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 L.
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 | The Works of Mr. Robert Gould |  |
To Madam L.
Fair is your Sex, but ah! so faithless, they
Indeed deserve what we in Satyr say:
But some among the rest, a very few,
Like Dia'monds in the Dust, attract our View:
Among which Number, sparkling like a Star,
Elate, you shine, and spread your Lustre far.
Ah noble Maid! but in thy Age's Noon,
And make Perfection all your Own so soon!
Shewing thy Sex (and ah! that more wou'd please
To trace thy Steps) they may be Good with ease;
That Vertue's not a Scare-Crow to affright,
But soft as kind'ling Love, and mild as op'ning Light.
'Tis true, our Teachers with their wayward Looks,
And doz'd with poring on too Rigid Books,
Say 'tis a Blessing none cou'd ever gain
Without an Age of Patience, Toil and Pain;
But why shou'd they make rough, what you have made so Plain?
While of such strong Impediments they tell,
They fright the striving Few from doing well;
And clog their Thoughts; which else wou'd light-some fly,
Led on by yours, and reach the ample Sky.
'Tis granted that Temptations will abound,
But whom seduce?—The Sickly, not the Sound:
Gold shines in vain, in vain Ambition sings,
To one that does contemplate nobler Things;
That sees the Goal, and with a sober Pace
(For some run fast and tire) keeps on and wins the Race.
Indeed deserve what we in Satyr say:
But some among the rest, a very few,
Like Dia'monds in the Dust, attract our View:
Among which Number, sparkling like a Star,
Elate, you shine, and spread your Lustre far.
Ah noble Maid! but in thy Age's Noon,
And make Perfection all your Own so soon!
Shewing thy Sex (and ah! that more wou'd please
To trace thy Steps) they may be Good with ease;
108
But soft as kind'ling Love, and mild as op'ning Light.
'Tis true, our Teachers with their wayward Looks,
And doz'd with poring on too Rigid Books,
Say 'tis a Blessing none cou'd ever gain
Without an Age of Patience, Toil and Pain;
But why shou'd they make rough, what you have made so Plain?
While of such strong Impediments they tell,
They fright the striving Few from doing well;
And clog their Thoughts; which else wou'd light-some fly,
Led on by yours, and reach the ample Sky.
'Tis granted that Temptations will abound,
But whom seduce?—The Sickly, not the Sound:
Gold shines in vain, in vain Ambition sings,
To one that does contemplate nobler Things;
That sees the Goal, and with a sober Pace
(For some run fast and tire) keeps on and wins the Race.
Ill Fare the rigid Dame, and wrinkl'd Face,
(As far from Common Sense, as Sin from Grace)
That says none can be Wise, or Chast, but those
That whine and cant, and snuffle in the Nose,
And wear, by Choice, unfashionable Cloaths:
But decent Ornament, tho' such abase,
Instead of a Reproof commands our Praise.
Why shou'd that Lady be thought vain, or proud,
That loves to be distinguish'd from the Crowd?
The Crowd (not Sin shou'd be avoided more)
Those two-leg'd Bruits, more senseless than the Four.
(As far from Common Sense, as Sin from Grace)
That says none can be Wise, or Chast, but those
That whine and cant, and snuffle in the Nose,
And wear, by Choice, unfashionable Cloaths:
But decent Ornament, tho' such abase,
Instead of a Reproof commands our Praise.
Why shou'd that Lady be thought vain, or proud,
That loves to be distinguish'd from the Crowd?
The Crowd (not Sin shou'd be avoided more)
Those two-leg'd Bruits, more senseless than the Four.
Yet that a Mean shou'd be observ'd is true,
And 'tis as sure that Mean's observ'd by few.
The Woman shou'd not like her Lady dress,
(She may let her Impertinence be less;)
Nor Drabs of the Exchange, of base Report,
Be trick't like a fine Beauty of the Court.
In Quality there's many things allow'd
Which in a meaner State is being Proud;
Tho' oft in Quality it self we see
A strange Corruption of this Liberty.
Extravagance in Dress is the Abuse,
And that, in no Degree, admits excuse.
The senseless City Spouse does most affect
That costly Wear the better bred reject;
Such will have rich Attire; and when 'tis done,
They're aukwardly and flantingly put on.
Just as a Coward's known by Bullying Oaths,
So is the City Wife by tawdry Cloaths:
Or if in those her Folly is not seen,
'Tis open'd in her Breeding and her Mien.
This Mushroom Race will still the Ladies hate,
And yet while they revile they Imitate;
But ne'er can reach the soft and conqu'ring Air,
The easy flowing which attends the Fair
That have been nobly born, and train'd with Care:
In Youth th'Impression took, the Charms abide,
So there 'tis Nature, and in these 'tis Pride.
'Tis not a Town, or Court, tho' Daily seen,
That forms a just and an accomplish'd Mien;
The Bright'ning Seed must first within take Root,
Before it can produce the shining Fruit.
To hear these Cits on Quality declaim,
You'd think great Ladies had no Sense of Shame;
So filthily they daub a noble Name.
