May we presume to say, that at thy Birth, New joy was sprung in Heav'n, as well as here on Earth. For sure the Milder Planets did combine } On thy Auspicious Horoscope to shine, } And ev'n the most Malicious were in Trine. } Thy Brother-Angels at thy Birth Strung each his Lyre, and tun'd it high, That all the People of the Skie Might know a Poetess was born on Earth. And then if ever, Mortal Ears Had heard the Musick of the Spheres! And if no clust'ring Swarm of Bees On thy sweet Mouth distill'd their golden Dew, 'Twas that, such vulgar Miracles, Heav'n had not Leasure to renew: For all the Blest Fraternity of Love Solemniz'd there thy Birth, and kept thy Holyday above. IV. O Gracious God! How far have we Prophan'd thy Heav'nly Gift of Poesy? Made prostitute and profligate the Muse, Debas'd to each obscene and impious use, Whose Harmony was first ordain'd Above For Tongues of Angels, and for Hymns of Love? O wretched We! why were we hurry'd down This lubrique and adult'rate age, (Nay added fat Pollutions of our own) T'increase the steaming Ordures of the Stage? What can we say t'excuse our _Second Fall_? Let this thy _Vestal_, Heav'n, attone for all! Her _Arethusian_ Stream remains unsoil'd, Unmixt with Forreign Filth, and undefil'd, Her Wit was more than Man, her Innocence a Child! V. Art she had none, yet wanted: anon For Nature did that Want supply, So rich in Treasures of her Own, She might our boasted Stores defy: Such Noble Vigour did her Verse adorn, That it seem'd borrow'd, where 'twas only born. Her Morals too were in her Bosome bred By great Examples daily fed, What in the best of Books, her Fathers Life, she read. And to be read her self she need not fear, Each Test, and ev'ry Light, her Muse will bear, Though _Epictetus_ with his Lamp were there. Ev'n Love (for Love sometimes her Muse exprest) Was but a _Lambent-flame_ which play'd about her Brest: Light as the Vapours of a Morning Dream, So cold herself, whilst she such Warmth exprest, 'Twas _Cupid_ bathing in _Diana's_ Stream. VI.