CELIA perceiv'd his secret thoughts,
But lik'd the youth with all his faults;
Yet 'twas unlike, she softly said,
The tales of love which she had read,
Where heroes vow'd, and sigh'd, and knelt;
Nay, 'twas unlike the love she felt;
Tho' to her Sire, with fault'ring tongue,
She oft remark'd, — he was but young;
Confess'd his manners wrong in part,
But then — he had so good a heart!
His interest farther to secure,
She prais'd his bounty to the poor;
For, votary as he was of art,
He had a kind and melting heart;
Tho', with a smile, he us'd to own
He had not time to feel in town;
Not that he blush'd to shew compassion, —
It chanc'd that year to be the fashion.