them of such growing distastes: which might mislead them in their future life and disappoint their friends, as well as themselves, of the advantages which might be expected from the diversity of their professions and interests.

The prejudices which are growing up between these brothers from the different ways of education, are what create the most fatal misunderstandings in life. But all distinctions of disparagement, merely from our circumstances, are such as will not bear the examination of reason. The courtier, the trader, and the scholar should all have an equal pretention to the denomination of a gentleman. The tradesman who deals with me in a commodity, which I do not understand, with uprightness, has much more right to that character than the courtier that gives me false hope, or the scholar who laughs at my ignorance. R. Steele.

Love in Idleness

(From Poems, 1851)

"SHALL I be your first love, lady, shall I be

your first?

Oh then I'll fall before you, down on my velvet knee,

And deeply bend my rosy head and press it upon

thee,

And swear that there is nothing more for which my heart doth thirst,

But a downy kiss, and pink
Between your lips' soft chink."

"Yes, you shall be my first love, boy, and

be my first,

And I will raise you up again unto my bosom's

fold;

And, when you kisses many one on lip and check

have told,

I'll let you loose upon the grass, to leave me if you durst,

And so we'll toy away

The night besides the day."

"But let me be your second love, let me be your second,

For then I'll tap so gently, dear, upon your window pane,

And

creep between the curtains in, where never man has lain,

And never leave thy gentle side till the morning star hath beckoned,

Within the silken lace

Of thy young arms' embrace."

"Well, thou shalt be my second love, yes, gentle boy, my second,

And I will wait at eve for thee within my lonely bower,

And yield unto thy kisses, like a bud to April's

shower,

From moon set till the tower-clock the hour of dawn hath reckoned,

And lock thee in my arms

All silent up in charms."

"No, I will be thy third love, lady, ay I will be the third,

And break upon thee bathing, in woody place

alone,

And catch thee to my saddle, and ride o'er stream and stone,

And press thee well, and kiss thee well, and never speak a word,

Till thou hast yielded up

The margin of love's cup."

"Then thou shalt not be my first love, boy, nor my second, nor my third;

If thou'rt the first, I'll laugh at thee, and pierce thy flesh with thorns;

If the second, from my chamber pelt with jeering laugh and scorns,

And if thou darest be the third, I'll draw my dirk unheard

And cut thy heart in two,

And then die, weeping you.'

Thomas Lovell Beddoes.

A Lyric to Mirth

(From Hesperides)

WHILE the milder fates consent,

Let's enjoy our merriment:

Drink, and dance, and pipe and play;
Kiss our dollies night and day;

Crowned with clusters of the vine,
Let us sit and quaff our wine.

Call on Bacchus, chant his praise,
Shake the thyrse and bite the bays:
Rouse Anacreon from the dead
And return him drunk to bed:
Sing o'er Horace, for ere long
Death will come and mar the song.

Song

R. Herrick.

NOW what is love, I pray thee tell?

-It is that fountain and that well
Where pleasure and repentance dwell.
It is perhaps the sauncing bell

That tolls all into heaven or hell.

And this is love as I hear tell.

Yet what is love, I prithee say?
-It is a work on holiday,

It is December matched with May,
When lusty bloods, in fresh array,
Hear ten months after of the play.
And this is love as I hear say.

Yet what is love, good Shepherd sain?
-It is a sunshine mixed with rain,
It is a toothache or like pain,
It is a game where none hath gain.
The lass saith No, yet would full fain.
And this is love as I hear sain.

Yet, Shepherd, what is love I pray?
—It is a yes, it is a nay,

A pretty kind of sporting fay,
It is a thing will soon away;

Then, nymphs, take vantage while ye may.
And this is love as I hear say.

Yet what is love, good Shepherd, show?
-A thing that creeps, it cannot go,
A prize that passeth to and fro,
A thing for one, a thing for moe,
And he that proves shall find it soe.
And, Shepherd, this is love I trow.

Sir W. Raleigh (1),

(From Campion and Rosseter's Book of Airs, 1601)

WHEN thou must home to shades of under

ground,

And there arrived, a new admired guest,

The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round,
White Iope, blith Helen, and the rest,

To hear the stories of thy finished love

From that smooth tongue whose music hell can

move.

Then wilt thou speak of banqueting delights,

Of masques and revels which sweet youth did make,
Of tourneys and great challenges of knights,
And all these triumphs for thy beauty's sake?
When thou hast told these honours done to thee,
Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murder me.

Thomas Campion.