210 THE POEMS OF ANNE �And hearing, you was with much Skill endu'd, �Your Aid we sought. Hippocrates amaz'd, �Now on the Sage, now on the Rabble gaz'd; �And whilst he needless finds his artful Rules, �Pities a Man of Sense, judg'd by a Croud of Fools. 70 �Then how can we with their Opinions join, �Who, to promote some Interest, would define �The Peoples Voice to be the Voice Divine? �FANSCOMB BARN In Imitation of MILTON �In Fanscomb Barn (who knows not Fanscomb Barn?) Seated between the sides of rising Hills, Whose airy Tops o'erlook the Gallick Seas, Whilst, gentle Stower, thy Waters near them flow, To beautify the Seats that crown thy Banks. �In this Retreat �Through Ages pass'd consign'd for Harbour meet, And Place of sweet Repose to Wand'rers poor, The weary Strolepedon felt that Ease, Which many a dangerous Borough had deny'd 10 �To him, and his Budgeta lov'd Compeer; Nor Food was wanting to the happy Pair, Who with meek Aspect, and precarious Tone, Well suited to their Hunger and Degree, Had mov'd the Hearts of hospitable Dames, To furnish such Repast as Nature crav'd. Whilst more to please the swarthy Bowl appears, Replete with Liquor, globulous to fight, And threat' ning Inundation o'er the Brim ; Yet, ere it to the longing Lips was rais'd 20 �Of him who held it at its due Desert, And more than all entreated Bounty priz'd, ��� �
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