Thou exert thy maiden reign, Absolute to save or kill Fond beholders at thy will. 40 Happy thrice, and thrice again, Happiest he of happy men, Who, in courtship greatly sped, Wins the damsel to his bed, Bears the virgin prize away, 45 Counting life one nuptial day: For the dark-brown dusk of hair, Shadowing thick thy forehead fair, Down the veiny temples growing, O’er the sloping shoulders flowing, 50 And the smoothly penciled brow, Mild to him in every vow, And the fringèd lid below, Thin as thinnest blossoms blow, And the hazely-lucid eye, 55 Whence heart-winning glances fly, And that cheek of health, o’erspread With soft-blended white and red, And the witching smiles which break Round those lips, which sweetly speak, 60 And thy gentleness of mind, Gentle from a gentle kind, These endowments, heavenly dower! Brought him in the promised hour, Shall for ever bind him to thee, 65 Shall renew him still to woo thee. _Ambrose Philips._ CLI _TO MISS GEORGIANA CARTERET._ Little charm of placid mien, Miniature of Beauty’s Queen, Numbering years, a scanty nine, Stealing hearts without design, Young inveigler, fond in wiles, 5 Prone to mirth, profuse in smiles, Yet a novice in disdain, Pleasure giving without pain, Still caressing, still caressed, Thou and all thy lovers blessed, 10 Never teased, and never teasing, Oh for ever pleased and pleasing! Hither, British Muse of mine, Hither, all the Grecian Nine, With the lovely Graces Three, 15 And your promised nursling see: Figure on her waxen mind Images of life refined; Make it as a garden gay, Every bud of thought display, 20 Till, improving year by year, The whole culture shall appear, Voice, and speech, and action, rising, All to human sense surprising. Is the silken web so thin 25 As the texture of her skin? Can the lily and the rose Such unsullied hue disclose? Are the violets so blue As her veins exposed to view? Do the stars in wintry sky 30 Twinkle brighter than her eye? Has the morning lark a throat Sounding sweeter than her note? Who e’er knew the like before thee? 35 They who knew the nymph that bore thee. From thy pastime and thy toys, From thy harmless cares and joys, Give me now a moment’s time: