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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| Occasional Verses To several Ladies, &c. |
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 | The Works of Mr. Robert Gould |  |
96
Occasional Verses To several Ladies, &c.
Advice to a fine young Lady.
Y're now, O Cloris! on the Publick Stage,
Live in ill Times, and a Censorious Age;
Lovely as Young, and Vertuous as y're Fair;
As great your Merit, great must be your Care:
Be strict if you'd have Reputation stay,
The least Neglect throws the Rich Gem away.
Th'Hesperian Fruit, tho' by a Dragon kept,
Was by a bold Hand gather'd while he slept.
The more your Lustre, it the more gives Light
To the sharp Darts of Prejudice and Spite
To take their fatal Aim, and hit the White.
Beside, alas! tho' ev'ry Woman's frail,
The Loveliest are most liable to fail:
If Fruit we choose, we take the Fairest first,
The rest goes down, but not with such a Gust;
Think of Lucretia, then of Tarquin's Lust.
Or if like brutal Violence can't prevail
To work your Ruin, Flatt'ry will not fail;
But ah! beware the smooth enchanting Tale:
You know the Truth; the Snake's beneath the Flow'r;
Avoid the Tongue, and you avoid its Pow'r.
Let ev'n the Good with Caution be believ'd,
For he that much does trust is much deceiv'd;
And an ill Name's prevented easier than retriev'd.
Live in ill Times, and a Censorious Age;
Lovely as Young, and Vertuous as y're Fair;
As great your Merit, great must be your Care:
Be strict if you'd have Reputation stay,
The least Neglect throws the Rich Gem away.
Th'Hesperian Fruit, tho' by a Dragon kept,
Was by a bold Hand gather'd while he slept.
The more your Lustre, it the more gives Light
To the sharp Darts of Prejudice and Spite
To take their fatal Aim, and hit the White.
Beside, alas! tho' ev'ry Woman's frail,
The Loveliest are most liable to fail:
If Fruit we choose, we take the Fairest first,
The rest goes down, but not with such a Gust;
Think of Lucretia, then of Tarquin's Lust.
Or if like brutal Violence can't prevail
To work your Ruin, Flatt'ry will not fail;
But ah! beware the smooth enchanting Tale:
You know the Truth; the Snake's beneath the Flow'r;
Avoid the Tongue, and you avoid its Pow'r.
97
For he that much does trust is much deceiv'd;
And an ill Name's prevented easier than retriev'd.
But who, you'll say, can scape Detraction's Sting
That wounds up from the Vassal to the King?
Nothing is free from its unlicens'd Rage;
The Hope of Youth, nor Reverence of Age.
Shou'd Angels, as of old, from Heav'n come down
T'Instruct, as then to scourge a Lustful Town,
Ill Tongues wou'd find 'em in that fau'tless Shape,
Nor cou'd their Heav'n-born Purity escape.
That wounds up from the Vassal to the King?
Nothing is free from its unlicens'd Rage;
The Hope of Youth, nor Reverence of Age.
Shou'd Angels, as of old, from Heav'n come down
T'Instruct, as then to scourge a Lustful Town,
Ill Tongues wou'd find 'em in that fau'tless Shape,
Nor cou'd their Heav'n-born Purity escape.
O Cloris! granting this Objection true,
It more enforces what I'd have you do:
If Infamy delights the Good to blame,
For were all Ill, the Ill wou'd have no Shame,
You can't with too much Niceness guard your Fame;
That to secure shou'd all your Thoughts employ,
Hard to preserve, and easie to destroy.
Vertue, tho' ne'er so pure, may sully'd be,
She's made, or marr'd by Credibility;
Tost like a Ship, Opinion fills her Sails,
And they all slacken as Opinion fails;
That is the sterling Stamp that makes her go,
For you are Vertuous if we think you so.
Strive then t'improve our least obliging Thought;
Applause, uncultivated, comes to nought,
And Glory ne'er was found unless 'twas sought.
It more enforces what I'd have you do:
If Infamy delights the Good to blame,
For were all Ill, the Ill wou'd have no Shame,
You can't with too much Niceness guard your Fame;
That to secure shou'd all your Thoughts employ,
Hard to preserve, and easie to destroy.
