[2] The ancients have been very enthusiastic in their praises of the
beauty of hair. Apuleius, in the second book of his Milesiacs, says that
Venus herself, if she were bald, though surrounded by the Graces and the
Loves, could not be pleasing even to her husband Vulcan.
[3] This delicate art of description, which leaves imagination to complete
the picture, has been seldom adopted in the imitations of this beautiful
poem. Ronsard is exceptionally minute; and Politianus, in his charming
portrait of a girl, full of rich and exquisite diction, has lifted the
veil rather too much. The "_questa che tu m'intendi_" should be always
left to fancy.
ODE XVII.
And now with all thy pencil's truth,
Portray Bathyllus, lovely youth!
Let his hair, in masses bright,
Fall like floating rays of light;
And there the raven's die confuse
With the golden sunbeam's hues.
Let no wreath, with artful twine.
The flowing of his locks confine;
But leave them loose to every breeze,
To take what shape and course they please.
Beneath the forehead, fair as snow,
But flushed with manhood's early glow,
And guileless as the dews of dawn,
Let the majestic brows be drawn,
Of ebon hue, enriched by gold,
Such as dark, shining snakes unfold.
Mix in his eyes the power alike,
With love to win, with awe to strike;
Borrow from Mars his look of ire,
From Venus her soft glance of fire;
Blend them in such expression here,
That we by turns may hope and fear!
Now from the sunny apple seek
The velvet down that spreads his cheek;
And there, if art so far can go,
The ingenuous blush of boyhood show.
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