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A postscript to the new Bath guide

A Poem by Anthony Pasquin [i.e. John Williams]

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THE MISS J***S's.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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120

THE MISS J***S's.

LIKE those silver-plum'd Doves which through air's buoyant spaces,
Bore Venus from Heaven to visit the Graces;
This elegant twain with benignity move,
Who dignify Nature, and consecrate Love.
With sweet Affections genial impulse fraught,
Their glist'ning eyes are placid as their thought.
When they mix in the serpentine dance,
E'en Arrogance shrinks as they come;
Competition goads Fear to advance,
And Envy's pert tittups are dumb.
A true sense of superior worth
Withholds them from aims to be proud;

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See they look, so supreme is their birth,
Like Immortals in Life's busy crowd.