ess, a torrid wind,
A torrent with its flood-gates open burst;
When Youth's most cherished hopes within the breast are nursed.

CII.

O tell me not that Youth, all youth is folly,
Give me the kiss that youth doth first impress,
O let me feel love's ling'ring melancholy,
And smile on lips all youthful loveliness!
Give me the bosom I can fondly press
While Youth's hot blood is burning in the veins,
O what but this is earthly happiness?
This world no sweeter thing than this contains;
When days of youth are o'er, life's foremost pleasure wanes.

CIII.

Yes, Youth was made for such; it is enough
To know in some fond heart our words abide;
Oh life's not life but death without a love,
All ceaseless darkness where she is denied!
We know not our existence till we hide
Our soul within another's there to be
Its very being: like a river wide
Love rolls its endless volumes to the sea,
Losing itself within its own immensity.

CIV.

There is a sort of torture which attends
That most delightful of the heart's delights,
A sort of cruelty which somehow blends
With passion in its most distracted flights;
And absence from a bosom that requites
An all-absorbing love is as a flame
Fed ten-fold, yet insatiate; it excites
Those maddened cravings which the breast inflame,
Those fiery, longing gasps within the fevered frame.

CV.

However, I'm too fond of pondering
When it's so necessary to proceed,
And on to worthless topics wandering
To which my friends will pay but little heed,
All those I mean who take my book and read
Those matters that they studied long ago,
Who of such information have no need
And want to hear of something they don't know;
I know what's due to them and they shall have it so.

CVI.

'Twas Dora, as by now you will have guessed,
Who was the burden of poor Rowland's thought,
He was not merely by her face impressed
But loved her to distraction as he ought,
It is you know the popular report
That the best love is love at the first sight;
If such is true or not it matters nought,
I'd rather not discuss the point to-night,
It won't affect our story whether wrong or right.

CVII.

I think and I've good reason to suppose
This was a first-sight love, but who can say
For certain if it was so? Goodness knows
If he conceived it in amongst the hay:
If I hear rightly ever since that day
He had been somewhat quieter than before
And had been known to take himself away
To wander long alone upon