Chapter 6 No.6

Art she had none, yet wanted none;

For nature did that want supply:

So rich in treasures of her own,

She might our boasted stores defy:

Such noble vigour did her verse adorn,

That it seem'd borrow'd where 'twas only born.

Her morals too were in her bosom bred.

By great examples daily fed,

What in the best of books, her father's life, she read:

And to be read herself she need not fear;

Each test, and every light, her Muse will bear,

Though Epictetus with his lamp were there.

Even love (for love sometimes her Muse express'd)

Was but a lambent flame which play'd about her breast:

Light as the vapours of a morning dream,

So cold herself, whilst she such warmth express'd,

'Twas Cupid bathing in Diana's stream.