LAURA SLEEPING; ODE by CHARLES COTTON

I

WINDS whisper gently whilst she sleeps,
And fan her with your cooling wings;
Whilst she her drops of beauty weeps,
From pure, and yet unrivall'd springs.

II

Glide over beauty's field her face,
To kiss her lip, and cheek be bold,
But with a calm, and stealing pace;
Neither too rude; nor yet too cold.

III

Play in her beams, and crisp her hair,
With such a gale, as wings soft Love,
And with so sweet, so rich an air,
As breathes from the Arabian grove.

IV

A breath as hushed as lover's sigh;
Or that unfolds the morning door:
Sweet, as the winds, that gently fly,
To sweep the Spring's enamell'd floor.

V

Murmur soft music to her dreams,
That pure, and unpolluted run,
Like to the new-born crystal streams,
Under the bright enamour'd sun.

VI

But when she waking shall display
Her light, retire within your bar,
Her breath is life, her eyes are day,
And all mankind her creatures are.

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