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Between us burning defarts place;

Or trackless mountains hid in snow :
Or, let the wide unfathom'd space

Of roaring seas between us flow :
Place, or not place them; 'tis all one;
Empires have bounds, but love has none.

Secure us, if you can fecure,

On diftant rocks, in towers of brass :
When faithful lovers moft endure,

Still moft improv'd their minutes pass :
Imprison her; imprison me:
In spite of prisons, thought is free.

Cease, then, your idle cruel arts;

Recall your harsh command :
A destiny rules over hearts,

And who can destiny withstand ?
In vain, alas! is human skill:
Love will be love, do what you will.


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Where there is no place

For the glow-worm to lie;
Where there is no space

For receit of a fly:
Where the midge dares not venture,

Left herself fast she lay:
If Love come, he will enter,

And soon find out his way.


esteem him
A child for his might,
Or you may deem him

A coward from his fight;

* This excellent old song, dr. Percy tells us, he could only give from modern copies, and not even that we believe without a few brilliant touches from his own pencil. All the copies, both old and new, which the editor consulted, were too incorrect to be made use of, though no less than eight additional yerses are to be found in the black letter copies.

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But if she, whom love doth honour,

Be conceal'd from the day, Set a thousand guards upon her,

Love will find out the way.

Some think to lose him,

By having him confin'd, And fome do fuppofe him,

Poor thing, to be blind; But if ne'er so close


wall him, Do the best that you may, Blind Love, if so ye call him,

Will find out his way.

You may train the eagle

To stoop to your fift; Or you may inveigle

The phenix of the east ;
The lioness, ye may move her

To give o'er her prey;
But you'll ne'er stop a lover :

Love will find out his way.


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FT on the troubled oceans face

Loud stormy winds arise;
The marmuring furges (well apace,

And clouds obscure the skies.

But when the tempests rage is o'er,

Soft breezes smooth the main ;
The billows cease to lash the shore,

And all is calm again.

Not so in fond and amorous ils

If tyrant Love once reigns,
There one eternal tempest rolls,

And yields unceasing pains.
Ah! cruel god! our peace restore,
Or wound us with thy shafts no more.

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Consenting makes it colder;

When met it will retreat: Repulses make it bolder,

And dangers make it sweet.



OVE's a dream of mighty treasure,

Which in fancy we possess; In the folly lies the pleasure,

Wisdom ever makes it less,

For who thinks, by passion heated,

He a goddess has in chace, Ixion-like he will be cheated,

And a gawdy cloud embrace.

Only happy is the lover,

Whom his mistress well deceives; Seeking nothing to discover,

He contented lives at ease.

But the wretch who will be knowing,

What the fair-one would disguise, Labours at his own undoing,

Changing happy to be wise,

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