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Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax,

Her cheeks like the dawn of day, And her bosom white as the hawthorn buds,

That ope in the month of May.

LONGFELLOW—Wreck of the Hesperus. St. 2. Oh, could you view the melodie Of ev'ry grace, And musick of her face, You'd drop a teare, Seeing more harmonie In her bright eye, Then now you heare.

LOVELACE–Orpheus to Beasts.

You are beautiful and faded
Like an old opera tune
Played upon a harpsichord.


for beauty stands In the admiration only of weak minds Led captive. · Cease to admire, and all her

plumes Fall flat and shrink into a trivial toy, At every sudden slighting quite abash'd.

MILTONParadise Regained. Bk. II. L. 220. And ladies of the Hesperides, that seemed Fairer than feign'd of old.

MILTON~Paradise Regained. Bk. II. L. 357.


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The maid who modestly conceals
Her beauties, while she hides, reveals:
Gives but a glimpse, and fancy draws
Whate'er the Grecian Venus was.
EDWARD MOORE—Spider and the Bee. Fable



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Not more the rose, the queen of flowers,
Outblushes all the bloom of bower,
Than she unrivall’d grace discloses;
The sweetest rose, where all are roses.

MOORE-Odes of Anacreon. Ode LXVI.



Beauty and sadness always go together.
Nature thought beauty too rich to go forth
Upon the earth without a meet alloy.
GEORGE MACDONALDWithin and Without.

Pt. IV. Sc. 3.

To weave a garland for the rose,

And think thus crown'd 'twould lovelier be, Were far less vain than to suppose

That silks and gems add grace to thee. MOORE—Songs from the Greek Anthology. To

Weave a Garland.

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'Tis evanescence that endures; The loveliness that dies the soonest has the long

est life. The rainbow is a momentary thing, The afterglows are ashes

while we gaze. Don MARQUISThe Paradox.

Die when you will, you need not wear
At heaven's Court a form more fair

Than Beauty here on Earth has given:
Keep but the lovely looks we see
The voice we hear, and you will be

An angel ready-made for heaven.
MOORE. Versification of LORD HERBERT of
Cherbury, Life. P. 36.

(See also OLDHAM)


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An' fair was her sweet bodie,

Yet fairer was her mind:
Menie's the queen among the flowers,

The wale o' womankind.

Altho' your frailer part must yield to Fate,
By every breach in that fair lodging made,
Its blest inhabitant is more displayed.
OLDHAMTo Madam L. E. on her Recovery.

106. 23 And should you visit now the seats of bliss, You need not wear another form but this. OLDHAMTo Madam L. E. on her Recovery. 115.

(See also MOORE, WALLER) Hast thou left thy blue course in heaven, golden-haired son of the sky! The west has opened its gates; the bed of thy repose is there. The waves come, to behold thy beauty. They lift their trembling heads. They see thee lovely

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When the candles are out all women are fair.

PLUTARCH—Conjugal Precepts.

8 'Tis not a lip, or eye, we beauty call, But the joint force and full result of all.

POPE-Essay. On Criticism. Pt. II. L. 45.

9 Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll; Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul.

POPE-Rape of the Lock. Canto V. L. 33.

Die Wahrheit ist vorhanden für den Weisen.
Die Schönheit für ein fühlend Herz.

Truth exists for the wise, beauty for the feeling heart. SCHILLER-Don Carlos. IV. 21. 186.

21 Das ist das Loos des Schönen auf der Erde!

That is the lot of the beautiful on earth.
SCHILLER—Wallenstein's Tod. IV. 12. 26.

And ne'er did Grecian chisel trace
A Nymph, a Naiad, or a Grace,
Of finer form, or lovelier face!

SCOTTLady of the Lake. Canto I. St. 18.



No longer shall the bodice aptly lac'd
From thy full bosom to thy slender waist,
That air and harmony of shape express,
Fine by degrees, and beautifully less.

PRIOR-Henry and Emma. L. 429.

11 For, when with beauty we can virtue join, We paint the semblance of a form divine.

PRIORTo the Countess of Oxford. 12

Nimis in veritate, et similitudinis quam pulchritudinis amantior.

Too exact, and studious of similitude rather than of beauty. QUINTILIANDe Institutione Oratoria. XII.

10. 9.

