---

Anne Kingsmill Finch - Ardelia To Melancholy
Work rating: Low

At last, my old inveterate foe,
No opposition shalt thou know.
Since I by struggling, can obtain
Nothing, but encrease of pain,
I will att last, no more do soe,
Tho` I confesse, I have apply`d
Sweet mirth, and musick, and have try`d
A thousand other arts beside,
To drive thee from my darken`d breast,
Thou, who hast banish`d all my rest. 
But, though sometimes, a short repreive they gave,
Unable they, and far too weak, to save;
All arts to quell, did but augment thy force,
As rivers check`d, break with a wilder course. 

Freindship, I to my heart have laid,
Freindship, th` applauded sov`rain aid,
And thought that charm so strong wou`d prove,
As to compell thee, to remove; 
And to myself, I boasting said,
Now I a conqu`rer sure shall be,
The end of all my conflicts, see,
And noble tryumph, wait on me;
My dusky, sullen foe, will sure
N`er this united charge endure.
But leaning on this reed, ev`n whilst I spoke
It peirc`d my hand, and into peices broke.
Still, some new object, or new int`rest came
And loos`d the bonds, and quite disolv`d the claim. 

These failing, I invok`d a Muse,
And Poetry wou`d often use,
To guard me from thy Tyrant pow`r;
And to oppose thee ev`ry hour
New troops of fancy`s, did I chuse.
Alas! in vain, for all agree
To yeild me Captive up to thee,
And heav`n, alone, can sett me free. 
Thou, through my life, wilt with me goe,
And make ye passage, sad, and slow. 
All, that cou`d ere thy ill gott rule, invade,
Their uselesse arms, before thy feet have laid;
The Fort is thine, now ruin`d, all within,
Whilst by decays without, thy Conquest too, is seen.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.