| WHOE'ER she be, |
|
| That not impossible she, |
|
| That shall command my heart and me : |
|
|
| Where'er she lie, |
|
| Lock'd up from mortal eye, |
5 |
| In shady leaves of destiny : |
|
|
| Till that ripe birth |
|
| Of studied fate, stand forth, |
|
| And teach her fair steps to our earth : |
|
|
| Till that divine |
10 |
| Idea take a shrine |
|
| Of crystal flesh, through which to shine : |
|
|
| Meet you her, my Wishes, |
|
| Bespeak her to my blisses, |
|
| And be ye call'd my absent kisses. |
15 |
|
| I wish her beauty, |
|
| That owes not all its duty |
|
| To gaudy tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie. |
|
|
| Something more than |
|
| Taffata or tissue can, |
20 |
| Or rampant feather, or rich fan. |
|
|
| More than the spoil |
|
| Of shop, or silkworm's toil, |
|
| Or a bought blush, or a set smile. |
|
|
| A face, that's best |
25 |
| By its own beauty dress'd, |
|
| And can alone command the rest. |
|
|
| A face, made up |
|
| Out of no other shop, |
|
| Than what Nature's white hand sets ope. |
30 |
|
| A cheek, where youth |
|
| And blood, with pen of truth, |
|
| Write what the reader sweetly rueth. |
|
|
| A cheek, where grows |
|
| More than a morning rose, |
35 |
| Which to no box his being owes. |
|
|
| Lips, where all day |
|
| A lover's kiss may play, |
|
| Yet carry nothing thence away. |
|
|
| Looks, that oppress |
40 |
| Their richest tires, but dress |
|
| And clothe their simplest nakedness. |
|
|
| Eyes, that displace |
|
| The neighbour diamond, and out-face |
|
| That sunshine by their own sweet grace. |
45 |
|
| Tresses, that wear |
|
| Jewels, but to declare |
|
| How much themselves more precious are. |
|
|
| Whose native ray |
|
| Can tame the wanton day |
50 |
| Of gems that in their bright shades play. |
|
|
| Each ruby there, |
|
| Or pearl that dare appear, |
|
| Be its own blush, be its own tear. |
|
|
| A well-tamed heart, |
55 |
| For whose more noble smart |
|
| Love may be long choosing a dart. |
|
|
| Eyes, that bestow |
|
| Full quivers on love's bow, |
|
| Yet pay less arrows than they owe. |
60 |
|
| Smiles, that can warm |
|
| The blood, yet teach a charm, |
|
| That chastity shall take no harm. |
|
|
| Blushes, that bin |
|
| The burnish of no sin, |
65 |
| Nor flames of aught too hot within. |
|
|
| Joys, that confess |
|
| Virtue their mistress, |
|
| And have no other head to dress. |
|
|
| Fears, fond and slight, |
70 |
| As the coy bride's, when night |
|
| First does the longing lover right. |
|
|
| Tears, quickly fled, |
|
| And vain, as those are shed |
|
| For a dying maidenhead. |
75 |
|
| Days, that need borrow |
|
| No part of their good morrow |
|
| From a fore-spent night of sorrow. |
|
|
| Days, that in spite |
|
| Of darkness, by the light |
80 |
| Of a clear mind, are day all night. |
|
|
| Nights, sweet as they |
|
| Made short by lovers' play, |
|
| Yet long by th' absence of the day. |
|
|
| Life, that dares send |
85 |
| A challenge to his end, |
|
| And when it comes, say, Welcome, friend ! |
|
|
| Sydneian showers |
|
| Of sweet discourse, whose powers |
|
| Can crown old winter's head with flowers. |
90 |
|
| Soft silken hours, |
|
| Open suns, shady bowers, |
|
| 'Bove all—nothing within that lowers. |
|
|
| Whate'er delight |
|
| Can make day's forehead bright |
95 |
| Or give down to the wings of night. |
|
|
| In her whole frame, |
|
| Have Nature all the name, |
|
| Art and ornament the shame. |
|
|
| Her flattery, |
100 |
| Picture and poesy, |
|
| Her counsel her own virtue be. |
|
|
| I wish her store |
|
| Of worth may leave her poor |
|
| Of wishes ; and I wish——no more. |
105 |
|
| Now, if Time knows |
|
| That her, whose radiant brows |
|
| Weave them a garland of my vows ; |
|
|
| Her, whose just bays |
|
| My future hopes can raise, |
110 |
| A trophy to her present praise ; |
|
|
| Her, that dares be |
|
| What these lines wish to see : |
|
| I seek no further, it is she. |
|
|
| 'Tis she, and here, |
115 |
| Lo, I unclothe and clear |
|
| My Wish's cloudy character ! |
|
|
| May she enjoy it, |
|
| Whose merit dare aplly it, |
|
| But modesty dares still deny it ! |
120 |
|
| Such worth as this is |
|
| Shall fix my flying wishes, |
|
| And determine them to kisses. |
|
|
| Let her full glory, |
|
| My fancies, fly before ye, |
125 |
| Be ye my fictions but—her story. |
|
|
