Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

In vain those Mourning Robes you wear;
You are, and cannot but be Fair:
To Forms where so much Beauty lies,
Ev'n Grief it self is no Disguise.
Not Venus, when with utmost art
She aims at some Celestial Heart;
When Homer's Cestus decks her Breast,
And all the Goddess stands confest,
Can equal Thee, thou beauteous Maid,
In Sadness elegant array'd.
Those Eyes can yet their Lustre show,
And glitter thro' the Pomp of Woe:
So shines the Moon, resplendent queen!
O'er Night's uncomfortable Scene.
That gentle seat of love, thy Breast,
In envious solemn Sables drest,
Yet rises fairer to the sight,
And pants with more distinguish'd White.
So o'er the Heav'ns extended plains,
Aloft when sullen Midnight reigns,
Thro' the dark skies the milky Way
Does more conspicuous Light display;
With Black encompass'd sweetly smile,
And take fresh Lustre from the Foil.