May we presume to say, that at thy Birth,
New joy was sprung in Heav'n, as well as here on Earth.
For sure the Milder Planets did combine }
On thy Auspicious Horoscope to shine, }
And ev'n the most Malicious were in Trine. }
Thy Brother-Angels at thy Birth
Strung each his Lyre, and tun'd it high,
That all the People of the Skie
Might know a Poetess was born on Earth.
And then if ever, Mortal Ears
Had heard the Musick of the Spheres!
And if no clust'ring Swarm of Bees
On thy sweet Mouth distill'd their golden Dew,
'Twas that, such vulgar Miracles,
Heav'n had not Leasure to renew:
For all the Blest Fraternity of Love
Solemniz'd there thy Birth, and kept thy Holyday above.