A Complete Dictionary of Poetical Quotations: Comprising the Most Excellent ...

A mighty pain to love it is,

And 't is a pain that pain to miss;

But of all pains, the greatest pain
It is to love, but love in vain.

Cowley.

In loving thou dost well, in passion not,
Wherein true love consists not; love refines
The thoughts, and heart enlarges, hath its seat
In reason, and is judicious, is the scale
By which to heav'nly love thou mayst ascend,
Not sunk in carnal pleasure, for which cause
Among the beasts no mate for thee was found.
Milton's Paradise Lost.

For what can earth produce but love
To represent the joys above?

Or who but lovers can converse
Like angels, by the eye discourse?
Address and compliment by vision,
Make love and court by intuition.

Butler's Hudibras.

Love is a fire, that burns and sparkles
In men as nat'rally as in charcoals,
Which sooty chemists stop in holes
When out of wood they extract coals:
So lovers should their passion choke,
That though they burn, they may not smoke.
Butler's Hudibras.

All love at first, like gen'rous wine,
Ferments and frets until 't is fine,
But when 't is settled on the lee,
And from the impurer matter free;
Becomes the richer still the older,
And proves the pleasanter the colder.

Butler's Hudibras.

I am fill'd with such amaze,
So far transported with desire and love,
My slippery soul flies to you while I speak.
Rochester's Valentinian.

She that would raise a noble love, must find

Ways to beget a passion for her mind;

Oh! shun thy passion, as thou would'st thy bane,
The deadliest foe to human happiness,
That poisons all our joys, destroys our quiet.
Love, like a beauteous field at first appears,
Whose pleasing verdure ravishes the sight;
But all within the hollow treacherous ground,
Is nought but caverns of perdition.

Higgon's Generous Conquero

He full of bashfulness and truth,
Loved much, hoped little, and desired nought.
Fairfaz

Love is that passion which refines the soul;
First made men heroes, and those heroes gods,
Its genial fires inform the sluggish mass;
The rugged soften, and the tim'rous warm;
Gives wit to fools and manners to the clown.
Higgon's Generous Conqueror.
If I but mention him, the tears will fall:
Sure there's not a letter in his name,
But is a charm to melt a woman's eye.

Lee's Alexander.
Among thy various gifts, great heaven, bestow
Our cup of love unmix'd: forbear to throw
Bitter ingredients in; nor pall the draught
With nauseous grief: for our ill-judging thought
Hardly enjoys the pleasurable taste;
Or deem'd it not sincere; or fears it cannot last.
Prior's Henry and Emma.
Love, well thou know'st, no partnership allow:
Cupid averse rejects divided vows.
Prior's Henry and Emma.
Fantastic tyrant of the amorous heart,
How hard thy yoke! how cruel is thy dart!
Those 'scape thy anger who refuse thy sway,
And those are punish'd most who most obey.
Prior's Soloman.

O mighty love! from thy unbounded power
How shall the human bosom rest secure?
How shall our thoughts avoid the various snare?

She must be that which she to the world would Or wisdom to our caution'd soul declare

The different shapes thou pleasest to employ,
When bent to hurt, and certain to destroy?
Prior's Soloman,

Soft love's spontaneous tree, its parted root
Must from two hearts with equal vigour shoot;
Whilst each delighted and delighting gives
The pleasing ecstacy which each receives:
Cherish'd with hope, and fed with joy, it grows;
Its cheerful buds their opening bloom disclose,
And round the happy soil diffusive odour flows.
If angry fate that mutual care denies,
The fading plant bewails its due supplies;
With wild despair, or sick with grief, it dies.
Prior's Soloman

Dorinda's sparkling wit and eyes,
United cast too fierce a light;
Which blazes high, but quickly dies,
Pains not the heart, but hurts the sight.
Love is a calmer, gentler joy,
Smooth are his looks, and soft his pace;
Her Cupid is a blackguard boy,
That runs his link full in your face.

When fix'd to one, love safe at anchor rides,
And dares the fury of the wind and tides;
But loosing once that hold, to the wide ocean
borne,

It drives at will, to every wave or scorn.

