prayer to the wind.174 To his jealous mistress. 173 Song..175 JAMES G-RAIIAM1E. MARQUIS OF MONTROSE. My dear and only love, I pray. 177 EDMiVUND WArLLERe SACCHARISSA..182 Song..185 At Penshurst. 184 To Amoret..186 SIR JOI-N SJU CIiLIG_-. NOTE...188 Sonnet I. 190 "'Tis now, since I sat down before". 188 Sonnet II.. 191 Song..190 Song.192 SIl Pi2RANCITS K:INASqTON. To Cynthia, on her changing...193 13~~~~~~~~~~~9 x CONTENTS. SYIDNaEY GODOPIHIN. PAGE Song. 195 WI].LIAM CARETWRI G-IrT. A sigh sent to his absent love. 197 Avalediction 199 To Chloe.. 198 JA1MES SEIIiRLEY. To Odelia.. 200 I The kiss. 202 Taking leave. 201 nRICEIARE2D CZ lRASI-IA\V. Out of the Italian. 203 [ The dew no more shall weep.. 205 AB IIRAAI-1 COWVVLEY. NOTE..206 Clad all in white..208 The spring. 206 The chronicle.. 209 Rt OBEIRT I-IE2RI Ci. Cherry ripe..212 Being once blind.....216 The rock of rubies..212 To the western wind. 216 The captived bee..213 To his maid Prue.....216 To daisies.. 214 Upon Prue, his maid.....217 The night-piece..214 To Electra... 217 Upon Julia's hair..215 To Myrrha, hard-hearted. 217 TowAnthea.. 215 Upon the loss of his mistresses. 218 To Anthea..215 RICIE-IAIlRD LOVIELAC Eo LUCASTA..219 Song..223 To Lucasta..220 The scrutiny. 224 To Lucasta. 221 Elinda's glove.. 225 To Althea..222 JOH-NI CL]EI-VELjAN/ID. Upon Phillis, walking in a morning before sun-rising. 226 PATPRICK CAREY. "Fair beauties! if I do confess". 228 TI-IONLAS STANTLEY. The deposition... 230 The exequies. 232 The tomb.. 231 CONTENTS. xi SIR E.DWAnRD SIHERBRIrNE. PAAGE PAGE Change defended.... 233 1 Love once, love ever. 234 HENRXIY IU[IING-. The surrender. 235 I The exequy. 238 The legacy.. 236 Song.241 STl:R ROIBEIRIT IHOWAIRD. To the inconstant Cynthia...242 CHItARLE S SACKV ILLE. EARL OF DORSET. Song. 243 SIR CIIHARLES SEDIEY Song.. 246 To Chloris..248 Song.... 247 Song..249 Song..248 Song..250 _ANDREW IIAREVELL. The gallery. 251 The mower to the glow-worms. 254 The picture of T. C.. 253 JOITHN WILjMOT. EARL OF ROCHESTER. Song.. 255 1 Song. 256 CIEZHARLIES COTTON. To Chloris..257 Estrennes..258 JOHNT DRV5DiEN. Song.. 260 1 Song to a fair young lady.. 261 JOHI/N NOR2RI2S. Superstition................ 262 X11 CONTENTS.'rIHOIMAS PA -NYELL. PAGE PAGE NOTE..264 Song. 265 Song.. 264 MAVIA TT I- E W PIq;IO I. NOTE.. A song. 267 An ode. 266 Song..268 To Chloe weeping.. 267 ALEXA NDEIE POPE. NOTE. 269 I Epistle to Mrs. Martha Blont. 273 Epistle to Mrs. Teresa Blount.. 271 JOHN BIY LROIom. NOTE. 274 A pastoral. 274 NICIHOiLAS ROWEM. NOTE. 277 Colin's complaint. 277 JONATHAN SWIFTI. NOTE..280 To Stella... 287 Stella's birth-day. 285 Stella's birth-day..288 Stella's birth-day. 286 ALLAN BAIV[SAY. The lass of Patie's mill... 291 1 Gi'e me a lass with a lump of land".. 293 O'er the moor to Maggie.. 292 JAiM ES TIHONMSON. To FortLne.. 294 To her I love. 295 I-IENtrY CARERISY. NOTE. 296 Sally in or alley... 296 CHAELES HA {ILTON LORD BINNING. The shepherd's complaint....... 299 COrqTENTS. X.11 WVILLIAJM SI-3ENi ST O 1NE. PAGE PAGE NOTE.. 301 A pastoral ballad: III. Solicitude. 305 A pastoral ballad: 1. Absence 301 " " IV. Disappointment. 307 (' " II. Hope.. 303 LORD LYTTILETON.'NOTE.. 309 An irregular ode. 309 Song....311'IIT-hAiN-IJKIL COTTON. The fireside..... 313 ~OQBE27E~LT' Z' P:T BTTR ~S. NOTE.316 O, were I on Parnassus' hill.... 325 IMy Nanie, 0..320 To Mary in heaven..... 326 Mary Morrison..321 Song..327 Rigs o' barley.. 322 Bonnie Lesley.. 328 Song..323 Highland Mary..329 I love my Jean..324 WI. IAIf IS]LE BOWLES. NOTE..331 Approach of summer. 332 In memoriam..... 331 Absence....... 332 WIMLIA1_V. COWVVPER. NOTE. 333 To Mary....335 THO1VIAS CA1\f]PB E]L1L. NOTE.. 337 I Caroline, Part II.. 339 Caroline, Part I. 337 Song..340 CI-AALE: S LA2VIIN3. NOTE.. 311' Was it some sweet device ". 342 " Methinks how dainty sweet". 341 "When last I roved".... 342 The grave of Anna. 343 The grave of Anna.343 xiv CONTENTS. SAM~vUEL TAJYLOIF COLziRIDG-. PAGE PAGE Love.. 345 [ Something childish, but very natural. 348 WIELIA,.M WOR DSWO PTI-I. "Strange fits of passion"... 349 " She was a phantom of delight". 351' She dwelt among".... 350 A cormplaint...352 "I travelled among". 350 JAMAIVE S MOTOMIY. Hannah. 353 ROBi EiR'IPT I ~~HBLOOMFIELD. Rosy Hannah..350 [ To his wife... 357 AL LANX CUZTNTNITST NI-IIA1M. Bonnie Lady Ann.. 359 The poet's bridal-day song. 30 J-A-MES IIOG0-G. Gang to the brakens wi' me..363 PERqCY BYSSIHE SI-IELLEYo. NOTE...365 To.371 To Harriet.. 366 Lines to an Indian air.371 To Mary...366 To..372 Love's philosophy...370 n Ol~t) 13 t-~Ol~T. MARY CHAWORTT.....373 To Thyrza.379 LADY BYRON. 374 Fare thee well..381 THE COUNTESS GUIcclOL. 376 The dream..383 Maid of Athens..... 378 Stanzas to the Po.....389 LORD T'I-UnTHL OW. "'Since all I see ".. 392 1 I think you are the prophet". 393 "Thy love is to my heart". 392 "' I called you, and too well". 393 THP I OM IAS A// 0 OInE. Believe mine, if all.. 194 Lesbia hath a beaming eye. 395 I saw thy form.,.. 394 CONTENTS. xv SIR W-ALTIIIL SCOTT. PAGE PAGE Nora's vow.. 397 Song. 398 LEIG~-I tIUINTT. To my wife... 399 Jenny kissed me". 399 JOhtI1N IhEIATS. NOTE..400 " I cry you mercy". 403 " As Hermes once". 402 To..40Z1 " The day is gone"... 403 JOHNI- CLAIRF. The first of May. 406 C I-AIREL7ES WOL3E]o Song. 408 IRIEG-INALD I-IEB ER. Lines. 410 WjrILL AIAYEN CULLjEN BR YAINTo " O fairest of the rural maids".. 