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 Madam B. occasion'd by a Copy of
Verses of my Lady Ann Baynton's.
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 | The Works of Mr. Robert Gould |  |
102
To Madam B. occasion'd by a Copy of Verses of my Lady Ann Baynton's.
As when the Blest up to their Heav'n are gone,
And put their fadeless Wreaths of Lawrel on:
How are they pleas'd to hear their Vertues there
Made Angels Songs, that met Reproaches here?
No less amaz'd, nor less with Rapture fraught,
Rais'd above Earth with the exalted Thought,
I stood, to hear my Praise, contemn'd by Men,
Employ the Beauteous Adorissa's Pen!
And put their fadeless Wreaths of Lawrel on:
How are they pleas'd to hear their Vertues there
Made Angels Songs, that met Reproaches here?
No less amaz'd, nor less with Rapture fraught,
Rais'd above Earth with the exalted Thought,
I stood, to hear my Praise, contemn'd by Men,
Employ the Beauteous Adorissa's Pen!
All that we merit we but think our Due,
So but bare Satisfaction can ensue;
And Blessings hop'd for half the Bliss destroy,
For, oft, the Expectation palls the Joy;
But when unthought of, undeserv'd they come,
They give us Transport, and they strike it home:
So she, like Heav'n, does her Rewards impart,
Which fly beyond the Bounds of all Desert.
So but bare Satisfaction can ensue;
And Blessings hop'd for half the Bliss destroy,
For, oft, the Expectation palls the Joy;
But when unthought of, undeserv'd they come,
They give us Transport, and they strike it home:
So she, like Heav'n, does her Rewards impart,
Which fly beyond the Bounds of all Desert.
I now may boast I have Eternity;
For, sure, what she does write can never die:
Her Beauty may, perhaps, to Time submit,
But Time must fall a Trophy to her Wit.
For, sure, what she does write can never die:
Her Beauty may, perhaps, to Time submit,
But Time must fall a Trophy to her Wit.
Beneath her Shelter a low Shrub I lie,
And, safe entrench'd, the Envious Men defy;
While, like the Mountain Cedar, she surveys
The Plain, and whom she please does crown with Bays:
They cannot reach to her, nor dare reject
(To her high Worth preserving their Respect)
What she has deign'd to like, and to protect.
And, safe entrench'd, the Envious Men defy;
While, like the Mountain Cedar, she surveys
The Plain, and whom she please does crown with Bays:
They cannot reach to her, nor dare reject
(To her high Worth preserving their Respect)
What she has deign'd to like, and to protect.
103
But while her Wit is in our Praises shown,
Why is she so forgetful of her own?
Why Honour others, and neglect the Claim
To her undoubted Right, Immortal Fame?
Why is she so forgetful of her own?
Why Honour others, and neglect the Claim
To her undoubted Right, Immortal Fame?
'Tis therefore, Fair one, that these Lines you see,
That on this Subject you may join with me:
You can both write, and judge of what is writ,
A Priestess of the Mysteries of Wit:
Tho' her own Worth refuses to comply,
And clips the Wings with which her Praise shou'd fly,
We so far may reject her Modesty;
We shou'd, howe'er, attempt to do her Right;
The Subject will instruct us to indite.
That on this Subject you may join with me:
You can both write, and judge of what is writ,
A Priestess of the Mysteries of Wit:
Tho' her own Worth refuses to comply,
And clips the Wings with which her Praise shou'd fly,
We so far may reject her Modesty;
We shou'd, howe'er, attempt to do her Right;
The Subject will instruct us to indite.
Does not her Eyes, which we with Joy behold,
Transcend Fictitious Goddesses of old?
Her Form so Noble, and so sweet her Air,
That gazing once we fix for ever there!
Her Smile, like Transport, ev'ry Care controuls,
And finds a quicker Passage to our Souls.
She wounds, we bleed; and dying, bless our Fate;
So much she pities what she's forc'd to hate.
With Joy and with Despair at once we strive,
Her Honour kills us, and her Eyes revive.
But ah! so far above our Reach she flies,
We only upward look with longing Eyes,
And must not, cannot, dare no higher rise.
Just with such Looks was the rich Miser seen,
When he view'd Heav'n—and the broad Gulf between,
Her Vertue gives to Love no smallest Scope,
But blasts, and quite annihilates our Hope.
Transcend Fictitious Goddesses of old?
Her Form so Noble, and so sweet her Air,
That gazing once we fix for ever there!
Her Smile, like Transport, ev'ry Care controuls,
And finds a quicker Passage to our Souls.
She wounds, we bleed; and dying, bless our Fate;
So much she pities what she's forc'd to hate.
With Joy and with Despair at once we strive,
Her Honour kills us, and her Eyes revive.
But ah! so far above our Reach she flies,
We only upward look with longing Eyes,
And must not, cannot, dare no higher rise.
Just with such Looks was the rich Miser seen,
When he view'd Heav'n—and the broad Gulf between,
Her Vertue gives to Love no smallest Scope,
But blasts, and quite annihilates our Hope.
Yet Matchless tho' her Beauty be, her Smile
Is not more sweet and lively than her Stile.
Her Eyes themselves have not more melting Charms,
And ev'n her Love not more Divinely warms;
When drest in all the Sweets of blooming Youth,
Adorning mighty Love with Mightier Truth,
She does to Damon's eager wishes hast,
With equal Warmth embracing and embrac't.
Well did the Swain deserve so great a Good,
Who in the Bud the Flower understood,
And knew to what Advantage 'twou'd be shown
When Spring was come, and all it's Graces blown.
Is not more sweet and lively than her Stile.
104
And ev'n her Love not more Divinely warms;
When drest in all the Sweets of blooming Youth,
Adorning mighty Love with Mightier Truth,
She does to Damon's eager wishes hast,
With equal Warmth embracing and embrac't.
Well did the Swain deserve so great a Good,
Who in the Bud the Flower understood,
And knew to what Advantage 'twou'd be shown
When Spring was come, and all it's Graces blown.
Here we shou'd all her other Gifts declare,
For of all else she has as large a Share:
But O! what Pen, or Pencil can we find
Able to paint the Brightness of her Mind!
Which, open'd to our View, diffuses round
A Flood of Lustre that does Sight confound;
Forces the Muse her airy Flight to stay,
VVhich here must stop, or else must lose it's VVay.
For of all else she has as large a Share:
But O! what Pen, or Pencil can we find
Able to paint the Brightness of her Mind!
Which, open'd to our View, diffuses round
A Flood of Lustre that does Sight confound;
Forces the Muse her airy Flight to stay,
VVhich here must stop, or else must lose it's VVay.
So when from Heav'n, and brighter than the Sun,
A sudden Glory round th'Apostle shon,
Too much Refulgence did oppress his Sight,
And he fell blind amid'st the Blaze of Light.
A sudden Glory round th'Apostle shon,
Too much Refulgence did oppress his Sight,
And he fell blind amid'st the Blaze of Light.
| The Works of Mr. Robert Gould | |