The non-pareil

Though Chloe's out of fashion,

Can blush and be sincere,

I'd toast her in a bumper

If all the belles were here.

In modest plain apparel,

No patches, paint, or airs,

In debt alone to Nature,

An angel she appears:

Who wins her must have merit,

Such merit as her own,

The graces all possessing,

Yet knows not she has one:

What though no diamonds sparkle

About her neck and waist,

With ev'ry shining virtue

The lovely maid is graced.

From gay coquets high-finished

My Chloe takes no rules,

Nor envies them their conquests,

The hearts of all the fools.

Then grant me, gracious heaven,

The gifts you most approve,

And Chloe, charming Chloe,

Will bless me with her love.