Her tresses are like wires of beaten gold,
Gold bright and sheen;
Like Nisus' golden hair that Scylla poll'd,
Scyll o'erseen
Through Minos' love.
Her eyes like shining lamps in midst of night,
Night dark and dead:
Or as the stars that give the seamen light,
Light for to lead
Their wandering ships.
Amidst her cheeks the rose and lily strive,
Lily snow-white:
When their contést doth make their colour thrive,
Colour too bright
For shepherds' eyes.
Her lips like scarlet of the finest dye,
Scarlet blood-red:
Teeth white as snow, which on the hills do lie,
Hills overspread
By winter's force.
Her skin as soft as is the finest silk,
Silk soft and fine:
Of colour like unto the whitest milk,
Milk of the kine
Of Daphnis' herd.
As swift of foot as is the pretty roe,
Roe swift of pace:
When yelping hounds pursue her to and fro,
Hounds fierce in chase
To reave her life.
Cease to tell of any more compare,
Compares too rude,
Daphnis' deserts and beauty are too rare:
Then here conclude
Fair Daphnis' praise.
John Wootton.