University of Virginia Library


217

INSCRIBED TO MARIA,

MY BELOVED DAUGHTER.

The rose that hails the morning
Array'd in all its sweets,
Its mossy couch adorning,
The sun enamour'd meets;
Yet when the warm beam rushes
Where, hid in gloom, it lies,
O'erwhelm'd with glowing blushes,
The hapless victim dies!
Sweet Maid, this rose discovers
How frail is beauty's doom,
When Flatt'ry round it hovers
To spoil its proudest bloom.
Then shun each gaudy pleasure
That lures thee on to fade,
And guard thy Beauty's treasure,
To decorate a shade!