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GASPAR MELCHOR DE JOVELLANOS.
33
I wish, extolling to the skies,
Her beauty's high perfection
To sing, and all her witcheries
Of feature and complexion:
With master pencil to portray
Her snowy neck and forehead,
And eyes that round so roguish play,
And lips like carmine florid.
And let the Catos go at will,
To where they most prefer it,
Who withering frowns and sneerings still
Give me for my demerit.
In spite of all, with wrinkled pate,
The censures each rehearses,
Enarda I will celebrate
For ever in my verses.
TO ENARDA.—II.[1]
Cruel Enarda! all in vain,
In vain, thou view'st with joyful eyes
The tears that show my grief and pain,
Thyself exulting in my sighs.
- ↑ From Works of Jovellanos, vol. iv. p. 364.
