Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/207

COUNTESS OP WINCHILSEA 69 �A sweet, but absolute Retreat, 'Mongst Paths so lost, and Trees so high, That the World may ne'er invade, Through such Windings and such Shade, My unshaken Liberty. �No Intruders thither come! Who visit, but to be from home; None who their vain Moments pass, 10 �Only studious of their Glass, News, that charm to listning Ears; That false Alarm to Hopes and Fears; That common Theme for every Fop, From the Statesman to the Shop, In those Coverts ne'er be spread, Of who's Deceas'd, or who's to Wed, Be no Tidings thither brought, But Silent, as a Midnight Thought, Where the World may ne'er invade, 20 �Be those Windings, and that Shade: �Courteous Fate! afford me there A Table spread without my Care, With what the neighb'ring Fields impart, Whose Cleanliness be all it's Art, When, of old, the Calf was drest, (Tho' to make an Angel's Feast) In the plain, unstudied Sauce Nor Treufle, nor Morillia was; Nor cou'd the mighty Patriarch's Board 80 �One far-fetch'd Ortolane afford. Courteous Fate, then give me there Only plain, and wholesome Fare. Fruits indeed (wou'd Heaven bestow) All, that did in Eden grow, ��� �