Song.

SONG.

By the Same.

WHILE, Strephon, thus you teize one, To say, what won my heart; It cannot sure be treason, If I the truth impart.

'Twas not your smile, tho' charming; 'Twas not your eyes, tho' bright; 'Twas not your bloom, tho' warming; Nor beauty's daz'ling light.

'Twas not your dress, tho' shining; Nor shape, that made me sigh: 'Twas not your tongue, combining, For that I knew — might lye.

No — 'twas your generous nature; Bold, soft; sincere, and gay: It shone in every feature, And stole my heart away.