Mary Leapor (1722–1746)

SEE those cheeks of beauteous dye,

Lovely as the dawning sky,

Innocence that ne’er beguiles,

Lips that wear eternal smiles:

Beauties to the rest unknown,

Shine in her and her alone.

Now the rivers smoother flow,

Now the op’ning roses glow,

The woodbine twines her odorous charms

Round the oak’s supporting arms:

Lilies paint the dewy ground

And ambrosia breathes around.

Come, ye gales that fan the spring,

Zephyr, with thy downy wing,

Gently waft to Mira’s breast

Health, Content, and balmy Rest.

Far, O far from hence remain

Sorrow, Care, and sickly Pain.

Thus sung Mira to her lyre,

Till the idle numbers tire:

‘Ah! Sappho sweeter sings,’ I cry,

And the spiteful rocks reply,

(Responsive to the jarring strings)

‘Sweeter—Sappho sweeter sings.’