liWhat poets say about love

part 12

As love knoweth no lawes, so it regardeth no conditions.

        Lyly—Euphues. P. 84.   211

Cupid and my Campaspe play’d

At cards for kisses; Cupid paid;

He stakes his quiver, bow and arrows,

His mother’s doves, and team of sparrows;

Loses them too; then down he throws

The coral of his lip,—the rose

Growing on ’s cheek (but none knows how)

With these, the crystal on his brow,

And then the dimple of his chin;

All these did my Campaspe win.

At last he set her both his eyes,

She won, and Cupid blind did rise.

O Love! hath she done this to thee?

What shall, alas! become of me?

        Lyly—Alexander and Campaspe. Act III. Sc. VI. Song.   212

Nothing is more hateful than love.

        Lyly—Euphues.   214

The lover in the husband may be lost.

        Lord Lyttleton—Advice to a Lady. St. 13.   215

None without hope e’er lov’d the brightest fair:

But Love can hope where Reason would despair.

        Lord Lyttleton—Epigram.   216

But thou, through good and evil, praise and blame,

  Wilt not thou love me for myself alone?

Yes, thou wilt love me with exceeding love,

  And I will tenfold all that love repay;

Still smiling, though the tender may reprove,

  Still faithful, though the trusted may betray.

        Macaulay—Lines Written July 30, 1847.   217

This lass so neat, with smile so sweet,

  Has won my right good will,

I’d crowns resign to call her mine,

  Sweet lass of Richmond Hill.

        Ascribed to Leonard McNally, who married Miss I’Anson, one of the claimants for the “Lass,” by Sir Joseph Barrington in Sketches of His Own Times. Vol. II. P. 47. Also credited to William Upton. It appeared in Public Advertiser, Aug. 3, 1789. “Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill” erroneously said to have been a sweetheart of King George III.   218

When Madelon comes out to serve us drinks,

  We always know she’s coming by her song.

And every man he tells his little tale,

  And Madelon, she listens all day long.

Our Madelon is never too severe—

A kiss or two is nothing much to her—

She laughs us up to love and life and God—

Madelon, Madelon, Madelon.

        Madelon—Song of the French Soldiers in the Great War.   219

Who ever lov’d, that lov’d not at first sight?

        Marlowe—Hero and Leander. First Sestiad. L. 176. Quoted as a “dead shepherd’s saw.” Found in As You Like It.   220

Love me little, love me long.

        Marlowe—The Jew of Malta. Act IV. Sc. 6.   221

Come live with me, and be my love,

And we will all the pleasures prove,

That valleys, groves, or hills, or fields,

Or woods and steepy mountains, yield.

        Marlowe—The Passionate Shepherd to his Love. St. 1.   222

  Quand on n’a pas ce que l’on aime, il faut aimer ce que l’on a.

  If one does not possess what one loves, one should love what one has.

        Marmontel. Quoted by Moore in Irish Melodies. The Irish Peasant to His Mistress. Note.   223

Non amo te, Sabidi, nec possum dicere quare;

Hoc tantum posse dicere: non amo te.

  I do not love thee, Sabidius, nor can I say why; I can only say this, “I do not love thee.”

        Martial—Epigrams. I. 33. 1. (Name sometimes given “Savidi.”)   224

I do not love thee, Dr. Fell.

But why I cannot tell;

But this I know full well,

I do not love thee, Dr. Fell.

        Paraphrase of Martial by Tom Brown, as given in his Works, ed. by Drake. (1760). Answer to Dean John Fell, of Oxford. IV. 100.   225

Je ne vous aime pas, Hylas;

  Je n’en saurois dire la cause;

  Je sais seulement une chose.

C’est que je ne vous aime pas.

        Paraphrase of Martial by Robert Rabutin (De Bussy)—Epigram 32. Bk. I.   226

I love thee not, Nell

But why I can’t tell.

        Paraphrase of Martial in Thos. Forde’s Virtus Rediviva.   227

  I love him not, but show no reason wherefore, but this, I do not love the man.

        Paraphrase of Martial by Rowland Watkyns—Antipathy.   228

Love is a flame to burn out human wills,

Love is a flame to set the will on fire,

Love is a flame to cheat men into mire.

        Masefield—Widow in the Bye Street. Pt. II.   229

        Great men,

Till they have gained their ends, are giants in

Their promises, but, those obtained, weak pigmies

In their performance. And it is a maxim

Allowed among them, so they may deceive,

They may swear anything; for the queen of love,

As they hold constantly, does never punish,

But smile, at lovers’ perjuries.

        Massinger—Great Duke of Florence. Act II. Sc. 3.   230

to be continued ...

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Other Links:

Three Root Words

To My Wife

Two Birds in a Tree