| |
| WOMAN! when I behold thee flippant, vain, | |
| Inconstant, childish, proud, and full of fancies; | |
| Without that modest softening that enhances | |
| The downcast eye, repentant of the pain | |
| That its mild light creates to heal again: | 5 |
| E’en then, elate, my spirit leaps, and prances, | |
| E’en then my soul with exultation dances | |
| For that to love, so long, I’ve dormant lain: | |
| But when I see thee meek, and kind, and tender, | |
| Heavens! how desperately do I adore | 10 |
| Thy winning graces;—to be thy defender | |
| I hotly burn—to be a Calidore— | |
| A very Red Cross Knight—a stout Leander— | |
| Might I be loved by thee like these of yore. | |
| |
| Light feet, dark violet eyes, and parted hair; | 15 |
| Soft dimpled hands, white neck, and creamy breast, | |
| Are things on which the dazzled senses rest | |
| Till the fond, fixed eyes, forget they stare. | |
| From such fine pictures, heavens! I cannot dare | |
| To turn my admiration, though unpossess’d | 20 |
| They be of what is worthy,—though not drest | |
| In lovely modesty, and virtues rare. | |
| Yet these I leave as thoughtless as a lark; | |
| These lures I straight forget—e’en ere I dine, | |
| Or thrice my palate moisten: but when I mark | 25 |
| Such charms with mild intelligences shine, | |
| My ear is open like a greedy shark, | |
| To catch the tunings of a voice divine. | |
| |
| Ah! who can e’er forget so fair a being? | |
| Who can forget her half retiring sweets? | 30 |
| God! she is like a milk-white lamb that bleats | |
| For man’s protection. Surely the All-seeing, | |
| Who joys to see us with his gifts agreeing, | |
| Will never give him pinions, who intreats | |
| Such innocence to ruin,—who vilely cheats | 35 |
| A dove-like bosom. In truth there is no freeing | |
| One’s thoughts from such a beauty; when I hear | |
| A lay that once I saw her hand awake, | |
| Her form seems floating palpable, and near; | |
| Had I e’er seen her from an arbour take | 40 |
| A dewy flower, oft would that hand appear, | |
| And o’er my eyes the trembling moisture shake. | |
| |
| See Notes. |
| |
