Sonnet LXXIX.

A poem by Anna Seward

While unsuspecting trust in all that wears
Virtue's bright semblance, stimulates my heart
To find its dearest pleasures in the part
Taken in other's joys; yielding to theirs
Its own desires, each latent wish that bears
The selfish stamp, O! let me shun the art
Taught by smooth Flattery in her courtly mart,
Where Simulation's studied smile ensnares!
Scorn that exterior varnish for the Mind,
Which, while it polishes the manners, veils
In showy clouds the soul. - E'en thus we find
Glass, o'er whose surface clear the pencil steals,
Grown less transparent, tho' with colours gay,
Sheds but the darken'd and ambiguous ray.