The Poetical Works of Thomas Parnell/Poem 29

by Thomas Parnell

CHLORIS APPEARING IN A LOOKING-GLASS.

 

Oft have I seen a piece of art,
Of light and shade the mixture fine,
Speak all the passions of the heart,
And show true life in every line.
 
But what is this before my eyes,
With every feature, every grace,
That strikes with love, and with surprise,
And gives me all the vital face?
 
It is not Chloris: for, behold,
The shifting phantom comes and goes;
And when 'tis here, 'tis pale and cold,
Nor any female softness knows.
 
But 'tis her image, for I feel
The very pains that Chloris gives;
Her charms are there, I know them well,
I see what in my bosom lives.
 
Oh, could I but the picture save!
'Tis drawn by her own matchless skill;
Nature the lively colours gave,
And she need only look to kill.

Ah! fair one, will it not suffice,
That I should once your victim lie;
Unless you multiply your eyes,
And strive to make me doubly die?