Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 8.djvu/234



APPIEST of the spaniel race, Painter, with thy colours grace: Draw his forehead large and high, Draw his blue and humid eye; Draw his neck so smooth and round, Little neck with ribands bound; And the muscly swelling breast Where the Loves and Graces rest; And the spreading even back, Soft, and sleek, and glossy black; And the tail that gently twines, Like the tendrils of the vines; And the silky twisted hair, Shadowing thick the velvet ear; Velvet ears, which, hanging low, O'er the veiny temples flow. With a proper light and shade, Let the winding hoop be laid; And within that arching bower (Secret circle, mystick power) In a downy slumber place Happiest of the spaniel race; While the soft respiring dame, Glowing with the softest flame, On the ravish'd favourite pours Balmy dews, ambrosial showers! With thy utmost skill express Nature in her richest dress, Limpid