Choice soul

Choice soul, in which, as in a glass we see,

In thy pure form and delicate,

What beauties heaven and nature can create,

The paragon of all their works to be!

Fair soul, in whom love, pity, piety,

Have found a home as from thy outward state

We clearly read, and are so rare and great

That they adorn none other like to thee!

And love for thee holds my captivity;

Beauty binds my soul to thine own

Thy gentle eyes of mercy wake my hope

What law, what destiny, what cruelty denies

That death should spare perfection so complete?

Choice soul in thee as in a glass we see

Beauty bind my soul to thine own.