Portrait of Miss Farren

O THOU, whose pencil all the Graces guide, Whom Beauty, conscious of her fading bloom, So oft implores, alas! with harmless pride, To snatch the transient treasure from the tomb.

Pleas'd, I behold the Fair, whose comic art Th' unwearied eye of taste and judgment draws; Who charms with Nature's elegance the heart, And claims the loudest thunder of applause.

Such, such alone should prompt thy pencil's toil: Of saving Folly give thy labour o'er; Fools never will be wanting to our isle, Perhaps a Farren may appear no more.