Vertue, tho' ne'er so pure, may sully'd be,
She's made, or marr'd by Credibility;
Tost like a Ship, Opinion fills her Sails,
And they all slacken as Opinion fails;
That is the sterling Stamp that makes her go,
For you are Vertuous if we think you so.
Strive then t'improve our least obliging Thought;
Applause, uncultivated, comes to nought,
And Glory ne'er was found unless 'twas sought.
Not but I know when Clouds as thick as Night
Obscure the Sun, he, in himself, is bright,
Breaks thro' the Gloom at last, and yields unless'ning Light:
And Vertue, tho' opprest, at length may rise,
And with it's chearful Glories gild the Skies;
The Slander and the Slanderer flit away,
And drive like Mists before the Lord of Day.
But do not let this Caution be forgot!—
'Tis not the best that have the happiest Lot:
The Greatest Chastity can least have Right;
In vain it wou'd maintain the unequal Fight
Against Ill Nature, Envy, Wit and Spite.
Think not to be secur'd by Pow'r, or Place,
A Matchless Beauty, or Illustrious Race;
No Human Fortune is above Disgrace.
The World the Good it hears with Doubt receives,
The Ill it credits once for ever it believes.
Obscure the Sun, he, in himself, is bright,
Breaks thro' the Gloom at last, and yields unless'ning Light:
98
And with it's chearful Glories gild the Skies;
The Slander and the Slanderer flit away,
And drive like Mists before the Lord of Day.
But do not let this Caution be forgot!—
'Tis not the best that have the happiest Lot:
The Greatest Chastity can least have Right;
In vain it wou'd maintain the unequal Fight
Against Ill Nature, Envy, Wit and Spite.
Think not to be secur'd by Pow'r, or Place,
A Matchless Beauty, or Illustrious Race;
No Human Fortune is above Disgrace.
The World the Good it hears with Doubt receives,
The Ill it credits once for ever it believes.
Be sure you think not of your self too well!
Strive to be Good, but silently excell.
On her own Name she but an Odium draws,
Tho' ne'er so vertuous, that expects Applause.
If we a Voyage take (as Life is here
No other, but more difficult to steer)
Is it not far more pleasing to be free
From Rocks and Sands, and Heav'ns Inclemencie;
That no rough Waves shou'd roll, no Wind shou'd blow,
But all be still above, and smooth below,
Till we have made the Port in Harbour lie,
And there, at rest, their baffl'd Rage defie;
Than like th'Athenian Tyrant heretofore,
(His Sea-Diversion) leave the safer Shore
To toss in Storms, and hear the Billows roar?
To be more plain;—had we not better live,
And take th'Esteem a Grudging World will give,
Let Life glide gently on, an Even Stream,
Free from ill Tongues, and ev'ry wild Extreme,
Till to the Grave we go, and there enjoy
That long Repose Detraction can't destroy?
Were it not wiser thus, than by fond Ways
Proud of our Worth, pull down what we wou'd raise,
By an Immoderate Itch of Senseless Praise?
For Vertu'ous we may be, but when Respect,
We therefore claim, it dwindles to Neglect;
A Justifying Pride we all reject:
Let then a Lowly Mind be your Delight,
Nor by too pert a Censure 'waken Spite;
A Mad-Dog if not hooted may not bite.
Strive to be Good, but silently excell.
On her own Name she but an Odium draws,
Tho' ne'er so vertuous, that expects Applause.
If we a Voyage take (as Life is here
No other, but more difficult to steer)
Is it not far more pleasing to be free
From Rocks and Sands, and Heav'ns Inclemencie;
That no rough Waves shou'd roll, no Wind shou'd blow,
But all be still above, and smooth below,
Till we have made the Port in Harbour lie,
And there, at rest, their baffl'd Rage defie;
Than like th'Athenian Tyrant heretofore,
(His Sea-Diversion) leave the safer Shore
To toss in Storms, and hear the Billows roar?
To be more plain;—had we not better live,
And take th'Esteem a Grudging World will give,
Let Life glide gently on, an Even Stream,
Free from ill Tongues, and ev'ry wild Extreme,
Till to the Grave we go, and there enjoy
That long Repose Detraction can't destroy?