412 1 The future life.. 413 IED WARtD COAT-iES PIN UN IEXT Y. A health. 415 G-EOIRCE DATrtIEY. "Sweet in her green delli".. 417 AALFPETEDII TUIXENN-YXSOiN. Lady Clara Vere de Vere. 418 1'" Come into the garden. Maud"... 420 xvi CONTENTS. IBT1YXAN WALLILEIR PIROCTOlR. "' BARRY CORNWALL." PAGE PAGE The poet's song to his wife... 423 Hermione..425 Golden-tressed Adelaide... 424 Marian..425 WILJIA]N{ SIJOTHIErWELL. JEANIE MORRISON. 426 | Jeanie Morrison. 427 TUIOfAS IOO)D. Fair Ines....430 1 Lines. 431 NAT:HKATIEL PAKEB VWILLI S. To her who has hopes for me... 432 PI-HIIIP PEINDILET ON COOKIIE. Florence Vane.. 434 OL;IVEB WENDH:jELL HOLMES. La grisette. 43( WIINTI-IROP ACKIWORTIH PIRAED. Josephine. 438 JAIVMES I UTSSEIB-LL LOW1ELL>. "My Love, I have no fear". 440 1 Il absence 41 " I can not think that thou".. 440 |' I thonght our love at full".... 441 IRO:BlEnT B tlROWXNIN'C. The lost mistress..... 442 1 Evelyn Hope.... -1 -WA_]L[rTEI SAVAG-]ME L )ANDO0-e " One year ago my path ". 445 "Little it interests me how "... 446 " I love to hear that men ". 445 "The maid I love ne'er thought of me. 447 "Have I this moment".. 446 "Often I have heard it said. "... 447 "' Here, ever since you went abroad". 446 CONTENTS. Xvii IICHARD IIONCETON 1IjLNES. PAGE "The words that trembled"..448 iE DGAR:t AZIJL_~.AN PO E. To Helen.. 450 1 To one in paradise.. 452 GEOlRGCE 1IE REDITt. Love in the valley. 453 TEHOMD1/AS BUTCHANAN READ. A glimpse of love... 456 MATTHEW AR NO LD. Excuse. 457 ROItBERT LYTTON IB3ULWER.l "OWEN MEREDITH." Song...459 WILLIAM ALL INGHI-A-M. Lovely Mary Donnelly. 461 HENRY WADSWORTH LONG'ELLOW. Hiawatha's wooing.. 463 B AYA]D TAY L O P. The mystery 4.. 467 GEORGE HENRY BOER2. " Nay, not to thee "... 469 " I do assure thee, love"'. 470 "Where lags my mistress". 469 "I will not blazon forth"... 471 "Your love to me appears".. 470 "All the world's malice.. 471 C xviii CONTENTS. JO MINX GRIEENLEAJ WHJITTIELo PAGE Maud Muller.. Q.... 472 COVEN:TRY PATMORE. By the sea........ 477 THOPalabrasS BAILEY ADRIC 4 Palabras Caridosas..,. e.X.e 480 (rxvIaT Show~~~ DANTE ALIGH4 I t. 1 2 6 5 —1 32 1. BE A T R I C E. AImL that is known of Beatrice may be summed up in a few words. She was the daughter of Folco Portinari, a wealthy citizen of Florence, in which city she Awas born in 1266. Dante saw her for the first time in 1274, at a banquet in lher father's house. It was a May-day festival, and she appeared in a blood-red dress. They were mere children, both being in their ninth year, still they were old enough to love: at least Dante was, for at the sight of Beatrice he was seized with a sudden passion for her. At the end of nine years they met again. She was walking in the street at the time, between two ladies, and was clothed in white. Dante trembled at her approach, and would have shrank away, but she saw him, and he was rooted to the ground. She saluted him graciously, and he was in the seventh heaven of love. The next time that he saw her was at churclh. She slt at a distance from him, on a line with another lady, who intercepted his loving looks. I-e was accused of loving, this lady, and for the sake of Beatrice, whose rank seems to have been superior to his own, he fiavored the mnistake, and pretended to be enamoured of her. lie wrote a poem on sixty of the loveliest women in the city, and do what he would to the contrary, the namne of BIeatrice always came the ninth in the list. She made a journey to a distant part of the country, and during her absence he feigned to be in love with another, which offended her so when she heard of it, that she would not salute hin on her return. The next thing we learan is that she is married. The date of her marriage is not given, but it must have been before the 15th of January, 1287, for on that day her father (drew up a will, in which she and her husband, Silmone dei Bardi, were mentioned. The death of her father two years later, and her excessive grief on that occasion, closed the book of her life. She died on the Oth of June, 1290. This is a meagre account certainly, but it is all that Dante's coimmentators, for five hundre(l years, have been able to wring firom the Past, and much of this would, doubtless, hlave escaped theln but for Dante himself, so stormy were the times in which lhe lived. A few years after her death he collected the poenls that he had writteni upon her, and published them with a biographical and critical commentary. This work, which he 1 2 LOVES AND HIlEROINES. called " TIIE NEW LIFE " (Vitca 2N:ovaC), was followed by another called " IIE BANQUET (Cobvito), and at length by the celebrated "Divina Co)mmledia," in both of which she is introduced, or rather her rname is, for thll Beatrice of the "Divicna Comnzedicea" and " THIE BANQUET " is an elnbodiment of Philosophy and Religion, and not the Beatrice Portinari, whom Dante loved in his youth, and remembered with fondness in his age. The following extracts are from " THE NEW LIFE." The version used is that of Lyell. (London, 1845.) To every captive soul andcl gentle heart, Into whose sight the present song shall come, Praying their thoughts on what it may portend, Health in the name of Love, their sovereign lord. A third part of the hours had almost past Which show in brightest lustre every star, When suddenly before nle Love appeared, Whose essence to remember gives me horror. Joyful Love seemed, holding within his hand M3y heart, and in his arms enfolded lay Madonna sleeping, in a mantle wrapt. Then waking her, he with this burning heart Courteously fed her, and in fear she ate. That done, I saw him go his way in tears. Young, tender, noble maiden, since you see That Love, with your consent, has made me yours, And that for yTou I burn, and waste, and pine, 0 let me not expire without reward. 