Wise! Beauteous! Good! — O every grace combin'd,
That charms the eye, that captivates the mind!
Fair as the flowret opening on the morn,
Whose leaves bright drops of liquid pearl adorn!
Sweet, as the downy-pinion'd gale, that roves
To gather fragrance in Arabian groves!
Mild, as the strains, that, at the close of day
Warbling remote, along the vales decay!
Yet, why with those compar'd? What tints so fine,
What sweetness, mildness can be match'd with thine?
Why roam abroad? since still, to Fancy's eyes,
I see, I see thy lovely form arise!
Still let me gaze, and every care beguile,
Gaze on that cheek, where all the Graces smile;
That soul-expressing eye, benignly bright,
Where Meekness beams ineffable delight;
That brow, where Wisdom sits enthron'd serene,
Each feature forms, and dignifies the mien:
Still let me listen, while her words impart
The sweet effusions of the blameless heart;
Till all my soul, each tumult charm'd away,
Yields, gently led, to Virtue's easy sway.