The Fair Thief
Before the urchin well could go
She stole the whiteness of the snow,
And more that whiteness to adorn
She stole the blushes of the morn;
Stole all the sweets that either sheds
On primrose buds or violet beds.
Still, to reveal her artful wiles,
She stole the Graces’ silken smiles:
She stole Aurora’s balmy breath,
And pilfered orient pearl for teeth:
The cherry, dipt in morning dew,
Gave moisture to her lips and hue.
These were her infant spoils, a store
To which in time she added more:
At twelve she stole from Cyprus’ queen
Her air and love-commanding mien;
Stole Juno’s dignity, and stole
From Pallas sense to charm the soul.
Apollo’s wit was next her prey;
Her next, the beam that lights the day.
She sung: amazed the Sirens heard,
And to assert their voice appeared:
She played: the Muses from the hill
Wondered who thus had stol’n their skill.
Great Jove approved her crimes and art;
And t’other day she stole my heart!
If lovers, Cupid, are thy care,
Exert thy vengeance on this Fair;
To trial bring her stolen charms,
And let her prison be my arms.
Charles Wyndham.