0 Love! dear lord, haply thou disbelievest How hard she is, and cruel is my pain; For in thy generous heart there must exist The will to succor my fidelity. And, lady, every pain would be removed If hope were realized, and I were blest With joy which Love solicits you to grant. 0 help nme, then, Madonna, ere I die; I- live for that alone, and- if denied, A corse you soon will see me at your feet. DANTE ALIGHIERI. O Love! since while I gazed, you struck this heart A blow so dire, that every nerve is pained, In pity, lord, afford it some relief, So that the sorrowing spirit may revive. For see you not these mournful eyes consume In weeping, through extremity of woe, Which brings me to the verge of death so near, That my escape is barred on every side. See, lady, what a load of grief I bear; And hearken to my voice, how weak it is With calling still for pity, and your love: Yet if it be your pleasure, gentle lady, That by this grief my heart should waste away, Behold your servant humble and resigned. Tell me, kind ladies, have you seen, of late, That gentle creature who mly life consumes? To yo-u I own, that if she do but smile, My thoughts dissolve as snow before the sun. Hence on my heart such cruel blows arrive That they would seem to threaten me with death: Kind ladies, then, wherever ye may see her, If you by chance should meet her on your way, O rest with her awhile for pity's sake, And with humility make known to her That my life bears for her the weight of death: And if in Inercy she will comfort me, And ease the mind deep laden with mly griefs, O send to me, far distant, the glacd news. All thoughts that meet within my mind expire, Fair jewel, when I come to gaze on you; And when I am near you, I heamr Love exclaim, O flee, if thy destruction thou would'st shun The countenance the heart's complexion wears, Which panting seeks support where'er it can; 4 LOVES AND HEROINES. And through the intoxication of great fear, The very stones, methinks, cry out, Die, die! Ile sins who can behold me, then, unmoved, Nor comfort gives to the affrighted soul, At least in showing that lie pities me For the distress occasioned by your scorn, Which is apparent in the deadly hue Of these sad eyes, that fain would close in death. Many the times that to my memory comes The cheerless state imposed on me by Love; And o'er ine comes such sadness, then, that oft I say, Alas, was ever fate like mine! For Love assaulteth me so suddenly, That life itself almost abandons me; One spirit alone escapes alive, and that Is left, fair lady, for it speaks of you. At length I make an effort for relief, And so, all pale and destitute of power, I come to gaze on you, in hope of cure: And if I raise the eyes that I may look, A trembling at my heart begins, so dread, It makes the soul take flight from every vein. So noble and so modest doth appear My lady when she any one salutes, That every tongue beconmes in trembling mute, And none dare raise the eyes to look on her. Robed in humility she hears her praise, And passes on with calm benignity; Appearing not a thing of earth, but come From heaven, to show mankind a miracle. So pleasing is the sight of her, that lie Who gazes feels a sweetness reach the heart That must be proved or cannot be conceived. And from her countenance there seems to floM I)ANTE ALIGHIERI. A spirit full of mildness and of love, Which says forever to the soul, 0 sigh. He the perfection sees of every grace, Who doth my lady among ladies see. They who partake her company are bound To render thanks to heaven for boon so fair. Her beauty, too, has virtue so benign, That it excites no envy in another, But a resolve to walk like her, arrayed In gentleness, fidelity, and love. Her look on all things sheds humility, And makes her not alone delight the eye, But everything through her receiveth honor. And she so perfect is in all her acts, That no one can recall her to the mind Who doth not sigh amid the sweets of Love. A lady, piteous, and of tender age, Richly adorned with human gentleness, Stood where I oft was calling upon death; And seeing that my eyes were full of grief, And listening to the folly of my words, Was moved by fear to weep with bitterness. And other ladies, who were kindly drawn To notice me, through her who wept with me, Removed her from my side, And then approached, to rouse me by their voice. And one said, Sleep no more! Another said, Why thus discomfort thee? Then fled the strange distressing fantasy, As I was calling on mny lady's name. So indistinct and mournful was my voice, And broken so by anguish and by tears, That in my heart I only heard the name: And with a countenance o'erspread with shamne, LOVES AND HEIROINES, So strongly it had mounted to my face, Love made me turn to therr distractedly; And such was my complexion to the sight, That it led others to discourse of death. O let us comfort him, Said each one to the other tenderly. And