Medulla Poetarum Romanorum Or, the Most Beautiful and Instructive Passages of the Roman Poets. Being a Collection, (Disposed under proper Heads,) Of such Descriptions, Allusions, Comparisons, Characters, and Sentiments, as may best serve to shew the Religion, Learning, Politicks, Arts, Customs, Opinions, Manners, and Circumstances of the Antients. With Translations of the same in English Verse. By Mr. Henry Baker |
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Beauty.
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 | Medulla Poetarum Romanorum |  |
Beauty.
See Beautiful.
Beauty
, that fleeting Good, grows yearly less,
And Time, alone, will spoil the finest Face.
The Violet nor Lilly always blows,
And Prickles oft survive the faded Rose.
Grey Hairs, my Charmer, will disgrace thy Head,
And thy fair Body Wrinkles overspread:
Then by thy Virtues make thy Glory sure;
The Mind's Perfections to the last endure.—
And Time, alone, will spoil the finest Face.
The Violet nor Lilly always blows,
And Prickles oft survive the faded Rose.
Grey Hairs, my Charmer, will disgrace thy Head,
And thy fair Body Wrinkles overspread:
Then by thy Virtues make thy Glory sure;
The Mind's Perfections to the last endure.—
Beauty, thou ensnaring Good,
Scarce by Mortals understood!
Fleeting Gift! which cannot stay,
How swiftly doth Thou post away!—
Scarce by Mortals understood!
Fleeting Gift! which cannot stay,
How swiftly doth Thou post away!—
Years, charming Maid! will spoil that lovely Face,
And Wrinkles deep thy beauteous Front disgrace:
Old Age advancing silently and slow,
To all that's fair inexorable Foe!
O'er all thy Charms his cruel Hand will lay,
And each endearing Feature rend away.—
And Wrinkles deep thy beauteous Front disgrace:
Old Age advancing silently and slow,
To all that's fair inexorable Foe!
O'er all thy Charms his cruel Hand will lay,
And each endearing Feature rend away.—
107
Ah me! how soon a wrinkl'd Skin invades!
How very soon a fine Complexion fades!
Nor ought avails it even tho' you swear,
That from your Infancy you'd some grey Hair;
You grow all hoary in a few more Years,
And then the venerable Truth appears.—
How very soon a fine Complexion fades!
Nor ought avails it even tho' you swear,
That from your Infancy you'd some grey Hair;
You grow all hoary in a few more Years,
And then the venerable Truth appears.—
Beauty's not lasting, nor is Fortune sure;
But soon or late we all must Death endure.—
The Fair are haughty, Pride with Beauty dwells.—
But soon or late we all must Death endure.—
Ah! Hellen, can you then so simple be,
To think such Beauty can from Faults be free?
Or change that Face, or you must needs be kind,
Beauty and Virtue seldom have been joyn'd.—
Trust not to Beauty only, O ye Fair!
To think such Beauty can from Faults be free?
Or change that Face, or you must needs be kind,
Beauty and Virtue seldom have been joyn'd.—
That's not enough, make better Things your Care:
Smart Wit, fine Sense, the Tongue's endearing Grace,
Far, far excel the finest-featur'd Face.
In vain are all the other Aids of Art,
Good-Nature only can secure the Heart.—
| Medulla Poetarum Romanorum | |