Mrs D-s-n

Hither ye Bards your sonnets bring, Fraught with the sweets of Balmy spring, search nature all around for flowers, Your Amarinth and rosey bowers,� Roses and Lillies all must fade Before her charms, when once display'd,� So much for rhime, and now for humble prose.

Mrs D-s-n is perhaps one of the finest women of the age, in every respect, her person is majestically graceful, her face is compos'd of the utmost regularity of features, with a skin like the finest marble, tintur'd with the colour of the rose, and marbled with blue veins, her eyes which are black are speaking trumpets to the God of Love, inviting him to her arms to bask in the sunshine of her beauty, she was some years kept by that celebrated Sportsman, Captain Shastoe, at Lesson Green, near Paddington. She is tall and genteel, full of vivisity, and very high in her price.