SWEET Lydia, take this mask, and shroud Thy face within the silken cloud, And veil those powerful skies; For he whose gazing dares so high aspire, Makes burning-glasses of his eyes, And sets his heart on fire. Veil, Lydia, veil; for unto me There is no basilisk but thee, Thy very looks do kill: Yet in those looks so fix'd is my delight, Poor soul (alas!) I languish still In absence of thy sight. Close up those eyes, or we shall find Too great a lustre strike us blind! Or, if a ray so good Ought to be seen, let it but then appear, When eagles do produce their brood, To try their young ones there. Or if thou wouldst have me to know How great a brightness thou canst show When they have lost the sun, Then do thou rise, and give the world this theme, Sol from th' Hesperides is run, And back hath whipp'd his team. Yet through the Goat when he shall stray, Thou through the Crab must take thy way; For should you both shine bright In the same tropic, we poor moles should get Not so much comfort by the light, As torment by the heat. Where's Lydia now? where shall I seek Her charming lip, her tempting cheek, That my affections bow'd? So dark a sable hath eclips'd my fair, That I can gaze upon the cloud, That durst not see the star. But yet (methinks) my thoughts begin To say there lies a white within, Though black her pride control: And what care I how black a face I see, So there be whiteness in the soul? Still such an Ethiop be. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WITHOUT AND WITHIN by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE END OF THE DAY by DUNCAN CAMPBELL SCOTT A BALLAD UPON A WEDDING by JOHN SUCKLING THE WORD OF SUMMER by ELSA BARKER HEAUTONTIMOROUMENOS by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE THE EVICTION by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT STATUETTE by DOLORES DOROTHE BOST VERAZZANO AT RHODES AND RHODE ISLAND by HEZEKIAH BUTTERWORTH |