Falling Comet

Fair Lady, if your Valentine

With more than usual Merit shine,

That like the Comets lengthen’d Blaze

Attracts the universal gaze,

Heed not when Rumours [Tole] Voice

Would cloud the Lustre of your Choice,

And find in Genius splendors bright

Some dire Portent, some lurid Light.

Be yours the Philosophic Eye

That loves the Wonders of the Sky,

Deems not each Path e[x]centric Error

Nor sullies Glory’s Train with Terror.