“Lady, if thee beseem a stile so low,
In whose sweet looks such sacred beauty shine, —
For never yet did Heaven such grace bestow
On any daughter born of Adam’s line —
Thy name let us, though far unworthy, know,
Unfold thy will, and whence thou art in fine,
Lest my audacious boldness learn too late
What honors due become thy high estate.”
Pop9 
“Lady, if thee beseem a stile so low,
In whose sweet looks such sacred beauty shine, —
For never yet did Heaven such grace bestow
On any daughter born of Adam’s line —
Thy name let us, though far unworthy, know,
Unfold thy will, and whence thou art in fine,
Lest my audacious boldness learn too late
What honors due become thy high estate.”