Take the name of the swain a forlorn witless elf
Who was chang'd to a flow'r for admiring himself.
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A part deem'd essential in each lady's dress:
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With what maidens cry, when they wish to say yes.
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A lullabye carriage soft, cozy & light:
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With the name of the poet who sang on the night.
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The queen of Cairo, all lovely and winning
Whose blandishments ever kept Antony grinning.
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The flow'r whose odours unremittingly please:
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With the glory of forests, the king of the trees.
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To the prince of the fairies, a jealous old knave,
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Put the name of the tree that undid mother Eve.
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To finish the whole add that period of day,
When the linnet & thrush to repose hie away
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The initials of these, if adjusted with care,
Will show you the fairest where thousands are fair.
The sweet, pretty graces still hover about her,
And Cupid would die with vexation without her
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