Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/167

Rh And not a clime, like temp'rate brittan show,
 * Come then, my Dafnis, and her feilds survey,
 * And throo' the groves, with your Ardelia stray.

Nor plead that you're immur'd, and cannot yield, That mighty Bastions keep you from the feild, Think not tho' lodg'd in Mons, or in Namur, You're from my dangerous attacks secure. No, Louis shall his falling Conquests fear, When by succeeding Courriers he shall hear Appollo, and the Muses, are drawn down, To storm each fort, and take in ev'ry Town. Vauban, the Orphean Lyre, to mind shall call, That drew the stones to the old Theban Wall, And make no doubt, if itt against him play, They, from his works, will fly as fast away, Which to prevent, he shall to peace persuade, Of strong, confederate Syllables, affraid.
 * Come then, my Dafnis, and the fields survey,
 * And throo' the Groves, with your Ardelia stray.

Come, and attend, how as we walk along, Each chearfull bird, shall treat us with a song, Nott such as Fopps compose, where witt, nor art, Nor plainer Nature, ever bear a part ; The Cristall springs, shall murmure as we passe, But not like Courtiers, sinking to disgrace ; Nor, shall the louder Rivers, in their fall, Like unpaid Saylers, or hoarse Pleaders brawle ; But all shall form a concert to delight, And all to peace, and all to love envite.
 * Come then, my Dafnis, and the feilds survey,
 * And throo' the Groves, with your Ardelia stray.