Classic Poem

I.

What Flowers of Rhet'rick can I use
These brighter Flowers to commend?
What Gift, or Present, can I chuse,
Equivalent to send?

II.

I've search'd the Muses fertile Field,
But searching no where can find such,
Nor even Nature's Self can yield,
What I admire so much.

III.

This Token, o'er my Temples spread,
A double Power does impart;
For as it gently warms my Head,
It fires my bleeding Heart.

IV.

But let the blust'ring Storms engage,
The ruffling Winds blow high;
Thus arm'd I'll mock their empty Rage,
And every Blast defy.

V.

Like the bold Grecian chief I stand,
In Arms superior Shine;
Like His, they boast an Heavenly Hand,
But Skill, much more Divine!

VI.

He did not fear a Wound, 'tis true,
From none, except the Deities:
And I'm invulnerable too,
To All — except my Laura 's Eyes.