���COUNTESS OF WINCHILSEA 229 �We see the wealthyest ore the earth does hide, �Is not receav'd or pass'd for currant gold, �Nor by the greedy Miser, told, Till by the cleansing furnace try'd, It does the sevenfold test, abide; �So must the path of greif, be trod, (That certain, purifying roade) �By all th' accepted sons of Grod. �Who in this method, to our needs, has bow'd, �Nor is itt reason guides, when we complain, �Favours, alas! but fall in vain, And the good things, that are allow'd, Instead of happy, make us proud, �Lett us not then refuse this part, �But wisely learn, the saving art, �Our tears, to comforts to convert. �THE POOR MAN'S LAMB �Or, Nathan's Parable to David after the Murder of Uriah, and �his Marriage with Bathsheba Turn'd into Verse and Paraphrased �Now spent the alter' d King, in am'rous Cares, �The Hours of sacred Hymns and solemn Pray'rs: �In vain the Altar waits his slow returns, �Where unattended Incense faintly burns: �In vain the whisp'ring Priests their Fears express, �And of the Change a thousand Causes guess. �Heedless of all their Censures He retires, �And in his Palace feeds his secret Fires; �Impatient, till from Rdbbah Tydings tell, �That near those Walls the poor Uriah fell, 10 �Led to the Onset by a Chosen Few, �Who at the treacherous Signal, soon withdrew; ��� �
Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/367
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