Her charms exterior might a hero bind;
But ah! the beauty that adorns her mind,
To paint does far exceed my Muse’s skill.
To you, dear T— I’ll now resign the quill.”
Says T—, “On her the Graces seem to wait;
Her form, how fair! enchanting is her gait.
Her youthful charms, no tongue could e’er express;
Nor does her absence render them the less.
The soft impression with me still remains;
I’m captive, yet I glory in my chains.