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 ether 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 pilfer'd 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 Syrens heard;
And to assert their voice appear'd:
She play'd; the Muses from the hill
Wonder'd who thus had stole 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.