Classic Poem

When Fanny I saw as she tipt o'er the green,
Fair, blooming, soft, artless, and kind:
Fond love in her eyes, wit and sense in her mein,
And warmness with modesty join'd:
Transported with sudden amazement I stood,
Fast rivetted down to the place;
Her delicate shape, easy motion I view'd,
And wander'd o'er every grace.
Ye gods! what luxuriance of beauty, I cry,
What raptures must dwell in her arms!
On her lips I could feast, on her breast I could die,
O Fanny! how sweet are thy charms!
Whilst thus in idea my passion I fed,
Soft transport my senses invade,
Young Damon stepp'd up, with the substance he fled,
And left me to kiss the dear shade.