Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/161

 Urania only lik'd the Choice ; Yet not to thwart the publick Voice,
 * She whisp'ring did impart:

They need no Foreign Aid invoke, No help to draw a moving Stroke,
 * Who dictate from the Heart.

Enough ! the pleas'd cry'd ; And slighting ev'ry Muse beside,
 * Consulting now her Breast,

Perceiv'd that ev'ry tender Thought, Which from abroad she'd vainly sought,
 * Did there in Silence rest:

And shou'd unmov'd that Post maintain, Till in his quick Return again,
 * Met in some neighb'ring Grove,

(Where Vice nor Vanity appear) Her Flavio them alone might hear,
 * In all the Sounds of Love.

For since the World do's so despise Hymen's Endearments and its Ties,
 * They shou'd mysterious be ;

Till We that Pleasure too possess (Which makes their fancy'd Happiness)
 * Of stollen Secrecy. 

A LETTER TO THE SAME PERSON Sure of Success, to You I boldly write Whilst Love do's ev'ry tender Line endite; Love, who is justly President of Verse, Which all his Servants write, or else rehearse. Phœbus (howe'er mistaken Poets dream) 