| |
| HADST thou liv’d in days of old, | |
| O what wonders had been told | |
| Of thy lively countenance, | |
| And thy humid eyes that dance | |
| In the midst of their own brightness; | 5 |
| In the very fane of lightness. | |
| Over which thine eyebrows, leaning, | |
| Picture out each lovely meaning: | |
| In a dainty bend they lie, | |
| Like to streaks across the sky, | 10 |
| Or the feathers from a crow, | |
| Fallen on a bed of snow. | |
| Of thy dark hair that extends | |
| Into many graceful bends: | |
| As the leaves of Hellebore | 15 |
| Turn to whence they sprung before. | |
| And behind each ample curl | |
| Peeps the richness of a pearl. | |
| Downward too flows many a tress | |
| With a glossy waviness; | 20 |
| Full, and round like globes that rise | |
| From the censer to the skies | |
| Through sunny air. Add too, the sweetness | |
| Of thy honied voice; the neatness | |
| Of thine ankle lightly turn’d: | 25 |
| With those beauties, scarce discern’d, | |
| Kept with such sweet privacy, | |
| That they seldom meet the eye | |
| Of the little loves that fly | |
| Round about with eager pry. | 30 |
| Saving when, with freshening lave, | |
| Thou dipp’st them in the taintless wave; | |
| Like twin water lillies, born | |
| In the coolness of the morn. | |
| O, if thou hadst breathed then, | 35 |
| Now the Muses had been ten. | |
| Couldst thou wish for lineage higher | |
| Than twin sister of Thalia? | |
| At least for ever, evermore, | |
| Will I call the Graces four. | 40 |
| |
| Hadst thou liv’d when chivalry | |
| Lifted up her lance on high, | |
| Tell me what thou wouldst have been? | |
| Ah! I see the silver sheen | |
| Of thy broidered, floating vest | 45 |
| Cov’ring half thine ivory breast; | |
| Which, O heavens! I should see, | |
| But that cruel destiny | |
| Has placed a golden cuirass there; | |
| Keeping secret what is fair. | 50 |
| Like sunbeams in a cloudlet nested | |
| Thy locks in knightly casque are rested: | |
| O’er which bend four milky plumes | |
| Like the gentle lilly’s blooms | |
| Springing from a costly vase. | 55 |
| See with what a stately pace | |
| Comes thine alabaster steed; | |
| Servant of heroic deed! | |
| O’er his loins, his trappings glow | |
| Like the northern lights on snow. | 60 |
| Mount his back! thy sword unsheath! | |
| Sign of the enchanter’s death; | |
| Bane of every wicked spell; | |
| Silencer of dragon’s yell. | |
| Alas! thou this wilt never do: | 65 |
| Thou art an enchantress too, | |
| And wilt surely never spill | |
| Blood of those whose eyes can kill. | |
| |
| See Notes. |
| |
