For thou art form'd so heavenly fair
Howe'er those orbs may wildly beam
We must admire, but still despair
That fatal glance forbids esteem.
When Nature stamp'd thy beauteous birth
So much perfection in thee shone
She fear'd that, too divine for earth
The skies might claim thee for their own.
Therefore, to guard her dearest work
Lest angels might dispute the prize
She bade a secret lightning lurk
Within those once celestial eyes.
