SONG CCXXIV. The CONFESSION

Lovely Fanny charming Maid, Kind, gentle fair and free, In all thy Sexes Charms array'd, How few are form'd like thee. Thy Image always fills My Mind the Theme of ev'ry Song. I'm fix'd to thee alone, I find, But ask not for how long.

The Fair in gen'ral I've admir'd, Have long been false and true, And when the last my Fancy tir'd, It wander'd round to you, Then while I can I'll be sincere, As Turtles to their Mates, This Moment's yours and mine my Dear, The next you know is Fates.