Poetical Works of Akenside
Mark Akenside

Part 7 out of 7

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.



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