Britomartis

Tis morn, and the flowers with dew are yet drooping, I see you are treading the verge of the sea, And now, ah, I see it, you just now are stooping To pick up the keepsake intended for me.

if a cherub on pinions of silver descending had brought me a gem from the fretwork of heaven and smiles with his star cheering voice sweetly blending the blessings of thai had melodiously given it had not created a warmer emotion than the present fair nymphs i was blessed with from you than the shell from the bright golden sands of the ocean which the emerald waves at your feet gladly threw for indeed tis a sweet and peculiar pleasure and blissful is he who such happiness finds to possess but a span of the hour of leisure in elegant pure and aerial minds on receiving a curious shell and a copy of verses from the same ladies Hast thou from the caves of Golconda a gem pure as the ice-drop that froze on the mountain, bright as the humming-bird's green diadem when it flutters in sunbeams that shine through a fountain? Hast thou a goblet for dark sparkling wine, that goblet right heavy and massy and gold, and splendidly marked with the story divine of Armida the Fair and Rinaldo the Bold? Hast thou a steed with a mane richly flowing? Hast thou a sword that thine enemy's smart is? Hast thou a trumpet rich melodies blowing? And wearest thou the shield of the famed Britomartis? What is it that hangs from thy shoulder, so brave, embroidered with many a spring-peering flower? Is it a scarf that thy fair lady gave? And hastest thou now to that fair lady's bower? ah courteous sir knight with large joy thou art crowned full many the glories that brighten thy youth i will tell thee my blisses which richly abound in magical powers to bless and to soothe on this scroll thou seest written in characters fair a sunbeamy tail of a wreath and a chain and warrior it nurtures the property rare of charming my mind from the trammels of pain this canopy mark tis the work of a fay beneath its rich shade did king oberon languish when lovely titania was far far away and cruelly left him to sorrow and anguish there oft would he bring from his soft sighing lute wild strains to which spell-bound the nightingales listened the wandering spirits of heaven were mute and tears mong the dew-drops of morning oft glistened in this little dome all those melodies strange soft plaintive and melting for ever will sigh nor e'er will the notes from their tenderness change nor e'er will the music of oberon die so when i am in a voluptuous vein i pillow my head on the sweets of the rose and list to the tail of the wreath and the chain till its echoes depart then i sink to repose adieu valiant eric with joy thou art crowned full many the glories that brighten thy youth i too have my blisses which richly abound in magical powers to bless and to soothe section six of poems two hadst thou lived in days of old oh what wonders had been told of thy lively countenance and thy humid eyes that dance in the midst of their own brightness in the very fane of lightness over which thine eyebrows leaning picture out each lovely meaning in a dainty bend they lie like two streaks across the sky or the feathers from a crow fallen on a bed of snow of thy dark hair that extends into many graceful bends as the leaves of hellebore turn to whence they sprung before and behind each ample curl peeps the richness of a pearl downward too flows many a tress with a glossy waviness full and round like globes that rise from the censer to the skies through sunny air add to the sweetness of thy honeyed voice the neatness of thine ankle lightly turned with those beauties scarce discerned kept with such sweet privacy that they seldom meet the eye of the little loves that fly round about with eager pry saving when with freshening lave thou dip'st them in the taintless wave like twin water-lilies born in the coolness of the morn oh if thou hadst breathed then now the muses had been ten couldst thou wish for lineage higher than twin sister of thalia at least for ever ever more will i call the graces for hadst thou lived when chivalry lifted up her lance on high tell me what thou wouldst have been ah i see the silver sheen of thy broided floating vest covering half thine ivory breast which o heavens i should see but that cruel destiny has placed a golden cuirass there keeping secret what is fair like sunbeams in a cloudlet nested thy locks in nightly cask are rested or which bend four milky plumes like the gentle lilies blooms springing from a costly vase see with what a stately pace comes thine alabaster steed servant of heroic deed o'er his loins his trappings glow like the northern lights on snow mount his back thy sword unsheath sign of the unchanter's death bane of every wicked spell silencer of dragons yell Alas, thou this wilt never do, Thou art an enchantress too, And wilt surely never spill blood Of those whose eyes can kill.

to hope when by my solitary hearth i sit and hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom when no fair dreams before my mind's eye flit and the bare heath of life presents no bloom sweet hope ethereal balm upon me shed and wave thy silver pinions o'er my head whene'er i wander at the fall of night where woven boughs shut out the moon's bright ray should sad despondency my musings fright and frown to drive fair cheerfulness away peep with the moonbeams through the leafy roof and keep that fiend despondence far aloof should disappointment parent of despair strive for her son to seize my careless heart when like a cloud he sits upon the air preparing on his spell-bound prey to dart chase him away sweet hope with visage bright and fright him as the morning frightens night

Hey, it's Bobby Bones.