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 first Sight of Silvia.
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 | The Works of Mr. Robert Gould |  |
The first Sight of Silvia.
Is it resolv'd that I must ever find
Cælia relentless, and no other Kind?
Too long, alas! and too much Love I've shewn
To one that is but harden'd by my Moan:
That Grief which Tigers Pity she will mock,
Deaf to entreaty, and her Heart a Rock.
Let me at last, O Love! some Female see,
Mild as the op'ning Morn, but fair as she:
I wou'd not die methinks, before I'd prov'd
(As 'tis to Love) what 'tis to be belov'd.
Cælia relentless, and no other Kind?
Too long, alas! and too much Love I've shewn
To one that is but harden'd by my Moan:
That Grief which Tigers Pity she will mock,
Deaf to entreaty, and her Heart a Rock.
Let me at last, O Love! some Female see,
Mild as the op'ning Morn, but fair as she:
I wou'd not die methinks, before I'd prov'd
(As 'tis to Love) what 'tis to be belov'd.
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I spoke; the God, propitious now, did hear,
And said—D'ye see that Charming Figure there?
Behold this Bow, drawn up with Strength and Art,
See! the Shaft flies and lodges in her Heart.
Now laugh at those that tell you Love is blind:
Away, nor doubt a quick Relief to find,
Your Cruel you shall change for one as Kind.
And said—D'ye see that Charming Figure there?
Behold this Bow, drawn up with Strength and Art,
See! the Shaft flies and lodges in her Heart.
Now laugh at those that tell you Love is blind:
Away, nor doubt a quick Relief to find,
Your Cruel you shall change for one as Kind.
I came, and to her Cheeks the Blushes flew,
The Lilies streight had lost their Native Hue,
And in their Room a Grove of Roses grew:
I found the Frailty climbing to her Eyes,
And in short Starts her Breasts wou'd fall and rise:
Yet with a Maiden Coyness still she strove,
And scarcely yet will own her Passion, Love.
The Lilies streight had lost their Native Hue,
And in their Room a Grove of Roses grew:
I found the Frailty climbing to her Eyes,
And in short Starts her Breasts wou'd fall and rise:
Yet with a Maiden Coyness still she strove,
And scarcely yet will own her Passion, Love.
O Silvia! (for of whom can all this be
Discours'd or meant, but only only Thee?
The God of Love himself your Love foretold;)
And what he gives 'twere Impious to with-hold.
Discours'd or meant, but only only Thee?
The God of Love himself your Love foretold;)
And what he gives 'twere Impious to with-hold.
| The Works of Mr. Robert Gould | |