Long was the combat doubtful that love with love did fight,
To leave the master loveless, or kill the gallant knight:
To put in practice either, alas! it was a spite

Unto the silly damsel,

But one must be refused: more mickle was the pain,
That nothing could be used to turn them both to gain;
For of the two the trusty knight was wounded with disdain:
Alas! she could not help it.

Thus art with arms contending was victor of the day,
Which by a gift of learning did bear the maid away;
Then lullaby, the learned man hath got the lady gay;
For now my song is ended.

Unknown

"I ASKED MY FAIR, ONE HAPPY DAY”

AFTER LESSING

I ASKED my fair, one happy day,

What I should call her in my lay;

By what sweet name from Rome or Greece;

Lalage, Neæra, Chloris,

Sappho, Lesbia, or Doris,

Arethusa or Lucrece.

“Beloved, what are names but air?

Choose thou whatever suits the line;

i

Only only call me thine."

Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1772-1834]

THE EXCHANGE

WE pledged our hearts, my love and I,→→→

I in my arms the maiden clasping:

'I could not tell the reason why,

But oh! I trembled like an aspen.

"Green Grow the Rashes, O!"

Her father's love she bade me gain;
I went, and shook like any reed! /
I strove to act the man-in vain!

We had exchanged our hearts indeed.

727

Samuel Taylor Coleridge [1772-1834]

"COMIN' THROUGH THE RYE'

COMIN' through the rye, poor body,
Comin' through the rye,

She draiglet a' her petticoatie,

Comin' through the rye. !

Oh Jenny's a' wat poor body,
Jenny's seldom dry;

She draiglet a' her petticoatie,
Comin' through the rye.

Gin a body meet a body,
Comin' through the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body,
Need a body cry?

Gin a body meet a body
Comin' through the glen,
Gin a body kiss a body,

Need the warld ken?

Robert Burns [1759-1796]

"GREEN GROW THE RASHES, O!"

THERE'S naught but care on every han',
In every hour that passes, O!
What signifies the life o' man,
An' 'twere na for the lasses, O?

Green grow the rashes, O!
Green grow the rashes, O!
The sweetest hours that e'er I spend,
Are spent amang the lasses, O!

The warl❜ly race may riches chase,
An' riches still may fly them, O!

An' though at last they catch them fast,
Their hearts can ne'er enjoy them, O!

Gie me a canny hour at e'en;
My arms about my dearie, O!
An' warl❜ly cares, an' warl'ly men,
May a' gae tapsalteerie, O!

For you sae douce, ye sneer at this;
Ye'er naught but senseless asses, O!
The wisest man the warl' e'er saw
He dearly loved the lasses, O!

Auld Nature swears the lovely dears
Her noblest work she classes, O!

Her 'prentice han' she tried on man,
An' then she made the lasses, O!

Robert Burns [1759-1796]

DEFIANCE

CATCH her and hold her if you can-
See, she defies you with her fan, «/^
Shuts, opens, and then holds it spread
In threatening guise above your head.
Ah! why did you not start before

She reached the porch and closed the door?
Simpleton! will you never learn

That girls and time will not return;

Of each you should have made the most;
Once gone, they are forever lost.

In vain your knuckles knock your brow,
In vain will you remember how
Like a slim brook the gamesome maid
Sparkled, and ran into the shade.

Walter Savage Landor [1775–1864)

"The Time I've Lost in Wooing" 729

OF CLEMENTINA

IN Clementina's artless mien
Lucilla asks me what I see,
And are the roses of sixteen
Enough for me?

Lucilla asks, if that be all,

Have I not culled as sweet before: Ah yes, Lucilla! and their fall

I still deplore.

I now behold another scene,

Where Pleasure beams with Heaven's own light,
More pure, more constant, more serene,
And not less bright.

Faith, on whose breast the Loves repose,
Whose chain of flowers no force can sever,
And Modesty who, when she goes,

In woman's eyes,

Has been my heart's undoing.

Though Wisdom oft has sought me,

I scorned the lore she brought me,- :

My only books

Were women's looks,

And folly's all they taught me.

Her smile when Beauty granted,
I hung with gaze enchanted,

Like him the sprite

Whom maids by night

Oft meet in glen that's haunted.
Like him, too, Beauty won me;
But when the spell was on me,
If once their ray

Was turned away,

O! winds could not outrun me.

And are those follies going?
And is my proud heart growing
Too cold or wise

For brilliant eyes
Again to set it glowing?
No-vain, alas! th' endeavor
From bonds so sweet to sever;→

Poor Wisdom's chance

Against a glance

Is now as weak as ever.

Thomas Moore [1779-1852]

DEAR FANNY

"SHE has beauty, but you must keep your heart cool; She has wit, but you mustn't be caught so":

Thus Reason advises, but Reason's a fool,

And 'tis not the first time I have thought so,

Dear Fanny,

'Tis not the first time I have thought so.

"She is lovely; then love her, nor let the bliss fly; "Tis the charm of youth's vanishing season"; Thus Love has advised me, and who will deny That Love reasons better than Reason,

Dear Fanny

Love reasons much better than Reason.

Thomas Moore [1779–1852]