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Bid her be all that cheers or softens life,
Yet still her charms in breathing paint
Her modest cheek shall warm a future age. Beauty, frail flower, that every season fears, Blooms in thy colours for a thousand years. Thus Churchill's race shall other hearts
And other beauties envy Wortley's eyes, Each pleasing Blount shall endless smiles bestow,
And soft Belinda's blush for ever glow.
Oh! lasting as those colours may they shine, Free as thy stroke, yet faultless as thy line!
* In one of Dr. Warburton's Editions of Pope, by which copy this has been corrected, the name is changed to Worsley. If that reading be not an error of the press, I suppose the poet altered the name after he had quarrelled with lady M. W. Montague, and being offended at her, wit, thus revenged himself on her beauty.
New graces yearly, like thy works display: Soft without weakness, without glaring gay; Led by some rule, that guides, but not constrains;
And finish'd more through happiness than pains!
The kindred Arts shall in their praise conspire,