English poem
THE CHARMS of MELODY, SONG 86
by Anonymous
Blest as th' immortal gods is he, The youth who fondly sits by thee, And hears and sees thee all the while, Softly speak, and sweetly smile! So spake the lovely eastern maid; (Like thine, seraphic were her charms) That in Circassia's vineyard stray'd, And blest the wisest monarch's arms.
A thousand fair, of high desert, Strove to enchant the am'rous king; But the Circassian gain'd his heart, And taught the royal bard to sing. Clarinda thus our song inspires, And claims the smooth and softest lays: But while each charm our bosom fires, Words seem too few to found her praise.
Her mind, in ev'ry grace complete, To paint, surpasses human skill: Her majesty, mix'd with the sweet, Let seraphs sing her, if they will. Whilst wand'ring, with a ravish'd eye, We all that's perfect in her view, Viewing a sister of the sky, To whom an adoration's due.