Absent still! Ah! come and bless me!
Let these eyes again caress thee.
Once in caution, I could fly thee;
Now, I nothing could deny thee.
In a look if death there be, Come, and I will gaze on thee!
MARIA GOWEN BROOKS (Maria del Occidente).
What ails this heart o' mine?
What ails this watery ee? What gars me a' turn pale as death
When I take leave o' thee? Whea thou art far awa',
Thou'lt dearer grow to me; But change o' place and change o' folk
May gar thy fancy jee.
When I gae out at e'en,
Or walk at morning air, Ilk rustling bush will seem to say
I used to meet thee there: Then I'll sit down and cry,
And live aneath the tree, And when a leaf fa's i' my lap,
I'll ca't a word frae thee.
I'll hie me to the bower
That thou wi' roses tied, And where wi' mony a blushing bud
I strove myself to hide. I'll doat on ilka spot
Where I ha'e been wi' thee; And ca' to mind some kindly word
By ilka burn and tree.
SUSANNA BLAMIRE.
FROM "ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL," ACT I. SC. I.
I am undone: there is no living, none,
If Bertram be away. It were all one,
That I should love a bright particular star,
And think to wed it, he is so above me:
In his bright radiance and collateral light
Must I be comforted, not in his sphere.
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself:
The hind that would be mated by the lion
Must die for love. 'Twas pretty, though a plague,
To see him every hour; to sit and draw
His archèd brows, his hawking eye, his curls,
In our heart's table,—heart too capable
Of every line and trick of his sweet favor:
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy
Must sanctify his relics.