To the Queen, Entertained at Night by the Countess of Anglesea

FAIR as unshaded light, or as the day

In its first birth, when all the year was May;

Sweet as the altar’s smoke, or as the new

Unfolded bud, swelled by the early dew;

Smooth as the face of waters first appeared,

Ere tides began to strive or winds were heard;

Kind as the willing saints, and calmer far

Than in their sleeps forgiven hermits are.

You that are more than our discreeter fear

Dares praise, with such full art, what make you here?

Here, where the summer is so little seen,

That leaves, her cheapest wealth, scarce reach at green;

You come, as if the silver planet were

Misled awhile from her much injured sphere;

And t’ ease the travels of her beams to-night,

In this small lanthorn would contract her light.