Amor, Che Vedi Ogni Pensiero Aperto. He Cares Not For Sufferings, So That He Displease Not Laura. Love, Thou Who Seest Each Secret Thought Display'D, And The Sad Steps I Take, With Thee Sole Guide; This Throbbing Breast, To Thee Thrown Open Wide, To Others' Prying Barr'D, Thine Eyes Pervade. Thou Know'St What Efforts, Following Thee, I Made, While Still From Height To Height Thy Pinions Glide; Nor Deign'St One Pitying Look To Turn Aside On Him Who, Fainting, Treads A Trackless Glade. I Mark From Far The Mildly-Beaming Ray To Which Thou Goad'St Me Through The Devious Maze; Alas! I Want Thy Wings, To Speed My Way-- Henceforth, A Distant Homager, I'll Gaze, Content By Silent Longings To Decay, So That My Sighs For Her In Her No Anger Raise. Wrangham. O Love, That Seest My Heart Without Disguise, And Those Hard Toils From Thee Which I Sustain, Look To My Inmost Thought; Behold The Pain To Thee Unveil'D, Hid From All Other Eyes. Thou Know'St For Thee This Breast What Suffering Tries; Me Still From Day To Day O'Er Hill And Plain Thou Chasest; Heedless Still, While I Complain As To My Wearied Steps New Thorns Arise. True, I Discern Far Off The Cheering Light To Which, Through Trackless Wilds, Thou Urgest Me: But Wings Like Thine To Bear Me To Delight I Want:--Yet From These Pangs I Would Not Flee, Finding This Only Favour In Her Sight, That Not Displeased My Love And Death She See. Capel Lofft.