SONG.

By the Same.

WHILE, Strephon, thus you teize one,
To say, what won my heart;
It cannot sure be treason,
If I the truth impart.

'Twas not your smile, tho' charming;
'Twas not your eyes, tho' bright;
'Twas not your bloom, tho' warming;
Nor beauty's daz'ling light.

'Twas not your dress, tho' shining;
Nor shape, that made me sigh:
'Twas not your tongue, combining,
For that I knew — might lye.

No — 'twas your generous nature;
Bold, soft; sincere, and gay:
It shone in every feature,
And stole my heart away.