Adorned with spoil of many victories,
And flush of further conquest on thy brow;
Jewels cannot thy native charms enhance,
Nor can thy robes, too tightly laced perchance,
The matchless beauty of thy form disguise.
Through every change, by every tongue confessed,
Peerless amid thy sisters East or West;
Like her of whom the master-singer wrote,
“Age cannot wither her nor custom stale
Her infinite variety.”