124 THE POEMS OP ANNE �The furious Jehu does this Sceptre know, And sinks beneath the load of conscious Fears, When in Samaria he my Actions hears. Distrest by Foes, which I've against him rais'd, He sees me unmolested, fix'd, and pleas' d; 30 �At least, till now thus glorious was my State ; But something's threatned from relaxing Fate, And the last Night, which shou'd have brought me Rest, Has all these great Ideas dispossest. A Dream, a Vision, an apparent View Of what, methinks, does still my Steps pursue, Hangs on my pensive Heart, and bears it down More than the weight of an objected Crown, My Mother (be the Name with Rev'rence spoke !) Ere chearful Day thro' horrid Shades had broke, 40 Approach'd my Bed, magnificent her Dress, Her Shape, her Air did Jesabel confess: Nor seem'd her Face to have refus'd that Art, Which, in despite of Age, does Youth impart, And which she practis'd, scorning to decay, Or to be vanquish'd ev'n in Nature's way. Thus all array 'd, in such defying Pride As when th' injurious Conqu'ror she descry 'd, And did in height of Pow'r for ill-got Pow'r deride. To me she spake, these Accents to me came: 50 �"Thou worthy Daughter of my soaring Fame, "Tho' with a more transcendent Spirit fill'd, " Tho' struggling Pow'rs attempt thy Life to shield, "The Hebrew's God (Oh, tremble at the sound!) "Shall Thee and Them, and all their Rights confound. A pitying Groan concludes, no Word of Aid. My Arms I thought to throw about the Shade Of that lov'd Parent, but my troubled Sight No more directed them to aim aright, ��� �
