Boon Nature to the woman bows; She walks in earth's whole glory clad, And, chiefest far herself of shows, All others help her, and are glad: No splendour 'neath the sky's proud dome But serves for her familiar wear; The far-fetch'd diamond finds its home Flashing and smouldering in her hair; For her the seas their pearls reveal; Art and strange lands her pomp supply With purple, chrome, and cochineal, Ochre, and lapis lazuli; The worm its golden woof presents; Whatever runs, flies, dives, or delves, All doff for her their ornaments, Which suit her better than themselves; And all, by this their power to give, Proving her right to take, proclaim Her beauty's clear prerogative To profit so by Eden's blame. |