oft they said to me, What hast thou seen that has unmanned thee thus? And when I had regained some strength, I said, Ladies, to you I will relate the whole. Whilst I lay pondering on my ebbing life, And saw how brief its tenure and how frail, Love wept within my heart, where he abides; For my unhappy soul was wandering so, That sighing heavily, it said, in thought, My lady too most certainly shall die. Such consternation then my reason seized, That my eyes closed through fear, and heaviness; And scattered far and wide My spirits fled, and each in error strayed: Imagination then, Bereft of understanding and of truth, Showed me the forms of ladies in distress, Who said to me, Thou die'st, ay, thou shalt die. Many the doubtful things which next I saw, While wandering in imagination's maze; I seemed to be I know not in what place, And to see ladies pass with hair all loose, Some weeping, and some uttering loud laments, Which darted burning grief into the soul. Ancd then methought I saw a thickening veil Obscure the sun, and night's fair star appear, And sun and star both weep; Birds flying through the dusky air drop down, And earth itself to shake; And then appeared a muan, feeble, and pale, Saying, What dost thou here? Hast thou not heard? Dead is thy lady, she who was so fair. DANTE ALIGHIERI. 7 I raised mine eyes, oppressed and bathed in tears, And saw what like a shower of nmamna seemed, Aind angels re-ascending up to heaven; And spread before them was a little cloud, Behind which they were chanting loud, IHosanna. And if they more had added, you should hear. Then Love thus spoke: Concealment here shall end; Come now and see our lady on her bier. Deceitful fancy then Conducted lme to see my lady dead: And while I gazed, I saw That ladies with a veil were covering her; And in her face humility so true There was, it seemed to say, I am in peace. So humble in my sorrow I became, Seeing such humbleness in her expressed, That I exclaimed, 0 Death! I hold thee sweet; Thou must be deemed, henceforth, a gentle thing, Since thou hast been united to my lady, And pity thou should'st have, and not disdain: Behold me so desirous to be one Of thine, that I resemble thee in faith: Come, for the heart entreats thee. Then, all sad rites being o'er, I went my way; And when I was alone, I said, with eyes upraised to realms above; Blessed is he who sees thee, beauteous soul!'Twas then you called to me, thanks to your love. Say, pilgrims, ye who go thus pensively, MIusing, perchance, on things that distant are, Come ye from land and men so far away, As by your outward mien ye show to us, That ye weep not when passing through the midst Of the dejected city, in her woe, Seeming as persons who have never heard Of the calamity oppressing her? 8 aLOVES AND HIEROINES. If ye remain and have the will to hear, This heart of sighs assur'es enc ye will then Share in our grief, and weep when ye depart. The desolate city mourns her Beatrice, And in the tale that may be told of her Is virtne to force every one to weep. Remembrance had brought back into miy mind That gentle lady for whom Love doth weep, At the same instant that his influence Drew your regard to what engaged me. Love, who perceived her presence in the mind, FIad waked from slumber in my wretched heart, And calling to the sighs, exclaimed, Go forth! They heard, and each departed mnournfnlly. Weeping they issued fromn my breast, with voice Of grief, which often brings to the sad eyes The bitter tears of Iny unhappiness. But those which issued forth with greater pain Went saying, Noble intellect, this day Completes the year since thy ascent to heaven. Farewell, alas! farewell those tresses bright, From whence the hills around Drew and reflected tints of shining gold; Farewell the beauteous cheer, and glances sweet, Implanted in my heart By those fair eyes on that thrice happy day; Farewell the graceful bloom Of sparkling countenance; Farewell the soft sweet smile, Disclosing pearls of snowy white, between Roses of vermeil hue, throughout the year; Why without me, 0 Death, These hast thou carried off in beauty's spring? DANTE ALIGHIERI. Farewell the endearing mirth, and wise reserve, The welcome frank and sweet; The prudent mind, and well-directed heart; Farewell the beautiful, meek, proud disdain, Which strengthened my resolve All baseness to detest, and greatness love. Farewell desire, the child Of beauty so abounding; Farewell the aspiring hope, Which every other made me leave behind, And rendered light to me Love's heaviest load; These hast thou broken, Death, As glass and nme to living death exposed. Lady, farewell! Of every virtue queen, Goddess, for whom, through Love, I have refused all others to adore; Farewell! What column, of what precious stone, On earth were worthy found To build thy fane, and lift thee high in air? Farewell! thou vessel filled With nature's miracles. By fortune's evil turn High on the rugged mountains thou wast led, Where death has closed thee in the cruel tomb; And of my eyes hath formed Two fountains wearied with incessant tears. Farewell! and O unpardonable Death, Pity these sorrowing eyes, and own at least, That till thy hand destroy me, Endless should be my cry, Alas! Farewell! FRANCESCO PETRARCH. 