SHALL I DESCRIBE YOUR LADY-LOVE?

EPHYRS her ringlets blow;

1. Sporting about her neck the gold they twine,

Kiss the soft violet on her temples warm,

And eyebrow just so dark as may define
Its flexile arch, throne of expression's charm.

MRS. BROOKS-Zophiël.

2. Her hair more bright than are the morning's beams,

Hangs in a golden shower of sunny gleams,

And dangling seeks her forehead for to cover,
Which seen doth straight a sky of milk discover,
With two fair brows, Love's brows, which never bend
But that a golden arrow forth they send;

Beneath the which, two burning planets glancing
Flash flames of love, for love still there is dancing.
Her either cheek resembleth blushing morn,

Or roses gules in field of lilies borne;
"Twixt which an ivory wall so fair is raised,
That it is but abased when it's praised.
Her lips like rows of coral soft do swell,
And th' one like th' other only doth excel:
The Tyrian fish looks pale, pale look the roses,
The rubies pale, when mouth, sweet cherry, closes.

Her chin like silver Phoebe doth appear

Dark in the midst, to make the rest more clear; Her neck seems framed by curious Phidias' master, Most smooth, most white, a piece of alabaster.

WILLIAM DRUMMOND.

3. Oh, the rose is like her ruby lip,

And the lily like her skin;

And her mouth like a faulded violet,
With the scented breath within.

4.

One

NICOLL.

Whose beauty does astonish the survey

Of richest eyes; whose words all ears take captive; Whose dear perfection, hearts that scorn to serve,

Humbly call mistress.

All's Well that ends Well.

5. A laughing light, a tender grace
Sparkle in beauty round her face;
And her step is as light as the breezy air
When it bends the morning flowers so fair.
WM. CARLETON-Ballad Poetry of Ireland.

6. That bright lady's eye, methinks, hath less
Of deep, and still, and pensive tenderness,
Than might beseem thy love's;-upon her brow
Something too much there sits of native scorn,
And her smile kindles with a conscious glow,
As from the thought of sovereign beauty born.

HEMANS.

7. Oh still her air, her face, each charm,
Bespeak a heart with feeling warm,
While mind informs the whole;

With mind her mantling cheek doth glow,
Her voice, her beaming eye, still show

An all-inspiring soul.

8.

FRISBIE.

When first I saw her,

Her dark and eloquent eyes, mild, full of fire,
'Twas heaven to look upon; and her sweet voice
As tunable as harp of many strings,

At once spoke joy and sadness to the soul.

ROGERS-From Euripides.

9. Oh, to see or hear her singing! scarce I know which

is divinest

For her looks sing too-she modulates her gestures

to the tune;

And her mouth stirs with the song, like song; and

when the notes are finest,

'Tis the eyes that shoot out vocal light, and seem to swell them on.

MISS BARRETT-The Lady Geraldine's Courtship.

10. But who is this? what thing of sea or land;

With all her bravery on, and tackle trim,

Sails filled, and streamers waving,

An amber scent of odorous perfume

Her harbinger.

MILTON Samson Agonistes.

11. Time has just matured each perfect grace, And opened all the wonders of her face.

YOUNG-Force of Religion.

12. Upon her brow in simple majesty

Peace reigns, and meekness in her downcast eye;
A pensive contemplation marks her mien,

As though she communed with a world unseen.

CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH-Osric.

13. If one had seen that tender cheek,

Those eyes of melting blue,

He would not have thought in a thing so weak
Such a fiery spirit grew.

PRAED Troubadour.

14. Who has not looked upon her brow, Has never dreamt of perfect bliss,

But once to see her is to know

What beauty-what perfection is.
Her charms are of the growth of Heaven,
She decks the night with hues of day;
Blest are the eyes to which 'tis given
On her to the soul away,

gaze

PIERRE ROGIERS.