III. The ROSE-BUD. SEE, Flavia, see that budding rose, How bright beneath the bush it glows; How safely there it lurks conceal'd; How quickly blasted, when reveal'd! The sun with warm attractive rays Tempts it to wanton in the blaze: A blast descends from eastern skies, And all its blushing radiance dies. Then guard, my fair! your charms divine; And check the fond desire to shine Where fame's transporting rays allure, While here more happy, more secure. The breath of some neglected maid Shall make you sigh you left the shade: A breath to beauty's bloom unkind, As, to the rose, an eastern wind. The nymph reply'd, "You first, my swain, "Confine your sonnets to the plain; "One envious tongue alike disarms, "You, of your wit, me, of my charms. "What is, unheard, the tuneful thrill? "Or what, unknown, the poet's skill? "What, unadmir'd, a charming mien, "Or what the rose's blush, unseen? "