As some fair flow'ret on a lonely vale,
Grows safely, shaded from each rougher gale;
No vagrant bee is on it's bosom found;
Enamour'd fairies haunt the hallow'd ground,
Smelling the breeze that spreads it's virgin sweets around.

So pure, so sweet, so lonely, and so fair,
M ELINDA grows, beneath a parent's care;
I ask but in her presence thus to be,
To breathe her air, and all her charms to see:
Had angels envy, they would envy me.