Adam Pos’d

COU’D our first father, at his toilsome plough,

Thorns in his path, and labour on his brow,

Cloath’d only in a rude, unpolish’d skin,

Cou’d he a vain fantastick nymph have seen,

In all her airs, in all her antick graces,

Her various fashions, and more various faces;

How had it pos’d that skill, which late assign’d

Just appellations to each several kind!

A right idea of the sight to frame;

T’ have guest from what new element she came;

T’ have hit the wav’ring form, and giv’n this Thing a name.