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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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To a Friend in Wales, on his Neglect of writing to me.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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To a Friend in Wales, on his Neglect of writing to me.

Forgot by him so truly I regard,
Forgive me if I think my Fortune hard:
What have I done offensive, or unkind,
Thus to be raz'd for ever from your Mind?
A Mind in which I'd rather far reside,
Than in the Noblest Seat of Human Pride:
Let building Fops pretend a Deathless Name,
To gain but thy Applause is ampler Fame.

78

Kanvair, what ever it might seem to thee,
Thou there, was like th'Elizian Fields to me.
Tho' Storms did rise, and tho' loud Torrents roll'd,
And I cou'd only Steril Rocks behold,
Steep ragged Cliffs, that seem to touch the Skies,
From which Mankind with Horrour turn their Eyes;
Thy Converse chang'd this Scene of wild affright,
And turn'd that very Horrour to Delight.
How pleas'd was I thy Nuptial Choice to hear!
Joy on, I cry'd! Joy fix for ever there!
I wish'd, but thought not the Result wou'd be
A long, unkind Forgetfulness of me:
Much Favour to her Share I knew wou'd fall,
But thought not you'd so vainly part with all:
Such Lavishness ev'n I must discommend,
For you may love her well—yet love your Friend;
And from her Kisses, tho' they are Divine,
Spare time in three long Months to write a Line.
Write then, and quickly, least it shou'd be said,
That, as you among Ruthless Rocks were bred,
Thou, too, dost in their flinty Nature share;
And deaf, like them, to Friendship and to Prayer.
What ever Fate's reserv'd for me and mine,
'Twou'd Comfort be, if by a welcome Line;
I am assur'd 'tis well with Thee and Thine.