Charms You have, from what high Race You sprung,
Have been the pleasing Subjects of my Song:
Unskill'd and young, yet something still I writ,
Of  Beauty join'd to  Wit.
But when You please to show the lab'ring ,
What greater Theme Your Musick can produce;
My babling Praises I repeat no more;
But hear, rejoice, stand silent, and adore.