Classic Poem

Fair lovely Fiend, no more disguise
The Temper of thy Mind,
Nor think by specious Smiles and Lies.
To banter Humane Kind.

II.

Tho' long, the fine Deceit has past
By your well-acted Care:
The Time will surely come at last,
Shall prove you false, as fair.

III.

Shall prove, that Earth, nor Hell contains
A Soul more black than thine;
More blotred with ingrateful Stains,
Or charg'd with worse Design.

IV.

Yet Oh! with what a winning Grace;
Each Accent you convey:
How soft your Words, how kind your Face,
When most you would betray!

V.

So, the curs'd Serpent did ascend,
And like her Honour smil'd;
So, he put on the Mask of Friend,
And heedless Eve beguil'd.