Give beauty all her right

Give Beauty all her right!

She's not to one form tied;

Each shape yields fair delight

Where her perfections bide:

Helen, I grant, might pleasing be,

And Ros'mond was as sweet as she.

Some the quick eye commends,

Some swelling lips and red;

Pale looks have many friends,

Through sacred sweetness bred:

Meadows have flowers that pleasures move,

Though roses are the flowers of love.

Free beauty is not bound

To one unmovèd clime;

She visits every ground

And favours every time.

Let the old loves with mine compare,

My sovereign is as sweet and fair.