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⟨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.
