Page:Poems of Anne Countess of Winchilsea 1903.djvu/204
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66
The Poems of Anne
7
How, had we su'd so great a Life to save
From yet descending to th' unactive Grave;
How, had the loud united Prayers
Of that best Church, the object of his cares,
(The object of his still a waken'd thought,
For which so well he spoke, so well his Father wrote)
Imploring at the Throne above 510
With unresisted force, for his continnuance strove;
Had not wise Heaven (our clamours to prevent)
So secretly the fatal message sent,
(Bid the light Essense his swift wings display,
Nor his Commission to survey,
'Till passt the bounds of all th' Angellick Host,
Distant alike, from our benighted Coast,
Till sail'd into the midd'st of the Etherial way)
Least, that if either World, shou'd know
What sadly was decreed, for ours below, 160
(In favour of the happyer Skies.)
Some pious heat might grow,
Some holy strife might rise,
The Church Triumphant, to encrease her throng,
Might urge, that he had stay'd too long,
Whilst the afflicted Militant, might plead
Of such support, her more incessant need,
Repeat her passt distresse, and doubts of future woe.
Least that Himself, had in a streight been known,
Strugg'ling betwixt our Interest, and his own, 170
For whom 'twas easily resolv'd.
The better choice, to be with haste disolv'd;
Yett Charity prevailing in the strife,
For us, he might have ask'd a longer Life,
Rightly to act, in his appointed Place,
(Of Freedom mindfull, and that generous Race
How, had we su'd so great a Life to save
From yet descending to th' unactive Grave;
How, had the loud united Prayers
Of that best Church, the object of his cares,
(The object of his still a waken'd thought,
For which so well he spoke, so well his Father wrote)
Imploring at the Throne above 510
With unresisted force, for his continnuance strove;
Had not wise Heaven (our clamours to prevent)
So secretly the fatal message sent,
(Bid the light Essense his swift wings display,
Nor his Commission to survey,
'Till passt the bounds of all th' Angellick Host,
Distant alike, from our benighted Coast,
Till sail'd into the midd'st of the Etherial way)
Least, that if either World, shou'd know
What sadly was decreed, for ours below, 160
(In favour of the happyer Skies.)
Some pious heat might grow,
Some holy strife might rise,
The Church Triumphant, to encrease her throng,
Might urge, that he had stay'd too long,
Whilst the afflicted Militant, might plead
Of such support, her more incessant need,
Repeat her passt distresse, and doubts of future woe.
Least that Himself, had in a streight been known,
Strugg'ling betwixt our Interest, and his own, 170
For whom 'twas easily resolv'd.
The better choice, to be with haste disolv'd;
Yett Charity prevailing in the strife,
For us, he might have ask'd a longer Life,
Rightly to act, in his appointed Place,
(Of Freedom mindfull, and that generous Race