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] |
 | 1. |
| 2. |
 | The Works of Mr. Robert Gould |  |
On my Lord of Abingdon's Marriage with the Lady Wenman.
'Tis done! Triumphant Accents rend the Air,
And Hymen never made a Happier Pair:
Delight does ev'ry Heart and Tongue Employ,
And the Consenting Nation gives 'em Joy!
And Hymen never made a Happier Pair:
Delight does ev'ry Heart and Tongue Employ,
And the Consenting Nation gives 'em Joy!
Thus Heav'n afflicted Vertue makes it's Care,
And when our Suffer'ings seem beyond Repair,
Raises Relief ev'n from our Own Despair.
Born for each others Joy; no Way but this
Cou'd reinstate 'em in their Former Bliss.
His Love her Widow'd Hours has overpaid;
Ev'n by her Loss she is but happier made.
And He cou'd have for years in Sorrow led,
And all the Tears for dear Mirana shed,
No Recompence but Beauteous Wenman's Bed:
Equal in Worth, and equal in her Charms,
And he once more does clasp an Angel in his Arms!
And when our Suffer'ings seem beyond Repair,
Raises Relief ev'n from our Own Despair.
Born for each others Joy; no Way but this
Cou'd reinstate 'em in their Former Bliss.
His Love her Widow'd Hours has overpaid;
Ev'n by her Loss she is but happier made.
And He cou'd have for years in Sorrow led,
And all the Tears for dear Mirana shed,
No Recompence but Beauteous Wenman's Bed:
Equal in Worth, and equal in her Charms,
And he once more does clasp an Angel in his Arms!
184
As when the Sole Arabian Phœnix dies,
Another from the Spicy Urn does rise,
And with it's wond'rous Perfume fill the Skies:
So from their very Grief their Pleasure Springs;
Tow'ring aloft, with Riches on her Wings,
She higher Sores and more Divinely Sings.
Another from the Spicy Urn does rise,
And with it's wond'rous Perfume fill the Skies:
So from their very Grief their Pleasure Springs;
Tow'ring aloft, with Riches on her Wings,
She higher Sores and more Divinely Sings.
Thus at the last Discriminating Day
(The Dross of Human Nature purg'd away)
The op'ning Graves our Bodies shall restore,
Their Beauty, Glory, and Perfection more
Than all their Prime of Youth cou'd boast before:
But yet more happy is this Mutual Pair;
Preceding what again will happen there,
Their Joys have found a Resurrection here.
(The Dross of Human Nature purg'd away)
The op'ning Graves our Bodies shall restore,
Their Beauty, Glory, and Perfection more
Than all their Prime of Youth cou'd boast before:
But yet more happy is this Mutual Pair;
Preceding what again will happen there,
Their Joys have found a Resurrection here.
When such bright Omens such a Work attend,
As 'tis commenc'd in Joy, so late 'twill end.
All just like this (so 'tis in Time decreed)
Shall be the happy Moments that succeed:
Soft as the Spheres on their smooth Axles move,
The Hours shall run Perpetual Rounds of Love!
Encreasing Mut'ual Comforts as they come,
As Figures added still augment the Sum.
As 'tis commenc'd in Joy, so late 'twill end.
All just like this (so 'tis in Time decreed)
Shall be the happy Moments that succeed:
Soft as the Spheres on their smooth Axles move,
The Hours shall run Perpetual Rounds of Love!
Encreasing Mut'ual Comforts as they come,
As Figures added still augment the Sum.
Where Love alone cements the Marriage Tye
The Knot may soon dissolve, and Passion dye;
Who only Beauty weds, when Beauty goes
No Conjugal Endearment longer shows:
Hence Love at Twenty, is at Thirty Strife,
And Hony-moons but bode a Wretched Life.
But there where Beauty does with Honour meet,
And Vertue joyns to make the Work compleat,
There Peace does dwell, and ever new Delight,
And Joys that terminate beyond our Sight:
The rest is vain:—Only where Vertue's given,
Entitles Marriage for the Work of Heav'n.
The Knot may soon dissolve, and Passion dye;
Who only Beauty weds, when Beauty goes
No Conjugal Endearment longer shows:
Hence Love at Twenty, is at Thirty Strife,
And Hony-moons but bode a Wretched Life.
But there where Beauty does with Honour meet,
And Vertue joyns to make the Work compleat,
There Peace does dwell, and ever new Delight,
And Joys that terminate beyond our Sight:
185
Entitles Marriage for the Work of Heav'n.
