But for Jemima’s witching face,
And the sweet smile of Eleanore.
Had I been Lawrence, kings had wanted
Their portraits, till I painted yours;
And these had future hearts enchanted,
When this poor verse no more endures.
I would have left the Congress faces,
A dull-eyed diplomatic corps,
Till I had grouped you as the Graces—
Jemima, Rose, and Eleanore.