LOVE LOVE
The falling out of lovers is the renewing of love.
| author = Burton
| work = Anatomy of Melancholy.
| place = Pt. III. Sec. 2. Terence—Andria. III. 23.
| seealso = (See also Lyly under Friends)
Love in your hearts as idly burns
As fire in antique Roman urns.
Butler—Hudibras. Pt. II. Canto I.
| seealso = (See also Coweer under {{sc|Loss)
Love is a boy by poets styl'd:
Then spare the rod and spoil the child.
Butler—Hudibras. Pt. II. Canto I. L. 843.
What mad lover ever dy'd,
To gain a soft and gentle bride?
Or for a lady tender-hearted,
In purling streams or hemp departed?
Butler—Hudibras. Pt. III. Canto I.
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| topic = Love
| page = 466
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{{Hoyt quote
| num = 5
| text = When things were as fine as could possibly be
I thought 'twas the spring; but alas it was she.
John Byrom—A Pastoral.
Oh Love! young Love! bound in thy rosy band,
Let sage or cynic prattle as he will,
These hours, and only these, redeem Life's years
of ill.
| author = Byron
| work = Childe Harold. Canto II. St. 81.
Who loves, raves—'tis youth's frenzy—but the
cure
Is bitterer still.
Byron—Childe Harold. Canto IV. St. 123.
O! that the Desert were my dwelling place,
With one fair Spirit for my minister,
That I might afl forget the human race,
And, hating no one, love but only her!
Byron—Childe Harold. Canto IV. St. 177
Man's love is of man's life a thing apart,
'Tis woman's whole existence: man may range
The court, camp, church, the vessel, and the
mart,
Sword, gown, gain, glory, offer in exchange
Pride, fame, ambition, to fill up his heart,
And few there are whom these cannot estrange;
Men have all these resources, we but one,
To love again, and be again undone.
| author = Byron
| work = Don Juan. Canto I. St. 194.
| seealso = (See also {{sc|Crowe, De Staël)
Alas! the love of women! it is known
To be a lovely and a fearful thing.
Byron—Don Juan. Canto II. St. 199.
^An her first passion woman loves her lover;
Xln all the others, all she loves is love.
| author = Byron
| work = Don Juan. Canto III. St. 3. La
Rochefoucauld. Maxims, No. 497.
And to his eye
There was but one beloved face on earth,
And that was shining on him.
Byron—The Dream. St. 2.
She knew she was by him beloved,—she knew
For quickly comes such knowledge, that his heart
Was darken'd with her shadow.
Byron—The Dream. St. 3.
The cold in clime are cold in blood,
Their love can scarce deserve the name.
Byron—The Giaour. L. 1,099.
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| topic = Love
| page = 466
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{{Hoyt quote
| num = 15
| text = Yes, Love indeed is light from heaven;
A spark of that immortal fire
With angels shared, by Allah given
To lift from earth our low desire.
Byron—The Giaour. L. 1,131.
Why did she love him? Curious fool!—be stillIs human love the growth of human will?
| author = Byron
| work = Lara. Canto II. St. 22.
I'll bid the hyacinth to blow,
I'll teach my grotto green to be;
And sing my true love, all below
The holly bower and myrtle tree.
Campbell—Caroline. Pt. I.
My love lies bleeding.
Campbell—O'Connor's Child.
St. 5.
He that loves a rosy cheek,
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek ->
Fuel to maintain his fires,
As Old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.
Thos. Carew—Disdain Returned.
Then fly betimes, for only they
Conquer love, that run away.
Thos. Carew—Song. Conquest by Flight.
| seealso = (See also Butler under War)
| topic = Love
| page = 466
}}
{{Hoyt quote
| num =
| text = <poem>Of all the girls that are so smart
There's none like pretty Sally;
She is the darling of my heart,
And lives in our alley.
Henry Carey—Sally in our Alley.
Let Time and Chance combine, combine!
Let Time and Chance combine!
The fairest love from heaven above,
That love of yours was mine,
My Dear!
That love of yours was mine.
Carlyle—Adieu.
Vivamus, mea Lesbia atque amemus.
My Lesbia, let us live and love.
Catullus—Carmina. V. 1.
Mulier cupido quod dicit amanti,
In vento et rapida scribere oportet aqua.
What woman says to fond lover should be
written on air or the swift water.
Catullus—Carmina. LXX. 3.
Difficile est longum subito deponere amorem.
It is difficult at once to relinquish a longcherished love.
Catullus—Carmina. LXXVI. 13.
