Verse > Anthologies > T. H. Ward, ed. > The English Poets > Vol. I. Chaucer to Donne
Thomas Humphry Ward, ed.  The English Poets.  1880–1918.
Vol. I. Early Poetry: Chaucer to Donne
Rosader’s Description of Rosalynd
By Thomas Lodge (1558–1625)
  LIKE to the clear in highest sphere,
    Where all imperial beauty shines,
  Of selfsame colour is her hair,
    Whether unfolded or in twines;
  Her eyes are sapphires set in snow,        5
    Refining heaven by every wink;
  The gods do fear whenas they glow,
    And I do tremble when I think.
  Her cheeks are like the blushing cloud
    That beautifies Aurora’s face,        10
  Or like the silver-crimson shroud
    That Phoebus’ smiling looks doth grace;
  Her lips are like two budded roses,
    Whom ranks of lilies neighbour nigh,
  Within whose bounds she balm encloses        15
    Apt to entice a deity.
  Her neck like to a stately tower,
    Where Love himself emprisoned lies,
  To watch for glances every hour,
    From her divine and sacred eyes;        20
  Her paps are centres of delight,
    Her paps are orbs of heavenly frame,
  Where nature moulds the dew of light,
    To feed perfection with the same.
  With orient pearl, with ruby red,        25
    With marble white, with sapphire blue,
  Her body every way is fed,
    Yet soft to touch, and sweet in view;
  Nature herself her shape admires,
    The gods are wounded in her sight,        30
  And Love forsakes his heavenly fires,
    And at her eyes his brand doth light.
  Then muse not, Nymphs, though I bemoan
    The absence of fair Rosalynd;
  Since for her fair there ’s fairer none,        35
    Nor for her virtues so divine.
          Heigh ho! fair Rosalynd!
Heigh ho! my heart, would God that she were mine!

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