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Effusions of Love from Chatelar to Mary, Queen of Scotland

Translated from a Gallic Manuscript, in the Scotch College at Paris. Interspersed with songs, sonnets, and notes explanatory, by the translator [i.e. S. W. H. Ireland]. To which is added, historical fragments, poetry, and remains of the amours, of that unfortunate Princess

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TO LOVE.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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80

TO LOVE.

Love holds dominion o'er my breast,
And all my senses both enslave;
He is the foe of tranquil rest,
Nor quits us till we're in the grave,
He is a foe,
He is a fire;
The source of woe,
Or soft desire.
Ah! wou'd my goddess smile, I then might show,
That bliss was love, not love of bliss the foe.

81

But since in love no joys I find,
My direst foe in him I serve;
And though a tyrant, still my mind
The rankling arrow must preserve.
I am the slave,
My gaoler he—
Nought but the grave
Gives liberty.
Come love's physician, come all-conqu'ring death,
Strike here, and let me yield with love my breath.