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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 Perjur'd.
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Silvia Perjur'd.

She has (ye Gods) forgot the Vows she made,
And, conscious flies the Wretch she has betray'd.
But if she's yet not past the Pow'r of Love,
If Constancy has Charms, or Verse can move,
I'll bring thy Vertues back forgetful Fair,
And prove that plighted Oaths are something more than Air.
In such sad Strains I'll my Distress impart,
So lively will I paint my bleeding Heart,
E'en thou thy self shalt be amaz'd to see
So swift a Change from Joy to Misery!
I had no Respite between best and worst,
Fed but to starve, and happy to be curst;
Precipitated by a sudden Blow,
From the Extreme of Bliss to that of Woe!

61

Yet (Cruel Maid!) my Crime let Envy tell,
I was too humble, and I lov'd too well.
Did Angels know my Truth as well as you,
Ev'n they wou'd wonder Man shou'd be so true:
But wonder more to see thee faithless prove
When there is scarce a purer Flame above:
What can there There from Each to Each be paid
But endless Love, and Fervor undecay'd?
You know, and I shall ne'er forget the Time
(Lock'd in my Arms, nor Kisses then a Crime)
When on your Bosom I expiring lay
(How short is Pleasure! and how soon 'twas Day!)
While with our Breath our very Minds we mixt
(The Marriage promis'd, and the Day prefixt)
'Twas then by the Immortal Pow'rs you swore,
Nay by your Mut'ual Love, and that was more,
That 'twas to me your Life, your Soul you'd give,
And for me only that you wish'd to Live!
Did I not there affirm the same to you!
You heard, you saw (with Eyes erected too)
How Zealously I look'd on Heav'n above,
Wish'd it unkind to me if I prov'd false to Love.
Have we not since, too, often sworn the same?
With fresh Endearments fed th'Eternal Flame?
Eternal! no, 'twas Momentary, slight,
A short-liv'd Met'eor, a delusive Light,
A Glare, an Ignis Fatuus of the Night;
By which y'ave led me over Bush and Thorn,
Drill'd on by Hope, and driven back by Scorn.
Sure thou dost think thou at Loves Auction art,
And dost by Inch of Candle parcel out thy Heart:
Thy Flame so far from lasting, I ev'n doubt
Thou dost but light it up to put it out,
Or singe as purblind Moths that fly about.
Destructive Sex! for as thou usest Me,
So each Man's serv'd by some Perfidious She.

62

Cruel, or false y'are all; and he is blest,
He only, that excludes you from his Breast,
Nor lets your Terrier LOVE, dislodge his Rest.
Love! that where e'er it comes makes Concord cease,
The Dearth of Pleasure, and the Bane of Peace:
The Toil with which w'are hatter'd out by Day,
At Night, the Hag that rides our Sleep away.
Debate, Deceit, Distrust, have hence their Birth,
And all beside that makes a Hell on Earth.
If Courtship opens such a Scene to Strife,
What Curses must there follow with a Wife?