Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/188

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Which do's all humane Chastisements exceed; Enfeebl'd seem their Instruments of smart, When keener Words can swifter Ills impart.
 * Thou,, though Last, not least our Care,

Seem'st equally employ'd in Praise, and Prayer, Acknowledging th' Omnipotent Decree, Yet soft Compassion in thy Face we see: Whilst lifted Hands implore a kind Relief, Tho' no Impatience animates thy Grief; But mild Suspence and Charity benign, Do all th' excesses of thy Looks confine.
 * Thus far, our slow Imagination goes:

Wou'd the more skill'd his disclose; Expand the Scene, and open to our Sight What to his nicer Judgment gives Delight ; Whose soaring Mind do's to Perfections climb, Nor owns a Relish, but for Things sublime : Then, wou'd the Piece fresh Beauties still present, Nor Length of Time wou'd leave the Eye content: As moments, Hours; as Hours the Days wou'd seem, Observing here, taught to observe by.

GLASS

O Man! what Inspiration was thy Guide, Who taught thee Light and Air thus to divide; To let in all the useful Beams of Day, Yet force, as subtil Winds, without thy Shash to stay ; T' extract from Embers by a strange Device, Then polish fair these Flakes of solid Ice ; Which, silver'd o'er, redouble all in place, And give thee back thy well or ill-complexion'd Face.