Anne Countess of Winchilsea

“ Ne'er us'd a Verse, till Love became his Theme.
To his stray'd Son, still as his Passion rose,
He rais'd his hasty Voice in clam'rous Prose:
But when in Daphne he wou'd Love inspire,
He woo'd in Verse, set to his silver Lyre. ⁠10
The Trojan Prince did pow'rful Numbers join
To sing of War; but Love was the Design:
And sleeping Troy again in Flames was drest,
To light the Fires in pitying Dido's Breast.
Love without Poetry's refining Aid
Is a dull Bargain, and but coarsely made ”

“ Shall compasse Babel's aim, and reach th' Almighty's hill.
Wellcome the rod, that does adoption shew,
The cup, whose wholsome dregs are giv'n me here ;
There is a day behind, if God be true,
When all these Clouds shall passe, & heav'n be clear,
When those whom most they shade, shall shine most glorious there. ”

“ With them thrown prostrate to the humble Ground,
No more she takes (instructed by that Fall)
For fix'd, or worth her thought, this rolling Ball:
Tow'rds a more certain Station she aspires,
Unshaken by Revolts, and owns no less Desires. ”

“ The threatning Angel, and the speaking Ass.
⁠Patron thou art to ev'ry gross Abuse,⁠90
⁠The sullen Husband's feign'd Excuse,
When the ill Humour with his Wife he spends,
And bears recruited Wit, and Spirits to his Friends. ”

“ Whilst Mira paints her face, to paint a thought
Whilst Lamia to the manly Bumper flys
And borrow'd Spiritts sparkle in her Eyes
Why shou'd itt be in me a thing so vain
To heat with Poetry my colder Brain
But I write ill and there-fore shou'd forbear
Does Flavia cease now at her fortieth year
In ev'ry Place to lett that face be seen
Which all the Town rejected at fifteen
Each Woman has her weaknesse ”

“ A thousand other arts beside,
To drive thee from my darken'd breast,
Thou, who hast banish'd all my rest. ⁠10
But, though sometimes, a short repreive they gave,
Unable they, and far too weak, to save ”

“ Yet not to thwart the publick Voice,
She whisp'ring did impart:
They need no Foreign Aid invoke,
No help to draw a moving Stroke,
Who dictate from the Heart.
Enough ! the pleas'd Ardelia cry'd ”

“ UPON ARDELIA'S RETURN HOME
(After to [o] long a walk in Eastwell Park) in a water cart driven by one of the under-keepers in his green Coat, with a Hazel-Bough for a whip. July, 1689
What Fate within itts Bosome carry's
For Him thats born, or Him that Marry's
Though Fate itts self does not unfold
Is by Prognosticates told,
And some have spent their Days in terrour
Of what has sprung from canting errour
From Gypsies who their speech confounding
Have threaten'd Hanging, Horn or Drowning
In hints where doubtfull sence has hover'd
Which caused but laughter when discover'd. ”

“ No more then I haue proffer'd thee;
For, if thou wilt not hear my Pray'rs,
Till I haue vanquish'd all my cares,
Thou 'lit stay, 'till kinder Death supplys thy place,
The surer Friend, tho' with the harsher face. ”

“ Is but thy niggard Voice, disgracing bounteous Heav'n.
⁠From Speech restrain'd, by thy Deceits abus'd,
⁠To Deserts banish'd, or in Cells reclus'd,
⁠Mistaken Vot'ries to the Pow'rs Divine,
⁠Whilst they a purer Sacrifice design,
Do but the Spleen obey, and worship at thy Shrine.
⁠In vain to chase thee ev'ry Art we try,
⁠In vain all Remedies apply,
⁠In vain the Indian Leaf infuse,⁠130
⁠Or the parch'd Eastern Berry bruise;
Some pass, in vain, those Bounds, and nobler Liquors use. ”

“ Why doe the ruling Fates decree
No state shou'd e're without the [e] be,
Why, doest thou Joys, and hopes devour,
And cloath ev'n loue him self, in thy dark livery ?
Thou, and cold fear, thy close Allie,
Do not alone on life attend,
Butt following mortalls to their end,
Do wrack the wretches, whilst they dye;
And to eternal shades, too often, with them flye.
To thee, great Monark, I submitt,
Thy Sables, and thy Cypresse bring,
I own thy Pow'r, I own thee King,
Thy title, in my heart is writt,
And 'till that breaks, I ne'r shall freedom gett. ”

“ And in loud wishes, all their force employ,
That many more, like this, you may enjoy ;
Since from your own Parnassus, they receive
Pleasure's, which theirs in Phocis, never gave ;
And own, whilst here they reach the height of blisse,
Their forked hill, was but a type of this. ”

“ As will not reason, or Religion wast.
If they're deny'd, I on my selfe can Liue,
And slight those aids, unequal chance does give.
When in the Sun, my wings can be display'd,
And in retirement, I can bless the shade. ”

“ That drew the stones to the old Theban Wall, ⁠40
And make no doubt, if itt against him play,
They, from his works, will fly as fast away,
Which to prevent, he shall to peace persuade,
Of strong, confederate Syllables, affraid. ”

“ Who was a Volunteere in the Sol-bay Fight and kill'd by a Random shott, after the fight was over and the Fleets parted. On May 28th, 1672
Fate 'till the Day was ours, wou'd not dispense
With Maidston's aid, for Brittan's strong defence:
But then, least Pride, might by successe prevaile,
Threw in His losse, to poize th' unequal skale;
Giving us Sway ; the Dutch a cause to boast
They'd kill'd one man, excelling all they losst. ”

“ Yet is the Spleen alledg'd, and still the dull Pretence.
⁠But these are thy fantastic Harms,
⁠The Tricks of thy pernicious Stage,
⁠Which do the weaker Sort engage;
⁠Worse are the dire Effects of thy more pow'rful Charms. ”

“ Shou'd eat by manners and good Nature
Or starve on Epigram and Satir.
She finding him thus hott proceed
Desir'd then but his winged steed
But he reply'd 'twou'd much disgrace him ⁠70
To lett a female rider pace him ”