Shades her fair brow from scorching powers, And strives to emulate her charms in vain. Pale is the rose, contrasted
... threads upon her neck, Whose matchless white the purest lily stains. Stop, roving Fancy, whither art thou hurl'd. The goddess speaks, a while remit thy song, Let thy expanding sails be now unfurl'd, To hear the flowing accents of her tongue. Fond youth ...