WISHES TO HIS SUPPOSED MISTRESS WHOE'ER she be That not impossible She That shall command my heart and me: Where'er she lie, Lock'd up from mortal eye In shady leaves of destiny: Till that ripe birth Of studied Fate stand forth, And teach her fair steps to our earth: Till that divine Idea take a shrine 3 9 Of crystal flesh, through which to shine: 12 Meet you her, my Wishes, Bespeak her to my blisses, And be ye call'd my absent kisses. I wish her Beauty, That owes not all its duty To gaudy tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie: 15 18 Something more than Taffata or tissue can, Or rampant feather, or rich fan. A Face, that's best By its own beauty drest, And can alone commend the rest. A Face, made up Out of no other shop 21 24 Than what Nature's white hand sets ope. 27 A Cheek, where youth And blood, with pen of truth, Write what the reader sweetly ru'th. A Cheek, where grows More than a morning rose, Which to no box his being owes. Lips, where all day Eyes, that displaces The neighbour diamond, and outfaces That sunshine by their own sweet graces. 42 Wishes to His Supposed Mistress Tresses, that wear Jewels but to declare How much themselves more precious are: 45 Whose native ray Can tame the wanton day Of gems that in their bright shades play. 48 Each ruby there, Or pearl that dare appear, Be its own blush, be its own tear. A well-tamed Heart, For whose more noble smart 51 Love may be long choosing a dart. 54 Eyes, that bestow Full quivers on love's bow, Yet pay less arrows than they owe. 57 Smiles, that can warm The blood, yet teach a charm, That chastity shall take no harm. Blushes, that bin The burnish of no sin, Nor flames of aught too hot within. Joys, that confess Virtue their mistress, And have no other head to dress. 66 633 60 Fears, fond and slight As the coy bride's, when night Days, that need borrow No part of their good-morrow Days, that in spite Of darkness, by the light 69 72 Of a clear mind, are day all night. 75 Nights, sweet as they, Made short by lovers' play, Yet long by th' absence of the day. 78 Life, that dares send A challenge to his end, And when it comes, say, "Welcome, friend!" 81 Sydnæan showers Of sweet discourse, whose powers Can crown old Winter's head with flowers Soft silken hours, Open suns, shady bowers; 'Bove all, nothing within that lowers. Whate'er delight Can make Day's forehead bright, Or give down to the wings of Night. 84 87 90 Wishes to His Supposed Mistress I wish her store Of worth may leave her poor Of wishes; and I wish-no more. Now, if Time knows That her, whose radiant brows Weave them a garland of my vows; Her, whose just bays My future hopes can raise, A trophy to her present praise; Her, that dares be What these lines wish to see; I seek no further, it is She. 1646. 93 96 99 102 Let her full glory, My fancies, fly before ye; Be ye my fictions-but her story. 114 Richard Crashaw. |