Dryden.

Here might be seen, that beauty, wealth, and wit,
And prowess, to the power of love submit:
The spreading snare for all mankind is laid;
And lovers all betray, and are betray'd.

Dryden's Palamon and Arcite.

Earl of Dorset. The proverb holds, that to be wise and love,
Is hardly granted to the gods above.

Love is a passion
Which kindles honour into noble acts.
Dryden's Rival Ladies.
Love is a child that talks in broken language,
Yet then he speaks most plain.

Dryden's Troilus and Cressida.
I find she loves him much, because she hides it.
Love teaches cunning even to innocence;
And where he gets possession, his first work
Is to dig deep within a heart, and there
Lie hid, and, like a miser in the dark,
To feast alone.

Dryden's Tempest.

The dove that murmurs at her mate's neglect
But counterfeits a coyness to be courted.

Dryden's Amphitryon.
Love gives esteem, and then he gives desert;
He either finds equality, or makes it:
Like death, he knows no difference in degrees,
But flames and levels all.

Dryden's Palamon and Arcite.
Love the sense of right and wrong confounds,
Strong love and proud ambition have no bounds.
Dryden's Palamon and Arcite.
Complaints, and hot desires, the lover's hell,
And scalding tears, that wore a channel where
they fell.

Dryden's Palamon and Arcite.

O love! thou sternly dost thy power maintain,
And wilt not bear a rival in thy reign,
Tyrants and thee all fellowship disdain.

Dryden's Palamon and Arcite.
The power of love,

In earth, and seas, and air, and heaven above,
Rules unresisted, with an awful nod;
By daily miracles declar'd a god:

He blinds the wise, gives eye-sight to the blind;
And moulds and stamps anew the lover's mind.
Dryden's Palamon and Arcite.

Dryden's Marriage a la Mode. Love never fails to master what he finds,

There is no satiety of love in thee;
Enjoy'd, thou still art new: perpetual spring
Is in thy arms; the ripen'd fruit but falls,
And blossoms rise to fill its empty place,
And I grow rich by giving.

But works a different way in different minds,
The fool enlightens, and the wise he blinds.

Dryden's Cymon and Iphigenia.

I more joy in thee,

Than did thy mother when she hugg'd thee first.

Dryden's All for Love. And bless'd the gods for all her travail past.

My heart's so full of joy,
That I shall do some wild extravagance
Of love in public; and the foolish world,
Which knows not tenderness, will think me mad.
Dryden's All for Love.
All love may be expelled by other love,
As poisons are by poisons.

Dryden's All for Love.
Can chance of seeing first thy title prove?
And know'st thou not, no law is made for love?
Law is to things which to free choice relate;
Love is not in our choice, but in our fate:
Laws are but positive; love's power, we see,
Is nature's sanction, and her first degree.

Dryden.

Otway's Venice Preserved.

I had so fixed my heart upon her,
That wheresoe'er I fram'd a scheme of life
For time to come, she was my only joy,
With which I used to sweeten future cares:
I fancy'd pleasures, none but one who loves
And doats as I did, can imagine like them.
Otway's Venice Preserved,
My eyes wont lose the sight of thee,
But languish after thine, and ache with gazing.
Otway's Venice Preserved,
Love reigns a very tyrant in my heart,
Attended on his throne by an his guard
Of furious wishes, fears, and nice suspicions
Otway's Orphan

I'd sooner trust my fortune with a daw,
That hops at every butterfly it sees,
Than have to do in honour with a man,
That sells his virtues for a woman's smiles.

Otway's Orphan.
With folded arms, and downcast eyes he stands,
The marks and emblems of a woman's fool.
Otway's Caius Marius.
If it be hopeless love, use generous means;
And lay a kinder beauty to the wound:
Take a new infection to the heart,
And the rank poison of the old will die.
Otway's Caius Marius.

Such is love,

And such the laws of his fantastic empire,
The wanton boy delights to bend the mighty,
And scoffs at the vain wisdom of the wise.
Rowe's Royal Convert.

