Once to love is not a Crime,
If 'till Death we constant prove;
But to love a second Time,
Shows, we never once did love.

II.

Love I do! and love I must!
While my Life and Sense endure;
And this Form must turn to Dust,
'Ere my Passion knows a Cure.

III.

Never can my Torments cease,
Or my Joys return again;
Nor can Love, those Wrongs redress,
Which unpitied I sustain.

Early astir in this midsummer time
In the Queen's close, sweet hour in this sweet clime,
I stray at will to hear the throstle sing
Among the trees that round her garden cling;
I, Ronsard, in my youthood's joyous prime,
And by the Queen's desire, beneath the lime
She loves, to sing to her again the rhyme,
The daintiest of all the rhymes I bring,
My rhyme of Love.
But yet despite this July's leafy time,
The Queen's praise, birds' songs, odourous rose and thyme,
This heartache close to me, so close, will cling

S WINFORD Tune .

How sweet, how heav'nly is the sight,
When those that love the Lord
In one another's peace delight,
And so fulfil his word.

When each can feel his brother sigh,
And with him bear a part;
When sorrow flows from eye to eye,
And joy from heart to heart.

When, free from envy, scorn, and pride,
Our wishes all above,
Each can his brother's sailings hide,

And are you then a thing of art,
Seducing all, and loving none;
And have I strove to gain a heart
Which every coxcomb thinks his own?

Tell me at once if this be true,
And I will calm my jealous breast;
Will learn to join the dangling crew,
And share your simpers with the rest.

But if your heart be not so free, —
Oh! if another share that heart,
Tell not the hateful tale to me,

Think on that look whose melting ray
For one sweet moment mixt with mine,
And for that moment seemed to say,
" I dare not, or I would be thine! "

Think on thy every smile and glance,
On all thou hast to charm and move;
And then forgive my bosom's trance,
Nor tell me it is sin to love.

Oh, not to love thee were the sin;
For sure, if Fate's decrees be done,
Thou, thou art destined still to win,

Come with me my love and wander,
Where the moon is shining bright;
And the stars in beauteous splendor,
Softly shed their silv'ry light.
Where the nightingale is singing,
His soft blithesome melody,
And each breeze sweet perfume bringing,
I'll whisper words of love to thee.

WRITTEN IN HER ALBUM .

They say that Love had once a book
(The urchin likes to copy you),
Where, all who came, the pencil took,
And wrote, like us, a line or two.

'T was Innocence, the maid divine,
Who kept this volume bright and fair,
And saw that no unhallowed line
Or thought profane should enter there;

And daily did the pages fill
With fond device and loving lore,

Yes , if 't were any common love,
That led my pliant heart astray,
I grant, there's not a power above
Could wipe the faithless crime away.

But, 't was my doom to err with one
In every look so like to thee
That, underneath yon blessed sun
So fair there are but thou and she

Both born of beauty, at a birth,
She held with thine a kindred sway,
And wore the only shape on earth
That could have lured my soul to stray.

Then blame me not, if false I be,
'T was love that waked the fond excess;

M ADAN 's Tune .

Father, our hearts would now aspire,
On wings of faith and strong desire,
To thy celestial courts above,
Where all is glory, peace, and love.

We praise thee for the boundless grace
Extended to our fallen race,
When we, in our first parents, fell
From Eden to the gates of hell.

We praise the Son, who freely came
From heav'n to bear our sin and shame;
Who fought, who conquer'd, all our foes,
And bore the weight of all our woes.

The bless the Spirit's sacred name,

Eque brevi verbo ferre perenne maium.

S ECUNDUS , eleg. vil.

Still the question I must parry,
Still a wayward truant prove:
Where I love, I must not marry;
Where I marry, can not love.

Were she fairest of creation,
With the least presuming mind;
Learned without affectation;
Not deceitful, yet refined;

Wise enough, but never rigid;
Gay, but not too lightly free;