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Bid her be all that cheers or softens life,
Yet still her charms in breathing paint
engage; 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
surprize, 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, One dip the pencil, and one string the lyre. Yet should the graces all thy figures place, And breathe an air divine on ev'ry face; Yet should the Muses bid my numbers roll, Strong as their charm, and gentle as their soul; With Zeuxis' Helen thy Bridgwater vie, And these be sung till Granville's Myra die; Alas! how little from the grave we claim? Thou but preserv'st a Face, and I a Name.