To her Grace the Dutchess of Portland, with the foregoing Lines.

'Tis theirs, who but to please aspire,
 On Fiction to employ the Lyre;
 Make Gods and Goddesses display
 The Splendor of the Nuptial Day. 

To paint thee at the hallow'd Shrine,
 A solemn, glorious Scene! be Mine;
 Now lightly touch'd — Some other Hour,
 (If e'er the Cloud-dispelling Pow'r
 Remove the Damps, that chill my Vein)
 I'll trace the slight-drawn Lines again;
 Warm Col'ring on the Piece bestow,
 Till Life shall from the Pencil flow. 

Lovely Bride! with Bliss be crown'd,
 Diffusing Happiness around:
 Beneficent, like Harley, shine;
 Like Henrietta, grace your Line.