The profanation of a kiss; Health’s his disease, he’s never well But when his paleness shames her rose; His faith’s a rock-built citadel, Its sign a flag that each way blows; His o’erfed fancy frets and fumes; And Love, in him, is fierce, like Hate, And ruffles his ambrosial plumes Against the bars of time and fate. II. _The Power of Love_. Samson the Mighty, Solomon The Wise, and Holy David all Must doff their crowns to Love, for none But fell as Love would scorn to fall! And what may fallen spirits win, When stripes and precepts cannot move? Only the sadness of all sin, When look’d at in the light of Love. THE LOVE-LETTERS. 1 ‘You ask, Will admiration halt, Should spots appear within my Sun? Oh, how I wish I knew your fault, For Love’s tired gaze to rest upon! Your graces, which have made me great, Will I so loftily admire, Yourself yourself shall emulate, And be yourself your own desire. I’ll nobly mirror you too fair, And, when you’re false to me your glass, What’s wanting you’ll by that repair, So bring yourself through me to pass. O dearest, tell me how to prove Goodwill which cannot be express’d; The beneficial heart of love Is labour in an idle breast. Name in the world your chosen part, And here I vow, with all the bent And application of my heart To give myself to your content. Would you live on, home-worshipp’d, thus, Not proudly high nor poorly low? Indeed the lines are fall’n to us In pleasant places! Be it so. But would you others heav’nward move, By sight not faith, while you they admire? I’ll help with zeal as I approve That just and merciful desire. High as the lonely moon to view I’ll lift your light; do you decree Your place, I’ll win it; for from you Command inspires capacity. Or, unseen, would you sway the world More surely? Then in gracious rhyme I’ll raise your emblem, fair unfurl’d With blessing in the breeze of time. Faith removes mountains, much more love; Let your contempt abolish me If ought of your devisal prove Too hard or high to do or be.’ 2 I ended. ‘From your Sweet-Heart, Sir,’ Said Nurse, ‘The Dean’s man brings it down.’ I could have kiss’d both him and her! ‘Nurse, give him that, with half-a-crown.’ How beat my heart, how paused my breath, When, with perversely fond delay, I broke the seal, that bore a wreath Of roses link’d with one of bay. 3