A SONG.

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.