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SHE'S' AS 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 ſmiles, and poets fly.
Young Annie's budding graces claim
Th' inſpired thought, and ſoſteſt lays:
And kindle in the breaſt a flame,
Which muſt be vented in her praiſe.
Tell us, ye gentle ſhepherds, have you ſeen
N'er one ſo like an angel tread the green?
Ye youth, be watchful of your hearts;
When ſhe appears, take the alarm:
Love on her beauty points his darts,
And wings an arrow from each charm.
Around her eyes and ſmiles the graces ſnort,
And to her ſnowy neck and breaſt reſort.
But vain muſt every caution prove;
When ſuchienchanting ſweetneſs ſhines,
The wounded ſwain muſt yield to love,
And wonder, tho' he hopeleſs pines,
Such flames the foppiſh butterfly ſhou'd ſhun
The eagle's only ſit 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.
wheſe virtues which divinely deck her mind,
ſha1t each other of th' inferior kind.
