"By his eyelash tendril curled, by his slender waist I swear, By the dart his witchery feathers, fatal hurtling through the air; By the just roundness of his shape, by his glances bright and keen By the swart limping of his locks, and his fair forehead shining sheen; By his eyebrows which deny that she who looks on them should sleep, Which now commanding, now forbidding, o'er me high dominion keep; By the roses of his cheek, his face as fresh as myrtle wreath His tulip lips, and those pure pearls that hold the places of his teeth; By his noble form, which rises featly turned in even swell To where upon his jutting chest two young pomegranates seem to dwell By his supple moving hips, his taper waist, the silky skin, By all he robbed Perfection of, and holds enchained his form within; By his
