213. A Hymn to Love
I will confessWith cheerfulness,Love is a thing so likes me,That, let her layOn me all day,I’ll kiss the hand that strikes me.
I will not, I,Now blubb’ring cry,It, ah! too late repents meThat I did fallTo love at all—Since love so much contents me.
No, no, I’ll beIn fetters free;While others they sit wringingTheir hands for pain,I’ll entertainThe wounds of love with singing.
With flowers and wine,And cakes divine,To strike me I will tempt thee;Which done, no moreI’ll come beforeThee and thine altars empty.
214. UPON LOVE: BY WAY OF QUESTION AND ANSWER
I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?ANS. Like, and dislike ye.I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?ANS. Stroke ye, to strike ye.I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?ANS. Love will be-fool ye.I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?ANS. Heat ye, to cool ye.I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?ANS. Love, gifts will send ye.I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?ANS. Stock ye, to spend ye.I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?ANS. Love will fulfil ye.I bring ye love. QUES. What will love do?ANS. Kiss ye, to kill ye.