Invulnerable Love shall shake
His ægis o'er my head to-day.
This last epigram was not inappropriate to an invalid about to begin the fifth act in a roystering night's adventure. And still once more:—
Cold blows the winter wind; 'tis Love,
Whose sweet eyes swim with honeyed tears,
That bears me to thy doors, my love,
Tossed by the storm of hopes and fears.
Cold blows the blast of aching Love;
But be thou for my wandering sail,
Adrift upon these waves of love,