No. III. On the Sight of Queen MARY, in the Year 1694

I SAW th' illustrious form, I saw Beauty that gave the nations law: Her eyes, like mercy on a throne, In condescending grandeur shone.

That blooming face! how lovely fair Hath nature mix'd her wonders there! The rosy morn such lustre shows Glancing along the Scythian snows.

Her shape, her motion, and her mein, All heavenly; such are angels seen, When the bright vision grows intense, And fancy aids our feebler sense.

Earth's proudest idols dare not vie With such superior majesty: A kindling vapour might as soon Rise from the bogs, and mate the moon.

I'll call no Raphael from his rest; Such charms can never be express'd: Pencil and paint were never made To draw pure light without a shade.

Britain beholds her queen with pride, And mighty WILLIAM at her side Gracing the throne; while at their feet With humble joy three nations meet.

Secure of empire, she might lay Her crown, her robes, and state away, And 'midst ten thousand nymphs be seen: Her beauty would proclaim the queen.

Her guardian angel heard my song. Fond man (he cry'd) forbear to wrong My lovely charge. So vulgar eyes Gaze at the stars, and praise the skies.

Rudely they praise, who dwell below, And heaven's true glories never know, Where stars and planets are no more Than pebbles scatter'd on the floor.

So, where celestial virtues join'd Form an incomparable mind, Crowns, scepters, beauties, charms and aire, Stand but as shining servants there.