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Like some mild lambent flame the passion plays;
And, vanquish'd by ideal charms,
I sink in the imagin'd arms
Of some sweet PHILLIS of my youthful days.
XVIII.
But, lo! the Portrait of yon hoary sage
From whose grave lore I learnt in youth
Many a rigid moral truth,
Frowns me again to cold unfeeling age---
How are the soft emotions checkt
While tow'rd me he seems to direct, 180
As if alive, his conscious eye;
At whose austere reproving glance,
I wake reluctant from my trance,
And feel with pain each pleasing passion die!---
XIX.
VENUS yokes her purple doves,
In an instant dispossest,
All the little sportive loves
Hurry---hurry from my breast---
And the whole charming vision flits away
Like the night's golden dream at break of envious day-- 190
XX.
Poor human life! how short the date
Assign'd thee by relentless Fate!----
Poor transient Beauty! tender flower!
Still shorter thy allotted hour!----
Then stretch the canvass---quick, my Friend,
Thy pencil seize---thy work attend---
E'en exempt from deforming diseases,
How it fades by the torches of Time;
Every moment that flows
Steals the gloss from the rose; 200
Then catch the bright hue while it pleases,
And fix the fair face in it's prime.
XXI.
Nay-- thus, great Artist, has thy hand
To half the high-born beauty of the land
A permanence ensur'd,
And from th' attacks of wrinkling age,
And from the pustule's venom'd rage
Th' untarnish'd form secur'd---
XXII.
It's dear resemblance has at least
Been in thy faithful lines exprest; 210
In thy firm colours still persists to bloom;
Nor does it cease the heart t' alarm,
Nor does it cease the eye to charm,
E'en when the real Fair is mouldering in her tomb--
XXIII.
And eminent in beauty as in birth,
When the bright LENOX shall as well
In the same gloomy mansion dwell
And mingle with her kindred regal earth,
Still in thy tints shall she survive,
With sweet attraction still engage, 220
Still feed the flame as when alive,
And (e'en improv'd by mellowing age
Each charm of person and of face)
Still sacrifice to every gra
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