TO THE HONORABLE THE LADY WORSLEY AT LONG-LEATE
Who had most obligingly desired my corresponding with her by Letters
If from some lonely and obscure recesse
The shunn'd retreat of solitary peace
Lost to the World and like Ardelias seat
Fitt only for the Wretch opress'd by Fate.
A melancholly summons had been sent
To deal in Woe and mingle discontent
By sympathising Lines t'attempt relief
And load each Poste with sad exchange of grief
No wonder had that comon Act expressed
For still Distresse wou'd Herd with the distress'd 10
And to our Cares itt seems a short allay
To fold them close and from our selves convey.
But that Utresia seeks to correspond
With such a dull and disproportion'd hand
Empty Replies endeavours to obtain
From secrett Cells and from a clouded Brain
Is something so unusual (thô so kind)
That scarse th' exalted motions of her mind
Or charms in Hers beyond each other Tongue
(Had we not heard Him speak from whom she sprung) 20
Cou'd more amaze us then this friendly part
That she whom all aspire but to divert
Makes itt of All her choice to sooth a sinking heart.
Utresia in her fresh and smiling bloom
With Joys incompass'd and new Joys to come
Who like the Sun in her Meridian shows
Surrounded with the Lustre she bestows
Her self dispensing by her long'd for sight
To every Place she visits full delight
For Beauty this Prerogative maintains 30