There was a soft and pensive grace,
A cast of thought upon her face,
That suited well the forehead high,
The eyelash dark, and downcast eve.

SCOTT——Rokeby. Canto IV. St. 5.


Spirit of Beauty, whose sweet impulses,
Flung like the rose of dawn across the sea,
Alone can flush the exalted consciousness
With shafts of sensible divinity-
Light of the world, essential loveliness.

ALAN SEEGER-Ode to Natural Beauty. St. 2.

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Why thus longing, thus forever sighing

Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear For the far-off, unattain'd, and dim,

As morning roses newly wash'd with dew. While the beautiful all round thee lying

Taming of the Shrew. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 173. Offers up its low, perpetual hymn? HARRIET W. SEWALL_Why Thus Longing.

'Tis beauty truly blent, whose red and white

Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on. Beauty comes, we scarce know how, as an Twelfth Night. Act I. Sc. 5. L. 257. emanation from sources deeper than itself. SHAIRP_Studies in Poetry and Philosophy. There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple: Moral Motive Power.

If the ill spirit have so fair a house,

Good things will strive to dwell with't.
For her own person,

Tempest. Act I. Sc. 2. L. 458.
It beggar'd all description.
Antony and Cleopatra. Act II. Sc. 2. L.

A lovely lady, garmented in light

From her own beauty. Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold.

SHELLEYThe Witch of Atlas. St. 5. As You Like It. Act I. Sc. 3. L. 112.

She died in beauty-like a rose blown from its Heaven bless thee!

parent stem. Thou hast the sweetest face I ever looked on;

CHARLES DOYNE SILLERY-She Died in Beauty. Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel. Henry VIII. Act IV. Sc. 1. L. 43.

O beloved Pan, and all ye other gods of this

place, grant me to become beautiful in the inner Of Nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast And with the half-blown rose.

SOCRATES. In Plato's Phædrus. End. King John. Act III. Sc. 1. L. 53.

For all that faire is, is by nature good; Beauty is brought by judgment of the eye, That is a signe to know the gentle blood. Not utter'd by base sale of chapmen's tongues.

SPENSER-An Hymne in Honour of Beauty. Love's Labour's Lost. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 15.

L. 139.

22 Beauty doth varnish age.

Her face so faire, as flesh it seemed not, Love's Labour's Lost. Act IV. Sc. 3. L. 244.

But heavenly pourtraict of bright angels' hew,

Cleare as the skye withouten blame or blot, Beauty is a witch,

Through goodly mixture of complexion's dew. Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.

SPENSERFaerie Queene. Canto III. St. 22. Much Ado About Nothing. Act II. Sc. 1. L. 186.

They seemed to whisper: “How handsome she is!

What wavy tresses! what sweet perfume! I'll not shed her blood;

Under her mantle she hides her wings; Nor scar that whiter skin of hers than snow, Her flower of a bonnet is just in bloom.” And smooth as monumental alabaster.

E. C. STEDMANTranslation. Jean ProuOthello. Act V. Sc. 2. L. 3.

vaire's Song at the Barricade. Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good;

She wears a rose in her hair, A shining gloss that fadeth suddenly;

At the twilight's dreamy close: A flower that dies when first it 'gins to bud;

Her face is fair,-how fair

Under the rose!
A brittle glass that's broken presently;
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,

R. H. STODDARD/Under the Rose.
Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour.
The Passionate Pilgrim. St. 13.

Fortuna facies muta commendatio est.

A pleasing countenance is a silent commen0, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!

dation. It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night,

Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear:
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!

A daughter of the gods, divinely tall,
Romeo and Juliet. Act I, Sc. 5. L. 46.

And most divinely fair. (Later editions read: "Her beauty hangs upon

TENNYSON—Dream of Fair Women. St. 22. the cheek of night.)

(See also MILTON) Her beauty makes

How should I gauge what beauty is her dole, This vault a feasting presence full of light. a

Who cannot see her countenance for her soul, Romeo and Juliet. Act V. Sc. 3. L. 85.

As birds see not the casement for the sky?

And as 'tis check they prove its presence by, O, how much more doth beauty beauteous seem I know not of her body till I find By that sweet ornament which truth doth give! My flight debarred the heaven of her mind. Sonnet LIV.

FRANCIS THOMPSON-Her Portrait. St. 9.













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