^tlt'otropt. 107 
Thou art tlio star that <!;uides me 
Along life's troubled sea; — 
Whatever fate betides me, 
This heart still turns to thee. 
G. P. Morris. 
He on his side 
Leaning half-raised, with looks of cordial love 
Iluug over her enamoured, and beheld 
Beauty, -which, whether waking or asleep, 
Shot forth peculiar graces. 
Milton. 
Like Ixion, 
I look on Juno, feel my heart turn to cinders 
Vv'ith an invisible fire ; and yet, should she 
Deign to appear clothed in a various cloud, 
The majesty of the substance is so sacred 
I durst not clasp the shadow. I behold her 
With adoration, feast my eye, while all 
My other senses starve ; and, oft frequenting 
The place which she makes happy with her presence, 
I never yet had power, with tongue or pen, 
To move her to compassion, or make known 
What 'tis I languish for ; yet I must gaze still. 
Though it increase my flame. 
Massinger. 