1 304-1374. L A I R A. As Petrarch was at his devotions in the church of Santa Clara of Avignon, on the morning of the 6th of April, 1327, he saw a lady near him in a green mantle sprinkled with violets. Ier youth and beauty impressed him; he forgot the sacredness of the time and place, and, giving himself up to the feelings which she inspired, was soon in love witll her. I-Ie awoke from his reverie when the service was over, and finding her gone, followed her and learned her name. It was Laura de Sade. She belonged to a noble Provenqal family, and was the wife of I-Iugo de Sade, a rich citizen of Avignon. This last intelligence, which ought to have discouraged Petrarch, does not seemn to have affected him much, for he was a priest, and could not have married her, even if she had been free. We are not told what her emotions were when she discovered, as s]he soon did, that she was loved by another than her husband, but considering the character of that gentleman, who had a habit of scolding her until she wept, it could not have grieved her very deeply. She did not exactly encourage Petrarch, for she was a good wife and mother, with a keen eye to the proprieties of life; but neither did she discourage hiil. As long as he kept within bounds, she admitted him to her society and friendship, but when he forgot himself, as he sometimes did, and devoured her with passionate looks, her virtue took the alarrn, and she withdrew; or, if that were not always practicable, covered her face with a veil. Their meetings were probably few and far between, or we should have heard mnore of them from Petrarch, who was as communicative in all that related to her as he well could be. It was her absence that made him a lover and a poet; in her presence he was a silent madman. He poured out his soul in song in the solitude of his study, ransacking heaven and earth for metaphors and comparisons. HIer eyes were stars, her hair sunbeams. She was the Air; she was the Laurel. Ielr smile was his life, her frown his death. He ran up and down the gamut of passion as no poet before had ever done, and made himself and Laura famous, wherever the Italian language was spoken or read. Some of his friends doubted the reality of his passion, as they well might after reading some of his glittering conceits; others even questioned the existence FRANCESCO PETRARCH. 11 of Laura, greatly to Petrarch's surprise. "As to Laura," he wrote to the Bishop of Lombes, who bantered him on the subject, in 1335, "would to Heaven that she were only an imaginary personage, and my passion for her only a pastime! Alas! it is a madness which it would be difficult and painful to feign for any length of time; and what an extravagance it would be to affect such a passion! One may counterfeit illness by action, by voice, and by manner, but no one in health can give himself the true air and complexion of disease. How often have you yourself been witness of my paleness and my sufferings! I know very well that you speak only in irony; it is your favorite figure of speech; but I hope that time will cicatrize the wounds of my spirit, and that Augustine, whom I pretend to love, will furnish me with a defence against a Laura, who does not exist." He tried to divert his mind by travel, and made an extensive tour, but to no purpose; he returned to Avignon as he left it-the lover of Laura. He then took a mistress, as was the fashion of clerical gentlemen of his time, but neither her blandishments, nor the children she bore him, effected his cure. At last he determined to remove from Avignon. He bought a cottage at Vaucluse, a wild and picturesque spot near the windings of the Sorgue. Here he repaired with his books, and devoted himself to study and meditation. He commenced his great Latin epic, " ArmniA, " and planned a history of Rome from Romulus down to Titus Vespasian. He was a happy man as long as he kept at work, but the moment he became idle his thoughts reverted to Laura. He found some consolation in the society of his friends, but unfortunately they seldom came to see him, for travelling even short distances was difficult then. He threw aside his books, and took to rambling about Vaucluse-the very worst thing he could have done, for one day in the course of his rambles he found himself at Avignon. It was accidental, no doubta piece of absent-mindedness on his part, but somehow it did not end here, for a few days after he found himself at Avignon again, and this time in the neighborhood of Laura's house! She met him in the street, coquette that she was, and whispered, " Petrarch, you are tired of loving me." Tired of loving her-it was impossible! And to prove it he went home and wrote her a sonnet. About this time he was visited by Simone Martini, of Sienna, a pupil of Giotto, famous for taking spirited likenesses. He sat to Silone for his portrait, and was so much pleased with it when it was finished, that he persuaded him to paint him a miniature of Laura, which miniature he ever after carried about with him. Twenty years passed, and his passion was unabated. Laura had aged somewhat in that time, having borne her husband ten children; but it made no difference to Petrarch. Her wise chastity towards him had kept her young in his eyes. He had enjoyed no favours, not even a kiss: the -most that she had granted him was her hand, which she had once permitted him to hold for a little while! In 1347, he made up his mind to depart for Italy. " Before he left Avignon, he