If men were fashioned of the stone,
Then might they never yield to love —
But fashioned as they are, they owne
(On earth, as in the realme above,)
That Beauty, in perfection stil
Controls the thoughts, impels the wil.

And sure 'twere vaine to stemme the tide
Of passion surging in the breast —
Since fierce ambition, stubborn pryde
Have each the sovereigne power confest;
Which rolleth on, despite al staie,
Sweeping ilk prudent shifte awaye.

What though the mayden that we love
May fail to meet the troth we bear —

" UPLIFT the Gonfanons of war — exalt the ruddy Rood —
Arise ye winds and bear me on against the Paynim brood!
Farewell to forest-cinctured halls, farewell to song and glee,
For toilsome march and clash of swords in glorious Galilee!
And grace to thee, haught damoisel — I ask no parting tear —
Another love may greet thee when I'm laid upon my bier!

" My bark upon the foaming flood shall bound before the gale,
Like arrow in its flight, until the Holy Land we hail;
Then firmly shall our anchors grasp the belt of Eastern land,

O L IFE'S ringing morn! O season divine!
What though thou art vanished, we shall not repine,
We yesterday loved, and to-day 'tis the same,
And to-morrow we'll love with unchangeable flame.

Once, a troop of wild Burschen, so frolic and gay,
We went to the village to welcome the May;
To each door came the maidens, all laughing, to see;
Then, darling, thou laughed, but in secret on me.

At the May-feast, thou gavest — O moment of bliss! —
Thy hand to my pressure, thy lip to my kiss;
Thou wert mine, I was thine, thou delight of my heart,

Ah ! love ye one another well,
For the hour will come
When one of you is lying dumb;
Ye would give worlds then for a word,
That never may be heard;
Ye would give worlds then for a glance,
That may be yours by ne'er a chance;
Ah! love ye one another well!

For if ye wrung a tear,
Like molten iron it will sear;
The look that proved you were unkind
With hot remorse will be blind;
And though you pray to be forgiven,
How will ye know that ye are shriven?
Ah! love ye one another well!

Let Satire with her venom'd sting
Give pain to all that meet her wing,
Disturb their nights, and cloud their days:
Be mine the cup of Love and Praise .

Be ever banish'd from delight
The curse of being in the right:
Be mine endearment's partial rays,
Be my Reviewers Love and Praise .

S WEET bloom, that 's ever in its prime,
Superior to the waste of Time,
Your privilege we all approve —
But wish the secret known to Love .

With insolent conceit of taste,
I swore on Briton Ferry's hill,
" No other charms my love should waste,
Enchantment there its cup should fill. "

But soon the Nymphs of Dinevawr
Around me danc'd with Beauty's chain,
Commenc'd the Rival's jealous war,
And bound me to their smiling reign.

Then Hafod's Muse entranc'd my love,
Secluded in her arms I lay,
Explor'd with her the pathless grove,

I AM no rustic beauty's friend,
The barn and stack my taste offend.
I own 'tis classical to keep
With shepherd's crook the lambs and sheep,
Or sing of Love to shepherdesses
With nut-brown hands and flowing tresses.
But upon fancy none agree,
And this employment suits not me.
Forgive it, ye poetic themes,
I have no taste for vocal streams,
That ring in one eternal chime
Monotony's dull note of Time;
The cawing rook delights not me,
The lowing herd, or humming bee:
But I do covet rustic wealth,

COULD love impart,
By nicest art,
To speechless rocks a tongue, —
Their theme would be,
Beloved, of thee, —
Thy beauty, all their song.

And, clerklike, then,
With sweet amen,
Would echo from each hollow
Reply all day;
While gentle fay,
With merry whoop, would follow.

Had roses sense,
On no pretence
Would they their buds unroll;
For, could they speak,
'Twas from thy cheek
Their daintiest blush they stole.

HERE Emma , though her discipline was hard,
Was made immortal by a deathless Bard:
For, though her Love nor age nor scene can boast,
The Nine adopt, and personate the Ghost.