University of Virginia Library

A Description.

I sing her worth and praises, Ey,
Of whom a Poet cannot ly,

μικροκοσμος, μακροκοσμος.

The little World the Great shall blaze;
Sea, Earth, her Body; Heaven, her Face;
Her Hair, Sun-beams; whose every part
Lightens, enflames, each Lover's Heart:
That thus you prove the

Sol et homo generant hominem.

Axiom true,
Whilst the Sun help'd Nature in you.
Her Front, the White and Azure Sky,
In Light and Glory raised, Ey,
Being o'recast by a Cloudy frown,
All Hearts and Eyes dejecteth down.
Her each Brow a Cœlestial Bow,
Which through this Sky her Light doth show,
Which doubled, if it strange appear,
The Sun's likewise is doubled there.
Her either Cheek a Blushing Morn,
Which, on the Wings of Beauty born,
Doth never set, but only fair
Shineth, exalted in her hair.
Within her Mouth, Heavens Heav'n reside,
Her Words the Soul's there Glorifi'd.
Her Nose th' Æquator of this Globe,
Where Nakedness, Beauties best Robe,
Presents a form all Hearts to win.
Last Nature made that dainty Chin;
Which that it might in every fashion
Answer the rest a Constellation,
Like to a Desk, she there did place,
To write the Wonders of her Face.
In this Cœlestial Frontispiece,
Where Happiness eternal lies;
First aranged stand three Senses,
This Heavens Intelligences.
Whose several Motions, sweet combin'd,
Come from the first Mover, her Mind.
The weight of this harmonique Sphere,
The Atlas of her Neck doth bear;
Whose Favours Day to Us imparts,
When Frowns make Night in Lovers Hearts.
Two foming Billows are her Breasts,
That carry, rais'd upon their Crests,
The Tyrian Fish: More white's their Fome,
Then that, whence Venus once did come:
Here take her by the Hand, my Muse,
With that sweet Foe, to make my Truce,
To compact Manna, best compar'd,
Whose dewy inside's not full hard.
Her Waste's an envers'd Pyramis,
Upon whose Cone Love's Trophee is:
Her Belly is that Magazine,
At whose peep Nature did resigne
That pretious Mould, by which alone,
There can be framed such a One:
At th' entrance of which hidden Treasure,
Happy making above measure,
Two Alabaster Pillars stand,
To warn all passage from that Land;
At foot whereof engraved is,
The sad Non Ultra of Mans Bliss:
The Back of this most pretious Frame
Holds up in Majesty the same:
Where, to make Musick to all Hearts,
Love bound the descant of her parts:
Though all this Beauties Temple be,
There's known within no Deity
Save Vertues, shrin'd within her Will:
As I began, so say I still,
I sing her Worth and Praises, Ey,
Of whom a Poet cannot ly.