Classic Poem

ELEGY III.

THE POET EXPATIATES ON THE BEAUTY OF DELIA'S HAIR .

The comb between whose ivory teeth she strains
The straitening curls of gold so beamy bright ,
Not spotless merely from the touch remains,
But issues forth more pure , more milky white .

The rose-pomatum that the F RISEUR spreads
Sometimes with honor'd fingers for my fair
No added perfume on her tresses sheds,
But borrows sweetness from her sweeter hair.

Happy the F RISEUR who in Delia's hair
With licensed fingers uncontroll'd may rove!
And happy in his death the DANCING BEAR ,
Who died to make pomatum for my LOVE .

Oh could I hope that e'er my favor'd lays
Might curl those lovely locks with conscious pride,
Nor Hammond, nor the Mantuan Shepherd's praise,
I'd envy then, nor wish reward beside.

Cupid has strung from you, O tresses fine,
The bow that in my breast impell'd his dart;
From you, sweet locks! he wove the subtile line
Wherewith the urchin angled for MY HEART .

Fine are my Delia's tresses as the threads
That from the silk-worm, self-interr'd , proceed;
Fine as the GLEAMY G OSSAMER that spreads
Its filmy web-work o'er the tangled mead.

Yet with these tresses Cupid's power elate
My captive heart has handcuff'd in a chain,
Strong as the cables of some huge first-rate,
T HAT BEARS B RITANNIA'S THUNDERS O'ER THE MAIN .

The S YLPHS that round her radiant locks repair,
In flowing lustre bathe their brightening wings
And E LFIN M INSTRELS with assiduous care
The ringlets rob for FAERY FIDDLE-STRINGS .