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'Tis that her smile its dimple owes
To gaiety devoid of art;
Tis that her eyes' mild lustre flows
From her own pure and spotless heart.
To gaiety devoid of art;
Tis that her eyes' mild lustre flows
From her own pure and spotless heart.
Thy beauty, fair and haughty maid!
Is transient as a summer's day;
But Julia's charms can never fade,
Her soul will bloom amid decay.
Is transient as a summer's day;
But Julia's charms can never fade,
Her soul will bloom amid decay.