Not as of Old; but, each by each betray'd,
Wedlock a Snare is to the Wedded made,
And grown a Cheat like ev'ry other Trade.
This only Match redeems the Credit lost;
One such Example is an Age's boast.
Wedlock a Snare is to the Wedded made,
And grown a Cheat like ev'ry other Trade.
This only Match redeems the Credit lost;
One such Example is an Age's boast.
But now, Methinks, the City Consort's drown'd,
Tho' in less artful, yet a happier sound;
For with his Oaten Reed th'exulting Swain
(As if 'twou'd be the Golden Age again)
Spreads Peace and Love and Gladness thro' the Plain.
The happy news has reach'd their Rural Cells,
And Fame aloud her Gratefull Message tells.
Rejoyce, you Shepherds! and you Nymphs, rejoyce!
Vertue is pleas'd, and Beauty has her Choice.
Thoughtless of ill, and hating all Disguise,
Your Hearts are ever open'd in your Eyes,
Esteeming to be Honest more than Wise:
Into your humble Dwellings Care can find
No Entrance; Care, the Gangrene of the Mind.
Safe in your Circles Trouble you defy,
It glares aloof, or else stalks sullen by;
Ill can't approach and Innocence so Nigh.
Now speak your Joy! and welcome to your Groves
The Chastest Flame that ever sprung from Loves.
You with this happy Pair will most be blest,
Friends from their Childhood to your Shades profest;
O for their Plenty still return 'em Rest!
In Cities (gilded with expensive Pride)
Let Fool and Knave the Rural Life deride:
Let Ladies, too, thro' their false Opticks see,
And, name but Country, cry—Barbaritie!
When yet in Courts they shall no higher Climb
Than to turn lewd, and Rot before their Time.
These, better knowing, build the Halcyon's Nest
Where only, only Man from Strifes can rest.
In Peaceful Shades and in the Silent Bow'rs,
Ceres with Fruits, and Flora hid in Flow'rs,
What thankless Wretch cou'd misemploy his Hours?
There, Seeing how to Vertue still they tend,
We look, admire; we Imitate, and Mend;
And once Astræa does again descend!
Tho' in less artful, yet a happier sound;
For with his Oaten Reed th'exulting Swain
(As if 'twou'd be the Golden Age again)
Spreads Peace and Love and Gladness thro' the Plain.
The happy news has reach'd their Rural Cells,
And Fame aloud her Gratefull Message tells.
Rejoyce, you Shepherds! and you Nymphs, rejoyce!
Vertue is pleas'd, and Beauty has her Choice.
Thoughtless of ill, and hating all Disguise,
Your Hearts are ever open'd in your Eyes,
Esteeming to be Honest more than Wise:
Into your humble Dwellings Care can find
No Entrance; Care, the Gangrene of the Mind.
Safe in your Circles Trouble you defy,
It glares aloof, or else stalks sullen by;
Ill can't approach and Innocence so Nigh.
Now speak your Joy! and welcome to your Groves
The Chastest Flame that ever sprung from Loves.
You with this happy Pair will most be blest,
Friends from their Childhood to your Shades profest;
O for their Plenty still return 'em Rest!
In Cities (gilded with expensive Pride)
Let Fool and Knave the Rural Life deride:
Let Ladies, too, thro' their false Opticks see,
And, name but Country, cry—Barbaritie!
When yet in Courts they shall no higher Climb
Than to turn lewd, and Rot before their Time.
186
Where only, only Man from Strifes can rest.
In Peaceful Shades and in the Silent Bow'rs,
Ceres with Fruits, and Flora hid in Flow'rs,
What thankless Wretch cou'd misemploy his Hours?
There, Seeing how to Vertue still they tend,
We look, admire; we Imitate, and Mend;
And once Astræa does again descend!
If such are pleas'd who but at Distance see,
What must their near Relation's Transport be?
Those who their Blood from the same Fountains drew,
And clearly see what these but darkly view;
Who in like Acts their happy Time employ,
And whose Alliance gives 'em ampler Joy.
What must their near Relation's Transport be?
Those who their Blood from the same Fountains drew,
And clearly see what these but darkly view;
Who in like Acts their happy Time employ,
And whose Alliance gives 'em ampler Joy.
By Contemplation of what Theirs may be,
We yet climb higher 'toward Felicitie:
A Nobler Object now our Duty claims,
Norreys! tho' Young, an Elder Son of Fame's.
