When some Illustrious Person's blaz'd by Fame,
Charm'd by it's Eccho we revere the Name:
But when th' admired Idol we behold,
How different it appears from what was told!
With Shame, we past Credulity deplore;
And call those Praises back we gave before.

But, Madam, this is otherwise in you,
And Fame was much too short of what is true:
With pleasing Wonder, I survey'd you round,
And blest Neander whom such Virtues crown'd:
My self I then devoted as your Slave,
And am your Victim, to destroy or save;
As you decree, resolve to fall or rise;
Low at your Feet, the humble Trophy Lies.