To Mrs. B. Wright, On her Incomparable Poetry

LOng since my thoughts did thus forboding tell,
The Muses would our Governours expel,
To their own Crown raise up a Female Heir,
One of their Sex the Diadem should wear:
The time's expir'd, my Jealousie proves true,
We have a Queen, but thanks to Heaven 'tis you;
Before in all things else we did submit,
Madam! in all things else, but only Wit:
With this Prerogative we could not part,
But in its stead each yielded up his heart.
Such was our vain Self-love and stubborn Pride,
What will not bend, must break; in vain we try'd
Our Title, nor must ev'n the Inheritance divide
But now (as Captives to a Conquerour)
We must surrender all into your power:
With conscious Blushes must your Praise exert,
Reflecting on our selves in your desert.
Eve first sought Knowledge from the fatal Fruit;
(Why should we Vertue to false ends impute?)
Whilst lazy Adam shrug'd, was very loth
To part with Darling Ignorance and Sloth:
Noble was her design, had it not been
Branded by Heaven as a presumptuous sin.
Your Quest of Knowledge can incur no shame,
Unless some Masc'line Malice taint your name.
So different as the Cause, are the Effects;
For as she ruin'd, you have rais'd your Sex:
She doom'd to Death, you gain Eternity,
For you must live until your Works can die.
Had they been like to S.'s Gouty Rhyme,
Or Smithfield-Ballads, in a little time
They'd have been thrown amongst bald musty Songs,
When the young Ballad-Wench had tir'd her Lungs.
But Nature, Judgment, Fancy, Art and Wit,
Shall sooner to one common Fate submit,
Than the rich Structures of your Brain shall fall,
Which are the very Quintessence of all.
Nor are you so desirous of the Bays,
As to detract from an inferiour Praise;
But giving us an everlasting Name,
You merit to your self a nobler Fame:
Whilst your own Glory you so much neglect,
And others with such skill and care protect,
More lasting Trophies to your self erect.
But oh! how high your Fancy takes its flight,
Whilst they admire at you gone out of sight!
So fled Elijah wrapr in Fire and Wind,
And left Elisha wondring here behind:
They like Elisha, for a Blessing call;
You hear their Prayers, and let your Mantle fall.
With this they strange unheard-of things can do,
Had they a Fiery Coach, they'd be Elijah's too.
So did th' associated Nymphs rejoyce,
Whom Dian had thought worthy of her choice;
So they thô fair in all the Gods esteem,
Yet made her Beauty far more charming seem.
Let others slander, envy, or despise,
The Cyprian Goddess still must have the Prize.
Daphne to Laurel turn'd, a Female Brow
Has the best title to a Female Bough.
Had Fate but plac'd you in the Roman State,
The Salique Law would have been out of date.
Alcides scorn'd to gain Divinity
By one great labour, but still more would try,
And Heaven, & Earth, and Hell did valorously defy.
Farther oblige the World, good Madam! still
With the rich products of your fruitful Quill.
Restore the Muses; and true Poetry,
And shew what Charms do in just measures lie.
And when you find a time best to retreat,
Spin out into a curious Web of Wit.
Let me your Muse a Legacy inherit,
With double portion of your sacred Spirit.