Nor can he hide the Transport; 'twill arise,
Dance on his Tongue, and Triumph in his Eyes.
His Parents Happiness is his Content,
And theirs Augmenting make his own Augment.
Scarce e'er before Heav'n to a Father gave
An Heir so Prudent, Dutyful and Brave.
Most elder Sons a diffe'rent Gale does drive,
Mourning but while their Parents are alive;
Only to Women, Wit and Wine devout,
Merc'ry within drives all their Rev'rence out:
He, chaster, only fills his Consort's Arms,
Nor has a wish on Earth beyond her Charms:
Or if he had, cou'd hardly higher rear
Imagin'd Graces than the Real there.
Lovely as Innocence in Truth's attire!
Her Vertue all that Precept can require,
And fixt, like Heav'n's, not to be mounted higher;
Her wond'rous Sweetness (to the meanest kind)
Her Ample Fortune and her Wealthier Mind;
Are Blessings that we strive withal to bear!
Oppressing Pleasure!—but the coming Heir
Will lighten half the happy Burden there.
We yet climb higher 'toward Felicitie:
A Nobler Object now our Duty claims,
Norreys! tho' Young, an Elder Son of Fame's.
Nor can he hide the Transport; 'twill arise,
Dance on his Tongue, and Triumph in his Eyes.
His Parents Happiness is his Content,
And theirs Augmenting make his own Augment.
Scarce e'er before Heav'n to a Father gave
An Heir so Prudent, Dutyful and Brave.
Most elder Sons a diffe'rent Gale does drive,
Mourning but while their Parents are alive;
Only to Women, Wit and Wine devout,
Merc'ry within drives all their Rev'rence out:
He, chaster, only fills his Consort's Arms,
Nor has a wish on Earth beyond her Charms:
Or if he had, cou'd hardly higher rear
Imagin'd Graces than the Real there.
187
Her Vertue all that Precept can require,
And fixt, like Heav'n's, not to be mounted higher;
Her wond'rous Sweetness (to the meanest kind)
Her Ample Fortune and her Wealthier Mind;
Are Blessings that we strive withal to bear!
Oppressing Pleasure!—but the coming Heir
Will lighten half the happy Burden there.
Nor less his Gene'rous Brothers bless the Day;
Nor less the Muse cou'd of their Vertues say,
Had she but Leisure on the Theme to stay.
Great is the Hope their Country on 'em builds,
Nor less the Promise of their Courage yields.
O more than happy in a Parents Name!
And in his Matchless Sons their Sire the same!
Who can Six Brothers of that Substance find,
Equally strong in Body and in Mind,
And yet their Fathers Years no more declin'd?
Arriv'd but little past the Middle Stage,
Fix'd from of old to be the Bound of Age.
Healthy and Vig'rous, Chearful, Strong and Gay,
As if h' had Number'd no more Years than they.
In Copying Him they'll be secure of Fame,
And make their own, like his, a Deathless Name.
Their Birth ensures their Vertue; to be Good,
They need but trace the Dictates of their Blood.
Magnetick, it does Nature's Pow'r controul,
To ev'ry Vertuous Way encline the Soul,
As Needles touch'd are sure to find the Pole.
Brave and yet Pious, just their Father's make,
From whose Example they th'Infusion take.
From what vast Sourse can all this Goodness flow!
The Sun, that does perpetual Light bestow,
Remains the same, and does not brighter grow:
But while the Bounty of his Worth is shown,
He, still bestowing, still augments his own.
Nor less the Muse cou'd of their Vertues say,
Had she but Leisure on the Theme to stay.
Great is the Hope their Country on 'em builds,
Nor less the Promise of their Courage yields.
O more than happy in a Parents Name!
And in his Matchless Sons their Sire the same!
Who can Six Brothers of that Substance find,
Equally strong in Body and in Mind,
And yet their Fathers Years no more declin'd?
Arriv'd but little past the Middle Stage,
Fix'd from of old to be the Bound of Age.
Healthy and Vig'rous, Chearful, Strong and Gay,
As if h' had Number'd no more Years than they.
In Copying Him they'll be secure of Fame,
And make their own, like his, a Deathless Name.
Their Birth ensures their Vertue; to be Good,
They need but trace the Dictates of their Blood.
Magnetick, it does Nature's Pow'r controul,
To ev'ry Vertuous Way encline the Soul,
As Needles touch'd are sure to find the Pole.
