HYMN XVIII.
Of her Phantasy.
E xquisite curiosity!
L ook on thyself, with judging eye!
I f ought be faulty, leave it!
S o delicate a Phantasy
A s this, will straight perceive it
B ecause her temper is so fine,
E ndued with harmonies divine;
T herefore if discord strike it,
H er true proportions do repine,
A nd sadly do mislike it.
R ight otherwise, a pleasure sweet,
E ver she takes in actions meet,
G racing with smiles such meetness:
I n her fair forehead beams appear,
N o Summer's day is half so clear!
A dorned with half that sweetness!