Such virtues these beauties adorn,
I knew her, and prais’d ’em no more.
I term’d her no goddess of love,
I call’d not her beauty divine:
These far other passions may prove,
But they could not be figures of mine.
It ne’er was apparell’d with art,
On words it could never rely:
It reign’d in the throb of my heart,
It spoke in the glance of my eye.