"But one admirer has the painted lass; Nor finds that one, but in her looking-glass: Yet Laura’s beautiful to such excess, That all her art scarce makes her please us less. To deck the female cheek, he only knows, Who paints less fair the lily, and the rose.How gay they smile! Such blessings nature pours, O’erstock’d mankind enjoy but half her stores: In distant wilds, by human eyes unseen, She rears her flowers, and spreads her velvet green: Pure gurgling rills the lonely desert trace, And waste their music on the savage race. Is nature then a niggard of her bliss? Repine we guiltless in a world like this? But our lewd tastes her lawful charms refuse, And painted art’s depraved allurements choose."