Classic Poem

En ough propitious gods, I ask no more
She's kind, the beauteous Nymph whom I adore;
All good, all gracious, heavenly, all divine,
And I'm FAVONIA's, and FAVONIA's mine.
Her ev'ry turn, what modest meekness shows,
Each lip a coral, cheek a blushing rose;
Her forehead marble, teeth enamell'd sett;
Her hair soft curling, and of polish'd jett:
Her eyes (but need I name her eyes?) appear,
Bright as the Onyx, as the dew-drops clear.
In shape genteel, of a becoming air,
Surpassing; but unconscious that she's fair;
And fairer still, with mental charms endu'd,
Of which, alone, to cultivate she's proud;
And here, sweet ease, with soft complacency:
Virtue with sense, and sense with piety;
Good-natur'd, affable, benovelent,
And blest with all that WISDOM ever meant
For mortals weal, such plausive worths combine,
And I'm FAVONIA's, and FAVONIA's mine.