Lines

SENT WITH SOME INDIAN ROUGE TO MISS W——.

Go, faithless bloom! on Delia’s cheek Your boasted captivations try; Alas! o’er Nature would you seek To gain one moment’s victory? Her softer tint, sweet look, and gentle air, Shall prove you’re but a vain intruder there.

But go, display your charms and taste; Soon shall you blush a richer red, To find your mimic pow’r surpass’d; And, whilst upon her cheek you spread Your vermeil hue, tell her ingenuous heart, ’Tis the first time she ever practis’d art.