To Mrs. Eliz. M—t, on her Picture, 1716

O! wondrous Art, that Grace to Shadows gives!By whose Command the lovely Phantom lives!Smiles with her Smiles! the mimic Eye instillsA real Flame! the fancy'd Lightning kills!Thus Mirrors catch the Love-inspiring Face,And the new Charmer Grace returns for Grace.

Hence shall thy Beauties, when no more appearsTheir fair Possessor, shine a thousand Years:By Age uninjur'd, future Times adorn,And warm the Hearts of Millions yet unborn,Who gazing on the Portrait with a Sigh,Shall grieve such perfect Charms could ever die;How would they grieve, if to such Beauties join'dThe Paint could shew the Wonders of thy Mind?

O! Virgin, born th'admiring World to grace!Transmit thy Excellence to latest Days;Yield to thy Lover's Vows! and then shall riseA Race of Beauties conquering with thine Eyes:Who reigning in thy Charms from Death shall saveThat lovely Form, and triumph o'er the Grave,

Thus when thro' Age the Rose-tree's Charms decay,When all her fading Beauties die away;A blooming Offspring fills the Parent's placeWith equal Fragrance, and with equal Grace.

But ah! how short a Date on Earth is giv'nTo the most lovely Workmanship of Heav'n?Too soon that Cheek must every Charm resign,And those love-darting Eyes forget to shine!While Thousands weeping round, with Sighs surveyWhat once was You,—now only beauteous Clay!Ev'n from the Canvas shall thy Image fade,And thou re-perish in thy perish'd Shade:Then may this Verse to future Ages showOne perfect Beauty—such as thou art now!May it the Graces of thy Soul display,Till this World sinks, and Suns themselves decay;When with immortal Beauty thou shalt rise,To shine the loveliest Angel in the Skies.