MRS. OSGOOD. 13. A thoughtful and a quiet grace, Though happy still;--yet chance distress Hath left a pensive loveliness; Fancy hath tamed her fairy gleams, And her heart broods o'er home-born dreams. WILSON. 14. Her swollen eyes are much disfigured, And her faire face with tears Is foully blubbered. SPENSER. 15. A downcast eye, repentant of the pain That its mild light creates. KEATS. 16. Not fairer grows the lily of the vale, Whose bosom opens to the vernal gale; While health that rises with the new-born day, Breathes o'er her cheek the softest blush of May. FALCONER--_Shipwreck_. 17. Fairest where all is beautiful and bright! With what a grace she glides among the flowers That smile around her, bowing at her touch. GALLAGHER. 18. On her cheek an autumn flush Deeply ripens;--such a blush In the midst of brown was born, Like red poppies grown with corn. Around her eyes her tresses lay, Which are blackest, none can say; But long lashes veil a light, That had else been all too bright. HOOD. 19. Ne in her speach, ne in her haviour Is lightnesse seene, or looser vanitie; But gratious womanhood and gravitie, Above the reason of her youthly yeares. Her golden locks she roundly doth uptye, In braided trammels, that ne looser heares Do out of order stray about her daintie eares. SPENSER. 20. A silver line, that from the brow to the crown, And in the middle, parts the braided hair, Just serves to show how delicate a soil The golden harvest grows in; while those eyes, Soft and capacious as a cloudless sky, Whose azure depth their colour emulates, Must needs be conversant with upward looks, Prayer's voiceless service. WORDSWORTH. 21. Half the charms that deck her face, Arise from powder, shreds, and lace. GOLDSMITH. 22. Time from her form has ta'en away but little of its grace, His touch of thought hath dignified the beauty of her face. BAYLEY. 23. 'Tis strange, That though you study long, you cannot tell The color of her eye, that seems to change, Beneath the ivory lid, from brilliant black To liquid hazel, then to full soft gray, Fast melting into violet. MISS M. E. LEE. 24. Her face is heaven's bow in showers. Her dark hair flows round it like streaming clouds. OSSIAN. 25. She has an innocently downcast look, And when she raises up her eyes of blue, It seems as if her features were a book, Where sweet affection letters love for you.