Brave and yet Pious, just their Father's make,
From whose Example they th'Infusion take.
From what vast Sourse can all this Goodness flow!
The Sun, that does perpetual Light bestow,
Remains the same, and does not brighter grow:
188
He, still bestowing, still augments his own.
Three Sisters next their Beauteous Faces show,
And Love around 'em plants th'unerring Bow:
The Shafts already he begins to whet,
And wheresoe'er they look their Points are set.
Who can from their Meridian Glory run,
That at their Rising cast so warm a Sun!
Their charming Mother shines in ev'ry Part,
Flames in their Eyes, and fixes in the Heart:
That wond'rous Pattern, shou'd they Practise right,
Will make 'em Vertue's Boast, and Man's delight.
'Tis done! the Muse, that future Worth can tell,
Sees how they all the Charming Race excell.
Mean while their Father's happy Nuptial-Night
They Celebrate with Triumph and Delight;
Delight that only will be Greater known
That Happier Night they Celebrate their own.
I see, methinks, the Youths, whose Future Care
Will be to pay their Adoration there;
I see, at last, how they Successful prove,
Truth crown'd with Truth, and Love return'd with Love!
And Love around 'em plants th'unerring Bow:
The Shafts already he begins to whet,
And wheresoe'er they look their Points are set.
Who can from their Meridian Glory run,
That at their Rising cast so warm a Sun!
Their charming Mother shines in ev'ry Part,
Flames in their Eyes, and fixes in the Heart:
That wond'rous Pattern, shou'd they Practise right,
Will make 'em Vertue's Boast, and Man's delight.
'Tis done! the Muse, that future Worth can tell,
Sees how they all the Charming Race excell.
Mean while their Father's happy Nuptial-Night
They Celebrate with Triumph and Delight;
Delight that only will be Greater known
That Happier Night they Celebrate their own.
I see, methinks, the Youths, whose Future Care
Will be to pay their Adoration there;
I see, at last, how they Successful prove,
Truth crown'd with Truth, and Love return'd with Love!
O Wenman! in this Noble Consort joyn,
And with like Accents own the Match Divine.
Your Gain's the same; and so the same shou'd be
Your thanks to Heav'n for their Felicitie.
The few whose Veins are fill'd with Noble Blood,
Have double Obligation to be Good:
They shou'd not less than their Fore-fathers shine,
But still be lending Lustre to the Line;
That Fame, Successively, may higher rise,
By just Gradations, till she reach the Skies.
And with like Accents own the Match Divine.
Your Gain's the same; and so the same shou'd be
Your thanks to Heav'n for their Felicitie.
The few whose Veins are fill'd with Noble Blood,
Have double Obligation to be Good:
They shou'd not less than their Fore-fathers shine,
But still be lending Lustre to the Line;
That Fame, Successively, may higher rise,
By just Gradations, till she reach the Skies.
189
Nor fail thy Blooming Sisters, tho' they're Young,
To give us Hope they'll once inspire our Song:
While a more moving Joy our Cares beguile,
They know no other Pleasure but to smile:
But what more happy Omen can commence
With Wedlock than the Smiles of Innocence?
O were they to the Muse but better known,
Their Praises (which wou'd soon advance her own)
She'd sing aloud to the Succeeding Age,
Invite their Wonder, and their Hearts engage;
And by the Bud of Beauty, blushing shown,
Prepare our Youth against 'twas fully blown.
To give us Hope they'll once inspire our Song:
While a more moving Joy our Cares beguile,
They know no other Pleasure but to smile:
But what more happy Omen can commence
With Wedlock than the Smiles of Innocence?
O were they to the Muse but better known,
Their Praises (which wou'd soon advance her own)
She'd sing aloud to the Succeeding Age,
Invite their Wonder, and their Hearts engage;
And by the Bud of Beauty, blushing shown,
Prepare our Youth against 'twas fully blown.
What sacred Hand cou'd thus Divinely strike,
At once to Tune these diff'rent Strings alike?
Make various Int'rests with one Soul agree,
And without Discord cause such Harmonie?
A Harmony that lasting Joy imparts:
O Wond'rous Musick of agreeing Hearts!
No other Skill this Concord cou'd inspire,
But what presides in the Celestial Quire:
Nor less th'effect cou'd of the Union be
Of all her Charms with all his Pietie.
At once to Tune these diff'rent Strings alike?
Make various Int'rests with one Soul agree,
And without Discord cause such Harmonie?
