On Pleasure

Clad in her orient vest behold,
Like Phoebus in the morn,
Fair Pleasure with her crown of gold,
The maiden, Hope adorn.

Upon a throne of sapphire bright,
The envy'd nymph appears,
For her, old Nox oft yields to light,
And Time calls back his years.

Gay Vanity, her handmaid, stands,
All smiling by her side,
And Folly claps his baby-hands,
The son of wealth and pride.

Dull prodigals her nectar sip,
Nor see her dark decoys,
She holds her honey to their lip,
But soon, too soon destroys.

Oft near some maiden's glass conceal'd,
Where perfume fills the room,
She makes kind nature often yield,
And gives a poison'd bloom.