The Home Book of Verse
Chapter 133 : For all these arts, I'd not believe (No! though he should be thine!), The mighty

For all these arts, I'd not believe (No! though he should be thine!), The mighty Amorist could give So rich a heart as mine!

Fortune and beauty thou might'st find, And greater men than I; But my true resolved 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 La.s.s OF RICHMOND HILL

On Richmond Hill there lives a la.s.s More bright than May-day morn, Whose charms all other maids surpa.s.s,-- A rose without a thorn.

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

James Upton [1670-1749]

SONG From "Sunday Up the River"

Let my voice ring out and over the earth, Through all the grief and strife, With a golden joy in a silver mirth: Thank G.o.d for life!

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 G.o.d 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 G.o.d for you!

James Thomson [1834-1882]

GIFTS From "Sunday Up the River"

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 sh.o.r.e 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 pa.s.sion 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 hards.h.i.+p 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 a.s.sume the nurse's care; Nor wistful those gay scenes recall Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

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?

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.