A Harmony that lasting Joy imparts:
O Wond'rous Musick of agreeing Hearts!
No other Skill this Concord cou'd inspire,
But what presides in the Celestial Quire:
Nor less th'effect cou'd of the Union be
Of all her Charms with all his Pietie.
Cou'd we describe Him 'twere a Noble Toil,
A Work on which succeeding Times might smile:
'Tis true, a Happier Pen has led the Way,
Yet we'll endeavour at a faint Essay.
A Work on which succeeding Times might smile:
'Tis true, a Happier Pen has led the Way,
Yet we'll endeavour at a faint Essay.
His wond'rous Youth did early Promise give
To what a Pitch his Worth wou'd once arrive:
His Riper Vertues are a Proof how near
Man may attain to a Perfection here.
So Good, as if alone for good design'd!
Nor is his Form less Charming than his Mind:
A Manly Loveliness his Look does wear;
The Sweet and Strong are justly mingl'd there.
Nor others, nor himself he e'er deceives;
And nothing's left unpractis'd he believes.
More than his Foes he for their Error mourns,
And Good for Evil constantly returns.
What e'er his Anger, or what e'er his Wrong,
He ne'er cou'd carry his Resentment long;
But Pardon ask, it bears from thence it's Date;
No Criminal cou'd ever come too late:
Quite from his Memory you raze th'Offence,
So like a God he smiles on Penitence.
While we can think on Wrongs w'are yet not ev'n,
And Copy ill the Precept taught by Heav'n;
For he that's not forgot is not forgiv'n.
Thus a strict Eye he o'er his Conscience keeps,
And he will be at Peace before he sleeps.
Nor has he but one Way arriv'd at Fame;
In Publick and in Private he's the same.
In Storms that did the Barque of State o'erwhelm,
And threw th'unhappy Pilot from the Helm;
When Pow'rful Faction did the Land divide;
When boundless Lust and Arbitrary Pride
O'erflow'd our Laws with an Impetuous Tyde;
When plucking down the State but half wou'd do,
And the next Step was to Unchurch us too,
Then did our Hero in the Breach abide,
Constant to Truth, and faithful to his Side,
When Loyalty was never Nicelier try'd;
When Conscience stood confounded at the Sight,
And trim'd, it self, between the Wrong and Right.
To what a Pitch his Worth wou'd once arrive:
His Riper Vertues are a Proof how near
Man may attain to a Perfection here.
So Good, as if alone for good design'd!
Nor is his Form less Charming than his Mind:
190
The Sweet and Strong are justly mingl'd there.
Nor others, nor himself he e'er deceives;
And nothing's left unpractis'd he believes.
More than his Foes he for their Error mourns,
And Good for Evil constantly returns.
What e'er his Anger, or what e'er his Wrong,
He ne'er cou'd carry his Resentment long;
But Pardon ask, it bears from thence it's Date;
No Criminal cou'd ever come too late:
Quite from his Memory you raze th'Offence,
So like a God he smiles on Penitence.
While we can think on Wrongs w'are yet not ev'n,
And Copy ill the Precept taught by Heav'n;
For he that's not forgot is not forgiv'n.
Thus a strict Eye he o'er his Conscience keeps,
And he will be at Peace before he sleeps.
Nor has he but one Way arriv'd at Fame;
In Publick and in Private he's the same.
In Storms that did the Barque of State o'erwhelm,
And threw th'unhappy Pilot from the Helm;
When Pow'rful Faction did the Land divide;
When boundless Lust and Arbitrary Pride
O'erflow'd our Laws with an Impetuous Tyde;
When plucking down the State but half wou'd do,
And the next Step was to Unchurch us too,
Then did our Hero in the Breach abide,
Constant to Truth, and faithful to his Side,
When Loyalty was never Nicelier try'd;
When Conscience stood confounded at the Sight,
And trim'd, it self, between the Wrong and Right.
Devout as Hermits, and as oft at Prayer;
The Church's Champion, and her Sons his Care.
Bounteous as Heav'n, that to him largely gives,
And largely 'tis diffus'd as he receives.
His Favours, once conferring, know no end;
The noblest Master, and the fastest Friend!
His Word so Sacred, none cou'd e'er upbraid
He ever broke the smallest Vow he made.
Like Truth sincere, as sweet in his Address,
And ever means the Thing he does profess.
Unfit for Towns where Flatt'ry does preside,
Where Worth to Vice, and Prudence bends to Pride;
But O most fit! were Lewdness banish'd thence,
And Courts encourag'd Honesty and Sense.