99
Proud of our Worth, pull down what we wou'd raise,
By an Immoderate Itch of Senseless Praise?
For Vertu'ous we may be, but when Respect,
We therefore claim, it dwindles to Neglect;
A Justifying Pride we all reject:
Let then a Lowly Mind be your Delight,
Nor by too pert a Censure 'waken Spite;
A Mad-Dog if not hooted may not bite.
But above all Religion be Your Care;
Your Words, Thoughts, Actions, all shou'd Centre there:
It must not be with a Light Air receiv'd,
For then as lightly it will be believ'd;
The Great Deceit is to be Self-deceiv'd.
What Arguments so e'er some Men may bring
To make it seem a sowr unlovely thing,
When once Embrac'd, You'll find it has more Charms
Than Love or Wealth, or Pow'r can usher to your Arms.
Yet have a Care;—for, to our lasting Shame,
All's not Religion that assumes the Name:
'Tis not a Theo'ry warm, and Practice cold;
Or Legends very false, and very old,
Such as the Essence of all Truth destroys,
And only fit for Chimney-talk for Boys:
Nor yet that Zeal that does our Sect'rists sway,
Who damn all those that disbelieve their Way,
When w'ave a thousand Proofs they go astray.
In some 'tis Int'rest, and in some 'tis Pride;
Hypocrisy, or Prejudice their Guide,
How soon are Truth and Reason laid aside!
And yet who more among the Rout does rule
Than a sly Knave, or an Enthusiast Fool?
This, whining to the Mob in Maudlin Cant,
And That, all Noise and Fustian, Foam and Rant.
Alas! Truth lies not in Fanatick Spite,
Socinian Smoothness, or the Quakers Fright.
That's true Religion that does make you strive
To love your Neighbour, and the Poor relieve;
To do no Wrong, nor at no Wrong connive,
And all the Wrong that's done, you to forgive.
The Moral Parts no more, the Mystick this;—
If thus you Act, you can't believe amiss.
Your Words, Thoughts, Actions, all shou'd Centre there:
It must not be with a Light Air receiv'd,
For then as lightly it will be believ'd;
The Great Deceit is to be Self-deceiv'd.
What Arguments so e'er some Men may bring
To make it seem a sowr unlovely thing,
When once Embrac'd, You'll find it has more Charms
Than Love or Wealth, or Pow'r can usher to your Arms.
Yet have a Care;—for, to our lasting Shame,
All's not Religion that assumes the Name:
'Tis not a Theo'ry warm, and Practice cold;
Or Legends very false, and very old,
Such as the Essence of all Truth destroys,
And only fit for Chimney-talk for Boys:
Nor yet that Zeal that does our Sect'rists sway,
Who damn all those that disbelieve their Way,
When w'ave a thousand Proofs they go astray.
In some 'tis Int'rest, and in some 'tis Pride;
Hypocrisy, or Prejudice their Guide,
How soon are Truth and Reason laid aside!
And yet who more among the Rout does rule
Than a sly Knave, or an Enthusiast Fool?
This, whining to the Mob in Maudlin Cant,
And That, all Noise and Fustian, Foam and Rant.
100
Socinian Smoothness, or the Quakers Fright.
That's true Religion that does make you strive
To love your Neighbour, and the Poor relieve;
To do no Wrong, nor at no Wrong connive,
And all the Wrong that's done, you to forgive.
The Moral Parts no more, the Mystick this;—
If thus you Act, you can't believe amiss.
Now, Fair One, let me this Request obtain;
That these Instructions you wou'd not disdain,
Because they're told you in a homely Strain:
A soft and melting Stile may please your Youth,
But happy! if y'are better pleas'd with Truth:
Not but I know your Conduct has been try'd,
And none e'er liv'd that needed less—a Guide.
That these Instructions you wou'd not disdain,
Because they're told you in a homely Strain:
A soft and melting Stile may please your Youth,
But happy! if y'are better pleas'd with Truth:
Not but I know your Conduct has been try'd,
And none e'er liv'd that needed less—a Guide.
To a Gentlewoman who had written many fine Things, and not seen Mrs. Phillips's Poems.
Orinda
's Sacred Works to You I send,
Not doubting but You'll prove her lasting Friend:
Accept, and lay her to Your Breast; You'll find
She's Entertainment for the Noblest Mind;
And to your Sex this Deathless Honour brings,
That you can soonest reach the loftiest Things.
