Book 2 — SONG.
Reading edition
1 The shape alone let others prize, The features of the fair; I look for spirit in her eyes, And meaning in her air;
2 A damask cheek, an ivory arm, Shall ne'er my wishes win: Give me an animated form, That speaks a mind within;
3 A face where awful honour shines, Where sense and sweetness move, And angel innocence refines The tenderness of love.
4 These are the soul of Beauty's frame; Without whose vital aid, Unfinish'd all her features seem, And all her roses dead.
5 But, ah! where both their charms unite, How perfect is the view, With every image of delight, With graces ever new:
6 Of power to charm the greatest woe, The wildest rage control, Diffusing mildness o'er the brow, And rapture through the soul.
7 Their power but faintly to express, All language must despair; But go, behold Arpasia's face, And read it perfect there.