Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/155

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
Countess of Winchilsea

As if allready seal'd by thee.
Thus, I'll dispose the outward part,
Wou'd I cou'd quiet too my Heart.
But, in its overburthen'd stead
Behold I offer thee, my head;
My head, I better can comand,
And that, I bow beneath thy hand; 20
Nor do I think, that heretofore
Our first great Father, gaue thee more,
When, on a flow'ry bank, he lay,
And did thy strictest Laws obey:
For, to compose his louely Bride,
He yielded not alone his side,
But, if we judge by the event,
Half of his heart too, with itt went,
Which, waken' d drew him soon away
To Eve's fair bosome, where itt lay, 30
Pleas' d to admitt his rightfull claim
And tending, still, tow'rds whence itt came.
Then, gentle sleep, expect from mee
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.


She sighd', but soon, itt mix'd with comon air,
Too fleet a witnesse, for her deep dispair;
She wept, but tears, no lasting greif can show,
For tears will fail, and ebb, as well as flow.
She wou'd her tongue, to the sad subject force,
But all great passions, are above discourse.
Thy heart alone, Ardelia, with itt trust,