went to take leave of Laura. He found her at an assembly which she often frequented.' She was seated,' he says,' among those ladies who are generally her companions, and appeared like a beautiful rose surrounded with flowers smaller and less blooming.' IHer air was more touching than usual. She was dressed perfectly plain, and without pearls or garlands, or any gay colour. Though she was not melancholy, she did not appear to have 12 LOVES AND HEROINES. her wonted cheerfulness, but was serious and thoughtful. She did not sing as usual, nor speak with that voice that used to charm every one. She had the air of a person who fears an evil not yet arrived.'In taking leave of her,' says Petrarch,' I sought in her looks for a consolation of my sufferings. Her eyes had an expression which I had never seen in them before. What I saw in her face seemed to predict the sorrows that threatened me.' " They parted, never to meet again, for in the following spring Laura died of the plague. Her death shocked Petrarch, who made a note of it in his Virgil, which is now in the Ambrosian Library at Milan. "Laura, illustrious for her virtues, and for a long time celebrated in my verses, for the first time appeared to my eyes on the 6th of April, 1327, in the church of St. Clara, at the first hour of the day. I was then in my youth. In the same city, and at the same hour, ini the year 1348, this luminary disappeared from our world. I was then at Verona, ignorant of my wretched situation. Her chaste and beautiful body was buried the same day, after vespers, in the church of the Cordeliers. Her soul returned to her native mansion in Heaven. I have written this with a pleasure mixed with bitterness, to retrace the melancholy remembrance of'M3I GIREAT Loss.' This loss convinces me that I have nothing now left worth living for, since the strongest cord of my life is broken. By the grace of God I shall easily renounce a world where my hopes have been vain and perishing. It is time for me to fly from Babylon, when the knot that bound me to it is untied." There are many portraits of Laura, but none, I fancy, that can be relied upon as being authentic. The one that I have selected comes the nearest to the descriptions of her by Petrarch and his biographers. It is from Tomlasini's " PETRAIRCHA REDIVIVVS "-an old Latin work on the love of Petrarch and Laura, and is probably a copy of the portrait painted by Simone of Sienna. So, at least, I gather from the rather obscure text. TO LAURA IN LIFE. HE CONFESSES THE VANITY OF HIS PASSION. Ye who in rhymes dispersed the echoes hear Of those sad sighs with which my heart I fed When early youth my mazy wanderings led, Fondly diverse from what I now appear, Fluttering'twixt frantic hope and frantic fear, From those by whom my various style is read, I hope, if e'er their hearts for love have bled, Not only pardon, but perhaps a tear. But now I clearly see that of mankind Long time I was the tale: whence bitter thought FRANCESCO PETRARCH. 13 And self-reproach with frequent blushes teem: While of my frenzy, shame the fruit I find, And sad repentance, and the proof, dear-bought, That the world's joy is but a flitting dream. CItARLEMONT. HE BLAMES LOVE FOR WOUNDING HIM ON A HOLY DAY.'Twas on the morn, when heaven its blessed ray In pity to its suffering master veiled, First did I, Lady, to your beauty yield, Of your victorious eyes th' unguarded prey. Ah! little reeked I that, on such a day, Needed against Love's arrows any shield; And trod, securely trod, the fatal field: Whence, with the world's, began my heart's dismay. On every side Love found his victim bare, And through mine eyes transfixed my throbbing heart; Those eyes which now with constant sorrows flow: But poor the triumph of his boasted art, Who thus could pierce a naked youth, nor dare To you in armour mailed even to display his bow! WRANGRA M. ON THE PORTRAIT OF LAURA, PAINTED BY SIMON MEMMI. Had Policletus seen her, or the rest Who, in past time, won honour in this art, A thousand years had but the meaner part Shown of the beauty which o'ercame my breast. But Simon sure, in Paradise the blest, Whence came this noble lady of my heart, Saw her, and took this wondrous counterpart, Which should on earth her lovely face attest. The work, indeed, was one, in heaven alone To be conceived, not wrought by fellow-men, 14 LOVES AND HEROINES. Over whose souls the body's veil is thrown:'Twas done of grace; and failed his pencil when To earth he turned our cold and heat to bear, And felt that his own eyes but mortal were. MACGREGOR. RECOLLECTIONS (:OF) LOVE. That window where my sun is often seen Refulgent, and the world's at morning hours; And that where Boreas blows, when winter lowers, And the short days reveal a clouded scene; That bench of stone, where, with a pensive mien, Mly Laura sits, forgetting beauty's powers; Haunts where her shadow strikes the walls or flowers, And her feet press the paths or herbage green: The place where Love assailed me with success; And spring, the fatal time that, first observed, Revives the keen remembrance every year; With looks and words, that o'er me have preserved A power no length of time can render less, Call to my eyes the sadly-soothing tear. PkNN. HE IS BEWILDERED AT THE UNEXPECTED ARRIVAL OF LAURA. As Love his arts in haunts familiar tried, Watchful as one expecting war is found, Who all foresees, and guards the passes round, I in the armour of old thoughts irelied: Turning, I saw a shadow at my side Cast by the sun, whose outline on the ground I knew for hers, who (be my judgment sound) Deserves in bliss immortal to abide. I whispered to my heart, Nay, wherefore fear 2 But scarcely did the thought arise within, FRANCESCO PETRARCH. 