Her Right Name. Matthew Prior Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T075639 Prior, Matthew, 1664-1721. Poems on Several Occasions [English poems only]. London Printed for JACOB TONSON at Shakespear's-Head over against Katharine-Street in the Strand, and JOHN BARBER upon Lambeth-Hill. MDCCXVIII. 1718 pp. 267-268. [42],506,[6]p.: ill.; 2°.

This e-text is part of the Works section of the Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive (ECPA).

XML created for the Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive (ECPA).

Typography, spelling, capitalization, and punctuation have been cautiously modernized. The source of the text is given and all significant editorial interventions have been recorded in textual notes. This text has been edited to conform to the recommendations found in Level 5 of the Best Practices for TEI in Libraries version 4.0.0.

Library of Congress Name Authority File (LCNAF) text-indent: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; text-align: center; text-align: right; text-align: left; display: inline font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;
Her Right Name . As Nancy at Her Toylet sat , Admiring This , and blaming That ; Tell Me , She said ; but tell Me true ; The Nymph who cou'd your Heart subdue , What Sort of Charms does She possess ? Absolve Me Fair One : I'll confess ; With Pleasure I reply'd . Her Hair , In Ringlets rather dark than fair , Does down her Iv'ry Bosom roll , And hiding Half , adorns the Whole . In her high Forehead's fair half-round Love sits in open Triumph crown'd : He in the Dimple of her Chin , In private State by Friends is seen . Her Eyes are neither black , nor grey ; Nor fierce , nor feeble is their Ray : Their dubious Lustre seems to show Something that speaks nor Yes , nor No . Her Lips no living Bard , I weet , May say , how Red , how Round , how Sweet : Old Homer only cou'd indite Their vagrant Grace , and soft Delight : They stand Recorded in his Book , When Helen smil'd , and Hebe spoke — The Gipsy turning to her Glass , Too plainly show'd , She knew the Face : And which am I most like , She said , Your Cloe , or Your Nut-brown Maid ?