On GRACE

Ye Beaux Esprits, say, what is GRACE? Dwells it in motion, shape, or face? Or is it all the three combin'd, Guided and soften'd by the mind? Where it is not, all eyes may see; But where it is,—all hearts agree: 'Tis there, when easy in its state, The mind is elegantly great; Where looks give speech to ev'ry feature, The sweetest eloquence of nature. A harmony of thought and motion, To which at once we pay devotion. —But where to find this nonpareil! Where does this female wonder dwell, Who can at will our hearts command? —Behold in public—CUMBERLAND!