See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother:
And the sunlight clasps the earth,

And the moonbeams kiss the sea,
What are all these kissings worth,
If thou kiss not me?

P. B. SHELLEY.

AN hundred thousand oaths your fears

Perhaps would not remove ;

And if I gazed a thousand years,

I could not deeper love.

SIR CHARLES SEDLEY.

I NE'ER Could any lustre see
In eyes that would not look on me ;
I ne'er saw nectar on a lip,
But where my own did hope to sip.
Has the maid who seeks my heart
Cheeks of rose untouch'd by art?
I will own their colour true,
When yielding blushes aid their hue.

Is her hand so soft and pure?
I must press it to be sure;
Nor can I e'en be certain then,
Till it grateful press again.
Must I, with attentive eye,
Watch her heaving bosom sigh?
I will do so-when I see
That heaving bosom sigh for me.

I HELD her hand, the pledge of bliss,
Her hand that trembled and withdrew;
She bent her head before my kiss . .
My heart was sure that hers was true.

Scarce have I told her we must part,
She shakes my hand, she bids adieu,
Nor shuns the kiss. . alas! my heart,
Hers never was the heart for you.

W. S. LANDOR.

Works. (Chapman and Hall.)

[The extracts from Landor's Poems contained in this volume are inserted by the kind permission of Messrs. Chapman and Hall.]

HINTS TO A WOOER.

You must not spare expense, but wear gay clothes,
And you may be, too, prodigal of oaths,
To win a mistress' favour; not afraid,
Seeking access, to bribe her chambermaid.
You may present her gifts, and of all sorts,
Feast, dance, and revel; they are lawful sports;
The choice of suitors you must not deny her,
Nor quarrel though you find a rival by her;
Build on your own deserts, and ever be
A stranger to love's enemy, jealousy.

PHILIP MASSINGER.

LOVE'S ASSEVERATION.

By those eyes of dazzling brown,

With their liquid mirth and gladness;

By that brow without a frown,

Or a fleeting cloud of sadness; By that lip of vermeil red,

Breathing such a gentle voice; By that smile which never fled

While it could my gaze rejoice;

By those curls of chestnut hue

Streaming down in rich profusion;
By those cheeks where blushes strew
Rosy colours of confusion;

By that face that, though a dream,
I would worship with devotion;
By that bosom, fair as cream,

Heaving with untold emotion;
By that silken hand of thine,
Pure as virgin alabaster ;

By that hand to make which mine
I would brave the worst disaster;
By the pulses of thy heart,

Fond as ever poet sung;

By these simple words that start,

Faltering from my truthful tongue; My love for thee, like delicious pain, Throbs in the core of my heart and brain. CHARLES KENT.

Poems. (Longman and Co.)

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GO, LOVELY ROSE!

Go, lovely Rose !

Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows,

When I resemble her to thee,

How sweet and fair she seems to be.

Tell her that's young,

And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung

In deserts, where no men abide,

Thou must have uncommended died.

Small is the worth

Of beauty from the light retired; Bid her come forth,

Suffer herself to be desired,

And not blush so to be admired.

Then die! that she

The common fate of all things rare

May read in thee;

How small a part of time they share That are so wondrous sweet and fair. EDMUND WALLER.

THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS

LOVE.

COME live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield
There will we sit upon the rocks
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

There will I make thee beds of roses
With a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Slippers lined choicely for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;
A belt of straw and ivy-buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs ;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Then live with me, and be my love.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing,
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.
CHRISTOPHER MARLOW.

[I omit stanza 6, as in all probability an interpolation of Izaak Walton's.]

And the truth beholding,

With a kiss divine

Stop my rough mouth's scolding?—
Bless you, Valentine !

If, should times grow harder,
We have lack of pelf,
Little in the larder,

Less upon the shelf;
Will you, never tearful,

Make your old gowns do,
Mend my stockings, cheerful,
And pay visits few?
Crave nor gift nor donor
Old days ne'er regret,
Seek no friend save Honour,
Dread no foe but Debt;
Meet ill-fortune steady,

Hand to hand with mine,

Like a gallant lady,

Will you, Valentine?

Then, whatever weather

Come, or shine, or shade,

We'll set out together,
Not a whit afraid.
Age is ne'er alarming,—
I shall find, I ween,

You at sixty charming

As at sweet sixteen:

Let's pray, nothing loath, dear,

That our funeral may

Make one date serve both, dear,

As our marriage day.
Then, come joy or sorrow,
Thou art mine,-I thine.
So we'll wed to-morrow,
Dearest Valentine.

AUTHOR OF "JOHN HALIFAX,
GENTLEMAN."

Thirty Years. (Macmillan.)

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[So] they that are to love inclined, Swayed by chance, not choice or art, To the first that's fair, or kind,

Make a present of their heart; 'Tis not she that first we love, But whom dying we approve.

EDMUND WALLER,