EPIGRAMS FROM BUCHANAN

A beautiful nymph wish'd Narcissus to pet her; But he saw in the fountain one *he* loved much better. Thou hast look'd in his mirror and loved; but they tell us No rival will tease thee, so never be jealous. There's a lie on thy cheek in its roses, A lie echo'd back by thy glass, Thy necklace on greenhorns imposes, And the ring on thy finger is brass. Yet thy tongue, I affirm, without giving an inch back, Outdates the sham jewels, rouge, mirror and pinchbeck.