Her Verses and her Vertuous Life declare,
'Tis not Your only Glory to be Fair.
How can you fail to Conquer, when the Darts
Are double pointed that You throw at Hearts?
Wing'd by your Eyes and guided by your Wit,
What Mark so distant they can fail to hit?
Darkness in vain wou'd interpose between,
With these Advantages you wound unseen.
Not doubting but You'll prove her lasting Friend:
Accept, and lay her to Your Breast; You'll find
She's Entertainment for the Noblest Mind;
And to your Sex this Deathless Honour brings,
That you can soonest reach the loftiest Things.
Her Verses and her Vertuous Life declare,
'Tis not Your only Glory to be Fair.
How can you fail to Conquer, when the Darts
Are double pointed that You throw at Hearts?
Wing'd by your Eyes and guided by your Wit,
What Mark so distant they can fail to hit?
101
With these Advantages you wound unseen.
But by what Magick has her Heav'nly Song
Lain from thy knowing View conceal'd so long?
When not the Sun, who is the God of Wit,
Makes more unweary'd Searches after it.
Great Shakespear, Fletcher, Denham, Waller, Ben,
Cowley, and all th'Immortal tuneful Men,
Y'ave made your own; and none can better tell
Where they are low, and where they most excell;
Can reach their Heights when e'er y'are pleas'd to write,
Soaring a Pitch that dazles Human Sight.
But O! when you have read this matchless Book,
And from its Excellence a Judgment took,
What the fair Sex was then, how will you mourn
To see how justly now they're branded with our Scorn?
Farces and Songs obscene, remote from Wit,
(Such as our Sappho to Lisander writ)
Employs their Time—so far th'Abuse prevails,
Their Verses are as vitious as their Tails:
Both are expos'd alike to publick View,
And both of 'em have their Admirers too:
Tho' which is least was ne'er distinguish'd yet,
The Writer's Vertue, or the Reader's Wit.
Lain from thy knowing View conceal'd so long?
When not the Sun, who is the God of Wit,
Makes more unweary'd Searches after it.
Great Shakespear, Fletcher, Denham, Waller, Ben,
Cowley, and all th'Immortal tuneful Men,
Y'ave made your own; and none can better tell
Where they are low, and where they most excell;
Can reach their Heights when e'er y'are pleas'd to write,
Soaring a Pitch that dazles Human Sight.
But O! when you have read this matchless Book,
And from its Excellence a Judgment took,
What the fair Sex was then, how will you mourn
To see how justly now they're branded with our Scorn?
Farces and Songs obscene, remote from Wit,
(Such as our Sappho to Lisander writ)
Employs their Time—so far th'Abuse prevails,
Their Verses are as vitious as their Tails:
Both are expos'd alike to publick View,
And both of 'em have their Admirers too:
Tho' which is least was ne'er distinguish'd yet,
The Writer's Vertue, or the Reader's Wit.
With just Disdain behold these heinous Crimes,
And with thy chast Example fix the Times:
Right the wrong'd Age, redeem thy Sex from Shame,
'Twas so Orinda got her Deathless Name:
Thou art as Fair, hast the like Skill in Song,
And all that thou dost write will last as long.
And with thy chast Example fix the Times:
Right the wrong'd Age, redeem thy Sex from Shame,
'Twas so Orinda got her Deathless Name:
Thou art as Fair, hast the like Skill in Song,
And all that thou dost write will last as long.
102
To Madam B. occasion'd by a Copy of Verses of my Lady Ann Baynton's.
As when the Blest up to their Heav'n are gone,
And put their fadeless Wreaths of Lawrel on:
How are they pleas'd to hear their Vertues there
Made Angels Songs, that met Reproaches here?
No less amaz'd, nor less with Rapture fraught,
Rais'd above Earth with the exalted Thought,
I stood, to hear my Praise, contemn'd by Men,
Employ the Beauteous Adorissa's Pen!
And put their fadeless Wreaths of Lawrel on:
How are they pleas'd to hear their Vertues there
Made Angels Songs, that met Reproaches here?
