The works of Allan Ramsay edited by Burns Martin ... and John W. Oliver [... and Alexander M. Kinghorn ... and Alexander Law] |
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On the most Honourable
The Marquess of BOWMONT's
Cutting off his Hair. |
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 | The works of Allan Ramsay |  |
236
On the most Honourable The Marquess of BOWMONT's Cutting off his Hair.
Shall
Berenice's Tresses mount the Skies,
And by the Muse to shining Fame arise,
Bellinda's Lock invite the smoothest Lays
Of him whose Merit Claims the British Bays,
And not, dear Bowmont, beautiful and young,
The graceful Ringlets of thy Head be sung!
How many tender Hearts thine Eyes hath pain'd!
How many sighing Nymphs thy Locks have chain'd!
And by the Muse to shining Fame arise,
Bellinda's Lock invite the smoothest Lays
Of him whose Merit Claims the British Bays,
And not, dear Bowmont, beautiful and young,
The graceful Ringlets of thy Head be sung!
How many tender Hearts thine Eyes hath pain'd!
How many sighing Nymphs thy Locks have chain'd!
The God of Love beheld him with Envy,
And on Cyth'rea's Lap began to cry,
All drench'd in Tears, O Mother help your Son!
Else by a mortal Rival I'm undone;
With happy Charms he incroaches on my Sway,
His Beauty disconcerts the Plots I lay.
When I've made Cloe her humble Slave admire,
Straight he appears and kindles new Desire;
She sighs for him, and all my Art beguiles,
Whilst he, like me, commands and careless smiles.
Ah me! These sable Circles of his Hair,
Which wave around his Beauties red and fair,
I cannot bear! Adonis would seem dim,
With all his flaxen Locks, if plac'd by him.
And on Cyth'rea's Lap began to cry,
All drench'd in Tears, O Mother help your Son!
Else by a mortal Rival I'm undone;
With happy Charms he incroaches on my Sway,
His Beauty disconcerts the Plots I lay.
When I've made Cloe her humble Slave admire,
Straight he appears and kindles new Desire;
She sighs for him, and all my Art beguiles,
Whilst he, like me, commands and careless smiles.
Ah me! These sable Circles of his Hair,
Which wave around his Beauties red and fair,
I cannot bear! Adonis would seem dim,
With all his flaxen Locks, if plac'd by him.
Venus reply'd, No more, my dearest Boy,
Shall those inchanting Curls thy Peace destroy;
For ever sep'rate they shall cease to grow,
Or round his Cheek, or on his Shoulders flow;
I'll use my Slight, and make them quickly feel
Their Honour's lost by the invading Steel:
I'll turn my self in Shape of Mode and Health,
And gain upon his youthful Mind by Stealth:
Three Times the Sun shall not have rouz'd the Morn,
E'er he consent these from him shall be shorn.
Shall those inchanting Curls thy Peace destroy;
For ever sep'rate they shall cease to grow,
Or round his Cheek, or on his Shoulders flow;
237
Their Honour's lost by the invading Steel:
I'll turn my self in Shape of Mode and Health,
And gain upon his youthful Mind by Stealth:
Three Times the Sun shall not have rouz'd the Morn,
E'er he consent these from him shall be shorn.
The Promise she perform'd, but Labour vain,
And still shall prove, while his bright Eyes remain;
And of Revenge blind Cupid must despair,
As long's the lovely Sex are grac'd with Hair;
They'll yield the conquering Glories of their Heads,
To form around his Beauty easy Shades;
And in Return, Thalia spaes and sings,
His lop'd off Locks shall sparkle in their Rings.
And still shall prove, while his bright Eyes remain;
And of Revenge blind Cupid must despair,
As long's the lovely Sex are grac'd with Hair;
They'll yield the conquering Glories of their Heads,
To form around his Beauty easy Shades;
And in Return, Thalia spaes and sings,
His lop'd off Locks shall sparkle in their Rings.
| The works of Allan Ramsay | |