A Lady With A Falcon On Her Fist. To The Honourable My Cousin A[nne] L[ovelace]
This Queen of Prey (now prey to you),
Fast to that pirch of ivory
In silver chaines and silken clue,
Hath now made full thy victory:
The swelling admirall of the dread
Cold deepe, burnt in thy flames, oh faire!
Wast not enough, but thou must lead
Bound, too, the Princesse of the aire?