This would all other dames disfigure;
But naught doth this her charms defeat,
But adds to each peculiar vigour:
For in her awe-inspiring gaze
Her lofty soul itself pourtrays.
Proud and indifferent to desire,
No passion seems her breast to fire;
Not small her hands, but dainty white
Like swan’s-down, or new fallen-snow;
Her nails like polish’d almonds grow;