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. |
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
| XXII. |
| XXII. |
| XXIV. |
| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
The True FAST:
|
| 2. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
| 4. |
| 5. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
| 3. |
|
| 1. |
| 2. |
|
 | The Works of Mr. Robert Gould |  |
The True FAST:
A Paraphrase on the 58th of Isaiah.
Cry! let thy Voice like the loud Trumpet sound,
Thro' the wide Air diffuse it all around,
To tell my People how their Crimes abound:
Not but they outwardly pretend Delight
To know my Ways, and practise what is Right:
As if they ne'er did Trespass, or Rebel,
They Justifie their Conduct, and think all is well.
Thro' the wide Air diffuse it all around,
To tell my People how their Crimes abound:
Not but they outwardly pretend Delight
To know my Ways, and practise what is Right:
409
They Justifie their Conduct, and think all is well.
Wherefore (say they) do we make tedious Fasts?
Thou see'st not, still thy Indignation lasts:
To mortify our Lusts why do we roam,
And wander such a wicked Way from home?
Why such lean Penance do we undergo?
Thou tak'st no Knowledge, tho' thou all dost know.
Thou see'st not, still thy Indignation lasts:
To mortify our Lusts why do we roam,
And wander such a wicked Way from home?
Why such lean Penance do we undergo?
Thou tak'st no Knowledge, tho' thou all dost know.
Here me (O Rebels!) that can thus Report,
Do you not Fast for Wantonness and Sport?
Is it th'Effect of a well weigh'd Remorse?
An Humbleness of Soul, or Form of Course?
A Form, alas! a Form of neither Power or Force;
A meer perverted Rite, an outward shew
That neither me Delights, or Profits you.
Under this specious Veil much Sin you hide,
Contention, Hate, Hypocrisie, and Pride;
Done chiefly that you may have room to blame
The Wiser few that will not do the same,
Participating in your Guilt and Shame;
Such as the Nonsense of your Fasts detect,
And clearly prove they are of no effect.
But Fasts you call 'em, and you Fasts Proclaim,
When Lux'ury oft were more the nat'ral Name:
The Deep is ransack't, all her Treasures shown,
For Flesh one Day deny'd, the Sea is all your own.
In vain with this loose Custom you comply,
In vain for this you lift your Voices high,
They come lame Intercessors to the Sky.
Do you not Fast for Wantonness and Sport?
Is it th'Effect of a well weigh'd Remorse?
An Humbleness of Soul, or Form of Course?
A Form, alas! a Form of neither Power or Force;
A meer perverted Rite, an outward shew
That neither me Delights, or Profits you.
Under this specious Veil much Sin you hide,
Contention, Hate, Hypocrisie, and Pride;
Done chiefly that you may have room to blame
The Wiser few that will not do the same,
Participating in your Guilt and Shame;
Such as the Nonsense of your Fasts detect,
And clearly prove they are of no effect.
But Fasts you call 'em, and you Fasts Proclaim,
When Lux'ury oft were more the nat'ral Name:
The Deep is ransack't, all her Treasures shown,
For Flesh one Day deny'd, the Sea is all your own.
In vain with this loose Custom you comply,
In vain for this you lift your Voices high,
They come lame Intercessors to the Sky.
Observe (O stubborn Brood! your Maker's Voice,
Is this the Fast which I have made my Choice?
Is this t'afflict the Mind?—to Sigh and Moan,
And drawl my Name out with a ruful Tone;
To be in Publick seen with Heads reclin'd,
Like Bull-Rushes that bend without a Wind;
To dress in Sack-Cloath, and the Lash to feel,
With all th'External Pomp of Hair-brain'd Zeal;
What Merit on such Trifling can you lay?
Or can this be to ME a Fast, or acceptable Day?
Whose Eyes thro' the most dark Recesses see;
Thy Thoughts, ev'n yet unborn, lie open all to Me.
