T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
A Description
By Lord Herbert of Cherbury (1583–1648)(1665) I SING her worth and praises, I, | |
| Of whom a Poet cannot lie. | |
| The little World, the Great shall blaze, | |
| Sea, Earth, her Body; Heaven, her Face, | |
| Her Hair, Sunbeams, whose every part | 5 |
| Lightens, inflames each Lover’s Heart, | |
| That thus you prove the Axiom true, | |
| Whilst the Sun helped Nature in you. | |
| Her Front, the white and azure sky | |
| In Light and Glory raised high, | 10 |
| Being o’ercast by a cloudy frown, | |
| All Hearts and Eyes dejecteth down; | |
| Her each Brow, a celestial Bow | |
| Which through this Sky her Light doth show, | |
| Which doubled, if it strange appear | 15 |
| The Sun’s likewise is doubled there; | |
| Her either Cheek, a blushing Morn, | |
| Which, on the Wings of Beauty born, | |
| Doth never set, but only fair | |
| Shineth exalted in her hair; | 20 |
| Within her Mouth Heaven’s Heav’n reside; | |
| Her words the souls there Glorifi’d; | |
| Her Nose, th’ Equator of this Globe, | |
| Where Nakedness, Beauty’s best Robe, | |
| Presents a form all Hearts to win! | 25 |
| Last Nature made that Dainty Chin, | |
| Which that it might in every fashion | |
| Answer the rest, a Constellation | |
| Like to a Desk, She there did place | |
| To write the Wonders of her Face. | 30 |
| In this Celestial Frontispiece, | |
| Where Happiness eternal lies, | |
| First arranged stand three Senses,— | |
| This Heaven’s Intelligences, | |
| Whose several Motions sweet combined | 35 |
| Come from the first Mover, her Mind. | |
| The weight of this Harmonique Sphere | |
| The Atlas of her Neck doth bear, | |
| Whose favours Day to Us imparts | |
| When Frowns make Night in Lovers’ Hearts. | 40 |
| Two foaming Billows are her Breasts, | |
| That carry rais’d upon their Crests | |
| The Tyrian Fish: More white’s their Foam | |
| Then that whence Venus once did come. | |
| Here take her by the Hand, my Muse, | 45 |
| With that Sweet Foe, to make my Truce, | |
| To compact Manna best compar’d, | |
| Whose dewy inside’s not full hard. | |
| Her Waist’s an envers’d Pyramis | |
| Upon whose Cone Love’s Trophy is. | 50 |
| Her Belly is that Magazine | |
| At whose peep Nature did resign | |
| That precious Mould by which alone | |
| There can be framed such a One: | |
| At th’ entrance of which hidden Treasure, | 55 |
| Happy making above measure, | |
| Two Alabaster Pillars stand, | |
| To warn all passage from that Land, | |
| At foot whereof engraved is | |
| The sad Non Ultra of Man’s Bliss. | 60 |
| The back of this most precious Frame | |
| Holds up in Majesty the Same; | |
| Where to make Music of her parts. | |
| Though all this Beauty’s Temple be | |
| There’s known within no Deity | 65 |
| Save Virtues shrin’d within her Will. | |
| As I began, so say I still, | |
| I sing her Worth and Praises, I, | |
| Of whom a Poet cannot lie. | |