Adam Posed. 
By Finch, Anne (Countess of Winchilsea). 


Could our first father, at his toilsome plough,
Thorns in his path, and labour on his brow,
Clothed only in a rude unpolished skin,
Could he a vain fantastic nymph have seen,
In all her airs, in all her antic graces,
Her various fashions, and more various faces, - 
How had it posed that skill, which late assigned
Just appellations to each several kind,
A right idea of the sight to frame,
To have guessed from what new element she came,
To have hit the wavering form, or given this thing a name!