Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/393

 COUNTESS OF WINCHILSEA 255 �Who did the Structures deep Foundation lay, �Forcing his Praise upon the gazing Croud, 70 �And, whilst he moulders in a scanty Shroud, �Telling both Earth and Skies, he when alive was proud. Now down at once comes the superfluous Load, �The costly Fret- work with it yields, Whose imitated Fruits and Flow'rs are strew'd, �Like those of real Growth o'er the Autumnal Fields. �The present Owner lifts his Eyes, And the swift Change with sad Affrightment spies: The Cieling gone, that late the Roof conceal'd ; The Roof untyl'd, thro' which the Heav'ns reveal'd, 80 �Exposes now his Head, when all Defence has fail'd. �What alas, is to be done! Those, who in Cities wou'd from Dangers run, �Do but encreasing Dangers meet, �And Death, in various shapes, attending in the Street; While some, too tardy in their Flight, O'ertaken by a worse Mischance, Their upward Parts do scarce advance, When on their following Limbs th' extending Ruins light. One half's interr'd, the other yet survives, 90 �And for Release with fainting Vigour strives; Implores the Aid of absent Friends in vain ; With fault'ring Speech, and dying Wishes calls Those, whom perhaps, their own Domestick Walls By parallel Distress, or swifter Death retains. �O Wells! thy Bishop's Mansion we lament, So tragical the Fall, so dire th' Event! But let no daring Thought presume To point a Cause for that oppressive Doom. Yet strictly pious KEN! had'st Thou been there, 100 This Fate, we think, had not become thy share; ��� �