Classic Poem

Madam,

As in a triumph conquerours admit
Their meanest captives to attend on it,
Who, though unworthy, have the power confest,
And Justify'd the yielding of the rest:
So when the busy world (in hope t'excuse
Their own surprize) your conquests doe peruse,
And find my name, they will be apt to say
Your charmes were blinded, or else thrown away
There is no honour got in gaining me,
Who am a prize not worth your Victory.
But this will cleare you, that tis generall
The worst applaud what is admir'd by all.
But I have plots in't: for the way to be
Secure of fame to all posterity,
Is to obtain the honour I pursue,
To tell the world I was subdu'd by you
And since in you all wonders common are,
Your votarys may in your vertues share,
While you by noble magique worth impart:
She that can conquer, can reclaime a heart
Of this Creation I shall not despaire,
Since for your own sake it concernes your care:
For 'tis more honour that the world should know
You made a noble soule, then found it so.