 | Poems |  |
ODE TO WOMEN.
Ye Virgins! fond to be admir'd,
With mighty rage of conquest fir'd,
And universal sway;
Who heave th' uncover'd bosom high,
And roll a fond, inviting eye,
On all the circle gay!
With mighty rage of conquest fir'd,
And universal sway;
Who heave th' uncover'd bosom high,
And roll a fond, inviting eye,
On all the circle gay!
You miss the fine and secret art
To win the castle of the heart,
For which you all contend;
The coxcomb tribe may crowd your train,
But you will never, never gain
A lover, or a friend.
To win the castle of the heart,
For which you all contend;
The coxcomb tribe may crowd your train,
But you will never, never gain
A lover, or a friend.
If this your passion, this your praise,
To shine, to dazzle, and to blaze,
You may be call'd divine:
But not a youth beneath the sky
Will say in secret, with a sigh,
“O were that Maiden mine!”
To shine, to dazzle, and to blaze,
You may be call'd divine:
But not a youth beneath the sky
Will say in secret, with a sigh,
“O were that Maiden mine!”
You marshal, brilliant, from the box,
Fans, feathers, diamonds, castle locks,
Your magazine of arms;
But 'tis the sweet sequester'd walk,
The whispering hour, the tender talk,
That gives your genuine charms.
Fans, feathers, diamonds, castle locks,
Your magazine of arms;
But 'tis the sweet sequester'd walk,
The whispering hour, the tender talk,
That gives your genuine charms.
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The nymph-like robe, the natural grace,
The smile, the native of the face,
Refinement without art;
The eye where pure affection beams,
The tear from tenderness that streams,
The accents of the heart;
The smile, the native of the face,
Refinement without art;
The eye where pure affection beams,
The tear from tenderness that streams,
The accents of the heart;
The trembling frame, the living cheek,
Where, like the morning, blushes break
To crimson o'er the breast;
The look where sentiment is seen,
Fine passions moving o'er the mien,
And all the soul exprest;
Where, like the morning, blushes break
To crimson o'er the breast;
The look where sentiment is seen,
Fine passions moving o'er the mien,
And all the soul exprest;
Your beauties these: with these you shine,
And reign on high by right divine,
The sovereigns of the world;
Then to your court the nations flow;
The Muse with flowers the path will strew,
Where Venus' car is hurl'd.
And reign on high by right divine,
The sovereigns of the world;
Then to your court the nations flow;
The Muse with flowers the path will strew,
Where Venus' car is hurl'd.
From dazzling deluges of snow,
From Summer-noon's meridian glow,
We turn our aking eye,
To Nature's robe of vernal green,
To the blue curtain all serene,
Of an Autumnal sky.
From Summer-noon's meridian glow,
We turn our aking eye,
To Nature's robe of vernal green,
To the blue curtain all serene,
Of an Autumnal sky.
The favourite tree of Beauty's Queen,
Behold the Myrtle's modest green,
The Virgin of the grove!
Soft from the circlet of her star,
The tender turtles draw the car
Of Venus and of Love.
Behold the Myrtle's modest green,
The Virgin of the grove!
Soft from the circlet of her star,
The tender turtles draw the car
Of Venus and of Love.
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The growing charm invites the eye;
See morning gradual paint the sky
With purple and with gold!
See Spring approach with sweet delay!
See rosebuds open to the ray,
And leaf by leaf unfold!
See morning gradual paint the sky
With purple and with gold!
See Spring approach with sweet delay!
See rosebuds open to the ray,
And leaf by leaf unfold!
We love th' alluring line of grace,
That leads the eye a wanton chace,
And lets the fancy rove;
The walk of Beauty ever bends,
And still begins, but never ends,
The labyrinth of love.
That leads the eye a wanton chace,
And lets the fancy rove;
The walk of Beauty ever bends,
And still begins, but never ends,
The labyrinth of love.
At times, to veil, is to reveal,
And to display, is to conceal:
Mysterious are your laws!
The vision's finer than the view;
Her landscape Nature never drew
So fair as Fancy draws.
And to display, is to conceal:
Mysterious are your laws!
The vision's finer than the view;
Her landscape Nature never drew
So fair as Fancy draws.
A beauty, carelessly betray'd,
Enamours more, than if display'd
All Woman's charms were given;
And, o'er the bosom's vestal white,
The gauze appears a robe of light,
That veils, yet opens, Heaven.
Enamours more, than if display'd
All Woman's charms were given;
And, o'er the bosom's vestal white,
The gauze appears a robe of light,
That veils, yet opens, Heaven.
See Virgin Eve, with graces bland.
Fresh blooming from her Maker's hand,
In orient beauty beam!
Fair on the river-margin laid,
She knew not that her image made
The angel in the stream.
Fresh blooming from her Maker's hand,
In orient beauty beam!
Fair on the river-margin laid,
She knew not that her image made
The angel in the stream.
Still ancient Eden blooms your own;
But artless Innocence alone
Secures the heavenly post;
For if, beneath an Angel's mien,
The serpent's tortuous train is seen,
Our Paradise is lost.
But artless Innocence alone
Secures the heavenly post;
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The serpent's tortuous train is seen,
Our Paradise is lost.
O Nature, Nature, thine the charm!
Thy colours woo, thy features warm,
Thy accents win the heart!
Parisian paint of every kind,
That stains the body or the mind,
Proclaims the Harlot's art.
Thy colours woo, thy features warm,
Thy accents win the heart!
Parisian paint of every kind,
That stains the body or the mind,
Proclaims the Harlot's art.
The midnight Minstrel of the grove,
Who still renews the hymn of love,
And woos the wood to hear;
Knows not the sweetness of his strain,
Nor that, above the tuneful train,
He charms the Lover's ear.
Who still renews the hymn of love,
And woos the wood to hear;
Knows not the sweetness of his strain,
Nor that, above the tuneful train,
He charms the Lover's ear.
The Zone of Venus, heavenly-fine,
Is Nature's handy-work divine,
And not the web of Art;
And they who wear it never know
To what enchanting charm they owe
The empire of the heart
Is Nature's handy-work divine,
And not the web of Art;
And they who wear it never know
To what enchanting charm they owe
The empire of the heart
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