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Andrew Marvell - The Gallery
Work rating: Low

Clora come view my Soul, and tell
Whether I have contriv`d it well.
Now all its several lodgings lye
Compos`d into one Gallery;
And the great Arras-hangings, made
Of various Faces, by are laid;
That, for all furniture, you`l find
Only your Picture in my Mind.

Here Thou art painted in the Dress
Of an Inhumane Murtheress;
Examining upon our Hearts
Thy fertile Shop of cruel Arts:
Engines more keen than ever yet
Adorned Tyrants Cabinet;
Of which the most tormenting are
Black Eyes, red Lips, and curled Hair.

But, on the other side, th` art drawn
Like to Aurora in the Dawn;
When in the East she slumb`ring lyes,
And stretches out her milky Thighs;
While all the morning Quire does sing,
And Mamma falls, and Roses spring;
And, at thy Feet, the wooing Doves
Sit perfecting their harmless Loves.

Like an Enchantress here thou show`st,
Vexing thy restless Lover`s Ghost;
And, by a Light obscure, dost rave
Over his Entrails, in the Cave;
Divining thence, with horrid Care,
How long thou shalt continue fair;
And (when inform`d) them throw`st away,
To be the greedy Vultur`s prey.

But, against that, thou sit`st a float
Like Venus in her pearly Boat.
The Halcyons, calming all that`s nigh,
Betwixt the Air and Water fly.
Or, if some rowling Wave appears,
A Mass of Ambergris it bears.
Nor blows more Wind than what may well
Convoy the Perfume to the Smell.

These Pictures and a thousand more,
Of Thee, my Gallery dost store;
In all the Forms thou can`st invent
Either to please me, or torment:
For thou alone to people me,
Art grown a num`rous Colony;
And a Collection choicer far
Then or White-hall`s, or Mantua`s were.

But, of these Pictures and the rest,
That at the Entrance likes me best:
Where the same Posture, and the Look
Remains, with which I first was took.
A tender Shepherdess, whose Hair
Hangs loosely playing in the Air,
Transplanting Flow`rs from the green Hill,
To crown her Head, and Bosome fill.
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