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THE TRIUMPHS


Here they in trifles that vexation find,
Which teas'd on earth their irritated mind.
Observe the phantom, who with eyes askance
Still to the mirror turns her eager glance!
See! to her cheek, incessant as she turns,
Her vex'd blood rushes, and her visage burns.
Beauty for lasting bliss had form'd the maid;
Love to her charms his faithful homage paid;
But, all this swelling tide of joy to check,
A fatal freckle rises on her neck:
Her soft cosmetics the griev'd nymph applies,
Success attends her, and the freckle dies:
But ah! this victory avails her not;
She finds an hydra in the teazing spot:
Fast as one flies, another still succeeds,
And with eternal food her fretful humour feeds.
Near to the nymph, in a more moody fit,
See the pale phantom of a peevish wit!
Mark with what frowns his eager eyes peruse,
Wet from the press, three Critical Reviews!