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Nor those fair heavenly arches which arise
And loves to wanton round thy face;
'Tis not that lovely range of teeth, as white
Nor e'en that gentle smile, the heart's delight,
'Tis not the living colours over each,
By nature's finest pencil wrought,
To shame the fresh-blown rose and blooming peach,
And mock the happiest painter's thought:
But 'tis that gentle mind, that ardent love,
So kindly answering my desire;
That grace with which you look, and speak, and move, That thus have set my soul on fire.
WHILE, Strephon, thus you tease one
To say what won my heart,
It cannot, sure, be treason,
'Twas not your smile, tho' charming,
"T was not your bloom, tho' warming,
'Twas not your dress, tho' shining,
No: 'twas your generous nature,
It shone in every feature,
And stole my heart away.
THE shape alone let others prize,
The features of the fair;
I look for spirit in her eyes,
A damask cheek and ivory arm
That speaks a mind within ;
Aface where awful honour shines, Where sense and sweetness move, And angel innocence refines
The tenderness of love.
These are the soul of beauty's frame,
Unfinisht all her features seem,
But ah! where both their charms unite,
With every image of delight,
Of power to charm the deepest woe,
Their power but faintly to express
KITTY's charming voice and face,
Syren-like, first caught my fancy;
KITTY tunes her pipe in vain
With airs most languishing and dying;
And tries in vain to shoot me flying.
* Assigned to this author by Ritson, but not contained in his Works.
NANCY, with resistless art,
Ah KITTY! Love, a wanton boy,
Now pleased with song, and now with prattle,
Still longing for the newest toy,
Has changed his whistle for a rattle.
OULDST thou know her sacred charms
Who pants to hear the sigh sincere,
Who joys whene'er she sees me glad,