The Works, In Verse and Prose, of Leonard Welsted ... Now First Collected. With Historical Notes, And Biographical Memoirs of the Author, by John Nichols |
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The FAULTLESS FAIR.
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 | The Works, In Verse and Prose, of Leonard Welsted |  |
The FAULTLESS FAIR.
Of all her works, to polish Woman, most
Does Nature strive, of all her works the boast!
Yet, while she moulds the tender clay with art,
And fashions it for empire o'er the heart;
Short of perfection still she leaves her plan,
In pity to the slave of Beauty, Man!
Bestowing charms, she kindly casts allays,
And what we censure blends with what we praise;
Her gifts unmix'd but rarely do we trace;
We spy a blemish, while we prize a grace.
Aurelia's face assembled crowds adore;
Her shape survey'd, th' enchantment reigns no more:
From Fulvia's eye none e'er confess'd a fire,
Or on her bosom long'd not to expire:
To Love might Chloe melt a flinted breast,
If Chloe with Myrtilla's wit were blest:
Myrtilla to despair might monarchs doom,
Had but Myrtilla youthful Chloe's bloom:
When pensive, Cynthia's charms all hearts obey;
But in her smiles the Goddess fades away:
If Cynthia smile, all hearts are free from pain;
But let her languish, and they pant again.
Does Nature strive, of all her works the boast!
Yet, while she moulds the tender clay with art,
And fashions it for empire o'er the heart;
Short of perfection still she leaves her plan,
In pity to the slave of Beauty, Man!
Bestowing charms, she kindly casts allays,
And what we censure blends with what we praise;
Her gifts unmix'd but rarely do we trace;
We spy a blemish, while we prize a grace.
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Her shape survey'd, th' enchantment reigns no more:
From Fulvia's eye none e'er confess'd a fire,
Or on her bosom long'd not to expire:
To Love might Chloe melt a flinted breast,
If Chloe with Myrtilla's wit were blest:
Myrtilla to despair might monarchs doom,
Had but Myrtilla youthful Chloe's bloom:
When pensive, Cynthia's charms all hearts obey;
But in her smiles the Goddess fades away:
If Cynthia smile, all hearts are free from pain;
But let her languish, and they pant again.
Thus graces with defects together spring,
And the same hour does chains and freedom bring:
Thou only claim'st, my Love, sincere applause,
Exempted from Creation's common laws;
To thee, Zelinda, Nature, over-kind,
Gave all her gifts of feature and of mind;
Thee she did finish with an Artist's care,
Without a rival, and a Faultless Fair!
Thy envy'd form does every charm disclose,
And in that nursery every beauty grows.
And the same hour does chains and freedom bring:
Thou only claim'st, my Love, sincere applause,
Exempted from Creation's common laws;
To thee, Zelinda, Nature, over-kind,
Gave all her gifts of feature and of mind;
Thee she did finish with an Artist's care,
Without a rival, and a Faultless Fair!
Thy envy'd form does every charm disclose,
And in that nursery every beauty grows.
So the fam'd Tree, that springs in Java's groves,
Bends with its freight of Nutmeg, Mace, and Cloves;
One costly sap the precious load supplies,
And from one stem the mingled odours rise;
Beneath its shade, indulg'd, the natives lie,
And in a scene so soft desire to die.
Bends with its freight of Nutmeg, Mace, and Cloves;
One costly sap the precious load supplies,
And from one stem the mingled odours rise;
Beneath its shade, indulg'd, the natives lie,
And in a scene so soft desire to die.
| The Works, In Verse and Prose, of Leonard Welsted | |