Love is, or ought to be, our greatest bliss;
Since every other joy, how dear soever,
Gives way to that, and we leave all for love.
Rowe's Lady Jane Grey.

And yet this tough impracticable heart
Is govern'd by a dainty-finger'd girl;
Such flaws are found in the most worthy natures;
A laughing, toying, wheedling, whimpering she,
Shall make him amble on a gossip's message,
And take the distaff with a hand as patient
As e'er did Hercules.

Rowe's Jane Shore.

Can I behold thee and not speak my love,
Ev'n now thus sadly as thou stand'st before me,
Thus desolate, dejected, and forlorn;
Thy softness steals upon my yielding senses,
Till my soul faints and sickens with desire.
Rowe's Jane Shore.
O love! how are thy precious sweetest moments
Thus ever cross'd, thus vex' with disappointments!
Now pride, now fickleness, fantastic quarrels,
And sullen coldness, give us pain by turns;
Malicious meddling chance is ever busy
To bring us fears, disquiet and delays;
And ev'n at last, when, after all our waiting,
Fager we think to snatch the dear-bought bliss,
Ambition calls us to its sullen cares,
And honour, stern, impatient of neglect,
Commands us to forget our ease and pleasures,
As if we had been made for nought but toil,
And love were not the business of our lives.

Rowe's Ulysses.

I found the fond, believing, love-sick maid
Loose, unattir'd, warm, tender, full of wishes;
Fierceness and pride, the guardians of her honour,
Were charm'd to rest, and love alone was waking.
Rowe's Fair Penitent.

Ye sacred pow'rs, whose gracious providence
Is watchful for our good, guard me from men,
From their deceitful tongues, their vows and
flatt'rics;

Still let me pass neglected by their eyes:
Let my bloom wither, and my form decay,
That none may think it worth his while to ruin me,
And fatal love may never be my bane.

Rowe's Fair Penitent. Pleasure flows streaming from those lovely eyes, And with its sweetness overcomes my soul. Dennis's Rinaldo and Armida.

Oh what a traitor is my love,
That thus unthrones me!

I see the errors that I would avoid,
And have my reason still, but not the use of't.
Howard's Vestal Virgin

Love shall wing the tedious-wasting day;
Life without love is load; and time stands still,
What we refuse to him, to death we give;
And then, then only, when we love, we live.
Congreve's Bride Mourning.

Love's but the frailty of the mind,
When 't is not with ambition join'd;
A sickly flame, which, if not fed expires,
And feeding, wastes its self-consuming fires.

Not all the pride of beauty; Those eyes, that tell us what the sun is made of; Those lips, whose touch is to be bought with life; Those hills of driven snow, which seen are felt; All these possest are nought, but as they are The proof, the substance of an inward passion, And the rich plunder of a taken heart.

Young's Revenge.

The maid that loves

Goes out to sea upon a shatter'd plank, And puts her trust in miracles for safety.

Young's Revenge.

Alas! my lord, if talking would prevail,
I could suggest much better arguments,
Than those regards you threw away on me;
Your valour, honour, wisdom, prais'd by all:
But bid physicians talk our veins to temper,
And with an argument new-set a pulse;
Then think, my lord, of reasoning into love.
Young's Revenge.

O, she was all!
My fame, my friendship, and my love of arms,
All stoop'd to her; my blood was her possession:
Deep in the secret foldings of my heart,
She liv'd with life, and far the dearer she.

Young's Revenge. But, O those eyes! those murderers! O whence, Whence didst thou steal those burning orbs?

From heav'n?

Love's not the effect of reason, or of will,
Few feel that passion's force because they choose it,
And fewer yet, when it becomes their duty.

Elizabeth Haywood's Duke of Brunswick.
Desire, when young, is easily suppress'd;
But cherish'd by the sun of warm encouragement,
Becomes too strong and potent for control:
Nor yields but to despair, the worst of passions.
Elizabeth Haywood's Duke of Brunswick.

