On Lucy, Countess of Bedford

This morning, timely rapt with holy fire,

I thought to form unto my zealous Muse  

What kind of creature I could most desire,

To honour, serve, and love; as poets use.

I meant to make her fair, and free, and wise,

Of greatest blood, and yet more good than great;

I meant the day-star should not brighter rise,

Nor lend like influence from his lucent seat.

I meant she should be courteous, facile, sweet,

Hating that solemn vice of greatness, pride;

I meant each softest virtue there should meet,

Fit in that softer bosom to reside.

Only a learnèd and a manly soul

I purposed her; that should, with even powers,

The rock, the spindle, and the shears control

Of Destiny, and spin her own free hours.

Such when I meant to feign, and wished to see,

My Muse bade

Bedford

write, and that was she.

Contextual Notes:L7 - 'day-star' - the sunL9 - 'facile' - affable