I loved thee once!

Oh! tell me when was it I loved thee not?

Was 't in my childhood, boyhood, manhood? Oh ! In all of them I loved thee! And, were I now

first life twice told,

To live the span of my
And then to wither, thou surviving me,
And yet I lived in thy sweet memory,
Then might'st thou say of me,

once,

But that was all his life!"

"He loved me

SHERIDAN Knowles.

WILT THOU BE MINE?

If thou 'It be mine, the treasures of air,
Of earth and sea, shall lie at thy feet;
Whatever in Fancy's eye looks fair,

Or in Hope's sweet music is most sweet,
Shall be ours, if thou wilt be mine, love!

Bright flowers shall bloom wherever we rove,
A voice divine shall talk in each stream,
The stars shall look like worlds of love,
And this earth be all one beautiful dream
In our eyes, if thou wilt be mine, love!

And thoughts, whose source is hidden and high, Like streams that come from heavenward hills, Shall keep our hearts—like meads that lie

To be bathed by those eternal rills · Ever green, if thou wilt be mine, love!

All this and more the Spirit of Love

Can breathe o'er them who feel his spells!
The heaven which forms his home above,
He can make on earth, where'er he dwells,
And he will, if thou wilt be mine, love!

It is the spirit's bitterest pain

To love and be beloved again,

T. MOORE.

And yet between a gulf which ever
The hearts that burn to meet must sever.
O'er some Love's shadow may but pass
As passes the breath-stain o'er glass;
And pleasures, cares, and pride combined
Fill up the blank Love leaves behind.
But there are some whose love is high,
Entire, almost idolatry;

Who, turning from a heartless world,

Ask some dear thing which may renew Affection's sever'd links, and be

As true as they themselves are true.

But Love's bright fount is never pure,
And all his pilgrims must endure
All passion's mighty suffering

Ere they may reach the blessed spring.
And some who waste their lives to find
A prize which they may never win ;
Like those who seek for Irem's groves,
Which found, they may not enter in.
And some there are who leave the path
In agony and fierce disdain,
And bear upon each wounded heart
The scar that never heals again.

LANDON.

AMBITIOUS LOVE.

I am undone ;-there is no living, none, be away. It were all one

If

That I should love a bright particular star,
And think to wed it, he is so above me!
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere;
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind that would be mated by the lion
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague,
To see him every hour, to sit and draw

His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls,

In our heart's table; heart too capable

Of

every line and trick of his sweet favour! But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy Must sanctify his relics!

SHAKSPERE.

UNCHANGEABLE LOVE.

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,

Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms
Like fairy-gifts fading away;

Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou

art,

Let thy loveliness fade as it will ;

And around the dear ruin each wish of
Would entwine itself verdantly still.

It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,

That the fervour and faith of a soul can be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear!
Oh! the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close;

As the sunflower turns to her god when he sets, The same look which she turn'd when he rose !

T. MOORE.

LOVE AUGURIES.

There are a thousand fanciful things
Link'd round the young heart's imaginings.
In its first love-dream, a leaf or a flower,
Is gifted then with a spell and a power;
A shade is an omen, a dream is a sign,
From which the maiden can well divine
Passion's whole history. Those only can tell

Who have loved as young hearts can love so well,
How the pulses will beat, and the cheek will be dyed,
When they have some love augury tried.

Oh! it is not for those whose feelings are cold,
Wither'd by care, or blunted by gold;
Whose brows have darken'd with many years,
To feel again youth's hopes and fears-

What they now might blush to confess,
Yet what made their spring-day's happiness!

LANDON.

ON PARTING.

The kiss, dear maid! thy lip hath left

Shall never part from mine,

Till happier hours restore the gift

Untainted back to thine.