, the utmost of thy Judgment show,
Exceed even , and great ;
With all the liveliness of Thought express
The moving Features of  Face.
Thou canst not flatter, where such Beauty dwells;
Her Charms thy Colours, and thy Art excels.
Others, less Fair, may from thy Pencil have
Graces, which sparing Nature never gave:
But in  Aspect thou wilt see
Such as will pose thy famous Art, and Thee:
So great, so many in her Face unite,
So well proportion'd, and so wond'rous bright;
No human Skill can e'er express 'em all,
But must do wrong to th'fair Original.
An Angel's Hand alone the Pencil fits,
To mix the Colours, when an Angel sits.