254 THE POEMS OP ANNE �You num'rous Brethren of the Leafy Kind, �To whatsoever Use design'd, �Now, vain you found it to contend �With not, alas! one Element; your Friend 40 �Your Mother Earth, thro' long preceding Rains, �(Which undermining sink below) No more her wonted Strength retains; Nor you so fix'd within her Bosom grow, That for your sakes she can resolve to bear �These furious Shocks of hurrying Air; But finding All your Ruin did conspire, She soon her beauteous Progeny resign'd To this destructive, this imperious Wind, That check'd your nobler Aims, and gives you to the �Fire. 50 �Thus! have thy Cedars, Libanus, been struck �As the lythe Oziers twisted round; Thus! Cadez, has thy Wilderness been shook, When the appalling, and tremendous Sound �Of rattl'ing Tempests o'er you broke, �And made your stubborn Glories bow, When in such Whirlwinds the Almighty spoke, Warning Judea then, as our Britannia now. �Yet these were the remoter Harms, Foreign the Care, and distant the Alarms: 60 �Whilst but sheltring Trees alone, �Master'd soon, and soon o'erthrown, �Felt those Gusts, which since prevail, �And loftier Palaces assail ; �Whose shaken Turrets now give way, With vain Inscriptions, which the Freeze has borne Through Ages past, t'extol and to adorn, �And to our latter Times convey ; ��� �
