Revolving in their destin'd sphere, <br />The hours begin another year <br />As rapidly to fly; <br />Ah! think, Maria, (e'er in grey <br />Those auburn tresses fade away <br />So youth and beauty die. <br />Tho' now the captivating throng <br />Adore with flattery and song, <br />And all before you bow; <br />Whilst unattentive to the strain, <br />You hear the humble muse complain, <br />Or wreathe your frowning brow. <br /> <br />Tho' poor Pitholeon's feeble line, <br />In opposition to the nine, <br />Still violates your name; <br />Tho' tales of passion meanly told, <br />As dull as Cumberland, as cold, <br />Strive to confess a flame. <br /> <br />Yet, when that bloom and dancing fire, <br />In silver'd rev'rence shall expire, <br />Aged, wrinkled, and defaced; <br />To keep one lover's flame alive, <br />Requires the genius of a Clive, <br />With Walpole's mental taste. <br /> <br />Tho' rapture wantons in your air, <br />Tho' beyond simile you're fair, <br />Free, affable, serene; <br />Yet still one attribute divine <br />Should in your composition shine-- <br />Sincerity, I mean. <br /> <br />Tho' num'rous swains before you fall, <br />'Tis empty admiration all, <br />'Tis all that you require; <br />How momentary are their chains! <br />Like you, how unsincere the strains <br />Of those who but admire! <br /> <br />Accept, for once, advice from me, <br />And let the eye of censure see <br />Maria can be true; <br />No more for fools or empty beaux, <br />Heav'n's representatives disclose, <br />Or butterflies pursue. <br /> <br />Fly to your worthiest lover's arms, <br />To him resign your swelling charms, <br />And meet his gen'rous breast; <br />Or if Pitholeon suits your taste, <br />His muse with tattr'd fragments graced, <br />Shall read your cares to rest.<br /><br />Thomas Chatterton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-advice/