I cannot love, to counterfeit is base,
And cruel too; dissembled love is like
The poison of perfumes, a killing sweetness.
Sewell's Sir W. Raleigh.

Love, strong in wish, is weak in reason, still
Forming a thousand ills, which ne'er shall be,
And, like a coward, kills itself to-day,
With fancy'd grief for fear it die to-morrow.
Sewell's Sir W. Raleigh,

O love! how hard a fate is thine! Obtain'd with trouble, and with pain preserv'd; Never at rest.

Lansdown's Heroic Love. O love! thou bane of the most generous souls! Thou doubtful pleasure, and thou certain pain! What magic's thine that melts the hardest hearts

And fools the wisest minds?

Lansdown's Heroic Love.

Let the fools, Who follow fortune, live upon her smiles; All our prosperity is plac'd in love: We have enough of that to make us happy. Southern's Oroonoka. Till now I knew not what it was to love; My loose desires deserv'd a fouler name, But this fair charmer has refin'd my passions, And with her virtue taught me to admire The beauties of the mind: therefore, for her I will endure the tedious toil of courtship. Trap's Albramule.

O slipp'ry state

Of human pleasures, fleet and volatile,
Given us and snatch'd again in one short moment,
To mortify our hopes, and edge our suff'rings.
Trap's Albramule.

Love, that disturbs

Who never lov'd, ne'er suffer'd; he feels nothing, The schemes of wisdom still; that wing'd with

Who nothing feels but for himself alone;
And when we feel for others, reason reels
O'erloaded, from her path, and man runs mad.
Young's Night Thoughts.

passion,

Blind and impetuous in its fond pursuits,
Leaves the grey-headed reason far behind.
Thomson's Tancred and Sigismunda

Oh, that we

In those blest woods, where first you won my soul,
Had pass'd our gentle days: far from the toil
And pomp of courts! Such is the wish of love;
Of love, that, with delighted weakness, knows
No bliss and no ambition but itself.

Thus in soft anguish he consumes the day
Nor quits his deep retirement, till the moon
Peeps through the chambers of the fleecy east,
Enlighten'd by degrees, and in her train
Leads on the gentle hours; then forth he walks,
Beneath the trembling languish of her beam,

But in the world's full light, those charming dreams, With softened soul, and wooes the bird of eve
Those fond illusions vanish.
To mingle woes with his.

Thomson's Seasons. All nature fades extinct; and she alone Heard, felt, and seen, possesses every thought, Fills every sense, and pants in every vein.

Thomson's Seasons,

These are the charming agonies of love, Whose misery delights.

Thomson's Seasons.

And let the aspiring youth beware of love,
Of the smooth glance beware; for 't is too late,
When on his heart the torrent-softness pours.
Then wisdom prostrate lies, and fading fame
Dissolves in air away; while the fond soul,
Wrapt in gay visions of unreal bliss,

Still paints the illusive form; the kindling grace,
The enticing smile; the modest seeming eye,
Beneath whose beauteous beams, belying heaven,
Lurk searchless cunning, cruelty, and death,
And still, false warbling in his cheated ear,
Her syren voice, enchanting, draws him on
To guileful shores, and meads of fatal joy.
Thomson's Seasons.

Devoting all

To love, each was to each a dearer self;
Supremely happy in the awaken'd power
Of giving joy. Alone, amid the shades,
Still in harmonious intercourse they liv'd
The rural day, and talk'd with flowing heart,
Or sigh'd, and look'd unutterable things.

Thomson's Seasons.

She felt his flame; but deep within her breast,
In bashful coyness, or in maiden pride,
The soft return conceal'd; save when it stole
In sidelong glances from her downcast eye,
Or from her swelling soul in stifled sighs.

Thomson's Seasons.

Won by the charm

Of goodness irresistible, and all
In sweet disorder lost, she blush'd consent.
Thomson's Seasons

Love is not in our power,
Nay, what seems stranger, is not in our choice:
We only love where fate ordains we should,
And, blindly fond, oft slight superior merit.
Froude's Fall of Saguntum.

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