Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/258

THE POEMS or ANNE ���Nor will one pleasing thought, with me abide; Sleep, from my weary, restlesse temples flyes, And falling tears, prevent my closing eyes. My soul, till morning, thus her anguish shews, When soft Aurora cheerfull light renews. But still, behind the Cloud, my Sun remains, 'Tis she must give me light, and ease my pains. ���A SONG OF THE CANIBALS out of Mountain's Essays; done into English verse, paraphrased �The French �Coleuvre, arest toy; arest toy, Coleuvre; afin que ma seur tire sur le patron de ta peinture, le facon, & 1'ouvrage d' un rich cordon, que je puisse donner a ma Mie. ainsi, soit en tout temps, ta beaute\ & ta disposition, preferez a touts les autres Serpents. �The English �Lovely viper, haste not on, �Nor curl, in various folds along, �Till from that figur'd coat of thine, �Which ev'ry motion, makes more fine. �I take, as neer as art can doe, �A draught, of what I wond'ring view; �Which, in a bracelett, for my Love �Shall be with carefull mixtures wove. �So, may'st thou find thy beautys last, �As thou doest now, retarde thy haste. �So, may'st thou, above all the snakes, �That harbour, in the neigh'bring brakes, �Be honoured; and where thou does [szc] passe �The shades be close, and fresh the grasse. ��� �