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 | A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes |  |
The Je ne scai Quoi. A SONG.
By the Same.
I
Yes, I'm in love, I feel it now,And Cælia has undone me;
And yet I'll swear I can't tell how
The pleasing plague stole on me.
II
'Tis not her face which love creates,For there no graces revel;
'Tis not her shape, for there the fates
Have rather been uncivil.
III
'Tis not her air, for sure in thatThere's nothing more than common;
And all her sense is only chat,
Like any other woman.
266
IV
Her voice, her touch might give th'alarm—'Twas both perhaps, or neither;
In short, 'twas that provoking charm
Of Cælia altogether.
| A Collection of Poems in Six Volumes | |