SONG.—By Maria Falconer.
Ye roses bow your lovely heads,
Nor boast your damask hue;
For see, yon spotless lily spreads
Her charms to rival you.
So in the beauteous female breast
Does Envy’s passion dwell;
Each blooming maid, of charms possest,
Endeavours to excel.
Ah silly nymphs, behold your doom,
In yonder fading flower;
For what is Beauty’s brightest bloom?
The triumph of an hour!
NEW-YORK: Printed by JOHN TIEBOUT, No. 358, Pearl-Street, for THOMAS BURLING, Jun. & Co. Subscriptions for this Magazine (at 6s. per quarter) are taken in at the Printing-Office, and at the Circulating Library of Mr. J. FELLOWS, No. 60, Wall-Street.