To His Fairest Valentine Mrs. A. L.

"Come, pretty birds, present your lays,
    And learn to chaunt a goddess praise;
    Ye wood-nymphs, let your voices be
    Employ'd to serve her deity:
    And warble forth, ye virgins nine,
    Some music to my Valentine.

   "Her bosom is love's paradise,
    There is no heav'n but in her eyes;
    She's chaster than the turtle-dove,
    And fairer than the queen of love:
    Yet all perfections do combine
    To beautifie my Valentine.

   "She's Nature's choicest cabinet,
    Where honour, beauty, worth and wit
    Are all united in her breast.
    The graces claim an interest:
    All virtues that are most divine
    Shine clearest in my Valentine."
    And learn to chaunt a goddess praise;
    Ye wood-nymphs, let your voices be
    Employ'd to serve her deity:
    And warble forth, ye virgins nine,
    Some music to my Valentine.

   "Her bosom is love's paradise,
    There is no heav'n but in her eyes;
    She's chaster than the turtle-dove,
    And fairer than the queen of love:
    Yet all perfections do combine
    To beautifie my Valentine.

   "She's Nature's choicest cabinet,
    Where honour, beauty, worth and wit
    Are all united in her breast.
    The graces claim an interest:
    All virtues that are most divine
    Shine clearest in my Valentine."