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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The Twelfth of June.
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 | The Works of Mr. Robert Gould |  |
The Twelfth of June.
I.
Thou art return'd, Auspicious DAY!And with Thee brought along
Of noble Thoughts a rich and num'rous Throng,
To cloath the Muse in all her best Array,
And upward to the Clouds direct her wondering Way.
How many fatal Days in the Career
But of one single Year,
Give Birth to what we loath, or what we fear?
Creatures of Nature's Rubbish made,
Or Tyrants who all Right invade;
Shepherds that undermine the Rock,
And are themselves, at best, but Sheerers of their Flock.
How many Men aspire to Rule
Only by being Knave, or Fool?
Nor care how low the Nation lies,
So they may have a Time to rise?
Or Fears, or Factions these create,
Or those in murm'uring Senates sow Debate:
Some all to Property wou'd give,
And others to Prerogative,
So bandy up and down the tottering State.
As if th'old Wounds were only cur'd,
That New, and worse might be endur'd.
Some Days, 'tis true, we grant there are
Befriended with a more Propitious Star,
400
Produces all the Good, and Brave, and Great.
And such a Star did Influence the Morn,
'Twas such a Star that did adorn
The Skie when ABINGDON was born,
Endear'd him both to Heav'n and Men,
And makes his Glories now as bright as That was then.
II.
ABINGDON!—the mighty NameDoes from the Hills and Vallies round
Reverberate with a stronger Bound,
Than any other British Sound,
And makes a fuller blast for the loud trump of Fame.
Ev'n Envious Men, Sullen and Discontent,
Thus far are forc't to give assent,
That He's at once both Great and Innocent.
His height don't make him look awry;
The Error's only in the Eye,
That's dazl'd when it looks so high.
He shews what we can, else, but seldom see,
That Quality and Vertue may agree,
So long believ'd a Contrariety!
In Wealth and Pow'r the Heart is truliest try'd;
But Wealth and Power, nor ought beside,
Cou'd make him e'er a Friend to Pride?
A Vice with which we brand the Great, when most
'Tis by precarious Fools in Place engrost;
Who rising from an obscure Stem,
Think nothing shines so bright
As they in their dimm borrow'd Light,
Dull Pebbles when compar'd with the right orient Gem:
Such as our Hero still has been,
And such as still he's seen,
401
Where Vertue, Vertue still succeeds,
And not an Action base, or low, between.
His Country's Peace is still his daily Care,
His Thoughts and Actions all are Centr'd there:
PEACE the most Bountiful of Things!
While under her Prolifick Wings
Plenty, Pow'r and Ease she brings,
She Hatches more than Twenty Springs!
Yet Peace tho' we so much adore,
Shou'd we not give MIRANA more?
Shou'd we not HER, yet higher raise?
Who does affect our Souls by more Mysterious ways:
For Peace, tho' white as Truth it be,
Is not so white, so kind, so dear, or charms so sure as SHE!
III.
Such is the Consort of our Worthy-found,Equal for Form and Purity renown'd:
Clasp'd in her soft, her Snowy Arm,
He's in that Circle safe from harm,
Beyond Ambition to allure, or Lawless Love to Charm.
Where is the Poor to whom he will not lend?
Where is the Good to whom He's not a Friend?
Where is the Sick to whom he does not send?
Or where's the Rich with whom he does Contend?
Brave as the Hero's were of Old
Of whom we Antique Stories hear,
As fam'd, as fierce, as gene'rous, bold,
And as exempt from Fear:
They seve'n-fold Shields did o'er 'em throw,
To break, or to Divert the Blow,
But now it boots not to do so;
Against the Thunde'ring Cannon what Defence
But Truth, with her Attendant, Innocence?
402
And to the World their Excellence makes known.
When Factions rag'd; and Jesuits Tears
Had sunk into Fanatick Ears
And swell'd 'em to a Tympany with Jealousies and Fears;
When Roman Wolves the Folds at large did range,
And home-bred Bigots tugg'd and gap'd for Change;
When Innovation, with no Guard between,
Stood at the Door, and just was ent'ring in;
He with his Ever-ready helping Hand,
Did their united Rage withstand
And ev'n almost alone half propt a sinking Land.
