When bright Roxana treads the green,
In all the pride of dress and mien,
Averse to freedom, love, and play,
The dazzling rival of the day;
None other beauty strikes mine eye,
The lilies droop, the roses die.

But when, disclaiming art, the fair
Assumes a soft engaging air;
Mild as the opening morn of May,
Familiar, friendly, free and gay,
The scene improves where'er she goes,
More sweetly smile the pink and rose.

O lovely Maid! propitious hear,
Nor deem thy shepherd insincere;
Pity a wild illusive flame,

At a little grass-hut in the valley of the river,
Where a cloud seems born from a viney wall,
You will love the bamboos new with rain,
And mountains tender in the sunset.
Cranes drift early here to rest
And autumn flowers are slow to fade. . . .
I have bidden my pupil to sweep the grassy path
For the coming of my friend.

What state more sweete, more pleasant or more hie,
Then loues delight, where hartes doe ioyntly ioye?
If vyle suspect, feare and ielosie,
With gawling grudge did not the same annoy.
Yet where this sowre, with sweete somedeale doth blende,
Loues perfection oft it doth amende.

For thirst the water sauourie makes to seeme,
And after fasting, meate is had in price:
He knowes not peace, nor can thereof esteeme,
That in the warres hath neuer broke the Ice.
Hope is reuiude, and shakes of sorrowes past,
When seruice long doth reape rewarde at last.

Your voice, that once was wont to go before us,
Calling our steps, as Pan his flocks in Spring,
Faltered at clash of War's discordant chorus
And ceased to sing.

Though, thro' the night of turmoil and of sorrow,
No ling'ring melody has touched our ear,
Yet have we waited, knowing that the morrow
Should find you near.

The morning breaks! and from your lonely dwelling
You haste to greet us! Echoing sweet and strong,
We hear, with outstretch'd arms and bosom swelling,
The old, glad song.

Æternall love! what 'tis to love thee well,
None, but himselfe, who feeles it, none can tell.
But oh, what to be lov'd of thee as well,
None, not himselfe, who feeles it, none can tell.

M Y Love, I have no fear that thou shouldst die;
Albeit I ask no fairer life than this,
Whose numbering-clock is still thy gentle kiss,
While Time and Peace with hands enlockëd fly;
Yet care I not where in Eternity
We live and love, well knowing that there is
No backward step for those who feel the bliss
Of Faith as their most lofty yearnings high:
Love hath so purified my being's core,
Meseems I scarcely should be startled, even,
To find, some morn, that thou hadst gone before;
Since, with thy love, this knowledge too was given,

In the quiet summer twilight,
Midst the glowing crimson bars
That the fading sunlight painted,
Glimmered out two beauteous stars.

Both were bright, but one was peerless,
And I fondly named it thine;
As they seemed to love each other,
Fancy called the pale one mine.

Lovingly they shone together,
Making heaven around them bright,
While the silent hours went trooping
Through the solemn halls of night.

Till a leaden cloud came over,
Like a messenger of doom,
And concealed the brightest jewel
In the foldings of its gloom.

From Love, from angry Love's inclement reign
I pass awhile to Friendship's equal skies;
Thou, generous Maid! reliev'st my partial pain,
And eheer'st the victim of another's eyes.

'Tis thou, Melissa, thou deserv'st my care;
How can my will and reason disagree?
How can my passion live beneath despair?
How can my bosom sigh for aught but thee?

Ah! dear Melissa! pleased with thee to rove,
My soul has yet survived its dreariest time;
Ill can I bear the various clime of Love!
Love is a pleasing, but a various clime.

Is life a dream, and death a sleep, and love
The only thing immortal? Who would care
To be received into the ambient air,
Or traverse æther like a cloud, above
The happy homes of mortals? Must the soul
Be formlessly absorbed into the infinite whole?

The shining cup of earthly joy
I took with praise to Thee,
And held it dear because it was
Thy loving cup to me.

The jewelled cup of earthly joy
I kissed for love of Thee,
Because within its limpid depths
Thine image I could see.

I drank the cup of earthly joy
With many a thought of Thee,
And drinking it, I seemed to taste
Perfect felicity.

But now the cup of earthly joy
No longer flows for me,
Lest I should satisfy my soul
With something less than Thee.