TRUE LOVE.

THERE is a Love-it lasts awhile,
A one day's flower-no more;
Opes in the sunshine of a smile,
And shuts when storms come o'er.

There is a Love-it ever lasts,
A shrub that's always green;
It blossoms in the stormy blasts,
And decks the wintry scene!

A shape, an eye, a well-turned foot
May give the first its birth;
This flowret has but little root,
And asks but little earth.

No scanty soil true love must find
Its vigour to control,

It roots itself upon the mind,

And strikes into the soul.

C. NEALE.

THE SILENT LOVER.

PASSIONS are likened best to floods and

streames;

The shallow murmur, but the deepe are dumb.

So, when affections yield discourse, it seems The bottom is but shallow whence they

come:

They that are rich in words must needs discover,

They are but poor in that which makes a lover.

Wrong not, sweet mistresse of my heart

The merit of true passion,

With thinking that he feels no smart
Who sues for no compassion!

Since, if my plaints were not t'approve

The conquest of thy beautie, It comes not from defect of love,

But fear to exceed my dutie.

For, knowing that I sue to serve
A sainte of such perfection,
As all desire, but none deserve
A place in her affection,

I rather choose to want reliefe
Than venture the revealing:
Where glory recommends the griefe,
Despaire disdains the healing!

Thus those desires that boil so high
In any mortal lover,

When reason cannot make them die,
Discretion them must cover.

Yet when Discretion doth bereave
The plaintes that I should utter,
Then your discretion may perceive
That Silence is a suitor.

Silence in love bewrays more woe Than words, though ne'er so witty; A beggar that is dumb, you know, May challenge double pitty!

Then wrong not, dearest to my heart!
My love for secret passion;

He smarteth most that hides his smart,
And sues for no compassion.

RALEIGH.

THE CAPTIVE BEE.

As Julia once a slumb'ring lay,
It chanc'd a bee did flie that way,
(After a dew, or dew-like show'r,)
To tipple freely in a flow'r-

For some rich flow'r he took the lip
Of Julia, and began to sip :

But when he felt he suck'd from thence

Hony, and in the quintessence;

He drank so much he scarce cou'd stir;
So Julia took the pilferer;

And thus surpris'd, (as filchers use,)
He thus began himselfe t'excuse:
"Sweet ady-flow'r! I never brought
Hither the least one thieving thought;

But taking those rare lips of yours
For some fresh, fragrant, luscious flowrs;
I thought I might there take a taste,
Where so much syrup ran at waste;
Besides, know this, I never sting
The flow'r that gives me nourishing;
But with a kiss, or thanks, doe pay
For hony that I beare away."
This said, he laid his little scrip
Of hony 'fore her ladyship;

And told her, as (some tears did fall,)
That, that he took, and that was all.
At which she smil'd; and bid him goe,
And take his bag; but thus much know-
When next he came a pilf'ring so,

He shou'd from her full lips derive
Hony enough to fill his hive.

HERRICK.

GOD gives us love; something to love
He lends us; but when love is grown
To ripeness, that on which it throve
Falls off, and love is left alone.

I

TENNYSON.