To my Lady CARTERET.

TOo great your Power, and too soft my Breast:
 The charming Inspiration to resist:
 But Oh in what bold Strain shall I begin,
 To breathe th' unusual Potent Instinct in? 
Such pleasing looks, in midst of Spring, adorn
 The Flowry Fields; so smiles the Beauteous Morn:
 But, What are these dull Metaphors to you? 
Or, What is all, my Fancy has in view? 
A Form more fine, more accurately wrought,
 Was ne'r conceiv'd by a Poetick Thought? 
So mild your eyes, so beautiful and bright,
 That lovelier eyes did ne'r salute the Light;
 With such a gentle look, and such an air;
 So lovely, so exceeding sweet, and fair,
 To us, the Heavenly Messengers appear:
 Whilst Man too feeble for their bright extreams,
 With such soft Smiles as yours they'r forc't to allay their Beams.