Mary Robinson (Мэри Робинсон)

Sonnet. Inscribed to Her Grace the Duchess of Devonshire

’TIS NOT thy flowing hair of orient gold,
Nor those bright eyes, like sapphire gems that glow;
Nor cheek of blushing rose, nor breast of snow,
The varying passions of the heart could hold: 

Those locks, too soon, shall own a silv’ry ray,
Those radiant orbs their magic fires forego;
Insatiate TIME shall steal those tints away,
Warp thy fine form, and bend thy beauties low: 

But the rare wonders of thy polish’d MIND
Shall mock the empty menace of decay;
The GEM, that in thy SPOTLESS BREAST enshrin’d,
Glows with the light of intellectual ray;
Shall, like the Brilliant, scorn each borrow’d aid,
And deck’d with native lustre NEVER FADE!

1. The Widow’s Home
2. Sonnet 44. Here Droops the Muse
3. The Deserted Cottage
4. Sonnet 36. Lead Me, Sicilian Maids
5. Sonnet to Evening

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