Classic Poem

Ye nymphs whom starry rays invest,
By flatt'ring poets giv'n;
Who shine, by lavish lovers drest,
In all the pomp of heav'n;

Engross not all the beams on high,
Which gild a lover's lays,
But as your sister of the sky,
Let Lyce share the praise.

Her silver locks display the moon,
Her brows a cloudy show,
Strip'd rainbows round her eyes are seen,
And show'rs from either flow.

Her teeth the night with darkness dyes,
She's starr'd with pimples o'er,
Her tongue like nimble lightning plies,
And can with thunder roar.

But some Zelinda while I sing
Denies my Lyce shines,
And all the pens of Cupid 's wing
Attack my gentle lines.

Yet spite of fair Zelinda 's eye,
And all her bards express,
My Lyce makes as good a sky,
And I but flatter less.