To the Honourable Mrs. E— Stretchy. THe Artful hand of Nature ne'r display'd More skill, then when your Charming Self was made: A Shape, a Face, and Meen so rare, that we Think you her boasted Master-piece to be; Whilst that Bright Soul that Heaven has plac't within, Makes every Charm with double-lustre shine: But since I on my Lyre can touch no String, Equal to those great Merits, I would Sing, Hopeless, to give such mighty Charms their due, I'll leave the World to Brighter Thoughts of you.