My Peggy’s face, my Peggy’s form,The frost of hermit Age might warm;My Peggy’s worth, my Peggy’s mind,Might charm the first of human kind.
I love my Peggy’s angel air,Her face so truly heavenly fair,Her native grace, so void of art,But I adore my Peggy’s heart.
The lily’s hue, the rose’s 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.