View well the valu’d piece, how nice each part;
Yet nature’s hand ſurpaſſes Titian’s art!
Such had his Venus and Adonis been,
The ſtandard beauty had from thence been ſeen!
Whoſe arbitrary laws had fix’d the doom
To Hervey’s form, and Briſtol’s ever bloom!
As once Kazeia,[1] now Eliza warms
The kindred-fair bequeath’d her all her charms;
Such were her darts, ſo piercing and ſo ſtrong,
Endow’d by Phœbus both, with tuneful ſong:
But far from thee Eliza be her doom;
Snatch’d hence by death, in all her beauty’s bloom.
Long may’ſt thou live, adorning Briſtol’s name,
With future heroes to augment his fame.
When haughty Niobe, with joy and pride,
Saw all her ſhining offspring grace her ſide;
She view’d their charms, exulting at each line,
And then oppos’d ’em to the race divine!
Enrag’d Latona urg’d the ſilver bow:
Immortal vengeance laid their beauties low.
No more a mother nowtoo much ſhe mourn’d,
By grief inceſſant into marble turn’d.
But lovely Briſtol, with a pious mind,
Owns all her bleſſings are from Heav’n aſſign’d.
Her matchleſs Lord—her beauteous numerous race!
Her virtue, modeſty, and ev’ry grace!
For theſe, devoutly, to the gods ſhe bows,
And offers daily praiſe, and daily vows:
Phœbus, well-pleas’d, the ſacrifice regards;
And thus the grateful mother’s zeal rewards:
- ↑ A ſiſter of lord Briſtol’s, who was a lady of moſt extraordinary beauty.
