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When Heaven had You and gracious Anna * made,
What more exalted beauty could it add ?
Having no nobler images in store,
It but kept up to these, nor could do more
Than copy well what it had fram'd before.
If in dear Burghley's generous face we fee
Obliging truth and handsome honefty:
With all that world of charms, which foon will move
Reverence in men, and in the fair-ones love :
His every grace, his fair descent alsures,
He has his mother's beauty, she has yours :
If every Cecil's face had every charm,
That thought can fancy, or that Heaven can form;
Their beauties all become your beauty's due,
They are all fair, because they're all like you.
If every Ca’ndish great and charming look ;
From you that air, from you the charms they took.
In their each limb, your image is exprest;
But on their brow firm courage stands confeft ;
There, their great father, by a strong increase,
Adds firength to beauty, and compleats the picce:
Thus ftill your beauty, in your fons, we view,
Wiefen seven times one great perfection drew;
Whoever fat, the pi&ture fill is you.

So when the parent-fun, with genial beams,
Has animated many goodly gems,
He fecs himself improv'd, while every stone,
With a resembling light, reflects a sun.


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So when great Rhea many births had given,
Such as might govern earth, and people heaven ;
Her glory grew diffus’d, and, fuller known,
She saw the Deity in every fon :
And to what God soe'er men altars rais'd,
Honouring the offspring, they the mother prais’d.

In short-liv’d charms let others place their joys.
Which fickness blasts, and certain age destroys :
Your stronger beauty Time can ne'er deface,
'Tis still renew'd, and stamp'd in all

your race.
Ah! Wiessen, had thy art been so refin’d,
As with their beauty to have drawn their mind :
Through circling years thy labours would survive,
And living rules to fairest virtue give,
To men unborn and ages yet to live :
"Twould still be wonderful, and still be new,
Against what time, or fpite, or fate, could do;
Till thine confus'd with Nature's pieces lie,
And Cavendish's name and Cecil's honour die.

To the Author of the Medley, 1710.

'HE Fox an actor's vizard found,

And peer'd, and felt, and turn'd it round :
Then threw it in contempt away,
And thus old Phædrus heard him say:
“ What noble part canst thou sustain,
“ Thou specious head without a brain ?


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