Beauty by no Complexion is defin'd,
Is of all Colours, and to none confin'd.
Jewels that shine, in Gold or Silver set,
As sparkling and as precious are in Jet.
Here Cleopatra, with a liberal Heart,
Bounteous of Love, improv'd the Joy with Art;
The first, who gave recruited Slaves to know
That the rich Pearl was of more Use than Show;
Who with high Meats, or a luxurious Draught,
Kept Love for ever flowing and full fraught.
Julius and Anthony, those lords of All,
Low at her Feet present the conquer'd Ball.
Those dreadful Eagles that had fac'd the Sun
From Pole to Pole, at length fall dazled down.
Her dying Truth some generous Tears would cost,
But that her Fate inspir'd the World well lost,[1]
With secret Pride the Ravish'd Muses view
The Image of that Death, which Dryden drew.
Pleas'd in such happy Climates, warm and bright,
Love for some Ages revell'd with Delight:
The Martial Moors, in Gallantry refin'd,
Invent new Arts to make their Charmers kind;
See! in the Lifts, by golden Barriers bound,
In warlike Ranks they wait the Trumpet's Sound,
- ↑ All for Love, or the World well lost, written by Mr. Dryden.
