 | Beauty |  |
One Day all pensive leaning on his Arm,
In Fancy fondly viewing every Charm,
Appears a Sister of the lovely Dame,
His bosom Friend, Carissa was her Name.
Carissa, neither blest with Charms of Face,
Nor Shape, nor Air, nor any outward Grace
Yet shines a Beauty, purely from within,
There are the Loves, and there the Graces seen.
Mild as the gentle Breath of blooming May,
Sweet as its Flowers, and chearful as its Day.
Yet soft Compassion oft bedew'd her Eyes,
Her Breast at others Grief wou'd heave with Sighs.
No envious Passions mov'd her Hate or Spleen,
Her Heart was friendly, and her Soul serene.
Pleas'd in her self, she seem'd no Care to know,
But the soft Pain of pitying others Woe.
In Fancy fondly viewing every Charm,
11
His bosom Friend, Carissa was her Name.
Carissa, neither blest with Charms of Face,
Nor Shape, nor Air, nor any outward Grace
Yet shines a Beauty, purely from within,
There are the Loves, and there the Graces seen.
Mild as the gentle Breath of blooming May,
Sweet as its Flowers, and chearful as its Day.
Yet soft Compassion oft bedew'd her Eyes,
Her Breast at others Grief wou'd heave with Sighs.
No envious Passions mov'd her Hate or Spleen,
Her Heart was friendly, and her Soul serene.
Pleas'd in her self, she seem'd no Care to know,
But the soft Pain of pitying others Woe.
| Beauty | |