Classic Poem

When first I saw Laurinda 's Face,
I bless'd the dear Surprize,
For there was sporting every Grace;
Love wanton'd in her Eyes.

A thousand ways she has to move,
Not Looks and Smiles alone,
Her Shape and Mien might Conquer Jove ;
And make the God her own.

But oh! the Fair displays her Charms,
For Conquest, not Delight;
Proudly denies those lovely Arms,
To which her Eyes invite.