HE INVITES THOSE TO WHOM HIS PRAISES SEEM EXCESSIVE TO BEHOLD THE OBJECT OF THEM Haply my style to some may seem too free In praise of her who holds my being's chain, Queen of her s** describing her to reign, Wise, winning, good, fair, noble, chaste to be: To me it seems not so; I fear that she My lays as low and trifling may disdain, Worthy a higher and a better strain; —Who thinks not with me let him come and see. Then will he say, She whom his wishes seek Is one indeed whose grace and worth might tire The muses of all lands and either lyre. But mortal tongue for state divine is weak, And may not soar; by flattery and force, As Fate not choice ordains, Love rules its course. Macgregor.