Love not!  O warning vainly said
In present hours as in years gone by! 
Love flings a halo round the dear one’s head,
Faultless, immortal, till they change or die. 
    Love not!

CAROLINE ELIZABETH SHERIDAN. (HON.  MRS. NORTON.)

THE PRINCESS.

The Princess sat lone in her maiden bower,
The lad blew his horn at the foot of the tower. 
“Why playest thou alway?  Be silent, I pray,
It fetters my thoughts that would flee far away. 
    As the sun goes down.”

In her maiden bower sat the Princess forlorn,
The lad had ceased to play on his horn. 
“Oh, why art thou silent?  I beg thee to play! 
It gives wings to my thought that would flee far away,
    As the sun goes down.”

In her maiden bower sat the Princess forlorn,
Once more with delight played the lad on his horn. 
She wept as the shadows grew long, and she sighed: 
“Oh, tell me, my God, what my heart doth betide,
    Now the sun has gone down.”

From the Norwegian of BJOeRNSTJERNE BJOeRNSON. 
Translation of NATHAN HASKELL DOLE.

UNREQUITED LOVE.

     FROM “TWELFTH NIGHT,” ACT I. SC. 4.

VIOLA.—­Ay, but I know,—­

DUKE.  What dost thou know?

VIOLA.—­Too well what love women to men may owe: 
In faith, they are as true of heart as we. 
My father had a daughter loved a man,
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman,
I should your lordship.

DUKE.—­And what’s her history?

VIOLA.—­A blank, my lord.  She never told her love,
But let concealment, like a worm i’ the bud,
Feed on her damask cheek; she pined in thought;
And, with a green and yellow melancholy,
She sat like Patience on a monument,
Smiling at grief.  Was not this love, indeed? 
We men may say more, swear more:  but, indeed,
Our shows are more than will; for still we prove
Much in our vows, but little in our love.

SHAKESPEARE.

FAIR INES.

O saw ye not fair Ines? she’s gone into the west,
To dazzle when the sun is down, and rob the world of rest;
She took our daylight with her, the smiles that we love best,
With morning blushes on her cheek, and pearls upon her breast.

O turn again, fair Ines, before the fall of night,
For fear the moon should shine alone, and stars unrivalled bright;
And blessed will the lover be that walks beneath their light,
And breathes the love against thy cheek I dare not even write!

Would I had been, fair Ines, that gallant cavalier
Who rode so gayly by thy side and whispered thee so near! 
Were there no bonny dames at home, or no true lovers here,
That he should cross the seas to win the dearest of the dear?

I saw thee, lovely Ines, descend along the shore,
With bands of noble gentlemen, and banners waved before;
And gentle youth and maidens gay, and snowy plumes they wore;—­
It would have been a beauteous dream—­if it had been no more!