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
.