Poems on Several Occasions To which is added Gondibert and Birtha, A Tragedy. By William Thompson |
 | 1. |
On a PRESENT of THREE ROSES, from Ianthe. |
 | 2. |
 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
137
On a PRESENT of THREE ROSES, from Ianthe.
Three Roses to her humble Slave
The Mistress of the Graces gave:
Three Roses of an Eastern Hue,
Sweet-swelling with ambrosial Dew.
How each, with glowing Pride, displays
The Riches of its circling Rays!
How all, in sweet Abundance, shed
Perfumes, that might revive the Dead!
Now tell me, Fair One, if you know,
Whence these balmy Spirits flow?
Whence Springs this modest Blush of Light
Which charms at once and pains the Sight?
The Mistress of the Graces gave:
Three Roses of an Eastern Hue,
Sweet-swelling with ambrosial Dew.
How each, with glowing Pride, displays
The Riches of its circling Rays!
How all, in sweet Abundance, shed
Perfumes, that might revive the Dead!
Now tell me, Fair One, if you know,
Whence these balmy Spirits flow?
Whence Springs this modest Blush of Light
Which charms at once and pains the Sight?
The Fair-One knew, but wou'd not say,
So blush'd and smiling went her Way.
Impatient, next the Muse I call;
She comes, and thus wou'd answer all.
So blush'd and smiling went her Way.
Impatient, next the Muse I call;
She comes, and thus wou'd answer all.
“Fool, (and I sure deserv'd the Name)
Mark well the Beauties of the Dame,
And can you wonder why so fair,
And why so sweet the Roses are?
Her Cheek with living purple glows
Which blush'd its Rays on every Rose;
Her Breath exhal'd a sweeter Smell
Than fragrant Fields of Asphodel;
The sparkling Spirit in her Eyes
A kindlier influence supplies
Than genial Suns and Summer Skies.
Now can you wonder why so fair,
And why so sweet the Roses are?”
“Hold, tuneful Trifler, I reply'd,
The beauteous Cause I now descri'd,
Hold, talk no more of Summer Skies,
Of genial Suns and—splendid Lyes;
Of fragrant Fields of Asphodel,
And brightest Rays and sweetest Smell;
Whatever Poetry can paint,
Or Muse can utter—all is faint:
Two Words had better all exprest;—
“She took the Roses from—her Breast.
Mark well the Beauties of the Dame,
138
And why so sweet the Roses are?
Her Cheek with living purple glows
Which blush'd its Rays on every Rose;
Her Breath exhal'd a sweeter Smell
Than fragrant Fields of Asphodel;
The sparkling Spirit in her Eyes
A kindlier influence supplies
Than genial Suns and Summer Skies.
Now can you wonder why so fair,
And why so sweet the Roses are?”
“Hold, tuneful Trifler, I reply'd,
The beauteous Cause I now descri'd,
Hold, talk no more of Summer Skies,
Of genial Suns and—splendid Lyes;
Of fragrant Fields of Asphodel,
And brightest Rays and sweetest Smell;
Whatever Poetry can paint,
Or Muse can utter—all is faint:
Two Words had better all exprest;—
“She took the Roses from—her Breast.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |