The Works of Mr. Robert Gould In Two Volumes. Consisting of those Poems [and] Satyrs Which were formerly Printed, and Corrected since by the Author; As also of the many more which He Design'd for the Press. Publish'd from his Own Original Copies [by Robert Gould] |
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To Mr. Lawrence, on the Death of his Excellent Wife.
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 | The Works of Mr. Robert Gould |  |
To Mr. Lawrence, on the Death of his Excellent Wife.
If
Beauty, Love, or Wit deserve our Praise,
Or Vertue reach th'Applause of after Days,
Succeeding Times shall know your Consorts Name,
And ev'ry Poet strive to give her Fame.
Or Vertue reach th'Applause of after Days,
Succeeding Times shall know your Consorts Name,
And ev'ry Poet strive to give her Fame.
So sweet her Temper, and her Voice so mild,
Like David's Harp, it ev'ry Care beguil'd:
Sadness she with a Look cou'd chase away,
As Mists drive back before the Rising Day.
Like David's Harp, it ev'ry Care beguil'd:
Sadness she with a Look cou'd chase away,
As Mists drive back before the Rising Day.
From what strange Cause cou'd such Enchantment rise!
What Spring of Beauty yield such vast Supplies!
As swift the Motion, and as bright the Flame,
Like Sun-beams from their Source, her Graces came.
What Spring of Beauty yield such vast Supplies!
As swift the Motion, and as bright the Flame,
Like Sun-beams from their Source, her Graces came.
With all this Sweetness so much Goodness join'd,
As shew'd she scarce was of terrestrial kind:
Beauty but to the Eye does Joy impart,
But Vertue sinks, and fixes in the Heart.
As shew'd she scarce was of terrestrial kind:
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But Vertue sinks, and fixes in the Heart.
Ah! why shou'd Fau'tless Lives no longer last?
Why shou'd so bright a Noon be overcast?
We thought of nothing but of Love and Light,
Joy to the Ear, and Transport to the Sight;
When Lo! the rising Gloom threatn'd a dismal Night!
Why shou'd so bright a Noon be overcast?
We thought of nothing but of Love and Light,
Joy to the Ear, and Transport to the Sight;
When Lo! the rising Gloom threatn'd a dismal Night!
For now a pining Sickness seiz'd her Frame,
Yet sure to do the Work for which it came.
The Rich Ætherial Hue her Face forsakes,
And frightful Pale, the trembling Empire takes.
With falt'ring Lips she moans her last Adieu;
A sharper Pang than Death, her taking Leave of You.
Yet sure to do the Work for which it came.
The Rich Ætherial Hue her Face forsakes,
And frightful Pale, the trembling Empire takes.
With falt'ring Lips she moans her last Adieu;
A sharper Pang than Death, her taking Leave of You.
Two Pledges of her Love were call'd before,
And safely landed on th'Elizian Shore:
Yet ev'n to her it some Regret must be
To go to them, since 'twas to part with Thee.
And safely landed on th'Elizian Shore:
Yet ev'n to her it some Regret must be
To go to them, since 'twas to part with Thee.
How have I seen thee press her in thy Arms!
Bask in her Shine, and revel in her Charms!—
All Rapture to the Heart!—You held her fast
And gaz'd as ev'ry Look had been the last!
Bask in her Shine, and revel in her Charms!—
All Rapture to the Heart!—You held her fast
And gaz'd as ev'ry Look had been the last!
Ah! blush not that thy Tears so freely flow;
Nature's too weak to ward so strong a Blow.
Others, indeed, their Loss of Wives may brook,
Where Bodies only are from Bodies took:
But O what Reason can that Grief controul,
Where Love is torn from Love, and Soul from Soul?
Nature's too weak to ward so strong a Blow.
Others, indeed, their Loss of Wives may brook,
Where Bodies only are from Bodies took:
But O what Reason can that Grief controul,
Where Love is torn from Love, and Soul from Soul?
| The Works of Mr. Robert Gould | |