Volume Ii Part 81 (1/2)

Tresses, that wear Jewels but to declare How much themselves more precious are:

Whose native ray Can tame the wanton day 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, For whose more n.o.ble smart Love may be long choosing a dart.

Eyes, that bestow Full quivers on Love's bow, Yet pay less arrows than they owe.

Smiles, that can warm The blood, yet teach a charm, That chast.i.ty shall take no harm.

Blushes, that bin The burnish of no sin, Nor flames of aught too hot within.

Joys, that confess Virtue their mistress, And have no other head to dress.

Fears, fond and slight As the coy bride's, when night, First does the longing lover right.

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 Of a clear mind, are day all night.

Nights, sweet as they, Made short by lovers' play, Yet long by the absence of the day.

Life, that dares send 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.

Soft silken hours, Open suns, shady bowers; 'Bove all, nothing within that lowers.

Whate'er delight Can make Day's forehead bright, Or give down to the wings of Night.

In her whole frame Have Nature all the name; Art and Ornament, the shame!

Her flattery, 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.

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, 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, Lo! I unclothe and clear My Wishes' cloudy character.

May She enjoy it Whose merit dare apply it, But modesty dares still deny it!