218 
THE ENCn ANTED PLANTS. 
Damsels, profit by my story, 
Thus in unfashioned phrase rehearsed, 
Prize your peace, and maiden glory, 
Nor love who loves not first. 
FABLE IT. 
SENSIBILITY. 
Feeling ! by words so ill defined, 
So lovely in an honest mind, 
Flow art thou grown in fashion’s schools. 
The mask of vice, the cant of fools 
How oft impatience, temper’s storm, 
For sanction grasps thy glowing form ! 
How affectation, beauty’s shame, 
And weakness prostitute thy name ! 
How oft, by songs and novels taught, 
They w r ho ne’er knew one generous thought 
Their sensibilities reveal, 
Sacred to such as truly feel. 