15 Than the bright rays in which I burn were here. As thunders with the lightning-flash begin, So was I struck at once both blind and mute, By her dear dazzling eyes and sweet salute. MACGREGOR. COULD HE BUT SEE THE HOUSE OF LAURA, HIS SIGHS MIGHT REACH HER MORE QUICKLY. If, which our valley bars, this wall of stone, From which its present name we closely trace, Were by disdainful nature rased, and thrown Its back to Babel and to Rolme its face: Then had my sighs a better pathway known To where their hope is yet in life and grace: They now go singly, yet mly voice all own, And, where I send, not one but finds its place. There too, as I perceive, such welcome sweet They ever find, that none returns again, But still delightedly with her remain. My grief is from the eyes, each morn to meetNot the fair scenes my soul so longed to seeToil for my weary limbs and tears for me. MAGEGREGOR. THOUGH HE IS UNHAPPY, HIS LOVE REMAINS EVER UNCHANGED. My sixteenth year of sighs its course has run, I stand alone, already on the brow Where Age descends: and yet it seems as now My time of trial only were begun.'Tis sweet to love, and good to be undone; Though life be hard, more days may Heaven allow Misfortune to outlive; else Death may bow The bright head low my loving praise that won. Here am I now, who fain would be elsewhere; 16 LOVES AND HEROINES. Mlore would I wish, and yet no more I would; I could no more, and yet did all I could: And new tears born of old desires declare That still I am as I was wont to be, And that a thousand changes change not me. ]MACGREGOR. TO THE FOUNTAIN OF VAUCLUSE-CONTEMPLATIONS OF DEATH. Clear, fresh, and dulcet streams, Which the fair shape, who seems To me sole woman, haunted at noon-tide; Fair bough, so gently fit, (I sigh to think of it,) Which lent a pillow to her lovely side; And turf, and flowers bright-eyed, O'er which her folded gown Flowed like an angel's down; And you, 0 holy air and hushed, Where first my heart at her sweet glances gushed; Give ear, give ear, with one consenting, To my last words, my last and my lamenting. If'tis my fate below, And Heaven will have it so, That Love must close these dying eyes in tears, May my poor dust be laid In middle of your shade, While my soul, naked, mounts to its own spheres. The thought would calm my fears, When taking, out of breath, The doubtful step of death; For never could my spirit find A stiller port after the stormy wind; Nor in more calm, abstracted bourne, Slip from my travailed flesh, and from my bones outworn. FRANCESCO PET-RAIRCll. 17 Perhaps, some future hour, To her accustomed bower Might come the untamed, and yet the gentle she; And where she saw me first, Might turn with eyes athirst, And kinder joy to look again on me; Then, O the charity! Seeing amidst the stones The earth that held my bones, A sigh for very love at last Might ask of I-Heaven to pardon me the past: And Heaven itself could not say nay, As with her gentle veil she wiped the tears away. How well I call to mind, When from those boughs the wind Shook down upon her bosomn flower on flower; And there she sat, neek-eyed, In midst of all that pride, Sprinkled and blushing through an amorous shower. Some to her hair paid dower, And seemed to dress the curls, Queenlike, with gold and pearls; Soule, snowing, on her drapery stopped, Some on the earth, some on the water dropped; While others, fluttering from above, Seemed wheeling round in pomp, and saying, "66Here reigns Love!" How often then I said, Inward, and filled with dread, "Doubtless this creature came from Paradise!" For at her look the while, Her voice, and her sweet smile, And heavenly air, truth parted from mine eyes; So that, with long-drawn sighs, 3 18 LOVES AND HEROINES. I said, as far from men, "H Iow came I here, and when?" I had forgotten; and alas! Fancied myself in heaven, not where I was; And from that time till this, I bear Such love for the green bower, I cannot rest elsewhere. LEIGmH HUNT. HE ENVIES EVERY SPOT THAT SHE FREQUENTS. O bright and happy flowers and herbage blessed, On which my lady treads! 0 favoured plain, That hears her accents sweet, and can retain The traces by her fairy steps impressed! Pure shrubs, with tender verdure newly dressed, Pale amorous violets, leafy woods, whose reign Thy sun's bright rays transpierce, and thus sustain Your lofty stature, and umbrageous crest; O thou, fair country, and thou, crystal stream, Which bathes her countenance and sparkling eyes, Stealing fresh lustre from their living beam; fIow do I envy thee those precious ties! Thy rocky shores will soon be taught to gleam With the same flame that burns in all my sighs. WRVOTTESLEY. TO THE SUN, WHOSE SETTING HID LAURA S DWELLING FROM ISTS VIEW. O blessed Sun! that sole sweet leaf I love, First loved by thee, in its fair seat, alone, Bloomneth without a peer, since from above To Adam first our shining ill was shown. Pause we to look on her! Although to stay Thy course I pray thee, yet thy beams retire; Their shades the mountains fling, and parting day Parts me from all I most on earth desire. FI{ANCESCO PETRARCH. 