Anacreon Bion. Moschvs. Kisses, by Secundus. Cvpid crvcified, by Ausonius. Venvs vigils, Incerto Authore [by Thomas Stanley] |
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Aristenætus to Philocalus.
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 | Anacreon |  |
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Aristenætus to Philocalus.
Nature with beauty Lais did invest,But Venus crown'd with sweetness 'bove the rest,
And registred her sacred name in Heaven
To make the number of the Graces even
By golden Love instructed, Mortal Hearts
To wound with her bright Eyes unerring darts
Her Sexes Wonder, Natures Masterpiece
And living Image she of Venus is.
Her cheeks a mixed red and white disclose,
That emulates the splendour of the Rose:
Yet these the tincture of her Lip out-vies
Pure black her even-arched eye brows dies
Beneath whose Sable Hemispheres the bright
Suns of her Eyes, move with full Orbs of Light.
The black and white here kindly disagree
Grac'd by each others Contrariety:
In these the Graces are enthron'd, and there
By all that see ador'd: her curious Hair
In which the Jacynths colour is exprest
By hands of Nature curld, of Venus drest.
Her neck by a rich Carquanet embrac'd
With the fair letters of her name enchac'd:
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As if not made for her, but she for it.
Beautious in the becoming Dresse she wears,
But Beauties self, she, when that's off, appears.
And when she moves this curious frame her Gate
Expresseth quicknesse intermixt with state.
Such motion in tall Cypresses we finde,
Or Palms when breath'd on by some gentle winde;
Yet with this difference; them Zephyr moves,
But she is wafted on the breath of Loves.
Her his Original the Painter makes,
When or the Graces or their Queen he takes.
Her Breasts in envy of each other swell,
And their kinde silken Bands coyly repel:
But when she speaks; what clouds of Syrens watch
About her Lips, and her soft accents snatch:
The Cæstus she of Cytheræa wears,
A matchlesse form which no exception bears.
How fell this Mistresse (Venus) to my share?
Was I the Judge that sentenc'd thee most fair?
Thou not from me didst the rich Ball receive,
Yet to me freely dost this Hellen give.
To thy kinde power what offring shall I pay?
Her all that see, that none may envy, pray.
She darts so glorious, yet so mild a Light,
As dazels not, but cleers the Gazers sight.
Old men beholding her accuse their Fate,
Wish hers had earlier been, or theirs more late.
The Power that angry Nature did deny
The dumb, by signes they in her praise supply:
None knows who sums in her all Beauties store,
Or what to say or how she should give o're.
| Anacreon | |