Classic Poem

To the Right Honorable

John Lovelace

Esquire.

SIR,
Lucasta fair, but hapless Maid!
Once flourisht underneath the shade
Of your Illustrious Mother; Now ,
An Orphan grown, she bows to you!
To YOU , Her vertues noble Heir ,
Oh may she find protection there;
Nor let her welcome be the less
'Cause a rough hand makes her Addresse,
One (to whom Foes the Muses are)
Born and Bred up in Rugged War;
For, Conscious how unfit I am,
I only have pronounc'd her Name,
To waken pity in your Brest,
And leave Her Tears to plead the Rest.
SIR,
Your most obedient
Servant and Kinsman
Dudley Posthumus-Lovelace .