IV.
What Jolly Sounds are these we hear?That so harmoniously contend
Which most shall Charm the Ear?
Or did the Future Gene'ral Joy depend
On the high Birth of this Illustrious PEER?
It did:—for see! the Country round,
On this Occasion ready found,
Obsequiously are come to pay
Their just Respects, and Celebrate the DAY.
See in their Faces their Affections spread,
And much is thought, tho' little said:
But when the Hearts unable to display
The Joy it feels, or Defer'ence it wou'd pay,
Nature exerts her self a Kindlier way:
For see! the shining Goblets all are crown'd
And the great Health goes nimbly round:
Wine does as free as Water flow,
And does to none Distinction know,
Dealt equally to High and Low:
Wine that cheers the Heart and Brain,
The Muses Innocent Delight,
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And higher wings her tow'ring Flight.
Sill it goes round, and let it still,
Let him not drink that does not fill,
Disgrace and Want of Liquor be his Lot;
Nor let Mirana's Health among you be forgot:
Nor yet the happy Heir,
The eldest Hope of the Illustrious Pair,
He who already nobly seeks a Name,
Reflects from what a high Descent he came,
And strives as much to be the Theme of Fame:
His Actions ev'n thus early brightly shine;
Nor shall there want a Pen to set 'em forth,
And be the Herald of his Worth,
If he but condescend t'accept of Mine.
V.
But while the Guests thus freely pass the DayIn Freedom, Peace and Love and Joy,
Mirana a yet much sublimer way
Does her Delight employ:
Into her Closet she is gone
(Slipt from the Company unknown)
And, like a Saint does there
Spread forth her Hands and breath this dutious Prayer—
Your Grant, Good Heav'n, to my Request afford;
Prolong the Life of my most loving Lord,
And to your Left Hand Gift of Wealth,
Join your Right Hand Gift of Health.
Health without which no Joys can be possest,
No Relish find in any Breast;
The Poignance, that, and Salt of all the rest.
Then will my Days like a smooth River glide,
That knows no Rub, or Wrinkle in the Tyde;
404
Soft as their Dreams to Infants are instill'd,
When sleeping, we imprinted find
In beatifick Smiles their perfect Peace of Mind:
And then, too will the Issue of his Bed
Exult and lift aloft the Head,
When they shall see their Father hale and strong,
And have the Hope to keep the Blessing long.
Grown up they will a great Example see
How happy Vertue here may make us be,
How near to Heav'n it does th'Affections bring
Before the Soul takes Wing;
And then in Emulation of their Sire,
To Gene'rous Deeds, and their Reward aspire.
Preserve him Heav'n, preserve him many Years,
Then shalt thou have my Praise, as now my Pray'rs:
And O! accept my Thanks for all the Space,
The happy Hours I've past in his Embrace,
Since Love did first our Souls combine,
And I was blest to call him Mine!
VI.
She 'as spoke, and Heav'n does grant:Heav'n cannot turn away it's Ear
From the unfeign'd and zealous Prayer
Of such a chast, and beaute'ous Suppliant.
Hear then Auspicious Day!
And as thou yearly com'st along,
Bring him still with thee cheerful, gay and strong:
And since we can but a short time be Young,
Let Age upon him gently steal,
Gently as Sleep the Eyes of Innocence does seal,
And the Effects of Age ne'er let him feel,
Consumption, Dropsy, Stone, or Gout,
Or any of the rueful Rout,
405
Without a Sigh or murmuring Sound,
Be wafted off from Life to the Celestial State;
A State ineffable, to last
When thou and all the Race of time are past;
For 'twill at last be found,
Time is but a Parenthesis in the eternal Round.
Hear then, O happy Day! if you
All that's impos'd on you will do,
And to your sacred Charge be true;
When the Records of time are open laid,
And 'tis disputed there
Which Day shall be the Century most illustrious made.
The Muse shall then appear,
Shall take Thee out and Name
But ABINGDON, that Word of Fame,
And straight like Joseph's Sheaves, the rest shall all
Prostrate around thee fall;
And Thou ascend the Regal Throne, with Scepter and with Ball.
| The Works of Mr. Robert Gould | |