Again deceiv'd; the flatterer sends
Her second self, and best of friends;
She, who her cup so oft has brought,
Not fill'd with the enlivening draught,
Yet tastes so like, you scarce can tell, —
Content can imitate so well;
So well can counterfeit her air,
So well can chant her notes that cheer,
That ever, when she meets mine eye,
Methinks the rosy Goddess by.