Beauteous Bearing of.

Her grace of motion and of look, the smooth
And swimming majesty of step and tread,

The symmetry of form and feature, set
The soul afloat, even like delicious airs
Of flute or harp.

Milman.

Budding into Beauty.

This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.

Her Budding Beauty.

Shakespeare.

Thy unripe youth seem'd like the purple rose
That to the warm ray opens not its breast,
But, hiding still within its mossy vest,
Dares not its virgin beauties to disclose.
Or like Aurora, when the heaven first glows,-
For likeness from above will suit thee best,-
When she with gold kindles each mountain crest,
And o'er the plain her pearly mantle throws.
No loss from time thy riper age receives;

Nor can young beauty, deck'd with art's display,
Rival the native graces of thy form :

Thus lovelier is the flower whose full-blown leaves Perfume the air, and more than orient ray

The sun's meridian glories blaze and warm.

Wiffen.

Her Beauty a World of Charms.

View well her face, and in that little round observe a world's variety :

You may

For colour, lips; for sweet perfumes, her breath;
For jewels, eyes; for threads of purest gold,
Hair; for delicious choice of flowers, cheeks :-
Wonder in every portion of that throne.

Her Contemplative Beauty.

John Ford.

Thine eyes' blue tenderness, thy long fair hair,
And the wan lustre of thy features, caught
From contemplation, where, serenely wrought,
Seems Sorrow's softness charm'd from its despair-
Have thrown such speaking sadness in thine air,
That but I know thy blessèd bosom fraught
With mines of unalloy'd and stainless thought-
I should have deem'd thee doom'd to earthly care.
Byron.

Her Beauty in Death.

She died in beauty!-like a rose
Blown from its parent stem;
She died in beauty!—like a pearl
Dropp'd from some diadem.
She died in beauty!—like a lay
Along a moonlit lake;

She died in beauty!-like the song
Of birds amid the brake.

She died in beauty!-like the snow
Of flowers dissolved away;

She died in beauty !—like a star
Lost on the brow of day.

She lives in glory!-like Night's gems

Set round the silver moon;

She lives in glory!-like the sun

Amid the blue of June!

Sillery.

Her Dream-like Beauty.

The cast of her beauty was so dream-like, and yet so varying; her temper was so little mingled with the common characteristics of woman; it had so little of caprice, so little of vanity, so utter an absence of all jealous, and all angry feeling; it was so made up of tenderness and devotion, and yet so imaginative and fairy-like in its fondness, that it was difficult to bear only the sentiments of earth for one who had so little of earth's clay. When I am alone with nature, methinks a sweet sound, or a new-born flower, has something of familiar power over those stored and deep impressions which do make her image, and brings her more vividly before my eyes, than any shape or face of her own sex, however beautiful it may be.

Bulwer.

Her Beauty beyond Description.

A brow so arch'd and clear,

Not Raphael's self had limn'd it;

A lip whose bloom would scarce appear,
Though fifty poets hymn'd it:

An eye, as if an angel's tear

Had gently dew'd, not dimm'd it.

W. Grant.

Ethereal Beauty and Grace of.

He gazed-he saw-
-he knew the face

Of beauty and the form of grace.

The rose was yet upon her cheek,

But mellow'd with a tenderer streak:
Where was the play of her soft lips fled?
Gone was the smile that enliven'd their red.
The ocean's calm within their view,
Beside her eye, had less of blue ;
But like that cold wave it stood still,
And its glance, though clear, was chill.
Around her form a thin robe twining,
Nought conceal'd her bosom shining;
Through the parting of her hair,

Floating darkly downward there,

Her rounded arm show'd white and bare:

And ere yet she made reply,

Once she raised her hand on high;

It was so wan, and transparent of hue,

You might have seen the moon shine through.

Byron.

Her Exceeding Beauty.

A bed of lilies flow'r upon her cheek,

And in the midst was set a circling rose;

Whose sweet aspéct would force Narcissus seek
New liveries, and fresher colours choose

To deck his beauteous head in snowy 'tire;
But all in vain-for who can hope t' aspire
To such a fair, which none attain, but all admire?
Her ruby lips lock up from gazing sight

A troop of pearls, which march in goodly row;
But when she deigns those precious bones undight,
Soon heavenly notes from those divisions flow,
And with rare music charm the ravish'd ears,
Daunting bold thoughts, but cheering modest fears:
The spheres so only sing, so only charm the spheres.

Yet all these stars which deck this beauteous sky By force of th' inward sun both shine and move; Throned in her heart sits love's high majesty,In highest majesty the highest love.

As when a taper shines in glassy frame,

The sparkling crystal burns in glittering flame,
So does that brightest love brighten this lovely dame.

Giles Fletcher.

Bright as the star of evening she appear'd
Amid the dusky scene. Eternal youth

O'er all her form its glowing honours breathed;
And smiles eternal from her candid eyes