Under a Lottery Puff Print

Miss Porden

At Cupid’s altar see this trembling swain
To the lov’d nymph with sighs declare his pain
And with a ticket hope her breast to move
With him to try the lottery of love
Nor she his ably pleaded suit rejects
But from his hand the ticket half accepts
Doubtfull if yet the doubtful chance to try
While hope and fear stand trembling in her eye
At length his promises o’ercome her fears
And just consenting the fond maid appears
So may my prayers your flinty heart incline
To take me for your constant Valentine