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Page * Upon thy Truth relying” BAYLY.

99 Genevieve

COLERIDGE. 101 A Languishing Lover

THOMSON. 102 Song

BURNS.

103 The Pledge of Love

BYRON.

104 To • * * from Meleager MERIVALE. 105 The Rose

COLBRIDGE. 106 Woman

A. A. WATTS. 108 True Love

C. NEALE. 109 The Silent Lover

RALEIGH. 110 The Captive Bee

HERRICK

112 “God gives us Love"

TENNYSON. 113 May Eve; or, Kate of Aberdeen CUNNINGHAM. 114 Song of the Gheber

H. MUNROE. 115 On Parting

BYRON

117 To Frances

SIR W.JONES

118 Rosy Hannah

BLOOMFIELD.

119 My Beautiful Mary”

H. MUNROE. 121 The Lilac

BURNS.

122 Canzonet

CROFT,

123 In sweet Remembrance of Thee"

H. MUNROE. 124 “ She is bright and young" F.W. FABER, M.A. 126 Love and Death

TENNYSON 127 Lover's Parting

SHAKSPERE, 128

6

A LOVE GIFT.

"The treasures of the deep are not so precious

As are the conceal'd comforts of a man
Lock'd up in woman's love."

LOVE'S BEGINNING.

What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true ?

Stand I condemned for pride and scorn so much? Contempt, farewell! and maiden pride, adieu !

No glory lives behind the back of such.
And, Benedict, love on, I will requite thee;

Taming my wild heart to thy loving haud :
If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee

To bind our loves up in a holy band :
For others say thou dost deserve; and I
Believe it better thau reportingly.

SHAKSPERE.

THE FIRST AVOWAL.

It was no fancy, he had named the name
Of Love, and at the thought her cheek grew

flame :
It was the first time her young ear had heard
A lover's burning sigh, or silver word:
Her thoughts were all confusion, but most

sweet; Her heart beat high, but pleasant was its

beat. She murmur'd over many a snatch of song That might to her own feelings now belong; She thought upon old histories she had read, And placed herself in each high heroine's

stead;

Then woke her lute, oh! there is little

known Of music's power till aided by love's own,

B

LOVE THOUGHTS.

O let not words, the callous shell of thought,

Intrude between thy silent soul and mine! Try not the choicest ever poet wrought;

They all are discord in our life divine.

Smile not thine unbelief; but hear and say All that thou will'st, and then upon my

breast Thy gracious head in silent passion lay,

One little hour; and tell me which is best.

Now let us live our love; in after hours Words shall fit handmaids to sweet me

mory be; But let them not disturb those holier bowers,

The voiceless depths of perfect sympathy.

H. M. MILNES.

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