Poetical recreations consisting of original poems, songs, odes, &c. with several new translations : in two parts
Barker, Jane.
Page  129


'TWou'd prove a needless thing, shou'd I
Strive to set forth what's obvious to each Eye;
To speak your Worth and Beauty, wou'd but be
To show the Sun at noon, which all Men see.
Beauty it self, Youth smiles, and ev'ry grace,
Do all pay tribute to your Heav'nly Face.
One smile from you might make the Dead to live,
Yielding more Wealth than lavish Worlds can give
Your sparkling Eyes out-dart the pale-fac'd Moon;
You are far brighter than the Eye of Noon.
Phoebus his Golden Fleece looks not so fair,
As the fine silver threads of your soft Hair.
Aurora mantled in her spreading Beams,
To rouse up Mortals from their slumb'ring Dreams;
When summoning the Morning, can't compleat
That modest blush which in your Cheeks take seat
Page  130Whiter than untrod Snow on Mountains seen,
And which I must confess beyond esteem,
Are those white Iv'ry Teeth, whose even row,
The harmony of Love in Union show.
In various wantonness, each branching Vein
Do's your white Breasts with blue Meanders stain;
From which clear Fountains flow with greatest mea∣sure,
The most delightfull Magazine of treasure.
The Muses and the Syrens cease their Song,
At the soft Musick of your charming Tongue:
Angel or Saint, I know not which by feature,
Sure both are joyn'd to make so sweet a Creature,
The lovely chance-work, Master-piece of Nature.
As if the Gods mistaking Mould, that time
Had cast your Species more than half divine;
Who can his Passion from such Beauty tame,
You've Charms enough to set the World on flame:
Mix't with more tempting and atractive graces,
Than can extracted be from humane Faces!
Oh let me at those balmy Lips take ire,
And with pursuit of Kisses ev'n tire;
Which do display such a Vermilion red,
And when with pleasure fill'd, then hold thy head
Page  131Fast to my kindled and inflamed Heart,
Pierc'd by your Eyes bright glancing beams, which dart
Through my Souls secret and most inward part;
Which done, let mine in your fair Bosom lye,
Till in excess of joy and ecstasie,
I there shall languish out my Soul and dye;
And afterwards with like transport of Mind
Revive again, and all my Senses find.