7 Couchant upon these precious cushionets Were thousand beauties, and as many smiles, Chaste blandishments, and modest cooling heats, Harmless temptations, and honest guiles.
For heaven, though up betimes the maid to deck, Ne'er made Aurora's cheeks so fair and sleek,
8 Enamouring neatness, softness, pleasure, at Her gracious mouth in full retinue stood; For, next the eyes' bright glass, the soul at that Takes most delight to look and walk abroad. But at her lips two threads of scarlet lay, Or two warm corals, to adorn the way,—
9 The precious way whereby her breath and tongue, Her odours and her honey, travelled,
Which nicest critics would have judged among Arabian or Hyblæan mountains bred.
Indeed, the richer Araby in her
Dear mouth and sweeter Hybla dwelling were.
10 More gracefully its golden chapiter
No column of white marble e'er sustained Than her round polished neck supported her Illustrious head, which there in triumph reigned. Yet neither would this pillar hardness know, Nor suffer cold to dwell amongst its snow.
11 Her blessed bosom moderately rose With two soft mounts of lilies, whose fair top A pair of pretty sister cherries chose,
And there their living crimson lifted up.
The milky countenance of the hills confessed What kind of springs within had made their nest.
12 So leggiadrous were her snowy hands
That pleasure moved as any finger stirred: Her virgin waxen arms were precious bands And chains of love: her waist itself did gird With its own graceful slenderness, and tie Up delicacy's best epitome.
13 Fair politure walked all her body over, And symmetry rejoiced in every part;
Soft and white sweetness was her native cover, From every member beauty shot a dart:
From heaven to earth, from head to foot I mean, No blemish could by envy's self be seen.
14 This was the first-born queen of gallantry; All gems compounded into one rich stone, All sweets knit into one conspiracy; A constellation of all stars in one;
Who, when she was presented to their view, Both paradise and nature dazzled grew.
15 Phoebus, who rode in glorious scorn's career About the world, no sooner spied her face, But fain he would have lingered, from his sphere On this, though less, yet sweeter, heaven, to gaze Till shame enforced him to'lash on again,
And clearer wash him in the western main.
16 The smiling air was tickled with his high Prerogative of uncontrolled bliss, Embracing with entirest liberty
A. body soft, and sweet, and chaste as his. All odorous gales that had but strength to stir Came flocking in to beg perfumes of her.
17 The marigold her garish love forgot,
And turned her homage to these fairer eyes; All flowers looked up, and dutifully shot Their wonder hither, whence they saw arise Unparching courteous lustre, which instead Of fire, soft joy's irradiations spread.
18 The sturdiest trees, affected by her dear Delightful presence, could not choose but melt At their hard pith; whilst all the birds whose clear Pipes tossed mirth about the branches, felt
The influence of her looks; for having let
fall down, their eyes on her they set.
TO THE MEMORY OF HIS WIFE.
1 Sweet soul, how goodly was the temple which Heaven pleased to make thy earthly habitation! Built all of graceful delicacy, rich
In symmetry, and of a dangerous fashion
For youthful eyes, had not the saint within Governed the charms of her enamouring shrine.
2 How happily compendious didst thou make My study when I was the lines to draw Of genuine beauty! never put to take Long journeys was my fancy; still I saw
At home my copy, and I knew 'twould be But beauty's wrong further to seek than thee.
3 Full little knew the world (for I as yet
In studied silence hugged my secret bliss) How facile was my Muse's task, when set Virtue's and grace's features to express ! For whilst accomplished thou wert in my sight I nothing had to do, but look and write.
4 How sadly parted are those words; since I Must now be writing, but no more can look! Yet in my heart thy precious memory, So deep is graved, that from this faithful book, Truly transcribed, thy character shall shine; Nor shall thy death devour what was divine.
5 Hear then, O all soft-hearted turtles, hear What you alone profoundly will resent: A bird of your pure feather 'tis whom here Her desolate mate remaineth to lament,
Whilst she is flown to meet her dearer love, And sing among the winged choir above.
6 Twelve times the glorious sovereign of day Had made his progress, and in every inn Whose golden signs through all his radiant way So high are hung, as often lodged been, Since in the sacred knot this noble she Deigned to be tied to (then how happy) me.
7 Tied, tied we were so intimately, that We straight were sweetly lost in one another. Thus when two notes in music's wedlock knit, They in one concord blended are together:
For nothing now our life but music was; Her soul the treble made, and mine the base.
8 How at the needless question would she smile, When asked what she desired or counted fit? Still bidding me examine mine own will, And read the surest answer ready writ.
So centred was her heart in mine, that she Would own no wish, if first not wished by me.
9 Delight was no such thing to her, if I Relished it not: the palate of her pleasure Carefully watched what mine could taste, and by That standard her content resolved to measure. By this rare art of sweetness did she prove
That though she joyed, yet all her joy was love. 10 So was her grief: for wronged herself she held If I were sad alone; her share, alas!
And more than so, in all my sorrows' field She duly reaped: and here alone she was Unjust to me. Ah! dear injustice, which Mak'st me complain that I was loved too much!
11 She ne'er took post to keep an equal pace Still with the newest modes, which swiftly run: She never was perplexed to hear her lace Accused for six months' old, when first put on: She laid no watchful leaguers, costly vain, Intelligence with fashions to maintain.
12 On a pin's point she ne'er held consultation, Nor at her glass's strict tribunal brought Each plait to scrupulous examination: Ashamed she was that Titan's coach about
Half heaven should sooner wheel, than she could
Through all the petty stages of her dress.
13 No gadding itch e'er spurred her to delight In needless sallies; none but civil care Of friendly correspondence could invite Her out of doors; unless she 'pointed were By visitations from Heaven's hand, where she Might make her own in tender sympathy.
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