Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/517

 I, my dear, was born to-day: Shall I salute the rising ray, Well-spring of all my joy and woe? Clotilda, thou alone dost know. Shall the wreath surround my hair? Or shall the music please my ear? Shall I my comrades' mirth receive, And bless my birth, and wish to live? Then let me see great Venus chase Imperious anger from thy face; Then let me hear thee smiling say— 'Thou, my dear, wert born to-day.'

426. The Lady who offers her Looking-Glass to Venus

Venus, take my votive glass: Since I am not what I was, What from this day I shall be, Venus, let me never see.

427. A Letter

to Lady Margaret Cavendish Holles-Harley, when a Child

My noble, lovely, little Peggy, Let this my First Epistle beg ye, At dawn of morn, and close of even, To lift your heart and hands to Heaven. In double duty say your prayer: Our Father first, then Notre Père.