Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/331

COUNTESS OP WINCHILSEA 193 �T'expel, tho' she cou'd write the Spleen? �Of Coach, or Tables, can you brag, �Or better Cloaths than Poet RAG? �Do wealthy Kindred, when they meet you, �With Kindness, or Distinction, greet you? �Or have your lately flatter'd Heroes �Enrich'd you like the Roman Maroesf 70 �No quoth the Man of broken Slumbers: Yet we have Patrons for our Numbers; There are Meccenas's among 'em. �Quoth Mammon, pray Sir, do not wrong 'em; But in your Censures use a Conscience, Nor charge Great Men with thriftless Nonsense : Since they, as your own Poets sing, Now grant no Worth in any thing But so much Money as 'twill bring. Then, never more from your Endeavours 80 �Expect Preferment, or less Favours. But if you'll 'scape Contempt, or worse, Be sure, put Money in your Purse; Money! which only can relieve you When Fame and Friendship will deceive you. �Sir, (quoth the Poet humbly bowing, And all that he had said allowing) Behold me and my airy Fancies Subdu'd, like Giants in Romances. I here submit to your Discourses; 90 �Which since Experience too enforces, I, in that solitary Pit, Your Gold withdrawn, will hide my Wit: Till Time, which hastily advances, And gives to all new Turns and Chances, ���� �