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162

SONG XIV. The Rose-Bud.

See, Daphne, see, Florelio cry'd,
And learn the sad effects of pride;
Yon shelter'd rose, how safe conceal'd!
How quickly blasted, when reveal'd!
The sun with warm attractive rays
Tempts it to wanton in the blaze:
A gale succeeds from Eastern skies,
And all its blushing radiance dies.
So you, my fair, of charms divine,
Will quit the plains too fond to shine
Where fame's transporting rays allure,
Tho' here more happy, more secure.
The breath of some neglected maid
Shall make you sigh you left the shade:
A breath to beauty's bloom unkind,
As, to the rose, an Eastern wind.
The nymph reply'd—You first, my swain,
Confine your sonnets to the plain;
One envious tongue alike disarms,
You, of your wit, me, of my charms.

163

What is, unknown, the poet's skill?
Or what, unheard, the tuneful thrill?
What unadmir'd, a charming mien,
Or what the rose's blush, unseen?