| |
| IF rightly tuneful bards decide, | |
| If it be fix’d in Love’s decrees, | |
| That Beauty ought not to be tried | |
| But by its native power to please, | |
| Then tell me, youths and lovers, tell, | 5 |
| What fair can Amoret excel? | |
| |
| Behold that bright unsullied smile, | |
| And wisdom speaking in her mien: | |
| Yet (she so artless all the while, | |
| So little studious to be seen) | 10 |
| We nought but instant gladness know, | |
| Nor think to whom the gift we owe. | |
| |
| But neither music, nor the powers | |
| Of youth and mirth and frolic cheer, | |
| Add half that sunshine to the hours, | 15 |
| Or make life’s prospect half so clear, | |
| As memory brings it to the eye | |
| From scenes where Amoret was by. | |
| |
| Yet not a satirist could there | |
| Or fault or indiscretion find; | 20 |
| Nor any prouder sage declare | |
| One virtue, pictur’d in his mind, | |
| Whose form with lovelier colours glows | |
| Than Amoret’s demeanour shows. | |
| |
| This sure is Beauty’s happiest part: | 25 |
| This gives the most unbounded sway: | |
| This shall enchant the subject heart | |
| When rose and lily fade away; | |
| And she be still, in spite of time, | |
| Sweet Amoret in all her prime. | 30 |
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