That makes it fatal to be loved?"
Don Juan, Can. 3.
I thought upon their fate, and wept; and then
Came to my mind the silent hour of night,
The hour which lovers love, and long for, when
Their young impassioned souls feel that delight
Which Love's first dream bestows.—How Juliet's ear
Drank every soft word of her Cavalier!
And how, when his departing hour drew nigh,
She fondly called him back to her!—Oh! why
Did she then call him back ?—It is the same
With all whom love may dwell with ; but the flame
Within their breasts was a consuming fire;
'Twas passion's essence; it was something higher
Than aught that life presents ; it was above
All that we see—'twas all we dream of love.