Part 18

GEORGE HILL.

49. Endearing! endearing! Why so endearing Are those dark lustrous eyes, Through their silk fringe peering? They love thee! they love thee! Deeply, sincerely; And more than aught else on earth, Thou lov'st them dearly.

MOTHERWELL.

50. In face an angel, but in soul a cat!

DR. WOLCOTT--Peter Pindar.

51. Her feet beat witchcraft as she heads the dance, Lads, like a garland, hem her round about, While Love rains on them from her dark eye-glance. The maidens near her, tittering, take their stance, And on her swan-white neck, and snowy arms, Her small and nimble feet, they look askance; The hoary fiddler, as he listens, warms, And draws a lustier bow, and gazes on her charms.

ALLAN CUNNINGHAM.

52. A cheek, fair And delicate as rose-leaf newly blown-- A brow like marble--lofty, and profuse With the rich brown of her o'ergathering hair.

W. G. SIMMS.

53. Such her beauty, as no arts Have enrich'd with borrow'd grace; Her high birth no pride imparts, For she blushes in her place. Folly boasts a glorious blood, She is noblest, being good.

HABINGTON.

54. O'er her features steal, serenely mild, The trembling sanctity of woman's truth, Her modesty, and simpleness, and grace; Yet those who deeper scan the human face, Amid the trial-hour of fear or ruth, May clearly read, upon its heaven-writ scroll, That high and firm resolve, which nerved the Roman soul.

MRS. SIGOURNEY.

55. On her forehead sitteth pride, Crown'd with scorn, and falcon-eyed; But she beneath, methinks, doth twine Silken smiles, that seem divine. Can such smiles be false and cold? Can she, will she wed for gold?

BARRY CORNWALL.

56. Oh! her beauty is fair to see, But still and steadfast is her e'e, And the soft desire of maiden's e'en, In that mild face can never be seen. Her seymat is the lily flower, And her cheek the moss-rose in a shower, And her voice, like the distant melody That floats along the twilight sea. But she lo'es to raike the lonely glen, And keep afar frae the haunts o' men.

HOGG--Queen's Wake.

57. 'Tis not her eye or lip we beauty call, But the joint force and full result of all.

POPE.

58. Her face is very beautiful, and mirth Is native on her lip; but ever, now, As a sweet tone delighteth her, the smile Goes melting into sadness, and the lash Droops gently to her eye, as if it knew Affection was too chaste a thing for mirth.

WILLIS.

59. Have you seen but a bright lily grow, Before rude hands have touch'd it? Have you mark'd but the fall o' the snow, Before the soil hath smutch'd it? Have you felt the wool of the beaver? Or swan's-down ever? Or have smelt o' the bud of the brier? Or the nard in the fire? Or have tasted the bag of the bee? O so white! O so soft! O so sweet is she!

BEN JONSON.

60. Her nose is crook'd, and turn'd outwarde, Her chin stands all awry; A worse formed lady than she is, Was never seen with eye. Her haires like serpents cling aboute Her cheekes of deadlye hewe; A worse form'd ladye than she is No man mote ever view.

PERCY'S RELIQUES--The Marriage of Sir Gawaine.

WHAT IS THE PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF HIM WHO LOVES YOU?

'Twas pretty, though a plague, To see him every hour, to sit and draw His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, In our heart's table; heart, too capable Of every line and trick of his sweet favor.

All's Well That Ends Well.