And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead,
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
—William Butler Yeats
Song
False though she be to me and love,
I'll ne'er pursue revenge:
For still the charmer I approve,
Though I deplore her change.
In hours of bliss we oft have met,
They could not always last;
And though the present I regret,
I'm grateful for the past.
—William Congreve
Song
I lately vow'd, but 'twas in haste,
That I no more would court
The joys that seem when they are past
As dull as they are short.
I oft to hate my mistress swear,
But soon my weakness find;
I make my oaths when she's severe,
But break them when she's kind.
—John Oldmixon