Is this the Fast which I have made my Choice?
Is this t'afflict the Mind?—to Sigh and Moan,
And drawl my Name out with a ruful Tone;
410
Like Bull-Rushes that bend without a Wind;
To dress in Sack-Cloath, and the Lash to feel,
With all th'External Pomp of Hair-brain'd Zeal;
What Merit on such Trifling can you lay?
Or can this be to ME a Fast, or acceptable Day?
Whose Eyes thro' the most dark Recesses see;
Thy Thoughts, ev'n yet unborn, lie open all to Me.
No, no; the Fast with which I'm pleas'd is this;
Not to Connive at the least thing amiss:
To fly from willful Sin, and ev'ry way
In which th'unwary Soul is led astray;
To break the Yoke where e'er the oppress'd you see,
Redeem the Slave, and set the Debtor free:
Ne'er to forbid the Dole to those in Want,
But ready still at ev'ry Boon to Grant;
For he that has but Little yet may be,
By giving Little, sav'd for Charity:
To think not thy own House too fine, or great,
For the poor Out-cast to Sojourn and Eat;
Unjustly, oft, from their Possessions hurl'd
By Cruel Powe'r, and hunted thro' the World:
To let the Mourning Widow be thy Care;
To fence the Orphan (Shudde'ring, Wan and Bare)
From the Inclemency of Winters Air:
To be to no Indecent Rage beguil'd,
But lead a Life all Merciful and Mild;
Hiding from none the Will of doing Good,
But least to those of thy own Flesh and Blood:
Not to Detraction to let loose the Rein,
With Gybes and Scoffs, (the Sport of the Profane)
But free thy Lips from all Obscene and Vain.
Not to Connive at the least thing amiss:
To fly from willful Sin, and ev'ry way
In which th'unwary Soul is led astray;
To break the Yoke where e'er the oppress'd you see,
Redeem the Slave, and set the Debtor free:
Ne'er to forbid the Dole to those in Want,
But ready still at ev'ry Boon to Grant;
For he that has but Little yet may be,
By giving Little, sav'd for Charity:
To think not thy own House too fine, or great,
For the poor Out-cast to Sojourn and Eat;
Unjustly, oft, from their Possessions hurl'd
By Cruel Powe'r, and hunted thro' the World:
To let the Mourning Widow be thy Care;
To fence the Orphan (Shudde'ring, Wan and Bare)
From the Inclemency of Winters Air:
To be to no Indecent Rage beguil'd,
But lead a Life all Merciful and Mild;
Hiding from none the Will of doing Good,
But least to those of thy own Flesh and Blood:
Not to Detraction to let loose the Rein,
With Gybes and Scoffs, (the Sport of the Profane)
But free thy Lips from all Obscene and Vain.
Reach but this Goal and Happiness you win,
This is a Fast indeed!—a Fast from Sin.
Then thou shalt be exempt from ev'ry Pain,
Thy Health shall quickly come and long remain:
All thy Good Deeds shall in the Front appear,
And Glory shall attend 'em in the Rear:
Thy frustrate Prayers their Fate no more shall mourn,
But meet a Gracious and a swift Return:
From dark Obscurity thy Light shall rise,
And take it's Lofty Station in the Skies;
The Sun himself shall hardly shine so bright,
Hardly diffuse around a more Refulgent Light.
Nay more, (for Nothing from thy View I'll hide,)
'Tis I my Self, ev'n I will be thy Guide,
I'll set Thee in the Path, and mark the Way;
O happy Man that cannot go astray!
In Famine Thou shalt daily have Supply,
In tedious Droughts Thou never shalt be dry,
But, like a water'd Garden, still be Gay,
Or Fountain rising in a shiny Day,
Whose Springs ne'er fail, but ever mount and Play:
The long rais'd Structures, now with Rubbish fill'd,
Thy Sons again shall gloriously rebuild;
But thine shall be the Credit, thine the Praise
Both of the Present, and all after Days;
Yes this was HE, the General Voice shall cry,
That fill'd the Breach, and rais'd our Ruins high;
That did our Temples to our God restore,
In all the Pomp they were adorn'd before;
That the waste Places nobly did renew,
And gave those Temples Congregations too.
