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ODE XXVIII. HIS MISTRESS's PICTURE.
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ODE XXVIII. HIS MISTRESS's PICTURE.

[_]

From the Guardian.

Best and happiest Artisan,
Best of Painters, if you can,
With your many-colour'd Art
Paint the Mistress of my Heart.
Describe the Charms you hear from me,
(Her charms you could not paint and see)
And make the absent Nymph appear
As if her lovely Self were here.
First draw her easy-flowing Hair,
As soft and black as she is fair;

70

And, if your Art can rise so high,
Let breathing Odours round her fly.
Beneath the Shade of flowing Jet,
The ivory Forehead smoothly set,
With Care the sable Brows extend,
And in two Arches nicely bend;
That the fair Space, which lies between
The meeting Shade, may scarce be seen.
The Eye must be uncommon Fire,
Sparkle, languish, and desire;
The Flames, unseen, must yet be felt,
Like Pallas kill, like Venus melt.
The rosy Cheeks must seem to glow
Amidst the White of new-fall'n Snow.

71

Let her Lips Persuasion wear,
In Silence elegantly fair;
As if the blushing Rivals strove,
Breathing and inviting Love.
Below her Chin be sure to deck
With every Grace her polish'd Neck;
While all that's pretty, soft, and sweet,
In the swelling Bosom meet.
The rest in purple Garments veil,
Her Body, not her Shape, conceal.

72

Enough!—the lovely Work is done,
The breathing Paint will speak anon.