And you must love him, ere to you
  He will seem worthy of your love.
A Poet’s Epitaph.  W. WORDSWORTH.

  None without hope e’er loved the brightest fair,
  But love can hope where reason would despair.
Epigram.  GEORGE, LORD LYTTELTON.

  LOVE’S BLINDNESS.

  Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind,
  And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind.
Midsummer Night’s Dream, Act i.  Sc. 1.  SHAKESPEARE.

None ever loved but at first sight they loved. Blind Beggar of Alexandria.  G. CHAPMAN.

  We only love where fate ordains we should,
  And, blindly fond, oft slight superior merit.
Fall of Saguntum.  PH.  FROWDE.

  But love is blind, and lovers cannot see
  The pretty follies that themselves commit.
Merchant of Venice, Act ii.  Sc. 6.  SHAKESPEARE.

  LOVE’S DANGERS.

  And when once the young heart of a maiden is stolen,
  The maiden herself will steal after it soon.
Ill Omens.  T. MOORE.

And whispering, “I will ne’er consent,”—­consented. Don Juan, Canto I.  LORD BYRON.

The fly that sips treacle is lost in the sweets. Beggar’s Opera, Act ii.  Sc. 2.  J. GAY.

  There lives within the very flame of love
  A kind of wick or snuff that will abate it.
Hamlet, Act iv.  Sc. 7.  SHAKESPEARE.

        My only books
        Were woman’s looks,
  And folly’s all they’ve taught me.
The time I’ve lost in wooing.  T. MOORE.

  Then fly betimes, for only they
  Conquer Love that run away.
Conquest by Flight.  T. CAREW.

  LOVE’S CAUTIONS.

    The rose that all are praising
      Is not the rose for me;
    Too many eyes are gazing
      Upon the costly tree;
  But there’s a rose in yonder glen
  That shuns the gaze of other men,
    For me its blossom raising,—­
      O, that’s the rose for me.
The rose that all are praising.  T.H.  BAYLY.

  But the fruit that can fall without shaking,
    Indeed is too mellow for me.
The Answer.  LADY MARY W. MONTAGU.

  Love in a hut, with water and a crust,
  Is—­Lord forgive us!—­cinders, ashes, dust.
Lamia.  J. KEATS.

  The cold in clime are cold in blood,
    Their love can scarce deserve the name.
The Giaour.  LORD BYRON.

  Love in your hearts as idly burns
  As fire in antique Roman urns.
Hudibras, Pt.  II.  Canto I.  S. BUTLER.

  LOVE’S DELIGHT.

  All the heart was full of feeling:  love had ripened into speech,
  Like the sap that turns to nectar, in the velvet of the peach.
Adonais.  W.W.  HARNEY.

  O’er her warm cheek, and rising bosom, move
  The bloom of young Desire and purple light of Love.
Progress of Poesy, L 3.  T. GRAY.