Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/172

34  To late Posterity, convey their Fame, What with more Admiration, shall we write, On Him, who takes their Errours from our sight ? And least their Judgments be in question brought, Removes a Mountain, to remove a fault ? Which long had stood (though threatnd oft in vain), Concealing all the beautys of the Plaine. Heedlesse when Yong, cautious in their decline, None gone before persu'd the vast dessign, Till ripen'd Judgment, joyn'd with Youthfull Flame, At last but Came, and Saw, and Overcame. And as old Rome refin'd what ere was rude, And Civiliz'd, as fast as she subdu'd, So lies this Hill, hew'n from itts rugged height, Now levell'd to a Scene of smooth delight, Where on a Terras of itts spoyles we walk, And of the Task, and the performer talk; From whose unwearied Genius Men expect All that can farther Pollish or Protect ; To see a sheltring grove the Prospect bound, Just rising from the same proliffick ground, Where late itt stood, the Glory of the Seat, Repell'd the Winter blasts, and skreen'd the Somer's heat ; So prais'd, so lov'd, that when untimely Fate, Sadly prescrib'd itt a too early Date, The heavy tidings cause a gen'ral Grief, And all combine to bring a swift relief. Some Plead, some Pray, some Councel, some Dispute, Alas in vain, where Pow'r is Absolute. Those whom Paternal Awe, forbid to speak, Their sorrows, in their secret whispers break, Sigh as they passe beneath the sentenc'd Trees, Which seem to answer in a mournfull Breeze. The very Clowns (hir'd by his dayly Pay), 