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OLD POETS.


LOVE.

What thing is Love, which naught can countervail?
Naught save itself, ev'n such a thing is Love.
And worldly wealth in worth as far doth fail,
As lowest earth doth yield to heav'n above.
Divine is love, and scorneth worldly pelf,
And can be bought with nothing but with self.

SIR W. RALEIGH.

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If Love be life, I long to die,
Live they that list for me:
And he that gains the most thereby,
A fool at least shall be.
But he that feels the sorest fits
'Scapes with no less than loss of wits.
Unhappy life they gain,
Which love do entertain.