Classic Poem

Happy, this wandring Stream!
Which gently proud does seem,
As it had ne're before,
So rich a Burthen bore.
Swell'd with her Body now,
It does with Joy o'reflow.
Th' exulting Waves forget
The Limits to them set;
With Joy now swelling more,
Then e're with Rage before;
Her Breast yet lightly raise,
To measure its smooth waies ;
While her soft Arms divide
The Current on each side.
Which in new Circles broke,
By ev'ry bending Stroke ;
Thus troubled , does appear,
As strook with Sun-beams, clear .

From out of Water , n'ere
Did rise a Shape , so fair ,
Nor could it e're to Sight,
Reflect a form , so bright .
Such sweetness , nor such grace ,
Shin'd not in Venus Face,
When froth did it enclose,
As 'bove the Waves it rose,
And in white Circles crown'd
The whiter Goddess round.
Less pleasing she did shew,
Her naked Glories , new.
Though all the Deep then smil'd ,
To see, the Sea-born Child .

No undisturbed Brook ,
In which th' Heav'ns chuse to look,
Sees such a Beauty move,
As this reflects above;
No Deeps , such Treasures know,
As what this bides below.