This is a Fast indeed!—a Fast from Sin.
411
Thy Health shall quickly come and long remain:
All thy Good Deeds shall in the Front appear,
And Glory shall attend 'em in the Rear:
Thy frustrate Prayers their Fate no more shall mourn,
But meet a Gracious and a swift Return:
From dark Obscurity thy Light shall rise,
And take it's Lofty Station in the Skies;
The Sun himself shall hardly shine so bright,
Hardly diffuse around a more Refulgent Light.
Nay more, (for Nothing from thy View I'll hide,)
'Tis I my Self, ev'n I will be thy Guide,
I'll set Thee in the Path, and mark the Way;
O happy Man that cannot go astray!
In Famine Thou shalt daily have Supply,
In tedious Droughts Thou never shalt be dry,
But, like a water'd Garden, still be Gay,
Or Fountain rising in a shiny Day,
Whose Springs ne'er fail, but ever mount and Play:
The long rais'd Structures, now with Rubbish fill'd,
Thy Sons again shall gloriously rebuild;
But thine shall be the Credit, thine the Praise
Both of the Present, and all after Days;
Yes this was HE, the General Voice shall cry,
That fill'd the Breach, and rais'd our Ruins high;
That did our Temples to our God restore,
In all the Pomp they were adorn'd before;
That the waste Places nobly did renew,
And gave those Temples Congregations too.
And if to this thou add these Vertues more,
I'll yet add greater Blessings to thy Store.
If from all loose Desires thou turn'st away,
Not following Pleasure on my Holy Day,
Unless the Pleasure that is most Sublime,
Not that of Wasting, but Redeeming Time!
If still the Sabbath Thou with Joy dost see,
(For He that Honours That does Honour ME;)
Wish with Impatience for it's coming on,
And when 'tis with thee that 'twou'd ne'er be gone;
Not walking in the least the Worldly Way,
Nor after dull Enthusiasts run astray,
Distrusting still thy self, and cleave to what I say:
In the True Fast that I have nam'd remain,
(For t'other's Superstitious, Fond and Vain;)
Then Thou shalt be my Darling, my Delight,
Dear to my Soul, and pleasing to my Sight!
High I'll advance, and far diffuse thy Name,
The Globe shall be too Narrow for thy Fame:
With me to Heav'n I'll carry it along,
An Endless Theme for the Celestial Song.
All Nature's Products too thou shalt command,
And feed upon the Fatness of the Land;
'Tis I have spoke it—and My WORD shall stand.
I'll yet add greater Blessings to thy Store.
If from all loose Desires thou turn'st away,
Not following Pleasure on my Holy Day,
Unless the Pleasure that is most Sublime,
Not that of Wasting, but Redeeming Time!
412
(For He that Honours That does Honour ME;)
Wish with Impatience for it's coming on,
And when 'tis with thee that 'twou'd ne'er be gone;
Not walking in the least the Worldly Way,
Nor after dull Enthusiasts run astray,
Distrusting still thy self, and cleave to what I say:
In the True Fast that I have nam'd remain,
(For t'other's Superstitious, Fond and Vain;)
Then Thou shalt be my Darling, my Delight,
Dear to my Soul, and pleasing to my Sight!
High I'll advance, and far diffuse thy Name,
The Globe shall be too Narrow for thy Fame:
With me to Heav'n I'll carry it along,
An Endless Theme for the Celestial Song.
All Nature's Products too thou shalt command,
And feed upon the Fatness of the Land;
'Tis I have spoke it—and My WORD shall stand.
| The Works of Mr. Robert Gould | |