Woman! When I Behold Thee Flippant, Vain

Woman! when I behold thee flippant, vain,     Inconstant, childish, proud, and full of fancies;     Without that modest softening that enhances     The downcast eye, repentant of the pain     That its mild light creates to heal again:     E'en then, elate, my spirit leaps, and prances,     E'en then my soul with exultation dances     For that to love, so long, I've dormant lain:     But when I see thee meek, and kind, and tender,     Heavens! how desperately do I adore     Thy winning graces; to be thy defender     I hotly burn to be a Calidore     A very Red Cross Knight a stout Leander     Might I be loved by thee like these of yore.     Light feet, dark violet eyes, and parted hair;     Soft dimpled hands, white neck, and creamy breast,     Are things on which the dazzled senses rest     Till the fond, fixed eyes, forget they stare.     From such fine pictures, heavens! I cannot dare     To turn my admiration, though unpossess'd     They be of what is worthy, though not drest     In lovely modesty, and virtues rare.     Yet these I leave as thoughtless as a lark;     These lures I straight forget e'en ere I dine,     Or thrice my palate moisten: but when I mark     Such charms with mild intelligences shine,     My ear is open like a greedy shark,     To catch the tunings of a voice divine.     Ah! who can e'er forget so fair a being?     Who can forget her half retiring sweets?     God! she is like a milk-white lamb that bleats     For man's protection. Surely the All-seeing,     Who joys to see us with his gifts agreeing,     Will never give him pinions, who intreats     Such innocence to ruin, who vilely cheats     A dove-like bosom. In truth there is no freeing     One's thoughts from such a beauty; when I hear     A lay that once I saw her hand awake,     Her form seems floating palpable, and near;     Had I e'er seen her from an arbour take     A dewy flower, oft would that hand appear,     And o'er my eyes the trembling moisture shake.