Rosannia shadowed whilest Mrs. Mary Awbrey.

IF any could my dear Rosannia hate,
They onely should her Character relate.
Truth shines so bright there, that an enemy
Would be a better Oratour then I.
Love stifles Language, and I must confess,
I had said more if I had loved less.
Yet the most critical who that Face see
Will ne're suspect a partiality.
Others by time and by degrees persuade,
But her first look doth every heart invade.
She hath a Face so eminently bright,
Would make a Lover of an Anchorite:
A Face whose conquest mixt with modesty
Are both completed in Divinity.
Not her least glance but sets them all on fire,
And checks them if they would too much aspire.
Such is the Magick of her Looks, the same
Beam doth both kindle and refine our flame.
If she doth smile, no Painter e're would take
Another Rule when he would merry make.
And to her splendour Heaven hath allow'd,
That not a posture can her Beauty cloud:
For if she frown, none but would phansie then
Justice descended here to punish Men.
Her common looks I know not how to call
Any one Grace, they are compos'd of all.
And if we Mortals could the doctrine reach,
Her Eyes have language, and her Looks do teach,
Such is her whole frame, Heaven does afford
Her not to be desir'd, but still ador'd.
But as in Palaces the outmost worst
Rooms entertain our wonder at the first;
But once within the Presence-chamber door,
We do despise whate're we saw before:
So when you with her Mind acquaintance get,
You'l hardly think upon the Cabinet,
Her Soul, that Ray shot from the Deity,
Doth still preserve its native purity;
Which Earth can neither threaten or allure,
Nor by false joyes defile it, or obscure.
Such Innocence within her heart doth dwell,
Angels themselves do onely parallel.
And should her whole Sex to dissembling fall,
Her own Integrity redeems them all,
Transparent, clear, and will no words admit,
And all Comparisons but slubber it.
More gently soft then is an Evening-shower:
And in that sweetness there is coucht a Power;
Which scorning pride, doth think it very hard
If Modesty should need so mean a Guard:
Her Honour is protected by her Eyes,
As the old Flaming Sword kept Paradise.
Such Constancy of temper, truth and law,
Guides all her actions, that the World may draw
From her own self the noblest Precedent
Of the most safe, wife, vertuous Government.
She courts Retirement, is herself alone
Above a Theatre, and beyond a Throne.
So rich a Soul, none can say properly
She hath, but is each noble Quality.
And as the highest Element is clear
From all the Tempests which disturb the Air:
So she above the World and its rude noise
Within a Storm a quiet Calm enjoys.
She scorns the sullen trifles of the Time,
But things transcendent do her thoughts sublime.
Unlike those Gallants which take far less care
To have their Souls then make their Bodies fair;
Who (sick with too much leisure) time do pass
With these two books, Pride and a Looking-glass:
Plot to surprize Mens hearts, their pow'r to try,
And call that Love which is mere Vanity.
But she, although the greatest Murtherer,
(For ev'ry glance commits a Massacre)
Yet glories not that slaves her power confess,
But wishes that her Monarchy were less.
And if she love, it is not thrown away,
As many doe, onely to spend the day;
But her's is serious, and enough alone
To make all Love become Religion.
Yea to her Friendship she so faithful is,
That 'tis her onely blot and prejudice:
For Envy's self could never errour see
Within that Soul, 'bating her love to me.
Now as I must confess the name of Friend
To her that all the World doth comprehend
Is a most wild Ambition; so for me
To draw her picture is flat Lunacy!
Oh! I must think the rest; for who can write
Or into words confine what's Infinite?