Why, Lady, wilt thou bind thy lovely brow <br />With the dread semblance of that warlike helm, <br />That nodding plume, and wreathe of various glow, <br />That graced the chiefs of Scotia's ancient realm? <br /> <br />Thou know'st that virtue is of power the source, <br />And all her magic to thy eyes is given; <br />We own their empire, while we feel their force, <br />Beaming with the benignity of heaven. <br /> <br />The plumy helmet, and the martial mien, <br />Might dignify Minerva's awful charms; <br />But more resistless far th' Idalian queen - <br />Smiles, graces, gentleness, her only arms.<br /><br />James Beattie<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-right-honourable-lady-charlotte-gordon/
