love poetry

96 Saturday, 16 February 1751

Quod si Platonis musa personat verum,
Quod quisque discit, immemor recordatur.
Boethius [III xi 15]

Truth in platonic ornaments bedeck'd,
Inforc'd we love, unheeding recollect.

Long as thine art shall love true love,
Long as thy science truth shall know,
Long as thine eagle harms no dove,
Long as thy law by law shall grow,
Long as thy God is God above,
Thy brother every man below,
So long, dear land of all my love,
Thy name shall shine, thy fame shall glow.

SHALL I tell you whom I love?
— Hearken then awhile to me;
And if such a woman move
— As I now shall versify,
Be assured 'tis she or none,
That I love, and love alone.

Nature did her so much right
— As she scorns the help of art;
In as many virtues dight
— As e'er yet embraced a heart:
So much good so truly tried,
Some for less were deified.

Wit she hath, without desire
— To make known how much she hath;
And her anger flames no higher
— Than may fitly sweeten wrath.

The song of songs, which is Solomons.
Let him kisse mee with the kisses of his mouth: for thy Love is better then wine.
Because of the savour of thy good ointments, thy name is as ointment powred forth, therefore doe the virgins love thee.
Draw me, we will runne after thee: the king hath brought me into his chambers: we will be glad and rejoyce in thee, we wil remember thy love more then wine: the upright love thee.
I am blacke, but comely, (O ye daughters of Jerusalem) as the tents of Kedar, as the curtaines of Solomon.

1. I am the rose of Sharon, and the lily of the valleys. II, 1
2. As the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters.
3. As the apple tree among the trees of the wood, so is my beloved among the sons. I sat down under his shadow with great delight, and his fruit was sweet to my taste.
4. He brought me to the banqueting house, and his banner over me was love.
5. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples: for I am sick of love.
6. His left hand is under my head, and his right hand doth embrace me.

VENUS , P ARIS , and a company of Shepherds.

VEN . Shepherds, I am content, for this sweet shepherd's sake,
A strange revenge upon the maid and her disdain to take.
Let Colin's corpse be brought in place, and buried in the plain,
And let this be the verse, The love whom Thestylis hath slain .
And, trust me, I will chide my son for partiality,
That gave the swain so deep a wound, and let her scape him by.
First Shep . Alas that ever Love was blind, to shoot so far amiss!

SCANA II

Enter P ARIS and oe NONE .

Par. oenone, while we bin disposed to walk,
Tell me what shall be subject of our talk?
Thou hast a sort of pretty tales in store,
Dare say no nymph in Ida woods hath more:
Again, beside thy sweet alluring face,
In telling them thou hast a special grace.
Then, prithee, sweet, afford some pretty thing,
Some toy that from thy pleasant wit doth spring.
oen. Paris, my heart's contentment and my choice,

THE strange effects of my tormented heart,
Whom cruel love hath woeful prisoner caught,
Whom cruel hate hath unto bondage brought,
Whom wit no way of safe escape hath taught,
Enforce me say in witness of my smart:
There is no pain to foul disdain in hardy suits of love. Shep.:
There is no pain &c. Thest.:
Cruel farewell. Shep.: Cruel farewell. Thest.:
Most cruel thou, of all that nature framed. Shep.:
Most cruel &c. Thest.:
To kill thy love with thy disdain. Shep.:
To kill thy love with thy disdain. Thest.:

O gentle Love, ungentle for thy deed,
Thou makest my heart
A bloody mark
With piercing shot to bleed.
Shoot soft, sweet Love, for fear thou shoot amiss,
For fear too keen
Thy arrows been,
And hit the heart where my belovid is.
Too fair that fortune were, nor never I
Shall be so blessed,
Among the rest,
That Love shall seize on her by sympathy.
Then since with Love my prayirs bear no boot,
This doth remain
To cease my pain,
I take the wound, and die at Venus' foot.

ACT III.

SCENA I.

Enter Colin , who sings his passion of love .

O gentle L OVE , ungentle for thy deed,
Thou mak'st my heart
A bloody mark
With piercing shot to bleed!
Shoot soft, sweet Love, for fear thou shoot amiss,
For fear too keen
Thy arrows been,
And hit the heart where my beloved is.