Read Ebook: Richardson's New London fashionable gentleman's valentine writer or the lover's own book for this year by Richardson Thomas

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Ebook has 140 lines and 9033 words, and 3 pages

ANSWER OF REJECTION.

Your father's business, Sir, may slip Thro' his own hands:--the proverb's true-- Much falls between the cup and lip; So take this answer and adieu.

FROM A GENTLEMAN.

O! who can tell the heart's emotion? Who can well the power reveal? The painful, pleasing, soft commotion, The hopes, the fears which lovers feel? How vainly I, whose bosom fraught With love, unchanging love to thee, Can show its truth, or raise a thought That's equal to its power in me!

FROM A GENTLEMAN.

Dearer still art thou to me, Fairest maid, in whom I see All I must approve. Time, that with oblivious charm May the power of love disarm, Will but increase my love.

TO A LADY.

Dear girl belov'd, and lov'd by me, In whom so many charms I see, To captivate my heart; Ah! wilt thou, then, to me, who knows But love for thee, for whom it flows, Thy purest love impart?

TO A LADY.

How shall my faithful heart, my fair, Declare the bliss it feels, The balm to soften ev'ry care Which mutual love reveals?

When prudence joins the faithful tie, In vain will sorrow prove; And every spark of grief will fly Before the breath of love.

FROM A GENTLEMAN.

Since first my heart with pleasure knew The power of faithful love for you, And made me only thine, I cannot cease to love thee less, But would returning love possess From thee, my Valentine.

TO A LADY.

Whene'er I see thy lovely face, My heart with joy doth burn, Whenever absent from the place, I long for thy return.

If you all others would forsake, And love but me alone, And faithful love with me partake, To be my all, my own,

I'd bless the day that first I knew My lovely charmer fair, And all my life should be to show She was my only care.

TO A LADY.

O! could this letter speak my love, And would thy heart that love approve; That faithful love which lives for you, In friendship and affection too.

TO A LADY.

Love thee! yes, dear lovely maid, Thee I'll love, and only thee; And, whatever cares invade, Happy in thy love of me.

Love thee! yes, with love replete, Still for thee my heart shall glow, Till my pulse forbids to beat, Or the streams of life to flow.

Yes, for ever to my heart, Dear and precious shalt thou be; Wilt thou, then, dear girl, impart Love to him, who lives to thee?

TO A LADY.

How sweet is love by truth directed, Love by mutual hearts respected, Confiding, constant, true! How sweet to breathe the faithful vow, To give the pledge, as I do now, And seek such love from you!

TO A LADY.

On a Valentine-day I hasten to prove To thee, dearest girl, my remembrance of love, Tho' little, indeed, can a trifle impart, Of a love undivided possessing my heart.

TO A LADY.

Be mine, dear girl, with joy to prove With thee the bliss of wedded love, To seal to thee, and seek from you A love which time will not subdue.

TO A LADY.

Let thy tongue, soft love expressing, In my ears fond thoughts repeat; Let thy heart, its truth confessing, With the purest passion beat.

Thee alone my heart desiring, Only hopes thou wilt approve; Only this from thee requiring-- Love returning equal love.

TO A LADY.

Can one poor humble verse, my fair, Of love the power and truth declare? Can genius, join'd with words, impart Its strong dominion in my heart? Ah! no; for all my love must be But known by deeds of love for thee.

TO A LADY.

Tell me, dearest, wilt thou prove Faithful in returns of love? I can never cease to own Thou art dear to me alone; I can never cease to be Fraught with faithful love for thee.

TO A LADY.

Oh! could I hear thee once declare, That fond affection lives for me! Oh! could I once delighted share The sweet return of love from thee!

I, who no other object know Which could my heart from thee estrange, Confess a love which joy or woe, Or life or death, could never change.

TO A LADY.

My love to thee I fain would prove, But can a letter speak my love? Or can a pledge so small reveal A passion which I can't conceal? No; love by trifles, thus exprest, Shows but the shade of love at best.

TO A LADY.

TO A LADY.

Could you persuade the constant dove To leave his mate, inconstant prove, And lonely thro' the woodlands rove, I might deceive the girl I love; But ne'er till then will I agree To quit my love, to part with thee.

FROM A PAINTER.

THE ANSWER.

FROM A MALTSTER.

My barley is fine, and good my kiln, In making malt, none has more skill, And though my horses oft are blind, My love to you is not, you'll find; What, tho' my granary is well fill'd, As any maltster e'er beheld; Yet, what is all this store to me, Unless that I could purchase thee? Come, then, and all my malt command, I'll put the staff into your hand, My barley, every grain, be thine, As you I've chose my Valentine.

THE ANSWER.

I do not doubt your malt is good, Your skill by all is understood; The humming beer thro' all the town, Has fix'd on high your just renown. But why I should your grain command, I own I do not understand, For I your barley cannot dry, Nor yet your blind horse supply; So to your wish I can't incline, Adieu, then, Master Valentine.

FROM THE GROOM TO THE COOK.

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