MY Peggys face, my Peggys form,
The frost of hermit Age might warm;
My Peggys worth, my Peggys mind,
Might charm the first of human kind.
I love my Peggys angel air,
Her face so truly heavenly fair,
Her native grace, so void of art,
But I adore my Peggys heart.
The lilys hue, the roses dye,
The kindling lustre of an eye;
Who but owns their magic sway!
Who but knows they all decay!
The tender thrill, the pitying tear,
The generous purpose nobly dear,
The gentle look that rage disarms
These are all Immortal charms.
