No matter how, or where, or why,
I did not vainly seek, nor sigh:
Yet sometimes, with remorse, in vain
I wish she had not loved again.

The Giaour, Line 1054.-LORD BYRON.

LOVE. The Growth of

Love's not a flower that grows on the dull earth;
Springs by the calendar; must wait for sun—
For rain ;-matures by parts,—must take its time
To stem, to leaf, to bud, to blow. It owns
A richer soil, and boasts a quicker seed!
You look for it, and see it not; and lo!
E'en while you look, the peerless flower is up,
Consummate in the birth!

The Hunchback, Act 1.-J. S. KNOWLES.

LOVE. Varieties of

Nuptial love maketh mankind, friendly love perfecteth it, but wanton love corrupteth and embaseth it. Essay on Love.-LORD BACON.

Tell him, for years I never nursed a thought
That was not his ;—that on his wandering way,
Daily and nightly, poured a mourner's prayers.
Tell him ev'n now that I would rather share
His lowliest lot,-walk by his side, an outcast ;-
Work for him, beg with him,-live upon the light

Of one kind smile from him, than wear the crown
The Bourbon lost.

The Lady of Lyons, Act v. Scene II.-E. B. LYTTON.

LOVE related to Lunacy.

Love is merely a madness; and, I tell you, deserves as well a dark house and a whip as madmen do: and the reason why they are not so punished and cured is, that the lunacy is so ordinary that the whippers are in love too. As You Like It, Act III. Scene II.—SHAKSPERE.

LOVE. Concealed

You left a kiss

Upon these lips then, which I mean to keep

From you for ever;

I did hear you talk

Far above singing; after you were gone,
I grew acquainted with my heart, and search'd
What stirr'd it so. Alas! I found it love.
Philaster, Act v.-BEAUMONT and FLETCHER.

LOVE differs according to the Clime.

The cold in clime are cold in blood.

The Giaour, Line 1105.-LORD Byron.

LOVE upon Different Persons. Effect of
To love the softest hearts are prone,
But such can ne'er be all his own;
Too timid in his woes to share,

Too meek to meet or brave despair;

And sterner hearts alone may feel
The wound that time can never heal.
The rugged metal of the mine
Must burn before its surface shine,
But plunged within the furnace-flame,
It bends and melts-though still the same
Then temper'd to thy want, or will,
'T will serve thee to defend or kill;
A breast-plate for thine hour of need,
Or blade to bid thy foeman bleed ;
But if a dagger's form it bear,
Let those who shape its edge, beware!
Thus passion's fire, and woman's art,
Can turn and tame the sterner heart;
From these its form and tone are ta'en,
And what they make it, must remain,
But break-before it bend again.

e;

The Giaour, Line 922.-LORD BYRON.

LOVE out of Work.

I'm a boy of all work, a complete little servant,
Though now, out of place, like a beggar I rove;
Though in waiting so handy, in duty so fervent
The Heart (could you think it) has turned away Love!

He pretends to require, growing older and older,
A nurse more expert his chill fits to remove,
But sure every heart will grow colder and colder

Whose fires are not lighted and fuel'd by Love!

He fancies that Friendship, my puritan brother,

In journeys and visits more useful will prove; But the heart will soon find, when it calls on another, That no heart is at home to a heart without Love! Love out of Place.-LORD BYRON.

LOVE. Story of a Bitter

By pride

Angels have fallen ere thy time: by pride-
That sole alloy of thy most lovely mould-
The evil spirit of a bitter love,

And a revengeful heart, had power upon thee.
From my first years, my soul was fill'd with thee:
I saw thee midst the flowers the lowly boy
Tended, unmark'd by thee—a spirit of bloom,
And joy, and freshness, as if Spring itself
Were made a living thing, and wore thy shape!
I saw thee, and the passionate heart of man
Enter'd the breast of the wild-dreaming boy;
And from that hour I grew-what to the last
I shall be thine adorer! Well; this love,
Vain, frantic, guilty, if thou wilt, became
A fountain of ambition and bright hope;

I thought of tales that by the winter hearth

Old gossips tell-how maidens sprung from kings Have stoop'd from their high sphere; how Love,

like Death,

Levels all ranks, and lays the shepherd's crook

Beside the sceptre.

Thus I made my home

In the soft palace of a Fairy Future!

The Lady of Lyons, Act III. Scene II.
E. B. LYTTON.

LOVER.

How to Cure a

love, his mistress; and At which time would

He was to imagine me his I set him every day to woo me: I, being but a moonish youth, grieve, be effeminate, changeable, longing, and liking; proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, inconstant, full of tears, full of smiles; for every passion something, and for no passion truly anything, as boys and women are for the most part cattle of this colour: would now like him, now loathe him; then entertain him, then forswear him; now weep him, then spit at him; that I drave my suitor from his mad humour of love, to a living humour of madness; which was, to forswear the full stream of the world, and to live in a nook merely monastic: And thus I cured him. As You Like It, Act III. Scene II. SHAKSPERE.

LOVERS are never weary. Why

for

The reason why lovers are never weary of one another is this—they are always talking of themselves.

LOVERS.

Maxims, CCCCLXXIX.-ROCHEFOUCAULT.

Parting of

I saw two beings in the hues of youth
Standing upon a hill; a gentle hill,