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 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, Beneath the which, two burning planets glancing Or roses gules in field of lilies borne; 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, 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 6. That bright lady's eye, methinks, hath less HEMANS. 7. Oh still her air, her face, each charm, With mind her mantling cheek doth glow, An all-inspiring soul. 8. FRISBIE. When first I saw her, Her dark and eloquent eyes, mild, full of fire, 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; 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 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. gaze PIERRE ROGIERS. |