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SONG.

Round Love's Elysian bowers
The fairest prospects rise;
There bloom the sweetest flowers,
There shine the purest skies:
And joy and rapture gild awhile
The cloudless heaven of Beauty's smile.
Round Love's deserted bowers
Tremendous rocks arise;
Cold mildews blight the flowers,
Tornadoes rend the skies:
And Pleasure's waning moon goes down
Amid the night of Beauty's frown.
Then Youth, thou fond believer!
The wily Siren shun;
Who trusts the dear Deceiver
Will surely be undone:
When Beauty triumphs, ah! beware;—
Her smile is hope—her frown despair.