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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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Silvia kind.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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Silvia kind.

Yes! this is to be blest! there is beyond
No human Joy so lasting to be found:
Or this is Heav'n, or something else so near,
That Saints for less wou'd stay for ever here.
Cou'd such delight be but below our Fate,
Who'd run the Risk of any future State?
Thy Eyes now shoot, indeed, a Lover's Fire,
And the same Joy the Look in mine inspire.
You say your self you soon will ease my Care,
And to your Words your Blushes Witness bear;
Blushes whose Colour richlier does adorn
Thy Cheeks, than those that paint the op'ning Morn.
Thy very Soul into the very Face does rise!
The Woman can no more thy Love disguise,
And Truth, in spite of Art, sits Victor in thy Eyes!

49

Behold, O Lovers! how at last you gain
An ample Recompence for all your Pain.
One Promise that the Fair will give Relief,
Suspends our Care, and eases ev'ry Grief:
Such perfect Joy our very Hope exceeds,
Only outdone by that which it preceeds!
O pleasing Agony! O happy Hour!
That puts the yielding Angel in my Pow'r!
When on her Sweets I feast with panting Breath,
Pursuing Pleasure to the Verge of Death!
But Lo! just in the Mid'st of my Career,
As thus I drove to Bliss, and thought it near,
Reason o'ertakes, and Bids me have a Care.
In such vain Thoughts (said he) y'are misemploy'd;
Y'are yet not happy, yet she's unenjoy'd.
When Pleasure smiles oft adverse Fortune low'rs;
What may be lost is yet not wholly ours.
Think not in Woman certain Joys to find,
'Till in her soft and circling Arms entwin'd,
She gives the last dear Proof of being kind.