Page:Boileau's Lutrin - a mock-heroic poem. In six canto's. Render'd into English verse. To which is prefix'd some account of Boileau's writings, and this translation. (IA boileauslutrinmo00boil).pdf/68

 But 'tis no more: That Golden Age is gone; And an unweary'd Princess fills Britannia's Throne. Each Day she frights me with the Noise of Arms, Slights my Embraces, and defies my Charms. In vain does Nature, Seas and Rocks oppose, To bar her Virtue; which undaunted goes Thro' Libyan Burnings, and o'er Scythian Snows. Her Name alone my trembling Subjects dread, Not her own Cannon can more Terrour spread. To tell the Wrongs and Cruelties I bear, Would exercise the Labour of a Year. I thought the Church would shelter an Exile, Driv'n from a Court, inur'd to Cares and Toil. Vain was my Thought: For now each sad Recluse, Monks, Abbots, Priors, wretched Me abuse. La-