Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/356

218 THE POEMS OF ANNE �And left the Skyes, 'ere morning light cou'd dawn. �The Swaynes were silent, and the flocks were still, 70 �The rappid stream, that flows from yonder hill, �Did by itts winding banks so softly stray, �As if itt meant unseen, to steal away. �A general darknesse o're the world was spread, �And not one Star, wou'd show his trembling head, �Conscious no doubt, (their dwellings being so nigh) �Of greater Glory, breaking from the sky. �And loe! itt came. Th' Etherial Princes came, Gently reclin'd on hills of harmlesse flame, Upon the Winds officious Wings they flew, 80 �And fairer seem'd, still as they neerer drew. Misterious wreaths upon their heads, they wore, And in their hands, the smiling Olive bore, Emblems no doubt, of what they came to move, For all their words were Peace, and all their looks were �love. �But ne're by me, the Vision be expresst By the Suns rising, from the radiant East. But ne're by me, their voyces be compar'd To Pans own notes, when on the mountains heard. But ne're by me, be that transcendent show, 90 �Liken'd to ought we glorious call, below. Night, in her sable mantle wrapt her head, And with unusual haste, to lower Worlds she fled. �Fear, that att distance, had our hearts possesst, To softer passions, yeilded ev'ry breast, When thus began the Messengers of Heav'n, To you a Child is born, to you a Son is given. �Such joy, as ends the harvests happy toyle, Such joy, as when the Victors, part the spoyl, Upon your ransom' d heads, shall ever smile. 100 �When to full Stature, and perfection grown ��� �