Anacreon, Ode XXVIII. Imitated

Best of painters, show thy art, Draw the charmer of my heart; Draw her as she shines away, At the rout, or at the play: Carefully each mode express, Woman's better part is dress. Let her cap be mighty small, Bigger just than none at all, Pretty, like her sense, and little, Like her beauty, frail and brittle. Be her shining locks confin'd In a threefold braid behind; Let an artificial flower Set the fissure off before; Here and there weave ribbon pat in, Ribbon of the finest sattin. Circling round her ivory neck Frizzle out the smart Vandyke; Like the ruff that heretofore Good queen Bess's maidens wore; Happy maidens, as we read, Maids of honour, maids indeed. Let her breast look rich and bold With a stomacher of gold; Let it keep her bosom warm, Amply stretch'd from arm to arm; Whimsically travers'd o'er, Here a knot, and there a flower, Like her little heart that dances, Full of maggots, full of fancies. Flowing loosely down her back Draw with art the graceful sack; Ornament it well with gimping, Flounses, surbeloes, and crimping. Let of ruffles many a row Guard her elbows, white as snow; Knots below, and knots above, Emblems of the ties of love. Let her hoop, extended wide, Show what petticoats should hide, Garters of the softest silk, Stockings whiter than the milk; Charming part of female dress, Did it show us more or less. Let a pair of velvet shoes Gently press her petty-toes, Gently press, and softly squeeze, Tottering like the fair Chinese, Mounted high, and buckled low, Tottering every step they go. Take these hints, and do thy duty, Fashions are the tests of beauty; Features vary and perplex, Mode's the woman, and the sex.