SONG. WHEN Fanny blooming fair First caught my ravish'd sight, Struck with her shape and air, I felt a strange delight: Whilst eagerly I gaz'd, Admiring ev'ry part, And ev'ry feature prais'd, She stole into my heart. In her bewitching eyes Ten thousand loves appear; There Cupid basking lies, His shafts are hoarded there, Her blooming cheeks are dy'd With colour all their own, Excelling far the pride Of roses newly blown. Her well-turn'd limbs confess, The lucky hand of Jove; Her features all express The beauteous queen of love: What flames my nerves invade, When I behold the breast Of that too charming maid Rise, suing to be press'd! Venus round Fanny's waist, Has her own Cestus bound, With guardian Cupids grac'd, Who dance the circle round. How happy must he be, Who shall her zone unloose! That bliss to all, but me, May heaven and she refuse.