WHETHER thy locks in natural beauty stray,
Clust'ring like woodbind wild, or haply bound,
Like ivy wreath thy polish'd brows around;
Whether within thine eyes' blue mirror play
Mirth's arrowy beams or love's more soften'd ray;
Whether to the gay viol's pleasant sound
Thou minglest in the dance's airy round,
Thy light feet twinkling like the darts of day;
Or whether o'er the graceful harp thy frame,
More graceful yet, with eyes up-rais'd thou bendest,
And with its tones thy own, far sweeter, blendest;
Still thou art loveliest, varying, yet the same,
Still o'er my soul thine absolute sway extendest,
And from all other loves my heart defendest.