Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/498

 360 THE POEMS or ANNE �A Voice within Sings. �1st Voice. Fallen Wretch ! make haste, and Dye ! To that last Asylum fly, Where no anxious Drops of Care, Where no sighing Sorrows are, Friends or Fortune none deplore, None are Rich, and none are Poor, Nor can Fate oppress them more. To this last Asylum fly, �Fallen Wretch ! make haste and Dye ! 39 �[The Voice ceases. �Aristom. Thou counsell'st rightly; show me but the way, And with the Speed thou urgest I'll obey thee. [He rises. �The Voice Sings again. �1st Voice. A pointed Rock with little pains �Will split the Circle of thy Brains. To thy Freedom I persuade thee, To a wat'ry Pit will lead thee, Which has no glorious Sun-beam seen, No Footsteep known, or bord'ring Green, For thousand rolling Ages past. Fallen Wretch! to this make haste, To this last Asylum fly. 50 �Fallen Wretch! make haste and Dye! Aristom. I come, thou kind Provoker of Despair, �Which still is nearest Cure, when at the Highest. �I come, I come �Going towards the Voice, another Sings at the other side, upon which he stops and listens. �2d Voice. Stay, oh! stay; 'tis all Delusion, �And wou'd breed thee more Confusion. I, thy better Genius, move thee, I, that guard, and I, that love thee; ��� �