32
And round the young Olivia glows
A brighter charm, than beauty knows.
Who can like her with sylphid grace
The "poetry of motion" trace?
In airy bound, or slow advance,
Thread the soft mazes of the dance?
In easy elegance recline,
Or in light sportive movement twine?
Whilst modesty's celestial veil
Improves the charms it would conceal;
And in that mild and polish'd mien,
Shines spotless innocence serene.
Yet those blue eyes and looks demure,
That speak a heart both cold and pure,
Are oft by radiant fancy lit,
And sparkle with etherial wit;
Till scarce the gentle girl we know
Who hides, like Etna crown'd with snow,
The fires that in her bosom glow.
A brighter charm, than beauty knows.
Who can like her with sylphid grace
The "poetry of motion" trace?
In airy bound, or slow advance,
Thread the soft mazes of the dance?
In easy elegance recline,
Or in light sportive movement twine?
Whilst modesty's celestial veil
Improves the charms it would conceal;
And in that mild and polish'd mien,
Shines spotless innocence serene.
Yet those blue eyes and looks demure,
That speak a heart both cold and pure,
Are oft by radiant fancy lit,
And sparkle with etherial wit;
Till scarce the gentle girl we know
Who hides, like Etna crown'd with snow,
The fires that in her bosom glow.
