Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/497

 COUNTESS OF WINCHILSEA 359 �And cloath'd my Dreams with more than mortal Horrour. �So low in my deep Phancy was I plung'd, �That o'er my Head impetuous Rivers rush'd, �And Mountains grew betwixt our World and me: �Hungry and Cold, methought I wander' d on �Thro' fruitless Plains, that Food nor Comfort nourish'd, �'Till hideous Serpents twisted me about, �And drew me to their Den all foul and loathsome; 10 �But I will quit the Bed, that breeds such Visions, �And summon all my Officers to Council ; �For with to-morrow's Dawn we'll storm Phazrea. �[He walks about feeling for the Door. �Ha ! where's the Door, my Tent is sure transform'd, �And all I touch is Rock that streams with Dew. �Oh! that I'd slept, that I had slept for ever! [He starts. �Yes, Anaxander, yes! thou worst of Furies! �I know thy Dungeon now, and my dark Ruin: �Yet why, ye Fates, since fall'n below your Succour, �Wou'd ye thus cruelly restore my Senses, 20 �To make me count my Woes by tedious Moments, �Dye o'er again, choak'd by unwholsome Damps, �Parch' d up with Thirst, or clung with pining Hunger, �Borne piecemeal to the Holes of lurking Adders, �Or mould'ring to this Earth, where thus I cast me ? �[Throws himself on the Ground. �Mustek is heard without the SCENE, after it has play'd awhile and ceases, He speaks. �How, Harmony! nay then the Fiends deride me: �For who, but they, can strike Earth's sounding Entrails, �Or with low Winds thus fill her tuneful Pores ? �Oh! that some Words of horrid Sense wou'd join it, �To tell me where I might conclude my Sorrows ! 30 ��� �