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Lines to a Young Lady,
WITH A SONG.
How dang'rous is the art of Poesy,
If 'tis possess'd by one that's prone to guile;
Best it can dress the tale of flattery,
And, like a knave, put on a mimic smile.
Oh let it ne'er be said in Britain's isle,
Her bards use flattery to deceive the fair;
But if, to gain a heart, they use each wile,
And are successful, may they solemn swear,
Ne'er to change, till death, with direful visage, stare!
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