I. <br />If rightly tuneful bards decide, <br />If it be fix'd in love's decrees, <br />That beauty ought not to be tried <br />But by its native power to please, <br />Then tell me, youths and lovers, tell, <br />What fair can Amoret excell? <br /> <br />II. <br />Behold that bright unsullied smile, <br />And wisdom speaking in her mien: <br />Yet (she so artless all the while, <br />So little studious to be seen) <br />We nought but instant gladness know, <br />Nor think to whom the gift we owe. <br /> <br />III. <br />But neither music, nor the powers <br />Of youth and mirth and frolick cheer, <br />Add half that sunshine to the hours, <br />Or make life's prospect half so clear, <br />As memory brings it to the eye <br />From scenes where Amoret was by. <br /> <br />IV. <br />Yet not a satirist could there <br />Or fault or indiscretion find; <br />Nor any prouder sage declare <br />One virtue, pictur'd in his mind, <br />Whose form with lovelier colours glows <br />Than Amoret's demeanor shows. <br /> <br />V. <br />This sure is beauty's happiest part: <br />This gives the most unbounded sway: <br />This shall inchant the subject heart <br />When rose and lily fade away; <br />And she be still, in spite of time, <br />Sweet Amoret in all her prime.<br /><br />Mark Akenside<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ode-viii-if-rightly-tuneful-bards-decide/
