TO A LADY,
On her too great Affectation of Ornament.
Dear Mira, whence of late this studious care,
As fashion bids, to braid thy flowing hair;
With costly veils to shade thy snowy breast,
And load with gorgeous fringe the sumptuous vest?
Why these perfumes that scent the ambient air?
Alas! all art must render thee less fair.
Each ornament from that celestial face
Detracts a charm, and banishes a grace:
Who on the violet can sweets bestow?
Or needs the rose with borrow’d colours glow?
Great Nature’s beauties ever reach the heart,
And spurn the trivial aids of needless art.
No art directs the vernal bloom to blow,
No art assists the murmering streams to flow,
And the sweet songsters of the vocal grove,
By art unaided, swell their throats to love.
Phœbe and Elaira charm’d of old
Fair Helen’s brothers, not with gems or gold;
Idas with Phœbus for Marpessa vied,
But for her beauties, not her wealth he sigh’d,
When godlike Pelops Hippodamia won,
He panted for her virgin charms alone.
With native grace these nymphs inflam’d the heart,
Unskill’d in ornament, devoid of art;
In the sweet blush of modesty alone,
And smiles of innocence attir’d, they shone.
Then needless artifice, dear maid, forbear
What charms the lover best, adorns the fair.