19 The shadows from yon gentle heights that fall, Where sparkles my sweet fire, where brightly grew That stately laurel from a sucker small, Increasing, as I speak, hide from my view The beauteous landscape and the blessed scene, Where dwells my true heart with its only queen. MA}CGREGOR. TO LovE, ON LAURA WALKING ABROAD. Here stand we, Love, our glory to behold, How, passing Nature, lovely, high, and rare! Behold! what showers of sweetness falling there! What floods of light by heaven to earth unrolled! How shine her robes, in purple, pearls, and gold, So richly wrought, with skill beyond compare! How glance her feet! her beaming eyes how fair Through the dark cloister which these hills enfold! The verdant turf, and flowers of thousand hues Beneath yon oak's old canopy of state, Spring round her feet to pay their amorous duty. The heavens, in joyful reverence, cannot choose But light up all their fires, to celebrate Her praise, whose presence charms their awful beauty. MERIVALE. HE LEAVES VAUCLUSE, BUT HIS SPIRIT REMAINS THERE WITI-I LAURA. The loved hills where I left myself behind, Whence ever'twas so hard my steps to tear, Before me rise; at each remove I bear The dear load to my lot by Love consigned. Often I wonder inly in my mind, That still the fair yoke holds me, which despair Would vainly break, that yet I breathe this air; Though long the chain, its links but closer bind. 20 LOVES AND HEROINES. And as a stag, sore struck by hunter's dart, Whose poisoned iron rankles in his breast, Flies, and more grieves the more the chase is pressed, So I, with Love's keen arrow in my heart, Endure at once my death and my delight, Racked with long grief, and weary with vain flight. MACGIREGOR. HEARING NO TIDINGS OF HIER, HE BEGINS TO DESPAIR. Still do I wait to hear, in vain still wait, Of that sweet enemy I love so well: What now to think or say I cannot tell,'Twixt hope and fear my feelings fluctuate. The beautiful are still the marks of fate; And sure her worth and beauty imost excel: What if her God have called her hence, to dwell Where virtue finds a imore congenial state? If so, she will illuninate that sphere Even as a sun: but I-'tis done with me! I then am nothing, have no business here! O cruel absence! why not let me- see The worst? My little tale is told, I fear; MIy scene is closed ere it accomplished be. M/OREIHEAD. TO LAURA IN DEATH. HE DESIRES TO DIE, THAT HIS SOUL MAY BE WITII HERD AS HIS THOUGHTS ALREADY ARE. E'en in youth's fairest flower, when Love's dear sway Is wont with strongest power our hearts to bind, Leaving on earth her fleshly veil behind, My life, my Laura, passed from me away; Living, and fair, and free from our vile clay, FRANCESCO PETRARCH. 21 From heaven she rules supreme my willing mind: Alas! why left me in this mortal rind That first of peace, of sin that latest day? As my fond thoughts her heavenward path pursue, So may my soul, glad, light, and ready be To follow her, and thus from troubles flee. Whate'er delays me as worst loss I rue: Time makes me to myself but heavier grow: Death had been sweet to-day three years ago! MACGREGOR. HE PRAYS THAT SHE WILL BE NEAR HIM AT HIS DEATH, WHICH HE FEELS APPROACHING. Go, plaintive verse, to the cold marble go, Which hides in earth my treasure from these eyes, There call on her who answers from yon skies, Although the mortal part dwells dark and low. Of life how I am wearied make her know, Of stemming these dread waves that round me rise: But, copying all her virtues I so prize, Her track I follow, yet my steps are slow. I sing of her, living or dead, alone, (Dead, did I say? She is immortal made!) That by the world she should be loved, and known. O in my passage hence may she be near, To greet my coming that's not long delayed; And may I hold in heaven the rank herself holds there! NOTT. HE WOULD DIE OF GRIEF, WERE SHE NOT SOMETIMES TO CONSOLE HIIIM WITH HER PRESENCE. To that soft look which now adorns the skies, The graceful bending of the radiant head, The face, the sweet angelic accents fled, 22 LOVES AND HEROINES. That soothed me once, but now awake my sighs: O when to these imagination flies, I wonder that I am not long since dead!'Tis she supports me, for her heavenly tread Is round my couch when morning visions rise! In every attitude how holy, chaste! How tenderly she seems to hear the tale Of my long woes, and their relief to seek! But when day breaks she then appears in haste The well-known heavenward path again to scale, With moistened eye and soft expressive cheek! MOREIEAD. SINCE HER DEATH HE HAS CEASED TO LIVE. Death cannot make that beauteous face less fair, But that sweet face may lend to death a grace; My spirit's guide, from her each good I trace; Who learns to die, may seek his lesson there. That Holy One, who not his blood would spare, But did the dark Tartarean bolts unbrace; He, too, doth from my soul death's terrors chase: Then welcome, death, thy impress I would wear. And linger not,'tis time that I had fled; Alas! my stay hath little here availed, Since she, my Laura blest, resigned her breath: Life's spring in me hath since that hour lain dead, In I her lived, my life in hers exhaled, The hour she died I felt within me death! 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