 | Poems on several subjects |  |
SONG VII. My Love she is the Ring-leader
You Muses nine, inspire my brain;
Likewise I'll invocate Apollo,
To furnish me poetick strain,
That I may make soft numbers follow;
I mean to praise my charming fair,
Because that I love none beside her;
Her virtue, wit, and prudence rare,
Declare that she's the ring-leader.
Likewise I'll invocate Apollo,
To furnish me poetick strain,
That I may make soft numbers follow;
I mean to praise my charming fair,
Because that I love none beside her;
Her virtue, wit, and prudence rare,
Declare that she's the ring-leader.
Suppose the fairest nymph alive,
Deck'd with the finest robes in fashion,
Would use her wits how to contrive
In me for her to raise a passion,
I'd quickly fly th'enchanting dame,
And run to her of whom I'm glader;
Because in me she rais'd a flame,
She seems to me the ring-leader.
Deck'd with the finest robes in fashion,
Would use her wits how to contrive
In me for her to raise a passion,
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And run to her of whom I'm glader;
Because in me she rais'd a flame,
She seems to me the ring-leader.
Should I compare my dearest Love
To goddesses of wit and beauty,
Inferior like, they all might move,
At her appearance, as their duty.
Likewise, the gods might her admire,
And watch her, lest some ill betide her;
And then pronounce to my desire,
That my dear love's the ring-leader.
To goddesses of wit and beauty,
Inferior like, they all might move,
At her appearance, as their duty.
Likewise, the gods might her admire,
And watch her, lest some ill betide her;
And then pronounce to my desire,
That my dear love's the ring-leader.
Were great Apollo, with his harp,
Set down to sound her praises many,
The rural notes, both shrill and sharp,
Would all declare they know not any
That can compare with my dear Lass;
Fine wit and modesty o'erspread her:
This character on her I'll pass,
My love she is the ring-leader.
Set down to sound her praises many,
The rural notes, both shrill and sharp,
Would all declare they know not any
That can compare with my dear Lass;
Fine wit and modesty o'erspread her:
This character on her I'll pass,
My love she is the ring-leader.
Great lofty Pope, and Ramsay bright
Could ne'er describe her in their verses,
Tho' they should rise at every flight,
Above all those that love rehearses.
She far surmounts the praise of man;
No tongue nor pen can right describe her:
So take my word, or there's my hand,
My love she is the ring-leader.
Could ne'er describe her in their verses,
Tho' they should rise at every flight,
Above all those that love rehearses.
She far surmounts the praise of man;
No tongue nor pen can right describe her:
So take my word, or there's my hand,
My love she is the ring-leader.
The rural nymphs that tread the green,
Due homage they to her surrender;
When they at nuptials do convene,
Admire her beauty, wit and splendor.
All things that make perfection shine,
Each one that views her may consider;
Their votes may all agree with mine,
And say she is the ring-leader.
Due homage they to her surrender;
When they at nuptials do convene,
Admire her beauty, wit and splendor.
All things that make perfection shine,
Each one that views her may consider;
Their votes may all agree with mine,
And say she is the ring-leader.
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She needs no paranymphs to dress;
She's comely as the bright Aurora:
She sweetly sings with chearfulness;
She's pleasant as the goddess Flora.
She's matchless for her constancy;
With features base none can deride her:
No tongue nor pen, except they ly,
Can say but she's the ring-leader.
She's comely as the bright Aurora:
She sweetly sings with chearfulness;
She's pleasant as the goddess Flora.
She's matchless for her constancy;
With features base none can deride her:
No tongue nor pen, except they ly,
Can say but she's the ring-leader.
Soft! soft! my Muse, her smiles I see!
They put my senses out of order;
I'm rapt with wond'ring ecstasy,
So that I can't write any further.
All I can say seems but to spoil
Her praise. Dame Nature has decreed her,
The fairest of the fair; and while
She lives, to be their ring-leader.
They put my senses out of order;
I'm rapt with wond'ring ecstasy,
So that I can't write any further.
All I can say seems but to spoil
Her praise. Dame Nature has decreed her,
The fairest of the fair; and while
She lives, to be their ring-leader.
| Poems on several subjects | |