Shy as the squirrel and wayward as the swallow, Swift as the swallow along the river's light Circleting the surface to meet his mirror'd winglets, Fleeter she seems in her stay than in her flight. Shy as the squirrel that leaps among the pine-tops, Wayward as the swallow overhead at set of sun, She whom I love is hard to catch and conquer, Hard, but O the glory of the winning were she won! --_George Meredith_
On a starr'd night Prince Lucifer uprose. Tired of his dark dominion swung the fiend Above the rolling ball in cloud part screen'd, Where sinners hugg'd their sceptre of repose. Poor prey to his hot fit of pride were those. And now upon his western wing he lean'd, Now his huge bulk o'er Afric's sands careen'd, Now the black planet shadow'd Arctic snows. Soaring through wider zones that prick'd his scars With memory of the old revolt from Awe, He reach'd a middle height, and at the stars, Which are the brain of heaven, he look'd, and sank Around the ancient track march'd, rank on rank, The army of unalterable law. --_George Meredith_
The maid I love ne'er thought of me Amid the scenes of gaiety; But when her heart or mine sank low, Ah, then it was no longer so! From the slant palm she rais'd her head, And kiss'd the cheek whence youth had fled. Angels! some future day for this, Give her as sweet and pure a kiss. --_Walter Savage Landor_
Bid me to live, and I will live Thy Protestant to be; Or bid me love, and I will give A loving heart to thee.
A heart as soft, a heart as kind, A heart as sound and free As in the whole world thou shalt find, That heart I'll give to thee.
Bid that heart stay, and it will stay To honour thy decree; Or bid it languish quite away, And it shalt do so for thee.
Bid me to weep, and I will weep, While I have eyes to see; And having none, yet I will keep A heart to weep for thee.
Thou art my life, my love, my heart The very eyes of me; And hast command of every part, To live and die for thee. --_Robert Herrick_
Forty Viziers saw I go Up to the Seraglio, Burning, each and every man, For the fair Circassian.
Ere the morn had disappear'd, Every Vizier wore a beard; Ere the afternoon was born Every Vizier came back shorn.
'Let the man that woos to win Woo with an unhairy chin:' Thus she said, and as she bid Each devoted Vizier did.