Page:Bijou 1828.pdf/7

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Is there one who half regal in beauty, Would be regal in pearl and in gem; Let her wreath her a crown of red roses, No rubies are equal to them. Is there one who sits languid and lonely, With her fair face bowed down on her hand, With a pale cheek and glittering eyelash, And careless locks 'scaped from their band.

For a lover not worth that eye's tear-drop, Not worth that sweet mouth's rosy kiss, Nor that cheek though 'tis faded to paleness; I know not the lover that is. Let her bind up her beautiful tresses; Call her wandering rose back again; And for one prisoner 'scaping her bondage, A hundred shall carry her chain.

Come, gallants, the gay and the graceful, With hearts like the light plumes ye wear; Eyes all but divine light our revel, Like the stars in whose beauty they share. Come ye, for the wine cups are mantling, Some clear as the morning's first light; Others touched with the evening's last crimson, Or the blush that may meet ye to night.