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Then gaze not on other eyes, love;
Breathe not other sighs, love;
You may find many a brighter one
Than your rose, but there are none
So true to thee, love.

All thine own, 'mid gladness, love;
Fonder still, 'mid sadness, love;

Though changed from all that now thou art,
In shame, in sorrow, still thy heart
Would be the world to me, love.

LANDON.

ON CUPID'S DEATH AND BURIAL IN CASTARA'S CHEEK.

CUPID's dead! Who would not die,
To be interred so near her eye?
Who would fear the sword, to have
Such an alabaster grave,

O'er which two bright tapers burn,
To give light to the beauteous urn?
At the first Castara smiled,

Thinking Cupid her beguiled,
Only counterfeiting death;

But when she perceived his breath
Quite expired, the mournful girl,
To entomb the boy in pearl,
Wept so long, that piteous Jove,
From the ashes of this love,
Made ten thousand Cupids rise,
But confined them to her eyes,
Where they yet, to shew they lack
No due sorrow, still wear black;
But the blacks so glorious are,
Which they mourn in, that the fair
Quires of stars turn pale, and fret,
Seeing themselves outshined by jet.

HABINGTON.

SONG.

WHY SO pale and wan, fond lover?

Prethee why so pale?

Will, when looking well can't move her,

Looking ill prevail?

Prethee why so pale?

Why so dull and mute, young sinner?

Prethee why so mute?

Will, when speaking well can't win her,

Saying nothing doe't?

Prethee why so mute?

Quit, quit for shame! this will not move,

This cannot take her;

If of herself she will not love,

Nothing can make her :

The divil take her.

SUCKLING.

SONNET.

PERBAPS the lady of my love is now
Looking upon the skies. A single star
Is rising in the east, and from afar
Sheds a most tremulous lustre; silent night
Doth wear it like a jewel on her brow:
But see! it motions with its lovely light
Onwards and onwards through those depths
of blue

To its appointed course, steadfast and true.
So, Dearest! would I fain be unto thee
Steadfast for ever,--like yon planet fair;
And yet more like art thou a jewel rare,
Oh! brighter than the brightest star to me.
Come hither, my young love, and I will wear
Thy beauty on my breast delightedly.

BARRY CORNWALL.

TO MARY.

SHE was a Phantom of delight
When first she gleamed upon my sight;
A lovely apparition, sent

To be a moment's ornament;
Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;
Like twilight's, too, her dusky hair;
But all things else about her drawn
From May time and the cheerful dawn;
A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, and way-lay.

I saw her upon nearer view,
A Spirit, yet a Woman too!
Her household motions light and free,
And steps of virgin liberty;

A countenance in which did meet
Sweet records, promises as sweet;
A creature not too bright or good
For human nature's daily food;
For transient sorrows, simple wiles,
Praise, blame, love, kisses, tears, and smiles.

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