No less amaz'd, nor less with Rapture fraught,
Rais'd above Earth with the exalted Thought,
I stood, to hear my Praise, contemn'd by Men,
Employ the Beauteous Adorissa's Pen!
All that we merit we but think our Due,
So but bare Satisfaction can ensue;
And Blessings hop'd for half the Bliss destroy,
For, oft, the Expectation palls the Joy;
But when unthought of, undeserv'd they come,
They give us Transport, and they strike it home:
So she, like Heav'n, does her Rewards impart,
Which fly beyond the Bounds of all Desert.
So but bare Satisfaction can ensue;
And Blessings hop'd for half the Bliss destroy,
For, oft, the Expectation palls the Joy;
But when unthought of, undeserv'd they come,
They give us Transport, and they strike it home:
So she, like Heav'n, does her Rewards impart,
Which fly beyond the Bounds of all Desert.
I now may boast I have Eternity;
For, sure, what she does write can never die:
Her Beauty may, perhaps, to Time submit,
But Time must fall a Trophy to her Wit.
For, sure, what she does write can never die:
Her Beauty may, perhaps, to Time submit,
But Time must fall a Trophy to her Wit.
Beneath her Shelter a low Shrub I lie,
And, safe entrench'd, the Envious Men defy;
While, like the Mountain Cedar, she surveys
The Plain, and whom she please does crown with Bays:
They cannot reach to her, nor dare reject
(To her high Worth preserving their Respect)
What she has deign'd to like, and to protect.
And, safe entrench'd, the Envious Men defy;
While, like the Mountain Cedar, she surveys
The Plain, and whom she please does crown with Bays:
They cannot reach to her, nor dare reject
(To her high Worth preserving their Respect)
What she has deign'd to like, and to protect.
103
But while her Wit is in our Praises shown,
Why is she so forgetful of her own?
Why Honour others, and neglect the Claim
To her undoubted Right, Immortal Fame?
Why is she so forgetful of her own?
Why Honour others, and neglect the Claim
To her undoubted Right, Immortal Fame?
'Tis therefore, Fair one, that these Lines you see,
That on this Subject you may join with me:
You can both write, and judge of what is writ,
A Priestess of the Mysteries of Wit:
Tho' her own Worth refuses to comply,
And clips the Wings with which her Praise shou'd fly,
We so far may reject her Modesty;
We shou'd, howe'er, attempt to do her Right;
The Subject will instruct us to indite.
That on this Subject you may join with me:
You can both write, and judge of what is writ,
A Priestess of the Mysteries of Wit:
Tho' her own Worth refuses to comply,
And clips the Wings with which her Praise shou'd fly,
We so far may reject her Modesty;
We shou'd, howe'er, attempt to do her Right;
The Subject will instruct us to indite.
Does not her Eyes, which we with Joy behold,
Transcend Fictitious Goddesses of old?
Her Form so Noble, and so sweet her Air,
That gazing once we fix for ever there!
Her Smile, like Transport, ev'ry Care controuls,
And finds a quicker Passage to our Souls.
She wounds, we bleed; and dying, bless our Fate;
So much she pities what she's forc'd to hate.
With Joy and with Despair at once we strive,
Her Honour kills us, and her Eyes revive.
But ah! so far above our Reach she flies,
We only upward look with longing Eyes,
And must not, cannot, dare no higher rise.
Just with such Looks was the rich Miser seen,
When he view'd Heav'n—and the broad Gulf between,
Her Vertue gives to Love no smallest Scope,
But blasts, and quite annihilates our Hope.
Transcend Fictitious Goddesses of old?
Her Form so Noble, and so sweet her Air,
That gazing once we fix for ever there!
Her Smile, like Transport, ev'ry Care controuls,
And finds a quicker Passage to our Souls.
She wounds, we bleed; and dying, bless our Fate;
So much she pities what she's forc'd to hate.
With Joy and with Despair at once we strive,
Her Honour kills us, and her Eyes revive.
But ah! so far above our Reach she flies,
We only upward look with longing Eyes,
And must not, cannot, dare no higher rise.
Just with such Looks was the rich Miser seen,
When he view'd Heav'n—and the broad Gulf between,
Her Vertue gives to Love no smallest Scope,
But blasts, and quite annihilates our Hope.
