Epigram 19. Of Bettina

Ever to love a Lass so fair as she
Loseth no judgment, but doth settle me
In an opinion, that I would have no
Zeal in affection, but for her, to show.
All men admire her much who ever yet
Beheld her face: And shall I wrong my wit
Expresly to declare I like her not,
To whom I owe as much as I have got?
Have I my Sences? I can try no way
But by approving her; my eyes survey
All Objects, but like none like her; my ears
Receive no Musick like her voice: her tears
Compose the purest Nectar: her soft touch
Lends torn Prometheus ease; and body such
A perfume doth evaporate, that she
Yields choicer sweets then in Arabia be.