That none could ask if honesty was there:
Witness the taintless lustre of thy skin,
Bright emblem of the brighter soul within:
That soul, which, easy, unaffected, mild,
Through jetty eyes, with cheerful sweetness smiled.
But, oh! could fancy reach, or language speak
The living beauties of thy lip and cheek,
Where nature’s pencil, leaving art no room,
Touched to a miracle the vernal bloom,
Lost though thou art in Stella’s faithful line,