Yet Matchless tho' her Beauty be, her Smile
Is not more sweet and lively than her Stile.
Her Eyes themselves have not more melting Charms,
And ev'n her Love not more Divinely warms;
When drest in all the Sweets of blooming Youth,
Adorning mighty Love with Mightier Truth,
She does to Damon's eager wishes hast,
With equal Warmth embracing and embrac't.
Well did the Swain deserve so great a Good,
Who in the Bud the Flower understood,
And knew to what Advantage 'twou'd be shown
When Spring was come, and all it's Graces blown.
Is not more sweet and lively than her Stile.
104
And ev'n her Love not more Divinely warms;
When drest in all the Sweets of blooming Youth,
Adorning mighty Love with Mightier Truth,
She does to Damon's eager wishes hast,
With equal Warmth embracing and embrac't.
Well did the Swain deserve so great a Good,
Who in the Bud the Flower understood,
And knew to what Advantage 'twou'd be shown
When Spring was come, and all it's Graces blown.
Here we shou'd all her other Gifts declare,
For of all else she has as large a Share:
But O! what Pen, or Pencil can we find
Able to paint the Brightness of her Mind!
Which, open'd to our View, diffuses round
A Flood of Lustre that does Sight confound;
Forces the Muse her airy Flight to stay,
VVhich here must stop, or else must lose it's VVay.
For of all else she has as large a Share:
But O! what Pen, or Pencil can we find
Able to paint the Brightness of her Mind!
Which, open'd to our View, diffuses round
A Flood of Lustre that does Sight confound;
Forces the Muse her airy Flight to stay,
VVhich here must stop, or else must lose it's VVay.
So when from Heav'n, and brighter than the Sun,
A sudden Glory round th'Apostle shon,
Too much Refulgence did oppress his Sight,
And he fell blind amid'st the Blaze of Light.
A sudden Glory round th'Apostle shon,
Too much Refulgence did oppress his Sight,
And he fell blind amid'st the Blaze of Light.
To a very Vertuous Gentlewoman, on her being traduc'd, &c.
Defend us from Reproach is, sure, a Prayer
We often ought to use, that Heav'n may hear:
When e'er the Devil wou'd exert his Skill,
And, as supreme in Hell, be so in Ill,
He glides into some black Detractor's Ear,
His first Essay and sheds his Poison there:
Possest of that he next secures the Heart;
And then the Tongue, that does th'Abuse impart,
He points and makes each Word a Scythian Dart.
Scandals too false and sinful to be nam'd,
Are whisper'd first for Truths, and then for Truths proclaim'd.
In Friends this does the Breach of Trust create,
And sowing deep the Seeds of dire Debate,
Pity to Spite, and Love resolves to Hate.
Strife, Bloodshed, and almost all Ills on Earth
From this accursed Fountain draw their Breath.
What Mischief did there ever reach our Ears
That a malicious Villain don't or dares?
What Libyan Armour, or Vulcanian Shield
(Tho' ne'er so much as dinted in the Field)
Can save us from th'invisible Attack
Of Slander? or, approaching, drive her back?
Where ever Breath can Entrance find she comes,
Nor so contented, tears up Marble Tombs;
What close Recess can hide us from her Power,
When the cold Grave can't its own Dead secure?
What Guard ye Powers! from such a Shaft as this,
That flies so swift and certain not to miss!
Not Love or Fate can scarce take surer Aim
Than a flagitious Tongue, that shoots at Fame:
To be gay, youthful, vertu'ous chast and fair,
But make their Owners more obnoxious there.
Against this conqu'ring Evil what Defence?
O what!—is Patience best, or Innocence?
Or are they both, arm'd each by each, the thing
That from this deadly Hornet plucks the Sting?
These, sure, (if any Heav'nly Gifts of Force
T'arrest this Bolt in its destructive Course)
Sure these are Proof (against all human Wrong,
And e'en the worst of all,—An Envious Tongue!
We often ought to use, that Heav'n may hear:
When e'er the Devil wou'd exert his Skill,
And, as supreme in Hell, be so in Ill,
He glides into some black Detractor's Ear,
His first Essay and sheds his Poison there:
105
And then the Tongue, that does th'Abuse impart,
He points and makes each Word a Scythian Dart.
