To Amasia, on her Beautifying the Lining of her Gown, with Trees, and Groves in Needle-Work

Not Juno's Bird can brighter glories shew,
That, Nature painted, this is drawn by you.
Where'er you Walk, the Airy People fly,
And, for your Groves, forsake the Silver Sky.
With doubled Force they hasten from above,
And wonder thus to see your Forests move.
Aim, to light fast on your deluding Gown,
And flutt'ring fall, with strange amazement down.
So, Xeuxis Birds snatch'd at false Grapes in vain,
And, fill'd with wonder, they return'd again.
Greater than his, your Charming skill we see,
For, with the Fruit he tempted, you, the Tree.
Like that of Eden, your Plantation spreads,
And Groves, Just set, rear high their stately Heads.
All the fair Draught does such exactness bear,
So wond'rous Curious does the Work appear,
I dread, methinks, a real Serpent here.
This is a glorious Paradise in show,
But the true Paradise is only you.