LINES SENT WITH SOME INDIAN ROUGE TO MISS W ——.

Go, faithless bloom! on Delia's cheek

Your boasted captivations try;

Alas! o'er Nature would you seek

To gain one moment's victory?

Her softer tint, sweet look, and gentle air,

Shall prove you're but a vain intruder there.

But go, display your charms and taste;

Soon shall you blush a richer red,

To find your mimic pow'r surpass'd;

And, whilst upon her cheek you spread

Your vermeil hue, tell her ingenuous heart,

‘ Tis the first time she ever practis'd art.