Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/372

 234 THE POEMS OF ANNE �Thy captiv'd Wives shall be in Triumph led �Unto a bold Usurper's shameful Bed; �Who from thy Bowels sprung shall seize thy Throne, �And scourge thee by a Sin beyond thy own. 150 �Thou hast thy Fault in secret Darkness done ; �But this the World shall see before the Noonday's Sun. �Enough ! the King, enough ! the Saint replies, And pours his swift Repentance from his Eyes; Falls on the Ground and tears the Nuptial Vest, By which his Crime's Completion was exprest: Then with a Sigh blasting to Carnal Love, Drawn deep as Hell, and piercing Heaven, above Let Me (he cries) let Me attend his Rod, For J have sinn'd, for I have lost my God. 160 �Hold! (says the Prophet] of that Speech beware, God ne'er was lost, unless by Man's Despair. The Wound that is thus willingly reveal'd, Th' Almighty is as willing should be heal'd. Thus wash'd in Tears, thy Soul as fair does show As the first Fleece, which on the Lamb does grow, Or on the Mountain's top the lately fallen Snow. Yet to the World that Justice may appear Acting her Part impartial, and severe, The Offspring of thy Sin shall soon resign 170 �That Life, for which thou must not once repine ; But with submissive Grief his Fate deplore, And bless the Hand, that does inflict no more. �Shall I then pay but Part, and owe the Whole? My Body's Fruit, for my offending Soul ? Shall I no more endure (the King demands) And 'scape thus lightly his offended Hands? Oh! let him All resume, my Crown, my Fame; ��� �