Comparison

'Tis by Comparison we know On ev'ry Object to bestow Its proper share of Praise: Did each a like Perfection bear, What Beauty, tho' divinely Fair, Cou'd Admiration raise?

Amidst the lucid Bands of Night, See! Hesperus, serenely bright Adorns the distant Skies: But languishes, amidst the blaze, Of sprightly Sol's meridian Rays,— Or Silvia's brighter Eyes.

Whene'er the Nightingale complains, I like the melancholy Strains, And praise the tuneful Bird: But vainly might she strain her Throat, Vainly exalt each swelling Note, Shou'd Silvia's Voice be heard.

When, on the Vi'lets purple Bed. Supine I rest my weary Head, The fragrant Pillow charms: Yet soon such languid Bliss I'd fly, Wou'd Silvia but the Loss supply, And take me to her Arms.

The Alabaster's wond'rous White, The Marble's Polish strikes my Sight, When Silvia is not seen: But ah! how faint that White is grown, How rough appears the polish'd Stone, Compar'd with Silvia's Mien!

The Rose, that o'er the Cyprian Plains, With Flow'rs enamel'd, blooming reigns, With undisputed Pow'r, Plac'd near her Cheek's celestial Red, (Its Purple lost, its Lustre fled,) Delights the Sense no more.