Sometimes with honour'd fingers for my fair,
No added perfume on her tresses sheds,
But borrows sweetness from her sweeter hair.
Happy the FRISEUR who in Delia's hair
With licensed fingers uncontrol'd may rove!
And happy in his death the DANCING BEAR,
Who died to make pomatum for my LOVE.
Oh could I hope that e'er my favour'd lays
Might curl those lovely locks with conscious pride,
Nor Hammond, nor the Mantuan Shepherd's praise,