CXLIX. LOVE'S PROTESTATION. O WERE MY LOVE. O WERE my Love yon lilac fair, When wearied on my little wing: When youthfu' May its bloom renewed. Into her bonnie breast to fa'! O! there beyond expression blest, Robert Burns. CL. LOVE'S PROTESTATION. MY AIN KIND DEARIE, O! WHEN o'er the hill the eastern star Return sae dowf and wearie, O! My ain kind dearie, O! In mirkest glen, at midnight hour, Although the night were ne'er sae wild, My ain kind dearie, O! The hunter lo'es the morning sun, My ain kind dearie, O ! Robert Burns. CLI. LOVE'S PROTESTATION. A SERENADE. I ARISE from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright: I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Has led me-who knows how?- The wandering airs they faint On the dark, the silent streamThe champak odours fail Like sweet thoughts in a dream; The nightingale's complaint It dies upon her heart, As I must die on thine, O beloved as thou art ! O lift me from the grass! I die, I faint, I fail! Let thy love in kisses rain On my lips and eyelids pale. My cheek is cold and white, alas! My heart beats loud and fast; O! press it close to thine again Where it will break at last. Percy Bysshe Shelley. CLII. LOVE'S PROTESTATION. WORSHIP. I FEAR thy kisses, gentle maiden; I fear thy mien, thy tones, thy motion; Innocent is the heart's devotion With which I worship thine. Percy Bysshe Shelley. CLIII. LOVE'S PROTESTATION. LOVE'S DEVOTION. ONE word is too often profaned One feeling too falsely disdained For thee to disdain it. One hope is too like despair For prudence to smother, And pity from thee more dear Than that from another. I can give not what men call love; The worship the heart lifts above From the sphere of our sorrow? Percy Bysshe Shelley. CLIV. LOVE'S PROTESTATION. ONE HOUR WITH THEE! AN hour with thee !-when earliest day One hour with thee!- when burning June What shall repay the faithful swain His labour on the sultry plain, And more than care or sheltering bough, Cool feverish blood, and throbbing brow?- One hour with thee !--when sun is set, Oh, what can teach me to forget The hopes, the wishes, flung away, The increasing wants, and lessening gains, The master's pride, who scorns my pains?— One hour with thee. Sir Walter Scott. CLV. LOVE'S PROTESTATION. GENEVIEVE. MAID of my love, sweet Genevieve ! And sweet your voice as seraph's song. This heart with passion soft to glow: That rises graceful o'er the wave, I've seen your breast with pity heave, And therefore love I you, sweet Genevieve ! Samuel Taylor Coleridge. |