Deign, Queen, to this, unless we ask too much,
A mother's, or at least grandmother's, touch.
It is the Muse's rosy infant fine;
Its father--who would think?--this Child of thine.
So unrestrain'd the love of virgin Muse,
To be a mother thus she can't refuse.
From _him_ what grandsons round thee soon will gather,
Who at once father is, and makes a father! R. WI.