The Works of John Sheffield :: :: University of Virginia Library

Thou Flatterer of all the Fair,
Come with all your Skill and Care;
Draw me such a Shape and Face,
As your Flatt'ry would disgrace.
Wish not that she would appear;
'Tis well for you she is not here;
Scarce can you with Safety see
All her Charms describ'd by me:
I, alas! the Danger know;
I, alas! have felt the Blow;
Mourn, as lost, my former Days,
That never sung of Celia's Praise;

And those few that are behind
I shall blest or wretched find,
Only just as she is kind.

With her tempting Eyes begin,
Eyes that would draw Angels in
To a second, sweeter Sin.
Oh, those wanton rolling Eyes!
At each Glance a Lover dies:
Make them bright, yet make them willing;
Let them look both kind and killing.

Next, draw her Forehead; then her Nose,
And Lips just op'ning, that disclose
Teeth so bright, and Breath so sweet,
So much Beauty, so much Wit,
To our very Soul they strike,
All our Senses pleas'd alike.

But so pure a white and red,
Never, never, can be said:
What are Words in such a Case?
What is Paint to such a Face?

How should either Art avail us?
Fancy here itself must fail us.

In her Looks, and in her Mien,
Such a graceful Air is seen,
That if you, with all your Art,
Can but reach the smallest Part;
Next to her, the matchless She,
We shall wonder most at Thee.

Then her Neck, and Breasts, and Hair,
And her—but my charming Fair
Does in a thousand things excel,
Which I must not, dare not tell.

How go on then? oh! I see
A lovely Venus drawn by thee;
Oh how fair she does appear!
Touch it only here and there.
Make her yet seem more divine,
Your Venus then may look like mine,
Whose bright Form if once you saw,
You by her would Venus draw.