But far from you be all those treach'rous arts,
That wound with painted charms unwary hearts,
Dancing's a touchstone that true beauty tries,
Nor suffers charms that Nature's hand denies:
Tho' for awhile we may with wonder view
The rosy blush, and skin of lovely hue,
Yet soon the dance will cause the cheeks to glow,
And melt the waxen lips, and neck of snow:
So shine the fields in icy fetters bound,
Whilst frozen gems bespangle all the ground,
Thro' the clear crystal of the glitt'ring snow,
With scarlet dye the blushing hawthorns glow;
O'er all the plains unnumber'd glories rise,
And a new bright creation charms our eyes:
Till  breathes, then all at once decay
The splendid scenes, their glories fade away,
The fields resign the beauties not their own,
And all their snowy charms run trickling down.