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Samuel Johnson - On Lyce - An Elderly Lady
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Ye nymphs whom starry rays invest,
By flattering poets given,
Who shine, by lavish lovers dress`d,
In all the pomp of heaven.

Engross not all the beams on high,
Which gild a lover`s lays,
But as your sister of the sky,
Let Lyce share the praise.

Her silver locks display the moon,
Her brows a cloudy show,
Striped rainbows round her eyes are seen,
And showers from either flow. 

Her teeth the night with darkness dyes,
She`s starr`d with pimples o`er;
Her tongue like nimble lightning plies,
And can with thunder roar.

But some, Zelinda, while I sing,
Deny my Lyce shines;
And all the pen of Cupid`s wing
Attack my gentle lines.

Yet spite of fair Zelinda`s eye,
And all her bards express,
My Lyce makes as good a sky,
And I but flatter less.
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