Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/411

 COUNTESS or WINCHILSEA 273 �Did itt not plead, d'you think, with all itts arts 20 �To Agamemnon, for his Daughter's life ? �Did itt not tell him, she was fair, and Yong, �Guiltlesse, as Nymphs that haunt the fountains side �Far from th' infected air of Towns, and Courts? �Did not soft pitty, whisper to his soul �That 'twas himself, that he must wound in her, �And the dear mother's part, which more he pris'd? �Yet, ouer all these tender bounds he passt �And sees her to the Temple brought, at last. �The People groan, and he himself appears 30 �Like a full cloud, just breaking into tears. �The Priest too wept, but int'rest had decreed �Int'rest the god of all, that she shou'd bleed; �For int'rest, now she's on the altar laid, �And but a pow'r devine cou'd save the maid. �Clar. Good Riccio, speak no more such moving things ; Our present ills, have made my heart so apt For sad impressions That I can weep, at hearing but a fable. And tell me then, if pitty cannot do itt, 40 �What may be thought on, to preserve the Queen? �Eic. We sail, indeed, amid'st a world of dangers, Some Ports we haue, but many winds against us. Venice,that bred Cornara in her bosome, Wou'd still maintain her, in the height she's grown to, And 'tis from them, the Genral's now commission'd To make the attempt I told you, on our freedom. Rivalto's Suttle, and the Master's foe, And link'd in that, with Villmarin and Linian, Who still oppose the interests of our Queen. 50 �These shou'd be soothed and flatter' d into freindship; But Blanfort's love, oh! thats our Southern gale, Which if improv'd, we shou'd not want a harbour. ��� �