MACARONIC VALENTINE.
Geist und sinn mich beügen über
Vous zu dire das ich Sie liebe!
Das herz que vous so lightly spurn
To you und sie allein will turn
Unbarmherzig—pourquoi scorn
Mon cœur with love and anguish torn?
Croyez vous das my despair
Votre bonheur can swell or faire?
Schönheit kann nicht cruel sein
Mepris ist keine macht divine,
Then, oh then, it can’t be thine.
Glaube das mine love is true,
Changeless, deep wie Himmel’s blue—
Que l’amour that now I swear
Zu Dir Ewigkeit I’ll bear.
Glaube das the gentle rays
Born and nourished in thy gaze
Sur mon cœur will ever dwell
Comme à l’instant when they fell—
Mechante! that you know full well.
George Digby, Earl of Bristol, one of the most graceful writers of the Seventeenth Century, is credited with this:—
Fair Archabella, to thy eyes,
That flame just blushes in the skies,
Each noble heart doth sacrifice.
Yet be not cruel, since you may,
Whene’er you please, to save or slay,
Or with a frown benight the day.
I do not wish that you should rest
In any unknown highway breast,
The lodging of each common guest,
But I present a bleeding heart,
Wounded by love, not pricked by art,
That never knew a former smart.
Be pleased to smile, and then I live;
But if a frown, a death you give,
For which it were a sin to grieve.
Yet if it be decreed I fall,
Grant but one boon, one boon is all:—
That you would me your martyr call.