Classic Poem

Some nymphs may boast external grace,
An easy mien, a beauteous face,
Whilst others more refined
Possess superior excellence,
Though not the object of our sense,
The beauties of the mind.

Her gifts thus Nature various pours:
Without she spreads the gayest flow'rs
Where dung's concealed within;
And underneath the barren shore
The sparkling gem and shining ore
More precious lie unseen.

Here she has tried her utmost pow'r,
Here has exhausted all her store
To make the work complete;
Beauty than fairest flow'rs more fair,
Virtues than brightest gems more rare
Are in Lucinda met.

Yet more, for in the mortal clay
She blended a celestial ray
To animate the whole;
That beaming forth effulgence bright
Makes visible to mortal sight
The beauties of her soul.

Around her lips in dimpled cells
Good nature sweetly smiling dwells,
Whilst bashful modesty
Fain in her cheek would lie concealed,
But by her blushing is revealed
Conspicuous to each eye.

Truth, candor, innocence serene
On her unclouded front are seen
Majestically bright;
Reason, first offspring of the skies,
Darts from his citadel, her eyes,
A mild though piercing light.

So the pure stream that gently flows
At once its crystal clearness shows;
At once our wond'ring eye
Surveys within its bosom fair
The radiant glories of the sphere,
And all the spangled sky.