For you, bright fair, the Nine address their lays,
And tune my feeble voice to sing thy praise;
The heartfelt power of every charm divine,
Who can withstand their all-commanding shine?
See how she moves along with every grace,
While soul-brought tears steal down each shining face.
She speaks! ’tis rapture all, and nameless bliss;
Ye gods! what transport e’er compar’d to this?
As when, in Paphian groves, the Queen of Love
With fond complaint address’d the listening Jove—
’Twas joy and endless blisses all around,
And rocks forgot their hardness at the sound.
Then first, at last, even Jove was taken in,
And felt her charms, without disguise, within.
BIRDS
Chaste are their instincts, faithful is their fire,
No foreign beauty tempts to false desire;
The snow-white vesture, and the glittering crown,
The simple plumage, or the glossy down,
Prompt not their love: the patriot bird pursues
His well-acquainted tints, and kindred hues.
Hence, through their tribes no mix’d polluted flame,
No monster-breed to mark the groves with shame;
But the chaste blackbird, to its partner true,
Thinks black alone is beauty’s favourite hue;
The nightingale, with mutual passion blest,
Sings to its mate, and nightly charms the nest;
While the dark owl to court his partner flies,
And owns his offspring in their yellow eyes.[49]
FOOTNOTES:
[49] From the Latin lines of Addison (Spectator, No. 412), who remarks:—“In birds, we often see the male determined in his courtship by the single grain, or tincture of a feather, and never discovering any charms but in the colour of its species.”