BALLAD. ('Twas not her eyes, though orient mines)

'Twas not her eyes, though orient mines, Can boast no gem so bright that glows; Her lips, where the deep ruby shines, Her cheeks that shame the blushing rose.

Nor yet her form, Minerva's mien, Her bosom white as Venus' dove, That made her my affection's queen, But 'twas alone her filiál love.

The ruby lip, the brilliant eye, The rosy cheek, the graceful form, In tura for commendation vie, And justly the fir'd lover charm,

But transient these—the charm for life, Which reason ne'er shall disapprove, Which, truly, shall ensure a wife, Faithful and kind, is filial love.