The Snake 831 THE TEST I HELD her hand, the pledge of bliss, My heart was sure that hers was true. She shakes my hand, she bids adieu, Nor shuns the kiss. Alas, my heart! Hers never was the heart for you. Walter Savage Landor [1775-1864] "THE FAULT IS NOT MINE" THE fault is not mine if I love you too much, Such ever your graces, your tenderness such, A time is now coming when Love must be gone, Walter Savage Landor [1775-1864] THE SNAKE My love and I, the other day, A little Snake put forth its head. "See," said the maid, with laughing eyes- "Yonder the fatal emblem lies! Who could expect such hidden harm Never did moral thought occur In more unlucky hour than this; For oh! I just was leading her To talk of love and think of bliss. I rose to kill the snake, but she One might, perhaps, have cause to dread it; And when we know for what they wink so, To let it sting one-don't you think sc?" "WHEN I LOVED YOU” WHEN I loved you, I can't but allow Thus, whether we're on or we're off, To love you is pleasant enough, And oh! 'tis delicious to hate, you! A TEMPLE TO FRIENDSHIP "A TEMPLE to Friendship," said Laura, enchanted, "I'll build in this garden,-the thought is divine!" Her temple was built, and she now only wanted An image of Friendship to place on the shrine. She flew to a sculptor, who set down before her A Friendship, the fairest his art could invent; But so cold and so dull, that the youthful adorer Saw plainly this was not the idol she meant. "O never," she cried, "could I think of enshrining An image whose looks are so joyless and dim:But yon little god, upon roses reclining, We'll make, if you please, sir, a Friendship of him." The Glove and the Lions So the bargain was struck. With the little god laden 833 "Farewell," said the sculptor, "you're not the first maiden Who came but for Friendship and took away Love!" Thomas Moore [1779-1852] THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS KING FRANCIS was a hearty king, and loved a royal sport, And truly 'twas a gallant thing to see that crowning show, Ramped and roared the lions, with horrid laughing jaws; They bit, they glared, gave blows like beams, a wind went with their paws; With wallowing might and stifled roar they rolled on one another, Till all the pit with sand and mane was in a thunderous smother; The bloody foam above the bars came whisking through the air; Said Francis then, "Faith, gentlemen, we're better here than there." De Lorge's love o'erheard the King, a beauteous lively dame, With smiling lips and sharp bright eyes, which always seemed the same; She thought, The Count, my lover, is brave as brave can be; He surely would do wondrous things to show his love of me; She dropped her glove, to prove his love, then looked at him and smiled; He bowed, and in a moment leaped among the lions wild; The leap was quick, return was quick, he has regained his place, Then threw the glove, but not with love, right in the lady's face. "By Heaven," said Francis, "rightly done!" and he rose from where he sat; "No love," quoth he, "but vanity, sets love a task like that." Leigh Hunt [1784-1859] TO WOMAN WOMAN! experience might have told me But, placed in all thy charms before me, Oh, Memory! thou choicest blessing, When joined with hope, when still possessing; This record will forever stand, "Woman, thy vows are traced in sand.” George Gordon Byron [1788-1824] LOVE'S SPITE You take a town you cannot keep; And, forced in turn to fly, O'er ruins you have made shall leap Lady Clara Vere de Vere Her love is yours--and be it so→→→→ 835 But can you keep it? No, no, no! Upon her brow we gazed with awe, We shun with scorn the miry plain. Bright was her soul as Dian's crest Whitening on Vesta's fane its sheen: Aubrey Thomas De Vere [1814-1902] LADY CLARA VERE DE VERE LADY Clara Vere de Vere, Of me you shall not win renown: Lady Clara Vere de Vere, I know you proud to bear your name, Your pride is yet no mate for mine, Too proud to care from whence I came. Nor would I break for your sweet sake A heart that dotes on truer charms. A simple maiden in her flower Is worth a hundred coats-of-arms. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, Some meeker pupil you must find, |