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Poem	YOUNG Peggy blooms our boniest lass, Her blush is like the morning, The rosy dawn, the springing grass, With early gems adorning. Her eyes outshine the radiant beams That gild the passing shower, And glitter o’er the crystal streams, And cheer each fresh’ning flower. Her lips, more than the cherries bright, A richer dye has graced them; They charm th’ admiring gazer’s sight, And sweetly tempt to taste them; Her smile is as the evening mild, When feather’d pairs are courting, And little lambkins wanton wild, In playful bands disporting. Were Fortune lovely Peggy’s foe, Such sweetness would relent her; As blooming spring unbends the brow Of surly, savage Winter. Detraction’s eye no aim can gain, Her winning pow’rs to lessen; And fretful Envy grins in vain The poison’d tooth to fasten. Ye Pow’rs of Honour, Love, and Truth, From ev’ry ill defend her! Inspire the highly-favour’d youth The destinies intend her: Still fan the sweet connubial flame Responsive in each bosom; And bless the dear parental name With many a filial blossom.
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