Still amorous, and fond, and billing. 
  Like Philip and Mary on a shilling.
Hudibras, Pt.  III.  Canto I.  S. BUTLER.

  Then awake!—­the heavens look bright, my dear! 
  ’Tis never too late for delight, my dear! 
    And the best of all ways
    To lengthen our days,
  Is to steal a few hours from the night, my dear!
Young May Moon.  T. MOORE.

Lovers’ hours are long, though seeming short. Venus and Adonis.  SHAKESPEARE.

And, touched by her fair tendance, gladlier grew. Paradise Lost, Bk.  VIII.  MILTON.

               Why, she would hang on him,
  As if increase of appetite had grown
  By what it fed on.
Hamlet, Act i.  Sc. 2.  SHAKESPEARE.

Imparadised in one another’s arms. Paradise Lost, Bk.  IV.  MILTON.

  I give thee all—­I can no more. 
    Though poor the offering be;
  My heart and lute are all the store
    That I can bring to thee.
My Heart and Lute.  T. MOORE.

I’ve lived and loved.
Wallenstein, Pt.  I. Act ii.  Sc. 6.  S.T.  COLERIDGE.

  LOVE’S PAINS.

  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.
Gold.  A. COWLEY.

  The sweetest joy, the wildest woe is love;
  The taint of earth, the odor of the skies
    Is in it.
Festus, Sc.  Alcove, and Garden.  P.J.  BAILEY.

  Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure
  Thrill the deepest notes of woe.
On Sensibility.  R. BURNS.

  Love is like a landscape which doth stand
  Smooth at a distance, rough at hand.
On Love.  R. HEGGE.

  Vows with so much passion, swears with so much grace,
  That ’t is a kind of heaven to be deluded by him.
Alexander the Great, Act i.  Sc. 3.  N. LEE.

  To love you was pleasant enough,
    And O, ’t is delicious to hate you!
To ——­ T. MOORE.

  LOVE’S UNITY.

  Two souls with but a single thought,
  Two hearts that beat as one.
Ingomar the Barbarian, Act ii. 
VON M. BELLINGHAUSEN.  LOVELL’S Trans.

  Our two souls, therefore, which are one,
  Though I must go, endure not yet
  A breach, but an expansion,
  Like gold to airy thinness beat. 
  If they be two, they are two so
  As stiff twin compasses are two;
  Thy soul, the fixt foot, makes no show
  To move, but doth if the other do. 
  And though it in the centre sit,
  Yet when the other far doth roam,
  It leans and hearkens after it,
  And grows erect, as that comes home. 
  Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
  Like the other foot, obliquely run. 
  Thy firmness makes my circle just,
  And makes me end where I begun.
A Valediction forbidding Mourning.  DR. J. DONNE.