The Pope's knavery, or, Old Nick's invention (1)/She's as the opening lilly fair

She's at the opening lilly fair.

When beauty blazes heav’nly bright,
the muse can no more cease to sing,
Than can the lark with rising light,
her notes neglect with drooping wing,
The morning shines, harmonious birds rise high,
The dawning beauty smile, and poets fly.

Young Annie's budding graces claim
th’ inspired thought, and softest lays:
And kindle in the breast a Same,
which must be vented in her praise.
Tell us ye shepherds have ye seen
E’er one so like an angel tread the green?

The youth, be watchful of your hearts;
when she appears, take the a arm:
Love on her beauty points his darts,
and wings an arrow from each charm.
⟨Around⟩ her eyes and smiles the graces sport,
⟨And⟩ to her snowy neck and breast resort.

⟨But⟩ vain must every caution prove;
when such inchanting sweetness shines,
The wounded swain must yield to love,
and wonder, tho’ he hopeless pines.
⟨Such⟩ flame the foppish butterfly should shun;
⟨The⟩ eagl's only fit to view the sun.

She’s as the opening lilly fair;
her lovely features are complete;
Whilst heaven indulgent makes her share,
With angels all that’s wise and sweet.
⟨These⟩ virtues which divinely deck her mind,
⟨Exalt⟩ each other of th’ inferior kind.

Whether she love the rural scenes,
or sparkle in the airy town.
O! happy he, thy favour gains,
unhappy, if she on him frown.
⟨The⟩ muse unwilling quits the lovely theme
⟨Adieu⟩ she sings, and thrice repeats her ⟨name⟩.

FINIS.