A Collection of Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

While Celia sits on Damon's Knee,
And gently leans against his Breast,
More joy'd, more rapt, more blest is he,
Then if he held the wealthy East.
Upon her heavenly Frame engrost,
Within the compass of an Eye,
There's all that's fine the World can boast,
Without its Mixtures of Alloy.
A charming Form, a gentle Mind,
As soft and melting as a Dove;
An Heart sincere, a Soul all kind,
Both Eyes and Bosom full of Love.
Her Speech is all a rapt'rous Song,
And all her Looks are Paradise:

An Angel flutters on her Tongue,
And rides in Triumph from her Eyes.
Let haughty Monarchs prize their Thrones,
And Victors proud, with Glory burn;
I envy not their dazling Suns,
Nor for their Pow'r and Greatness mourn.
But claspt in Celia's happier Arms,
O ever, ever, let me stay!
While all my Soul amidst her Charms,
Melts softly out, and steals away.