love poetry

C ARY'S Tune .

When I by faith my Saviour see,
And think what he has done for me,
It strikes my soul with sweet surprise,
And fills with tears my wond'ring eyes! —
His blood was shed to set me free
From everlasting misery!

On all his beauties while I gaze,
And see them in his suff'rings blaze,
My heart, like wax before the fire,
Melts into love and strong desire. —
His blood was shed to set me free
From everlasting misery!

Was it for me those hands were torn?

I.

Me ne'r for being fickle, blame,
Since thou but alter'd art, not I;
Who, true to Love and Beauty am,
Thy Change makes my Inconstancy;
Who, since not now the same to me,
Mak'st me now not the same to thee;

II.

Because to Beauty I am true,
When that left thee, I left thee too,
I paid thee my Love, when thy Due;
But since it does another's grow,
Who now seems Fair, as once you were,
I'm true so, to thy Charms, in her;

III.

Since Beauty's Due, Love is alone,

C ELIA cannot you afford,
One consolatory Word?
Must I still the Burthen bear,
Ever love, and yet desair?
Never, never Comfort know?
Cruel Celia and my Wo;
Terminate at once my Fate,
And let me hear you say, You Hate.

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,

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,

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.

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.

IN THE MEASURE OF THE ORIGINAL .

With cheeks where eternal paradise bloom'd,
Sweet Eaili the soul of Kais had consum'd.
Transported her heavenly graces he view'd:
Of slumber no more he thought, nor of food,
Love rais'd in their glowing bosoms his throne,
Adopting the chosen pair as his own.
Together on flowery seats they repos'd;
Their lips not one idle moment were clos'd.
To mortals they gave no hint of their smart:
Love only the secret drew from each heart.

By classic Cam a lovely maiden grew:
The sun scarce shone upon her tender birth
Ere she was left, the loneliest thing on earth,
An orphan bent by every wind that blew.
But He who ne'er forsakes the fatherless,
Who led confiding Ruth by hand unseen
The freely scatter'd barley-ears to glean,
Was ever with her in her loneliness.
Thus in her solitude her mind became
Of gentleness and love the sanctuary.
Thither one day, 'twas in that season merry
In which the Cuckoo sings her own sweet name,