Valentines.

A STRATEGIC LOVE-LETTER.

THE following love-letter, dated in 1661, was sent by Philip, second Earl of Chesterfield, to Lady Russell:

Madam:

The dullness of this last cold season doth afford nothing that is new to divert you; only here is a report that I fain would know the truth of, which is, that I am extremely in love with you. Pray let me know if it be true or no, since I am certain that nothing but yourself can rightly inform me; for if you intend to use me favorably, and do think I am in love with you, I most certainly am so; but if you intend to receive me coldly, and do not believe that I am in love, I also am sure that I am not; therefore let me entreat you to put me out of a doubt which makes the greatest concern of,

Dear Madam, your most obedient faithful servant,

CHESTERFIELD.

(It is the part of a skillful general to secure a good retreat.)

"I shall be much obliged to you, as reading alone engages my attention at present, if you will lend me any one of the Eight volumes of the Spectator. I hope you will excuse this freedom, but for a winter's evening I don't know a better entertainment. If I fail to return it soon, never trust me for the time to come."

The words successively italicized convey the secret invitation.

MACAULAY'S VALENTINE.

The following valentine from Lord Macaulay to the Hon. Mary C. Stanhope, daughter of Lord and Lady Mahon, 1851, is worthy of being preserved for the sake as much of its author as of its own merits:

Hail, day of music, day of love!
On earth below, and air above.
In air the turtle fondly moans,
The linnet pipes in joyous tones:
On earth the postman toils along,
Bent double by huge bales of song.
Where, rich with many a gorgeous dye,
Blazes all Cupid's heraldry-

Myrtles and roses, doves and sparrows,
Love-knots and altars, lamps and arrows.
What nymph without wild hopes and fears
The double-rap this morning hears?
Unnumbered lasses, young and fair,

From Bethnel Green to Belgrave Square,

With cheeks high flushed, and hearts loud beating,
Await the tender annual greeting.

2 K

The loveliest lass of all is mine

Good morrow to my Valentine!

Good morrow, gentle child: and then,

Again good morrow, and again,

Good morrow following still good morrow,
Without one cloud of strife or sorrow.
And when the god to whom we pay

In jest our homages to-day

Shall come to claim no more in jest,
His rightful empire o'er thy breast,
Benignant may his aspect be,
His yoke the truest liberty:
And if a tear his power confess,
Be it a tear of happiness.

It shall be so. The Muse displays
The future to her votary's gaze:
Prophetic range my bosom swells-
I taste the cake-I hear the bells!
From Conduit street the close array
Of chariots barricades the way
46*

To where I see, with outstretched hand,
Majestic thy great kinsman stand,*
And half unbend his brow of pride,
As welcoming so fair a bride;

Gay favors, thick as flakes of snow,
Brighten St. George's portico:
Within I see the chancel's pale,
The orange flowers, the Brussels veil,
The page on which those fingers white,
Still trembling from the awful rite,
For the last time shall faintly trace
The name of Stanhope's noble race.
I see kind faces round thee pressing,
I hear kind voices whisper blessing:
And with those voices mingles mine-
All good attend my Valentine!

St. Valentine's Day, 1851.

T. B. MACAULAY.

Very tender are Burns' verses to his ladie loves. instance:

Oh! were I in the wildest waste,

Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,

The desert were a paradise

If thou wert there, if thou wert there;

Or, were I monarch of the globe,

Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign,

The brightest jewel in my crown

Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.

For

TEUTONIC ALLITERATION.

O du Dido, die du da den, der den, den du liebst liebt, lieb'o liebste des Freundes, den Freund des Freundes, des Freundes wegen.t

[0 you Dido, you who, him, who him you love, loves, love O dearest of the friend, the friend's friend, for the friend's sake.]

*Statue of Mr. Pitt, in Hanover Square.

This will remind some of our German readers of the following inscription:Der, der den, der den, den 15ten März hier gesetzten Warnungspfahl, das niemand etwas in das Wasser werfen sollte, selbst in das Wasser geworfen hat, auzeigt, erhält zehn Thaler Belohnung.

(Whoever, him, who, on the 15th of March the here placed warning-post, that nobody should throw any thing into the water, has thrown the post itself into the water, denounces, receives a reward of Ten Dollars.)

The lines may be read either from left to right, or from above downwards. They may also be read in various directions.

CARDIAC EFFUSION.

Somebody named John Birchall wrote the following lines in 1684 with his "heart's blood":

These loving lines which I to you have sent,

In secrecy in my heart's blood are pent,

Ye pen I slipt as I ye pen did make,

And freely bleeds, and will do for your sake.

MACARONIC VALENTINE.

Geist und sinn mich beügen über
Vous zu dire das ich Sie liebe!
Das herz que vous so lightly spurn
To you und sie allein will turn
Unbarmherzig-pourquoi scorn

Mon cœur with love and anguish torn?
Croyez vous das my despair

Votre bonheur can swell or faire?
Schönheit kann nicht cruel sein

Mepris ist keine macht divine,

Then, oh then, it can't be thine.
Glaube das mine love is true,

Changeless, deep wie Himmel's blue-
Que l'amour that now I swear

Zu Dir Ewigkeit I'll bear.

Glaube das the gentle rays

Born and nourished in thy gaze

Sur mon cœur will ever dwell

Comme à l'instant when they fell

Mechante! that you know full well.

George Digby, Earl of Bristol, one of the most graceful writers of the Seventeenth Century, is credited with this:

Fair Archabella, to thy eyes,

That flame just blushes in the skies,
Each noble heart doth sacrifice.
Yet be not cruel, since you may,
Whene'er you please, to save or slay,
Or with a frown benight the day.
I do not wish that you should rest
In any unknown highway breast,
The lodging of each common guest,
But I present a bleeding heart,
Wounded by love, not pricked by art,
That never knew a former smart.
Be pleased to smile, and then I live;

But if a frown, a death you give,

For which it were a sin to grieve.

Yet if it be decreed I fall,

Grant but one boon, one boon is all:

That you would me your martyr call.