Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/201

 COUNTESS OF WINCHILSEA 63 �Whom all lament, whom Hiring, all admir'd; �For in his breast, were such perfections sown, �Such numerous excellencies plac'd, 50 �That every man, with different tallents, grac'd, �Found somthing that improv'd, or answer'd to his own. �He, whose lou'd Country, was his cheifest care, �Might find her very Archives there, �Her ancient Stattutes, in their first dessign, �Prerogative, and Priviledge to joyn, �The perfect draught of all-preserving Law, (Which, whilst unbyast hands cou'd round us draw, �Rebel, nor Tyrant, cou'd encroach, �Not that aspire, nor this extend too much ; 60 �None, cou'd beyond his happy Limmit goe, �Not man deprav'd, nor Demon from below �Cou'd leap the hallow'd bound, or passe the magick Line) �Well did we in our far applauded Kent, �Whilst Pious, Wise, Heroick, and refin'd, �Whilst these strong Rayes, of our old Vertue shin'd, �Make him our choice, the Whole to represent ; �The worthyest pattern of the publick Mind. �Who, when alas! we more Fanatick grew, �A heavyer Immage of our Country drew 70 �(Like to a fault, in every altered part) �A rough ill wrought Dessign, a work of Flemish Art. �4 �Those, whom a curious search had led �Where the fam'd Tiber, from his plenteous bed �Such frequent Treasures does unfold, �As down his Streames since Caesars days have roled �T'ubraid new Rome, with wonders of the old, �With him their great Ideas, might renew; �Enlighten'd more, and more amaz'd ��� �