" Thou whom I love, for whom I died,
Lovest thou Me, My bride? " —
Low on my knees I love Thee, Lord,
Believed in and adored.

" That I love thee the proof is plain:
How dost thou love again? " —
In prayer, in toil, in earthly loss,
In a long-carried cross.

" Yea, thou dost love: yet one adept
Brings more for Me to accept. " —
I mould my will to match with Thine,
My wishes I resign.

" Thou givest much: then give the whole
For solace of My soul. " —
More would I give, if I could get:

Dear Lord, let me recount to Thee
Some of the great things Thou hast done
For me, even me
Thy little one.

It was not I that cared for Thee, —
But Thou didst set Thy heart upon
Me, even me
Thy little one.

And therefore was it sweet to Thee
To leave Thy Majesty and Throne,
And grow like me
A Little One,

A swaddled Baby on the knee
Of a dear Mother of Thine own,
Quite weak like me
Thy little one.

Thou didst assume my misery,
And reap the harvest I had sown,
Comforting me

The pain of love's a better fate
Than the body's best estate.
Saadi

THOU vermin slander, bred in abject minds
Of thoughts impure, by vile tongues animate,
Canker of conversation! couldst thou find
Nought but our love whereon to show thy hate?
Thou never wert, when we two were alone;
What canst thou witness then? thy base dull aid
Was useless in our conversation,
Where each meant more than could by both be said.
Whence hadst thou thy intelligence; from earth?
That part of us ne'er knew that we did love.
Or from the air? Our gentle sighs had birth
From such sweet raptures as to joy did move.

She marries the knight she loves —
And she scorns the lord she hates:
And there's dancing in the old castle hall
And dancing under the gates.

Mentor

Be warned of steps retrieved in pain.

Pupils

We have strength, we have blood, we are young,

Mentor

Youth sows the links, man wears the chain.

Pupils

Shall a sweet lyric cease to be sung?

Mentor

Three Students went over the Rhine one day
And to a good Landlady made their way —

" Now Landlady have you good wine and beer,
" And how is your little Daughter dear " ?

" My wine and beer, is fresh and clear
" On her Deathbed lays my Daughter dear. "

And as they into the Chamber stept
In a black coffin they saw she slept.

The first from her face the white veil took
And look'd at her long with a sorrowful look.

" Ah! wer't Thou alive Thou maiden flower
" Thee should I love from this very hour. "

Give me the avowed, erect and manly foe;
Firm I can meet, perhaps return the blow;
But of all plagues, good Heaven, thy wrath can send,
Save me, oh, save me, from the candid friend.
Quoted by Robert Peel in a parliamentary debate, 1845, Canning's words were turned against him in a triumphant rebuttal by Disraeli (Robert Blake, Disraeli [New York: St. Martin's, 1967], p. 185).

The Candid Friend who strikes because he loves,
Should curb his muscles when he plies the gloves.

And the best gift of God
Is the love of superior souls

— — Love
Asks nought his brother cannot give
Asks nothing but does all receive
Love calls not to his aid events
He to his wants can well suffice
Asks not of others soft consents
Nor kind Occasion without eyes
Nor plots to ope or bolt a gate
Nor heeds Condition's iron walls
Where he goes, goes before him Fate;
Whom he uniteth God instals;
Instant & perfect his access
To the dear object of his thought,
Though foes & lands & seas between
Himself & his love intervene.