Lane by his Majeſty’s Servants, and dedicated to Sir Richard Steele. She has written ſeveral poems, and we ſhall ſelect, as a ſpecimen, an Epiſtle to the Counteſs of Briſlol, which will ſhew how much ſhe poſſeſſed the power of delicate numbers; ſhe has alſo in print a volume of Letters, the ſecond edition of which was publiſhed in 1713. She died July 11, 1724.
To the Right Honourable the
Counteſs of Briſtol.
Long had my mind, unknowing how to ſoar,
In humble proſe been train’d, nor aim’d at more:
Near the fam’d ſiſters never durſt aſpire
To ſound a verſe, or touch the tuneful lyre.
’Till Briſtol’s charms diſſolv’d the native cold;
Bad me ſurvey her eyes, and thence be bold.
Thee, lovely Briſtol! thee! with pride I chuſe,
The firſt, and only ſubject of my muſe;
That durſt tranſport me like the bird of Jove,
To face th’ immortal ſource of light above!
Such are thy kindred beams
So bleſſings, with a bounteous hand they give,
So they create, and make creation live.
When charming Felton, of a beauteous race,
Adorn’d in blooming youth, with ev’ry grace;
Firſt ſaw the lovely Suffolk Swain her prize,
The nobleſt conqueſt of the brighteſt eyes!
How many wretched nymphs that union made,
What cold deſpair the warmeſt hearts invade!
What crouds of lovers, hopeleſs and undone,
Deplore thoſe charms which brought their ruin on!
Rich in themſelves—all excellence they find,
Wit! beauty! wiſdom! and a conſtant mind!
