Oh swell my bosom deeper with thy love,
That I some river's widening mouth may be;
And ever on for many a mile above
May flow the floods that enter from thy sea;
And may they not retreat as tides of earth,
Save but to show from Thee that they have flown,
Soon may my spirit find that better birth,
Where the retiring wave is never known;
But Thou dost flow through every channel wide,
With all a Father's love in every soul;
A stream that knows no ebb, a swelling tide
That rolls forever on and finds no goal,
Till in the hearts of all shall opened be

Turiddu, thee, this woman loved,
With all her tender, melting charms;
See how she wept, and laughed, and clung
In the close shelter of thy arms.

Turiddu, now the woman hates,
Silent the wood-dove's cooing note,
Look, lest in blinded fury she
Shall leap and clutch thy tawny throat.

Shepherd , wilt thou take counsel of the bird
That oft hath hearkened, from this leafy lair,
To love's entreaty, and the parting word?—
Sue not so humbly to the haughty fair.
Pipe in her praise upon thine oaten straw,
And pipe the louder when she says thee nay;
Swear that her lightest wish to thee is law,
But break the law twice twenty times a day.
Trust not to argument, or thou 'rt undone;
But calmly, gently, when she doth protest
Her course is East, impel her to the West;
Approve her way, but lead her in thine own.

THE fire of love was burning, yet so low
That in the peaceful dark it made no rays,
And in the light of perfect-placid days
The ashes hid the smouldering embers' glow.
Vainly, for love's delight, we sought to throw
New pleasures on the pyre to make it blaze:
In life's calm air and tranquil-prosperous ways
We missed the radianTHEat of long ago.

Then in the night, a night of sad alarms,
Bitter with pain and black with fog of fears
That drove us trembling to each other's arms,
Across the gulf of darkness and salt tears

Lady Maria, in you merit and distinction,
joy, intelligence and perfect beauty,
hospitality and honor and distinction,
your noble speech and pleasing company,
your sweet face and merry disposition,
the sweet look and the loving expression
that exist in you without pretension
cause me to turn toward you with a pure heart.

Thus I pray you, if it please you that true love
and celebration and sweet humility
should bring me such relief with you,
if it please you, lovely woman, then give me
that which most hope and joy promises

Love in his mellowing year draws us all on
Who once were buds and shoots and fragile flowers;
His seasons pass; unnoticeably grown,
We yet abide the dictate of his hours;
And some, alas, in early spring decayed:
Some by an evil blight, or damp, or drought,
Their vigorous hoped-for beauty have delayed,
And some their strength unseasonably put out;
Yet love abides: that we may bloom in joy,
Waft his rich honeyed breath upon the air,
Grow ripe in wisdom as the hours destroy
Those lustrous petals flowers in summer wear,

Ah!—Here I stand and dream, and sunset's red dominions
Burn, high before my sight.
Who am I that my thought should stretch young eager pinions
Towards the far golden morning-light?

Between me and the past lie fields on fields of sorrow:
Yet, brown-eyed maiden, thee
I have to-day—and perhaps to-morrow,—and to-morrow,—
And then the dark night, and the sea.

Once more before my death, old dreams and thoughts romantic
Have leaped up high again:
And passion's wind with laugh half silver-sweet, half frantic,
Has swept around the shores of pain.

O great sun of heaven, harm not my love;
Sear him not with your flame, blind him not with your beauty,
Shine for his pleasure!

O gray rains of heaven, harm not my love;
Drown not in your torrent the song of his heart,
Lave and caress him.

O swift winds of heaven, harm not my love;
Bruise not nor buffet him with your rough humor,
Sing you his prowess!

O mighty triad, strong ones of heaven,
Sun, rain, and wind, be gentle, I charge you—
For your mad mood of wrath have me—I am ready—
But spare him, my lover, most proud and most dear,

A love beyond one's reach
is certainly ridiculous!

In bed behind
a young man
too tall for him!

Where are the bay-leaves, Thestylis, and the charms?
Fetch all; with fiery wood the caldron crown;
Let glamour win me back my false lord's heart!
Twelve days the wretch hath not come nigh to me,
Nor made enquiry if I die or live,
Nor clamored (oh unkindness!) at my door.
Sure his swift fancy wanders otherwhere,
The slave of Aphrodite and of Love.
I'm off to Timagetus' wrestling-school
At dawn, that I may see him and denounce
His doings; but I'll charm him now with charms.
So shine out fair, O moon! To thee I sing
My soft low song: to thee and Hecate