Classic Poem

ODE XXIV

1

It is Enough to me,
If I her Face may see;
Let others boast her Favours, and pretend
Huge Interests; whilst I
Adore her Modestie;
Which Tongues cannot deprave nor Swords defend;

2

For could She Fall,
To what we call
Censure; how weake and vulgar were her Fame?
Not Ignorance would hold
Till his long Tale were told;
Though scarcelie he, has ever heard her Name.

3

If wee might read
Her truly Charactred,
It were enough, Error to vindicate,
To warme the Stupid wretch,
(Who onlie lives, to stretch
His frozen nerves) with Rapture, 'bove his Fate.

4

But while I bring
My verse, to Sing
Her Glories, I am strucke with wonder, more;
And all the Formes, I see,
But Emptie Shadowes bee,
Of that Perfection which I adore.

5

Be silent then,
All Tongues of men,
To Celebrate the Sex; for if you fall
To other Faces, you
Wander, and but pursue
Inferior objects; weake, and partiall.