II.

WISHES.

TO HIS (SUPPOSED) MISTRESS.

WHOE'ER she be,

That not impossible she

That shall command my heart and me;

Where'er she lie,

Lock'd up from mortal eye,
In shady leaves of Destiny;

Till that ripe birth

Of studied Fate stand forth,
And teach her fair steps tread our Earth;

Till that divine

Idea, take a shrine.

Of crystal flesh, through which to shine;

Meet you her, my wishes,
Bespeak her to my blisses,
And be ye call'd, my absent kisses.

I wish her, beauty

That owes not all its duty

To gaudy tire or glist'ring shoe-tie;

Something more than

Taffata or tissue can,
Or rampant feather, or rich fan.

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More than the spoil

Of shop, or silkworm's toil,

Or a bought blush, or a set smile.

A face that's best

By its own beauty drest,

And can alone commend the rest,

A face made up,

Out of no other shop

Than what Nature's white hand sets ope.

A cheek where Youth,

And blood, with pen of Truth

Write, what their reader sweetly ru'th.

A cheek where grows

More than a morning rose:
Which to no box his being owes.

Lips, where all day

A lover's kiss may play,
Yet carry nothing thence away.

Looks that oppress

Their richest tires, but dress
Themselves in simple nakedness.

Eyes, that displace

The neighbour diamond, and out-face
That sunshine, by their own sweet grace.

Tresses, that wear
Jewels, but to declare

How much themselves more precious are.

H

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Whose native ray,

Can tame the wanton day

Of gems, that in their bright shades play.

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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 th' 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.

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