Clarastella Together with Poems occasional, Elegies, Epigrams, Satyrs. By Robert Heath |
 |
|
On Mrs. E. H. having red haire on her
head, and on her left side a pure white lock growing.
|
|
|
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
 | Clarastella |  |
On Mrs. E. H. having red haire on her head, and on her left side a pure white lock growing.
Tell me no more of Helen fair,
Of Daphne, or that famous pair
Of lovely Dames whom Jove did court
And tempted to his bed of sport.
Such a fair wonder I shal tel
The Golden age cann't paralel:
Her hair the richest Metal yields,
Whilst she like Ceres gilds the fields:
And her smooth flesh with red and white
So fitly mixt, so purely bright,
While the choise flow'rs there smile so gay,
She's fair as Flora fresh as May.
Lillie and Rose dwell in her face,
In ev'ry look and smile a Grace,
And in whom all is understood
What we count either Fair or Good.
Of Daphne, or that famous pair
15
And tempted to his bed of sport.
Such a fair wonder I shal tel
The Golden age cann't paralel:
Her hair the richest Metal yields,
Whilst she like Ceres gilds the fields:
And her smooth flesh with red and white
So fitly mixt, so purely bright,
While the choise flow'rs there smile so gay,
She's fair as Flora fresh as May.
Lillie and Rose dwell in her face,
In ev'ry look and smile a Grace,
And in whom all is understood
What we count either Fair or Good.
As is the Saints more precious head
With gilded raies environed;
So 'bout this Comet you shal see
The Embleme of her Deitie.
Such light surrounds, that all may say
'Tis she not Phœbus rules the day;
While those loose flames about her spread,
Irradiate, not shade her head.
Let me adore this Saint-like Shrine,
Ther's treasure in this golden mine:
It was not Jason, no; 'twas She
That got the Golden Fliece, not he.
She whose sweet looks and glorious hair
Dart like warm lightning through the air:
That in this golden show'r of love
She seems like Danae fit for Jove;
And the gilt threads which twisted lie
Wreathed with Arts Embroaderie,
About her Temples, in her praise
A Garland and a Crown do raise.
Why should fond Phansie then compare
The sadder with the brighter haire?
Black tresses 'come the browner hue
To set it off the better: you
Need no such foile; your Angel face
Wants neither beauty, worth, nor grace.
With gilded raies environed;
So 'bout this Comet you shal see
The Embleme of her Deitie.
Such light surrounds, that all may say
'Tis she not Phœbus rules the day;
While those loose flames about her spread,
Irradiate, not shade her head.
Let me adore this Saint-like Shrine,
Ther's treasure in this golden mine:
It was not Jason, no; 'twas She
That got the Golden Fliece, not he.
She whose sweet looks and glorious hair
Dart like warm lightning through the air:
That in this golden show'r of love
She seems like Danae fit for Jove;
And the gilt threads which twisted lie
Wreathed with Arts Embroaderie,
About her Temples, in her praise
A Garland and a Crown do raise.
Why should fond Phansie then compare
The sadder with the brighter haire?
Black tresses 'come the browner hue
To set it off the better: you
16
Wants neither beauty, worth, nor grace.
But here! behold a silver beam
Which from this Blazing-star doth stream,
And in such curling waves doth flow
About her Ivory breast below;
White as the soul she wears within,
Doth speak her pure and free from sin!
Not the blancht snow or Pearly dew
Of Morn, affords a brighter hue.
Here is that Christal milky way
Which leads (like morning to the day)
To Heav'n: oh thither let me come
And climb to loves Elysium!
So fitly on her left side plac't,
And with such beauty it is grac'd,
That Nature sure when this she gave her,
Bid her there wear it as her favour.
Which from this Blazing-star doth stream,
And in such curling waves doth flow
About her Ivory breast below;
White as the soul she wears within,
Doth speak her pure and free from sin!
Not the blancht snow or Pearly dew
Of Morn, affords a brighter hue.
Here is that Christal milky way
Which leads (like morning to the day)
To Heav'n: oh thither let me come
And climb to loves Elysium!
So fitly on her left side plac't,
And with such beauty it is grac'd,
That Nature sure when this she gave her,
Bid her there wear it as her favour.
As in our Heraldry we deem
These colors of the best esteem,
With Sol and Luna blazing forth
The nobler Arms of higher worth:
So Nature having drawn this piece
(Then which was never artifice
So neatly pen'd and polisht o'r
With skilful art and beauty more)
Resolv'd for its great worth and fame,
To put it in a Golden frame.
If in these outward parts we find
Such worth; what bears her richer mind?
These colors of the best esteem,
With Sol and Luna blazing forth
The nobler Arms of higher worth:
So Nature having drawn this piece
(Then which was never artifice
So neatly pen'd and polisht o'r
With skilful art and beauty more)
Resolv'd for its great worth and fame,
To put it in a Golden frame.
If in these outward parts we find
Such worth; what bears her richer mind?
May this fair grove then never fade!
Or be by blasting time decaid!
May age ne'r hoar that lovely hair,
Or leave that golden mountain bare!
May not thy envious kemb presume
To pluck from thee one precious plume!
But if you shed a hair let't prove
A chain to lead thy captiv'd love
Or let 't a holy Relique be
Preserv'd to after ages free.
That the succeeding times may tell,
This from the Queen of Beauty fell.
Or be by blasting time decaid!
May age ne'r hoar that lovely hair,
Or leave that golden mountain bare!
May not thy envious kemb presume
To pluck from thee one precious plume!
But if you shed a hair let't prove
A chain to lead thy captiv'd love
17
Preserv'd to after ages free.
That the succeeding times may tell,
This from the Queen of Beauty fell.
| Clarastella | |