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In Clementina's artless mien
Lucilla asks me what I see,
And are the roses of sixteen
Enough for me?


Lucilla asks, if that be all,
Have I not cull'd as sweet before:
Ah yes Lucilla! and their fall
I still deplore.


I now behold another scene,
Where Pleasure beams with heaven's own light,
More pure, more constant, more serene,
And not less bright:


Faith, on whose breast the Loves repose,
Whose chain of flowers no force can sever,
And Modesty who, when she goes,
Is gone for ever.