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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416307" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>On Beauty</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Beauty deserves the homage of the muse: <br>Shall mine, rebellious, the dear theme refuse? <br>No; while my breast respires the vital air, <br>Wholly I am devoted to the fair. <br>Beauty I'll sing in my sublimest lays, <br>I burn to give her just immortal praise. <br>The heavenly maid with transport I'll pursue <br>To her abode, and all her graces view. <br>This happy place with all delights abounds, <br>And plenty broods upon the fertile grounds. <br>Here verdant grass their waving <br>And hills and vales in sweet confusion lie: <br>The nibbling flock stray o'er the rising hills, <br>And all around with bleating music fills: <br>High on their fronts tall blooming forests nod, <br>Of sylvan deities the blest abode: <br>The feather'd minstrels hop from spray to spray, <br>And chant their gladsome carols all the day; <br>Till dusky night, advancing in her car, <br>Makes with declining light successful war. <br>Then Philomel her mournful lay repeats, <br>And through her throat breathes melancholy sweets. <br>Still higher yet wild rugged rocks arise, <br>And strike beholders with a dread surprise. <br>This paradise these towering hills surround, <br>That thither is one only passage found. <br>Increasing brooks roll down the mountain's side, <br>And as they pass the opposing pebbles chide. <br>But vernal showers refresh the blooming year. <br>Their only season is eternal spring, <br>Which hovers o'er them with a downy wing: <br>Blossoms and fruits at once the trees adorn <br>With glowing blushes, like the rosy morn: The way that to this stately palace goes <br>Of myrtle trees, lies 'twixt two even rows, <br>Which, towering high, with outstretch'd arms display'd, <br>Over our heads a living arch have made. <br>To sing, my muse, the bold attempt begin, <br>Of awful beauties you behold within: <br>The Goddess sat upon a throne of gold, <br>Emboss'd with figures charming to behold; <br>Here new made Eve stood in her early bloom, <br>Not yet obscured with sin's sullen gloom; <br>Her naked beauties do the soul confound, <br>From every part is given a fatal wound; <br>There other beauties of a meaner fame <br>Oblige the sight, whom here I shall not name. <br>In her right hand she did a sceptre sway, <br>O'er all mankind ambitious to obey: <br>Her lovely forehead and her killing eye, <br>Her blushing cheeks of a vermilion dye, <br>Her lip's soft pulp, her heaving snowy breast, <br>Her well turn'd arm, her handsome slender waist, <br>And all below veil'd from the curious eye; <br>Oh! heavenly maid! makes all beholders cry. <br>Her dress was plain, not pompous as a bride, <br>Which would her sweeter native beauties hide. <br>One thing I mind, a spreading hoop she wore, <br>Than nothing which adorns a lady more. <br>With equal rage, could I its beauties sing, <br>I'd with the hoop make all Parnassus ring. <br>Around her shoulders, dangling on her throne, <br>A bright Tartana carelessly was thrown, <br>Which has already won immortal praise, <br>Most sweetly sung in Allan Ramsay's lays; <br>The wanton Cupids did around her play, <br>And smiling loves upon her bosom stray; <br>With purple wings they round about her flew, <br>And her sweet lips tinged with ambrosial dew: <br>Her air was easy, graceful was her mien, <br>Her presence banish'd the ungrateful spleen; <br>In short, her divine influence refined <br>Our corrupt hearts, and polished mankind. <br>Of lovely nymphs she had a smiling train, <br>Fairer than those e'er graced Arcadia's plain. <br>The British ladies next to her took place, <br>Who chiefly did the fair assembly grace. <br>What blooming virgins can Britannia boast, <br>Their praises would all eloquence exhaust. <br>With ladies there my ravish'd eyes did meet, <br>That oft I've seen grace fair Edina's street, <br>With their broad hoops cut through the willing air, <br>Pleased to give place unto the lovely fair: <br>Sure this is like those blissful seats above, <br>Here is peace, transporting joy, and love. <br>Should I be doom'd by cruel angry fate <br>In some lone isle my lingering end to wait, <br>Yet happy I! still happy should I be, <br>While bless'd with virtue and a charming she; <br>With full content I'd fortune's pride despise, <br>And die still gazing on her lovely eyes. <br>May all the blessings mortals need below, <br>May all the blessings heaven can bestow, <br>May every thing that's pleasant, good, or rare, <br>Be the eternal portion of the Fair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=James+Thomson">James Thomson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=416307" data-title="On Beauty de James Thomson" data-description="Beauty deserves the homage of the muse: 
Shall mine, rebellious, the dear theme refuse? 
No; while my breast respires the vital air, 
Wholly I am devoted to the fair. 
Beauty I'll sing in my sublimest lays, 
I burn to give her just immortal praise..."></div>
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