Nor were my night thoughts, I confess

Nor were my night thoughts, I confess, Free from solicitude for dress; How best to bind my flowing hair With art, yet with an artless air,— My hair, like musk in scent and hue, Oh! blacker far, and sweeter too! In what nice braid, or glossy curl, To fix a diamond or a pearl, And where to smooth the love-spread toils With nard or jasmin's fragrant oils; How to adjust the golden Teic, And most adorn my forehead sleek;

What Condals should emblaze my ears, Like Seita's waves, or Seita's tears; How elegantly to dispose Bright circlets for my well-form'd nose; With strings of rubies how to deck, Or emerald rows, my stately neck; While some that ebon tower embraced, Some pendent sought my slender waist; How next my purfled veil to chuse From silken stores of varied hues, Which would attract the roving view, Pink, violet, purple, orange, blue; The loveliest mantle to select, Or unembellished or bedeck'd; And how my twisted scarf to place With most inimitable grace, (Too thin its warp, too fine its woof, For eyes of males not beauty-proof;) What skirts the mantle best would suit, Ornate, with stars, or tissued fruit,

The flower-embroidered or the plain, With silver or with golden vein; The Chury bright, which gayly shows Fair objects aptly to compose; How each smooth arm, and each soft wrist, By richest Cosees might be kiss'd, While some my taper ankles round, With sunny radiance tinged the ground.