To the Tune of, BOOTH’s Minuet.
FAIR, sweet and young, receive a prize,
Reserv’d for your victorious eyes:
From crowds whom at your feet you see,
Oh! pity, and distinguish me.
No graces can your form improve;
But all are lost unless you love:
If that dear passion you disdain,
Your charms and beauty are in vain.
– Authors Unknown.