Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/269

���COUNTESS OF WINCHILSEA 131 �Lord of the World must surely be �But thy bare Title at the most; Since Jealousy is Lord of Thee, �And makes such Havock on thy Coast, �As do's thy pleasant Land deface, Yet binds thee faster to the Place. ���A SONG �Love, thou art best of Human Joys, �Our chief est Happiness below; All other Pleasures are but Toys, Musick without Thee is but Noise, �And Beauty but an empty Show. �Heav'n, who knew best what Man wou'd move, And raise his Thoughts above the Brute; �Said, Let him Be, and let him Love; �That must alone his Soul improve, Howe'er Philosophers dispute. ���A SONG �Quickly, Delia, Learn my Passion, Lose not Pleasure, to be Proud; �Courtship draws on Observation, And the Whispers of the Croud. �Soon or late you'll hear a Lover, Nor by Time his Truth can prove; �Ages won't a Heart discover, Trust, and so secure my Love. ��� �