 | The poetical works of Sir William Jones |  |
195
A SONG, From the Persian, paraphrased in the Measure of the Original.
I
Sweet as the rose that scents the gale,Bright as the lily of the vale,
Yet with a heart like summer hail,
Marring each beauty thou bearest.
II
Beauty like thine, all nature thrills;And when the Moon her circle fills,
Pale she beholds those rounder hills,
Which on the breast thou wearest.
III
Where could those peerless flow'rets blow?Whence are the thorns that near them grow?
Wound me, but smile, O lovely foe!
Smile on the heart thou tearest.
IV
Sighing, I view that cypress waist,Doom'd to afflict me till embrac'd;
Sighing, I view that eye too chaste,
Like the new blossom smiling.
V
Spreading thy toils with hands divine,Softly thou wavest like a pine,
Darting thy shafts at hearts like mine,
Senses, and soul beguiling.
196
VI
See at thy feet no vulgar slave,Frantic with love's enchanting wave,
Thee, ere he seek the gloomy grave,
Thee his blest idol styling.
| The poetical works of Sir William Jones | |