O Live, Bertudor! Live in Blackmore's Lays!
I, who want Wing so high a Pitch to raise,
Stoop humbly for the Leavings of thy Praise:
He is not wrong'd, or of Applause bereft,
To let me take the Gleanings he has left:
His Noble Harvest ne'er the less appears,
Because I pick the loose and scatter'd Ears.
The Church's Champion, and her Sons his Care.
Bounteous as Heav'n, that to him largely gives,
And largely 'tis diffus'd as he receives.
191
The noblest Master, and the fastest Friend!
His Word so Sacred, none cou'd e'er upbraid
He ever broke the smallest Vow he made.
Like Truth sincere, as sweet in his Address,
And ever means the Thing he does profess.
Unfit for Towns where Flatt'ry does preside,
Where Worth to Vice, and Prudence bends to Pride;
But O most fit! were Lewdness banish'd thence,
And Courts encourag'd Honesty and Sense.
O Live, Bertudor! Live in Blackmore's Lays!
I, who want Wing so high a Pitch to raise,
Stoop humbly for the Leavings of thy Praise:
He is not wrong'd, or of Applause bereft,
To let me take the Gleanings he has left:
His Noble Harvest ne'er the less appears,
Because I pick the loose and scatter'd Ears.
What Consort for such Matcheless Worth was fit
But She that does enjoy, and merit it?
She that his Comforts cou'd retrieve alone,
And, by Improving his, restore her own.
A Virgin, Mother, Wife, and Widows Name
So well discharg'd, is sure to meet with Fame.
No Reputation e'er was earlier rais'd,
More truly Honour'd, or more justly Prais'd.
Her Worth (the Theme of all the Learned Swains)
Sounds high as Heav'n in the Oxonian Plains.
Her Name is known wherever Goodness dwells;
Belov'd she lives, unenvy'd she excells.
Thus to his Arms she comes, like Autumn, round
With Plenty hung, and Num'rous Beauties crown'd:
O charm on charm! Rich in her Earthly Store,
But in her Graces and her Vertues more.
But She that does enjoy, and merit it?
She that his Comforts cou'd retrieve alone,
And, by Improving his, restore her own.
A Virgin, Mother, Wife, and Widows Name
So well discharg'd, is sure to meet with Fame.
No Reputation e'er was earlier rais'd,
More truly Honour'd, or more justly Prais'd.
Her Worth (the Theme of all the Learned Swains)
Sounds high as Heav'n in the Oxonian Plains.
Her Name is known wherever Goodness dwells;
Belov'd she lives, unenvy'd she excells.
Thus to his Arms she comes, like Autumn, round
With Plenty hung, and Num'rous Beauties crown'd:
O charm on charm! Rich in her Earthly Store,
But in her Graces and her Vertues more.
192
Where can we such another Instance see;
Of Mutual truth in Modern Qualitie?
Design and Flatt'ry, Nonsense, Chance and Noise,
Bring but the Marry'd to polluted Joys.
Here Vertue only does the Spousals bind,
And Angels are but in that Union joyn'd.
Of Mutual truth in Modern Qualitie?
Design and Flatt'ry, Nonsense, Chance and Noise,
Bring but the Marry'd to polluted Joys.
Here Vertue only does the Spousals bind,
And Angels are but in that Union joyn'd.
Hail happy Pair! and from the Humble Muse
Accept this Wreath, and her Delay excuse:
Tho' no Addition to your Joy she brings,
Do not despise her that in Duty sings:
She has not yet with Flatt'ry so deceiv'd,
As when she Praises not to be believ'd:
From the strong Holds of Truth none shall Entice
Her forth, tho' us'd the worse for scourging Vice:
Clos'd in her Cell, and Quiet all her Aim,
She neither covets, courts, or cares for Fame;
But in Contented Poverty does sit,
And laughs at those that think to thrive by Wit.
Accept this Wreath, and her Delay excuse:
Tho' no Addition to your Joy she brings,
Do not despise her that in Duty sings:
She has not yet with Flatt'ry so deceiv'd,
As when she Praises not to be believ'd:
From the strong Holds of Truth none shall Entice
Her forth, tho' us'd the worse for scourging Vice:
Clos'd in her Cell, and Quiet all her Aim,
She neither covets, courts, or cares for Fame;
But in Contented Poverty does sit,
And laughs at those that think to thrive by Wit.
| The Works of Mr. Robert Gould | |