And yet, forsooth, (so senseless is their Pride)
With Madam they must all be dignify'd:
Rak'd from the Country, and the Stench of Stews,
When e'er they're spoke to we must Madam use:
Their pratt'ling Children must lay Mammy by,
And answer in the Stile of Quality.
This Publick Grievance is not strange, or new,
Nor is it only Practis'd by a few;
The Vice is gen'ral, and the Measure's full,
Ev'n from the Merchant's Spouse down to the Porter's Trull.
And 'tis as sure that Mean's observ'd by few.
The Woman shou'd not like her Lady dress,
(She may let her Impertinence be less;)
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Be trick't like a fine Beauty of the Court.
In Quality there's many things allow'd
Which in a meaner State is being Proud;
Tho' oft in Quality it self we see
A strange Corruption of this Liberty.
Extravagance in Dress is the Abuse,
And that, in no Degree, admits excuse.
The senseless City Spouse does most affect
That costly Wear the better bred reject;
Such will have rich Attire; and when 'tis done,
They're aukwardly and flantingly put on.
Just as a Coward's known by Bullying Oaths,
So is the City Wife by tawdry Cloaths:
Or if in those her Folly is not seen,
'Tis open'd in her Breeding and her Mien.
This Mushroom Race will still the Ladies hate,
And yet while they revile they Imitate;
But ne'er can reach the soft and conqu'ring Air,
The easy flowing which attends the Fair
That have been nobly born, and train'd with Care:
In Youth th'Impression took, the Charms abide,
So there 'tis Nature, and in these 'tis Pride.
'Tis not a Town, or Court, tho' Daily seen,
That forms a just and an accomplish'd Mien;
The Bright'ning Seed must first within take Root,
Before it can produce the shining Fruit.
To hear these Cits on Quality declaim,
You'd think great Ladies had no Sense of Shame;
So filthily they daub a noble Name.
And yet, forsooth, (so senseless is their Pride)
With Madam they must all be dignify'd:
Rak'd from the Country, and the Stench of Stews,
When e'er they're spoke to we must Madam use:
Their pratt'ling Children must lay Mammy by,
And answer in the Stile of Quality.
110
Nor is it only Practis'd by a few;
The Vice is gen'ral, and the Measure's full,
Ev'n from the Merchant's Spouse down to the Porter's Trull.
A Thousand like Examples we may find:
But thou art to the happy Mean inclin'd,
Ev'n in thy Outward Dress we see thy inmost Mind:
So full of Modesty it dazles Sight,
And renders thee our Wonder and Delight:
Fine, and yet flowing; as there had no Care
Been us'd in Dressing; then thy easie Air
(Neither too stiff, nor, which is worse, too free,
But just what true Deportment ought to be)
Mixt with thy pleasing Converse, is a Charm
That more than Joy allures, and more than Life does warm!
But thou art to the happy Mean inclin'd,
Ev'n in thy Outward Dress we see thy inmost Mind:
So full of Modesty it dazles Sight,
And renders thee our Wonder and Delight:
Fine, and yet flowing; as there had no Care
Been us'd in Dressing; then thy easie Air
(Neither too stiff, nor, which is worse, too free,
But just what true Deportment ought to be)
Mixt with thy pleasing Converse, is a Charm
That more than Joy allures, and more than Life does warm!
Happy for VVomankind, as happy too
For us, were all your Beauteous Sex like you;
VVou'd they Behaviour from thy Pattern learn,
Dress well, but make the Soul their chief Concern.
But ah! Mankind wou'd then too happy be;
And Heav'n has shew'd us, in creating thee,
Such VVorth's a thing we must but seldom see:
For, unlike thee, most of your Sex we find
Not made to Pleasure, but to Plague Mankind.
Vain are our Youth to let you then so long
Thus single live—but 'tis themselves they wrong:
Or rather you're unkind, and will not take
Th'Addresses which, without Dispute, they make:
For they have Hearts Impression to receive,
And you have Eyes to conquer and enslave.
Yes! yes! I see 'em at your Foot-stool kneel,
I hear 'em sigh, and with a Pang reveal
That Love they did with greater Pangs conceal!
O don't persist thus cruel!—but encline
To Pity; Love's a Passion all Divine:
Make some one Happy, and reward his Care;
And ease the rest by giving 'em Despair.
For us, were all your Beauteous Sex like you;
VVou'd they Behaviour from thy Pattern learn,
Dress well, but make the Soul their chief Concern.
But ah! Mankind wou'd then too happy be;
And Heav'n has shew'd us, in creating thee,
Such VVorth's a thing we must but seldom see:
For, unlike thee, most of your Sex we find
Not made to Pleasure, but to Plague Mankind.
Vain are our Youth to let you then so long
Thus single live—but 'tis themselves they wrong:
Or rather you're unkind, and will not take
Th'Addresses which, without Dispute, they make:
For they have Hearts Impression to receive,
And you have Eyes to conquer and enslave.
Yes! yes! I see 'em at your Foot-stool kneel,
I hear 'em sigh, and with a Pang reveal
That Love they did with greater Pangs conceal!
111
To Pity; Love's a Passion all Divine:
Make some one Happy, and reward his Care;
And ease the rest by giving 'em Despair.
| The Works of Mr. Robert Gould | |