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 Works of Mr. Robert Gould |  |
To the much Honoured Gilbert Gerrard-Cosen Esq; on the Report of his being Dead.
When to my Ears the Dismal Tydings flew,
And my own Fears had made me think 'em true,
A silent Sorrow on my Soul did seize,
And fill'd my Breast with such sad Thoughts as these.
And my own Fears had made me think 'em true,
A silent Sorrow on my Soul did seize,
And fill'd my Breast with such sad Thoughts as these.
Ah! why shou'd Mortal Man on Life depend,
Which once, and none can tell how soon, must end?
Ev'en He, but now so healthy, and so gay,
Chearful as April's Sun, and fresh as May,
Whom ev'ry Grace adorn'd and doated on,
In the full bloom of Life is dead and gone!
Cropt from the Stalk! the vernal Sweets decay'd!
So flourish't Jonah's Gourd and so did fade!
Nor cou'd that Loss th'Impatient Prophet bear,
He beat his Breast, and griev'd ev'n to Despair:
Ah! how can I then mourn enough for thee,
Who always wer't a Jonah's Gourd to me,
A shelter from the Storms of Poverty?
Yet Witness Heav'n it is not only Gain,
The Loss of so much Worth I most complain.
Honour he priz'd, and has this Honour gain'd,
'Twas ne'er by an Ignoble Action stain'd.
Nor was his Wit of a less Sterling Coin,
He ow'd it not to Blasphemy, or Wine.
Ah! why, ye Pow'rs! why was his Morn so bright,
If you design'd so soon to banish Light,
And bring on Gloomy Death and Endless Night!
Which once, and none can tell how soon, must end?
Ev'en He, but now so healthy, and so gay,
Chearful as April's Sun, and fresh as May,
Whom ev'ry Grace adorn'd and doated on,
In the full bloom of Life is dead and gone!
Cropt from the Stalk! the vernal Sweets decay'd!
So flourish't Jonah's Gourd and so did fade!
Nor cou'd that Loss th'Impatient Prophet bear,
He beat his Breast, and griev'd ev'n to Despair:
Ah! how can I then mourn enough for thee,
Who always wer't a Jonah's Gourd to me,
A shelter from the Storms of Poverty?
Yet Witness Heav'n it is not only Gain,
The Loss of so much Worth I most complain.
Honour he priz'd, and has this Honour gain'd,
'Twas ne'er by an Ignoble Action stain'd.
Nor was his Wit of a less Sterling Coin,
He ow'd it not to Blasphemy, or Wine.
83
If you design'd so soon to banish Light,
And bring on Gloomy Death and Endless Night!
But Lo! as thus I did indulge my Grief,
The happy News arriv'd that gave Relief.
A gust of Joy ran thro' each Vital Part,
Flam'd in my Eyes, and revel'd in my Heart!
He lives! I cry'd, die those that wish Him ill,
He lives! the Great Young Man is with us still:
He lives! that Word shall dwell upon my Tongue,
He lives! shall be the Burden of my Song!
He lives!—and 'tis my Prayer he may live long.
The happy News arriv'd that gave Relief.
A gust of Joy ran thro' each Vital Part,
Flam'd in my Eyes, and revel'd in my Heart!
He lives! I cry'd, die those that wish Him ill,
He lives! the Great Young Man is with us still:
He lives! that Word shall dwell upon my Tongue,
He lives! shall be the Burden of my Song!
He lives!—and 'tis my Prayer he may live long.
| The Works of Mr. Robert Gould | |