27

Yet then from all my Griefs, O Lord,
Thy Mercy set me free,
Whilst in the Confidence of Pray'r
My Soul took Hold on Thee;
For tho' in dreadful Whirles we hung
High on the broken Wave,

I knew Thou wert not slow to hear,
Nor Impotent to save.

The Storm was laid, the Winds retir'd,
Obedient to Thy Will;

The Sea, that roar'd at Thy Command,
At Thy Command was still.

In Midst of Dangers, Fears and Death,
Thy Goodness I'll adore,

And praise Thee for Thy Mercies past;
And humbly hope for more.

My Life, if Thou preserv'st my Life,
Thy Sacrifice shall be;

And Death, if Death must be my Doom,

Shall join my Soul to Thee!

The Spectator, September 20, 1712

ANNE FINCH, COUNTESS OF WINCHILSEA

The Portrait

EEP Lines of Honour all can hit,

DEE
De mark out a superior Wit;

Or

Consummate Goodness all can show,
And where such Graces shine below:
But the more tender Strokes to trace,
express the Promise of a Face,

T'

1661-1720

28

When but the Dawnings of the Mind
We from an Air unripen'd find;
Which alt'ring, as new Moments rise,
The Pen or Pencil's Art defies;
When Flesh and Blood in Youth
appears,
Polish'd like what our Marble wears;
Fresh as that Shade of op'ning Green,
Which first upon our Groves is seen;
Enliven'd by a harmless Fire,
And brighten'd by each gay Desire;
These nicer Touches wou'd demand
A Cowley's or a Waller's Hand,
T' explain, with undisputed Art,
What 'tis affects th' enlighten'd Heart,
When ev'ry darker Thought gives way,
Whilst blooming Beauty we survey.

The Birthday of Catharine Tufton.
Miscellany Poems, 1713

The Petition for an Absolute Retreat

'IVE me, O indulgent Fate!

G Give me, yet, before I Dye,

A sweet, but absolute Retreat,

'Mongst Paths so lost, and Trees so high,
That the World may ne'er invade,

Through such Windings and such Shade,
My unshaken Liberty.

No Intruders thither come!

Who visit, but to be from home;

None who their vain Moments pass,
Only studious of their Glass;

News, that charm to listning Ears,
That false Alarm to Hopes and Fears,
That common Theme for every Fop,
From the Statesman to the Shop,
In those Coverts ne'er be spread;
Of who's Deceas'd, or who's to Wed,
Be no Tidings thither brought,
But Silent, as a Midnight Thought,
Where the World may ne'er invade,
Be those Windings, and that Shade.
Courteous Fate! afford me there
A Table spread without my Care,
With what the neighb'ring Fields impart,
Whose Cleanliness be all it's Art,
When, of old, the Calf was drest,
(Tho' to make an Angel's Feast)
In the plain, unstudied Sauce
Nor Treufle, nor Morillia was;
Nor cou'd the mighty Patriarch's Board
One far-fetch'd Ortolane afford.
Courteous Fate, then give me there
Only plain and wholesome Fare.
Fruits indeed (wou'd Heaven bestow)
All, that did in Eden grow,
All, but the Forbidden Tree,

Wou'd be coveted by me;
Grapes, with Juice so crouded up,
As breaking thro' the native Cup;
Figs (yet growing) candy'd o'er,
By the Sun's attracting Pow'r;
Cherries, with the downy Peach,
All within my easie Reach

Whilst creeping near the humble Ground,
Shou'd the Strawberry be found
Springing wheresoe'er I stray'd,

Thro' those Windings and that Shade. ...
Give me there (since Heaven has shown
It was not Good to be alone)

A Partner suited to my Mind,
Solitary, pleas'd and kind;

Who, partially, may something see
Preferr'd to all the World in me;
Slighting, by my humble Side,

Fame and Splendor, Wealth and Pride.
When but Two the Earth possest,
"Twas their happiest Days, and best;
They by Bus'ness, nor by Wars,
They by no Domestick Cares,
From each other e'er were drawn,
But in some Grove, or flow'ry Lawn,

Spent the swiftly flying Time,

Spent their own, and Nature's Prime,

In Love; that only Passion given

To perfect Man, whilst Friends with Heaven.

Rage, and Jealousie, and Hate,

Transports of his fallen State,

(When by Satan's Wiles betray'd)
Fly those Windings, and that Shade!...

Let me then, indulgent Fate!

Let me still, in my Retreat,

From all roving Thoughts be freed,
Or Aims, that may Contention breed:

Nor be my Endeavours led

By Goods, that perish with the Dead!

Fitly might the Life of Man
Be indeed esteem'd a Span,
If the present Moment were
Of Delight his only Share;
If no other Joys he knew

Than what round about him grew:

But as those, who Stars wou'd trace
From a subterranean Place,

Through some Engine lift their Eyes
To the outward, glorious Skies;
So th' immortal Spirit may,
When descended to our Clay,

From a rightly govern'd Frame

View the Height, from whence she came;

To her Paradise be caught,

And Things unutterable taught.
Give me then, in that Retreat,
Give me, O indulgent Fate!
For all Pleasures left behind,
Contemplations of the Mind.
Let the Fair, the Gay, the Vain
Courtship and Applause obtain;
Let th' Ambitious rule the Earth;
Let the giddy Fool have Mirth;
Give the Epicure his Dish,
Ev'ry one their sev'ral Wish;
Whilst my Transports I employ
On that more extensive Joy,
When all Heaven shall be survey'd

From those Windings and that Shade.

Miscellany Poems, 1713