Tixall Poetry/To the Lady Southcot, on Her Wedding-Day
To
The Lady Southcot,
on Her Wedding-Day.
If mongst the happy number this day crowdTo kis your hand, my humble pens alowd, Looke not by it to find your story told;My conscious feares forbid me act so bold,A taske for ablest wits, and worth ther painesTo speake such wonders in such current straines.Nor doe I aspire here to. wish you ioy,A welcome servant to the winged boy;For praires can nothing add when all's your owne,You give to all, but can receave from none.Let me recall that hasty word, you mayOnly from him whom you have chose to-day.Equall your merit is, your power is soe,And all you are to one another owe.What's then my aime? to hide me in the throng,My voyce be heard, but not observed my song.In ernest it were handsome, and tis fit,Since none thinks more, or worse can utter it:A blush is sav'd too, my obedience showne,To.vote with th' best is all I dare to owne.