V.
Art she had none, yet wanted: anon For Nature did that Want supply, So rich in Treasures of her Own, She might our boasted Stores defy: Such Noble Vigour did her Verse adorn, That it seem'd borrow'd, where 'twas only born. Her Morals too were in her Bosome bred By great Examples daily fed, What in the best of Books, her Fathers Life, she read. And to be read her self she need not fear, Each Test, and ev'ry Light, her Muse will bear, Though Epictetus with his Lamp were there. Ev'n Love (for Love sometimes her Muse exprest) Was but a Lambent-flame which play'd about her Brest: Light as the Vapours of a Morning Dream, So cold herself, whilst she such Warmth exprest, 'Twas Cupid bathing in Diana's Stream.