Lines Written In Letters Of An Italian Nun And An English Gentleman

‘Away, away, your fleeting arts May now betray some simpler hearts; And you will smile at their believing, And they shall weep at your deceiving.’ -Answer to the foregoing, addressed to miss- Dear, simple girl, those flattering arts, From which thou’dst guard frail female hearts, Exist but in imagination,– Mere phantoms of thine own creation; For he who views that witching grace, That perfect form, that lovely face, With eyes admiring, oh! believe me, He never wishes to deceive thee: Once in thy polish’d mirror glance, Thou’lt there descry that elegance Which from our sex demands such praises, But envy in the other raises: Then he who tells thee of thy beauty, Believe me, only does his duty: Ah! fly not from the candid youth; It is not flattery,–’tis truth.