OCR Text |
Show i J 4 M o q A ml - •#-.f« •.vi o a w o J ltd 3£ blot 3d oj Dir> LfiB <uu\vgttvmH H lot bWfihl /IIBW i3v/o I wfa ni •»d^iK-«A8 3rb 1K cqoJ3 , 8 ^ i .^\\t><.W3 ^K'M ^rii to TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE, THE Countefs of Cork. Madam, AS fome untimely Flower, whofe bafhful head (Ready to drop into her humble Bed) Is refcu'd by the Suns prevailing Ray, T o fhare that I ight with which he guilds the D a y ', So this Tranflation of ftrict Eyes afraid, With confcious blufhes, would have fought a (hade, W h e n your refiftlefs Power did Orders give, Thus to recal the timorous Fugitive, Which, to your breath, muft all her Being o w n , Thrive when you fmile, and wither if you frown. Yet from fubmiflion this aflurance grows, That you'll protect the Perfon you expofe, W h o more delight from fuch a fhelter draws, Than to obtain, or to defire applaufe, A n d your indulgence, would, much rather, chufe, Than to be Favorite to every Mufe. For even they requeft to wait on you^ W h o can belt judge, and beft reward them too', You, w h o are more than Poets can invent, O f moft illuftrious and moft innocent, Under your beams their faint Ideas fink, And you more nobly live than they could think. In you, the humble, and the brave, are met, T o fhew what's truly, and what's only great', And all the Cliffords Fame in you does fhine, The greateft Honour of the Nobleft Line : D d To |