97 ROUD word you never spoke, but you will speak Resting on one white hand a warm wet cheek "This man loved me!" then rise and trip away. Walter Savage Landor 98 RONSARD TO HIS MISTRESS OME winter night, shut snugly in SOME Beside the faggot in the hall, I think I see you sit and spin, There's not a maiden in your hall, Of lady cold and lover true, "Our lady's old and feeble now," They'll say: "she once was fresh and fair, And yet she spurned her lover's vow, The lover lies in silent earth, No kindly mate the lady cheers; With threescore and ten years!" Ah! dreary thoughts and dreams are those, William Makepeace Thackeray ODE TO CASSANDRA1 EE, Lady, how the selfsame rose, SEE Which in the morning did disclose Alas! see how each flitting hour, And why should roses flourish less Translated by William F. Giese. 100 Nay, heed, oh heed me, Lady mine, And cull youth's blossoms, lovely Maid- Pierre Ronsard O, lovely rose! Tell her that wastes her time and me, That now she knows, When I resemble her to thee, How sweet and fair she seems to be. Tell her that's young, And shuns to have her graces spied, That hadst thou sprung In deserts, where no men abide, Thou must have uncommended died. Small is the worth Of beauty from the light retired; Bid her come forth, Suffer herself to be desired, And not blush so to be admired. Then die! that she The common fate of all things rare How small a part of time they share Edmund Waller My lady comes at last, Timid, and stepping fast And hastening hither, With modest eyes downcast; She comes-she's here-she's past! Kneel undisturbed, fair Saint! I will not enter there, To sully your pure prayer With thoughts unruly. 102 But suffer me to pace Round the forbidden place, Lingering a minute, Like outcast spirits, who wait, William Makepeace Thackeray TO HELEN JELEN, thy beauty is to me On desperate seas long wont to roam, Lo! in yon brilliant window-niche The agate lamp within thy hand! Edgar Allan Poe 103 WEET stream, that winds through yonder glade, SWE Apt emblem of a virtuous maid,— Silent and chaste she steals along, Far from the world's gay, busy throng; |