132
Epistles.
In life's by-road, that winds thro' paths unknown,
My days tho' number'd shall be all my own: 90
Here shall they end, (O! might they twice begin)
And all be white the Fates intend to spin. 92
My days tho' number'd shall be all my own: 90
Here shall they end, (O! might they twice begin)
And all be white the Fates intend to spin. 92
TO A LADY,
WITH A PRESENT OF FLOWERS.
The fragrant painting of our flow'ry fields,
The choicest stores that youthful Summer yields,
Strephon to fair Elisa hath convey'd,
The sweetest Garland to the sweetest maid!
O cheer the Flow'rs, my Fair! and let them rest 5
On the Elysium of thy snowy breast,
And there regale the smell and charm the view
With richer odours and a lovelier hue.
Learn hence, nor fear a flatt'rer in the Flow'r,
Thy form divine and beauty's matchless pow'r: 10
Faint near thy cheeks the bright carnation glows,
And thy ripe lips outblush the op'ning rose;
The lily's snow betrays less pure a light,
Lost in thy bosom's more unsully'd white;
And wreaths of jasmine shed perfumes beneath 15
Th' ambrosial incense of thy balmy breath.
Ten thousand beauties grace the rival pair;
How fair the Chaplet and the Nymph how fair!
But ah! too soon these fleeting charms decay,
The fading lustre of one hast'ning day; 20
The choicest stores that youthful Summer yields,
Strephon to fair Elisa hath convey'd,
The sweetest Garland to the sweetest maid!
O cheer the Flow'rs, my Fair! and let them rest 5
On the Elysium of thy snowy breast,
And there regale the smell and charm the view
With richer odours and a lovelier hue.
Learn hence, nor fear a flatt'rer in the Flow'r,
Thy form divine and beauty's matchless pow'r: 10
Faint near thy cheeks the bright carnation glows,
And thy ripe lips outblush the op'ning rose;
The lily's snow betrays less pure a light,
Lost in thy bosom's more unsully'd white;
And wreaths of jasmine shed perfumes beneath 15
Th' ambrosial incense of thy balmy breath.
Ten thousand beauties grace the rival pair;
How fair the Chaplet and the Nymph how fair!
But ah! too soon these fleeting charms decay,
The fading lustre of one hast'ning day; 20
