COUNTESS OP WINCHILSEA 243 �Whilst gently dashing every Silver Oar, �Guided by the Rules of Art, �With tuneful Instruments design'd To soften, and subdue the stubborn Mind, A strangely pleasing and harmonious Part 140 �In equal Measures bore. Like a new Venus on her native Sea, �In midst of the transporting Scene, (Which Pen or Pencil imitates in vain) On a resplendent and conspicuous Bed, With all the Pride of Persia loosely spread, �The lovely Syrene lay. �Which but discern'd from the yet distant Shore, �Th' amazed Emperor could hate no more ; �No more a baffled Vengeance could pursue ; 150 �But yielding still, still as she nearer drew, �When Cleopatra anchor'd in the Bay, �Where every Charm cou'd all its Force display, Like his own Statue stood, and gaz'd the World away. �Where ends alas! this Pageantry and State; �Where end the Triumphs of this conqu'ring Face, Envy'd of Roman Wives, and all the Female Race ? �Oh swift Vicissitude of Beauty's Fate! �Now in her Tomb withdrawn from publick Sight, From near Captivity and Shame, 160 �The Vanquish 'd, the abandon'd Dame �Proffers the Arm, that held another's Right, �To the destructive Snake's more just Embrace, And courts deforming Death, to mend his Leaden Pace. ���But Wit shall last (the vaunting Poet cries) Th' immortal Streams that from Parnassus flow, Shall make his never-fading Lawrels grow, ��� �
