On a great coxcomb

(recovering from an Indisposition)

Narcissus (as Ovid informs us) expir'd,
Consum'd by the flames his own beauty had fir'd;
But N---o (who like him is charm'd with his face,
And sighs for his other fair-self in the glass)
Loves to greater excess than Narcissus---for why?
He loves himself too much to let himself die.

poem by Ann Eliza Bleecker from The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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