Did call together by his mighty will,
And garner up in his eternal mind,
A bright assemblage of all lovely things;
And then, as in a picture, fashion them
Into one perfect and ideal form--
Such the divine, the wondrous prototype,
Whence her fair shape was moulded into being.

MÁ[T.]HAVYA.

If that's the case, she must indeed throw all other beauties into
the shade.

KING.

To my mind she really does.

This peerless maid is like a fragrant flower,
Whose perfumed breath has never been diffused;
A tender bud, that no profaning hand
Has dared to sever from its parent stalk;
A gem of priceless water, just released
Pure and unblemished from its glittering bed.
Or may the maiden haply be compared
To sweetest honey, that no mortal lip
Has sipped; or, rather, to the mellowed fruit
Of virtuous actions in some former birth[37],
Now brought to full perfection? Lives the man
Whom bounteous heaven has destined to espouse her?