love poems for her

Have I renounc't my faith, or basely sold
Salvation, and my loyalty for gold?
Have I some forreigne practice undertooke
By poyson, shott, sharp-knife, or sharper Booke
To kill my King? have I betrayd the State
To fire and fury, or some newer Fate,
Which learned Murderers, those Grand-Destinies,
The Jesuites, have nurc'd? if of all these
I guilty am, proceed; I am content
That Mallet take mee for my punishment.
For never sinne was of so high a rate,
But one nights hell with her might expiate.

Yes ,....sweet is the joy when our blushes impart
The youthful affection that glows in the heart,
If prudence, and duty, and reason approve
The timid delight of the virgin's first love.

But if the fond virgin be destined to feel
A passion she must in her bosom conceal,
Lest parents relentless the flame disapprove,....
Where's then the delight of the virgin's first love?

If stolen the glance by which love is exprest,
If sighs when half heaved be with terror supprest,
If whispers of passion suspicion must move,

A SONG .

Never , my loved one, never!
Never my head shall lie
At peace, at rest
On thy sweet breast;
Sorrowful life have I.

Never, my loved one, never!
My heart shall cease to sigh;
Vain is my prayer
As the empty air;
Sorrowful heart have I.

Never, my loved one, never!
Never my soul's sad cry
Thy dream shall break,

One twilight was there when it seemed
New stars beneath young eyelids gleamed;

In vain the warning clock would creep
Anear the hour of beauty-sleep;

In vain the trundle yearned to hold
Far-Eyes and little Heart-of-Gold;

And love that kisses are the stuff of
At last for once there was enough of.

As though of all Affection's round
The fond climacteric had been found —

Each childish fancy heaping more,
Like spendthrift from a miser-store,

Till stopped by hug and stayed by kiss —

What Latin Sir? why there is no man
That e're thought you an English-Roman .
Your Father Horse could teach you none,
Nor was it e're your Mother tongue,
Your Education too assures
Me, that your Poem is not yours:
Besides, I thought you did detest
The Language of the Latin Beast ,
But now your Impudence I see
Did hereby shew its Modesty;
Each syllable would blush you thought,
If it had bin plain English taught,
And that your foul debauched stuff
Might do its Errand fast enough,
Forsooth your Wisedom thought it meet

Shepherd ! if you see me, fly;
And why should that thy Fears create?
Maids may be too often shy,
As well in Love, as Hate.
If from you I fly away,
'Tis because I fear to stay.

II.

Should I out of Hatred run,
Much less would be my Pains and Care.
But the Youth I love, I shun;
Who can such a Trial bear?
Who, that such a Swain could see,

A NACREONTICK .

Cupid by a Bee was stung,
Lately; since Anacreon sung:
Venus , with a smiling Eye ,
Laugh'd to hear him sob and sigh.
Angry Cupid in Revenge,
(Gods their Shapes at pleasure Change)
In the Form of Wasp or Bee,
Stella! fix'd his Sting in Thee:
Stella! fairest of the Fair:
Stella, Venus' dearest Care!
In Revenge He dealt the Blow
On her Favourite Below;
In Revenge of smiling Eyes ,
Sweetest Emblems of the Skies!

Hither your Wreaths, ye drooping Muses, bring
The short-lived Rose, that blooms but to decay;
Love's fragrant Myrtles, that in Paphos spring,
And deathless Poetry's immortal Bay.

And Oh thou gentlest Shade accept the Verse,
Mean tho' it be, and artlessly sincere,
That pensive thus attends thy silent Hearse,
And steals, in secret Shades, the pious Tear.

What Heart, by Heav'n with gen'rous Softness blest,
But in thy Lines its native Language reads?
Where hapless Love, in Classic Plainness drest,

I.

Lord, all these works of thine
Become thy hand divine,
And pious thoughts inspire:
While all thy greatness prove,
Thee I admire and love,
Love and admire.

II.

The world's a temple, where
Thy creatures all appear
To offer praise and prayer:
The rocks, and hills and trees,
On earth, in air, in seas,
Thy altars are.

Marked you her eye of heavenly blue?
Marked you her cheek of roseate hue?
That eye in liquid circles moving,
That cheek abashed at man's approving:
The one , love's arrows darting round;
The other , blushing at the wound!