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Fortune and beauty thou might'st find,
And greater men than I;

But my true resolvèd mind
They never shall come nigh.

For I not for an hour did love,
Or for a day desire,

But with my soul had from above

This endless holy fire.

Henry Vaughan [1622-1695]

THE LASS OF RICHMOND HILL

ON Richmond Hill there lives a lass

More bright than May-day morn, Whose charms all other maids surpass,A rose without a thorn.

This lass so neat, with smiles so sweet,
Has won my right good-will;
I'd crowns resign to call her mine,
Sweet lass of Richmond Hill.

Ye zephyrs gay, that fan the air,

And wanton through the grove,
O, whisper to my charming fair,
I die for her I love.

How happy will the shepherd be

Who calls this nymph his own! O, may her choice be fixed on me! Mine's fixed on her alone.

LET my

SONG

James Upton [1670-1749]

voice ring out and over the earth,
Through all the grief and strife,
With a golden joy in a silver mirth:
Thank God for life!

Amynta

Let my voice swell out through the great abyss

To the azure dome above,

With a chord of faith in the harp of bliss:
Thank God for Love!

Let my voice thrill out beneath and above,
The whole world through:

O my Love and Life, O my Life and Love,
Thank God for you!

6171

James Thomson [1834-1882]

GIFTS

GIVE a man a horse he can ride,

Give a man a boat he can sail;

And his rank and wealth, his strength and health,
On sea nor shore shall fail.

Give a man a pipe he can smoke,

Give a man a book he can read:

And his home is bright with a calm delight,

Though the room be poor indeed.

Give a man a girl he can love,

As I, O my love, love thee;

And his heart is great with the pulse of Fate,

At home, on land, on sea.

James Thomson [1834+1882]

AMYNTA

My sheep I neglected, I broke my sheep-crook,
And all the gay haunts of my youth I forsook;
No more for Amynta fresh garlands I wove;
For ambition, I said would soon cure me of love.

Oh, what had my youth with ambition to do?
Why left I Amynta? Why broke I my vow?
Oh, give me my sheep, and my sheep-hook restore,
And I'll wander from love and Amynta no more.

Through regions remote in vain do I rove,
And bid the wide ocean secure me from love!
O fool! to imagine that aught could subdue
A love so well founded, a passion so true!

Alas! 'tis too late at thy fate to repine;
Poor shepherd, Amynta can never be thine:
Thy tears are all fruitless, thy wishes are vain,
The moments neglected return not again.

Gilbert Elliot [1722-1777]

"O NANCY! WILT THOU GO WITH ME”

O NANCY, Wilt thou go with me,

Nor sigh to leave the flaunting town:

Can silent glens have charms for thee,
The lowly cot, the russet gown?

No longer dressed in silken sheen,

No longer decked with jewels rare,
Say, canst thou quit each courtly scene
Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

O Nancy! when thou'rt far away,

Wilt thou not cast a wish behind?
Say, canst thou face the parching ray,

Nor shrink before the wintry wind?

O! can that soft and gentle mien

Extremes of hardship learn to bear,
Nor, sad, regret each courtly scene

Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

O Nancy! canst thou love so true,

Through perils keen with me to go,
Or when thy swain mishap shall rue,

To share with him the pang of woe?

Say, should disease or pain befall,

Wilt thou assume the nurse's care;
Nor wistful those gay scenes recall

Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

Cavalier's Song.

And when at last thy love shall die,

Wilt thou receive his parting breath? Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh,

And cheer with smiles the bed of death?

And wilt thou o'er his breathless clay

Strew flowers and drop the tender tear?

Nor then regret those scenes so gay

Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

619

Thomas Percy [1729-1811]

CAVALIER'S SONG

IF doughty deeds my lady please,
Right soon I'll mount my steed;
And strong his arm and fast his seat,
That bears frae me the meed.
I'll wear thy colors in my cap,
Thy picture in my heart;

And he that bends not to thine eye

Shall rue it to his smart!

Then tell me how to woo thee, Love;

O tell me how to woo thee!
For thy dear sake nae care I'll take,
Though ne'er another trow me.

If gay attire delight thine eye

I'll dight me in array;

I'll tend thy chamber door all night,
And squire thee all the day.

If sweetest sounds can win thine ear,
These sounds I'll strive to catch;
Thy voice I'll steal to woo thysel',
That voice that nane can match.
Then tell me how to woo thee, Love;
O tell me how to woo thee!
For thy dear sake nae care I'll take
Though ne'er another trow me.

But if fond love thy heart can gain,
I never broke a vow;

Nae maiden lays her skaith to me,
I never loved but you.

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For you alone I ride the ring,
For you I wear the blue;
For you alone I strive to sing,

O tell me how to woo!

Then tell me how to woo thee, Love;

O tell me how to woo thee!
For thy dear sake nae care I'll take

Though ne'er another trow me.

Robert Cunninghame-Graham [ ? -1797?]

"MY HEART IS A LUTE”

ALAS, that my heart is a lute,

Whereon you have learned to play!

For a many years it was mute,

Until one summer's day

You took it, and touched it, and made it thrill,
And it thrills and throbs, and quivers still!

I had known you, dear, so long!

Yet my heart did not tell me why
It should burst one morn into song,
And wake to new life with a cry,

Like a babe that sees the light of the sun,
And for whom this great world has just begun.

Your lute is enshrined, cased in,
Kept close with love's magic key,

So no hand but yours can win

And wake it to minstrelsy;

Yet leave it not silent too long, nor alone,

Lest the strings should break, and the music be done.

SONG

Anne Barnard [1750-1825]

From "The Duenna "

HAD I a heart for falsehood framed,

I ne'er could injure you;

For though your tongue no promise claimed,

Your charms would make me true::

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