The Rose of the World

LO, when the Lord made North and SouthAnd sun and moon ordained, He,Forthbringing each by word of mouthIn order of its dignity,Did man from the crude clay expressBy sequence, and, all else decreed,He form’d the woman; nor might lessThan Sabbath such a work succeed.And still with favour singled out,Marr’d less than man by mortal fall,Her disposition is devout,Her countenance angelical;The best things that the best believeAre in her face so kindly writThe faithless, seeing her, conceiveNot only heaven, but hope of it;No idle thought her instinct shrouds,But fancy chequers settled sense,Like alteration of the cloudsOn noonday’s azure permanence;Pure dignity, composure, easeDeclare affections nobly fix’d,And impulse sprung from due degreesOf sense and spirit sweetly mix’d.Her modesty, her chiefest grace,The cestus clasping Venus’ side,How potent to deject the faceOf him who would affront its pride!Wrong dares not in her presence speak,Nor spotted thought its taint discloseUnder the protest of a cheekOutbragging Nature’s boast the rose.In mind and manners how discreet;How artless in her very art;How candid in discourse; how sweetThe concord of her lips and heart;How simple and how circumspect;How subtle and how fancy-free;Though sacred to her love, how deck’dWith unexclusive courtesy;How quick in talk to see from farThe way to vanquish or evade;How able her persuasions areTo prove, her reasons to persuade;How (not to call true instinct’s bentAnd woman’s very nature, harm),How amiable and innocentHer pleasure in her power to charm;How humbly careful to attract,Though crown’d with all the soul desires,Connubial aptitude exact,Diversity that never tires.