Scandals too false and sinful to be nam'd,
Are whisper'd first for Truths, and then for Truths proclaim'd.
In Friends this does the Breach of Trust create,
And sowing deep the Seeds of dire Debate,
Pity to Spite, and Love resolves to Hate.
Strife, Bloodshed, and almost all Ills on Earth
From this accursed Fountain draw their Breath.
What Mischief did there ever reach our Ears
That a malicious Villain don't or dares?
What Libyan Armour, or Vulcanian Shield
(Tho' ne'er so much as dinted in the Field)
Can save us from th'invisible Attack
Of Slander? or, approaching, drive her back?
Where ever Breath can Entrance find she comes,
Nor so contented, tears up Marble Tombs;
What close Recess can hide us from her Power,
When the cold Grave can't its own Dead secure?
What Guard ye Powers! from such a Shaft as this,
That flies so swift and certain not to miss!
Not Love or Fate can scarce take surer Aim
Than a flagitious Tongue, that shoots at Fame:
To be gay, youthful, vertu'ous chast and fair,
But make their Owners more obnoxious there.
Against this conqu'ring Evil what Defence?
O what!—is Patience best, or Innocence?
Or are they both, arm'd each by each, the thing
That from this deadly Hornet plucks the Sting?
These, sure, (if any Heav'nly Gifts of Force
T'arrest this Bolt in its destructive Course)
Sure these are Proof (against all human Wrong,
And e'en the worst of all,—An Envious Tongue!
106
Quit then, fair Mourner, these Destructive Fears,
Afflict our Souls no longer with Your Tears:
Free from all Ills those Vertues can resist,
Tho' ever aim'd at You'd be ever mist:
Off from those Shields they turn, with fierce intent,
Like Shafts recoiling, when there's Treach'ry meant,
Back on the Sender with Destruction sent.
Your Fau'tless Life (tho' but at Noon arriv'd,
But thro' more Good than Thousands longer liv'd)
Will better plead, and more exalt your Praise,
Than Envy's worst Invectives can debase.
Afflict our Souls no longer with Your Tears:
Free from all Ills those Vertues can resist,
Tho' ever aim'd at You'd be ever mist:
Off from those Shields they turn, with fierce intent,
Like Shafts recoiling, when there's Treach'ry meant,
Back on the Sender with Destruction sent.
Your Fau'tless Life (tho' but at Noon arriv'd,
But thro' more Good than Thousands longer liv'd)
Will better plead, and more exalt your Praise,
Than Envy's worst Invectives can debase.
As Guilty Ghosts, when first the Cock does crow,
Fly at the Summons to their Den below;
So all Reports with which we'd brand your Fame
Vanish like them, repeating but your Name:
Envy in others does her Ends obtain
But her Attempt your Matchless Worth to stain,
Was the first Work she e'er advanc'd in vain.
Fly at the Summons to their Den below;
So all Reports with which we'd brand your Fame
Vanish like them, repeating but your Name:
Envy in others does her Ends obtain
But her Attempt your Matchless Worth to stain,
Was the first Work she e'er advanc'd in vain.
Yet, while our Thoughts we on this Theme impart,
Who knows but that your Conduct is your Art?
The Glorious Sun, behind thick Clouds retir'd,
(For what's not seen does cease to be admir'd)
Seems lost to us while they possess the Air;
Not that He's less in Glory, not seen here,
But that, perhaps, he lists not to appear;
As knowing that his Warmth with-held, and Light,
Will more endear him than if always bright:
At his own Choice he can exert his Ray,
But without Darkness who wou'd prize the Day?
So, tho' your black Aspersor basely drew
A Gloomy Scene between our Eyes and you,
Your shining VVorth the Shade does circumvent;
Remaining veil'd but by your own Consent:
Discreetly, so, to make our VVonder more;
That, breaking forth, we might afresh adore,
Confirm'd in all the Good we thought before.
Who knows but that your Conduct is your Art?
The Glorious Sun, behind thick Clouds retir'd,
(For what's not seen does cease to be admir'd)
Seems lost to us while they possess the Air;
Not that He's less in Glory, not seen here,
But that, perhaps, he lists not to appear;
As knowing that his Warmth with-held, and Light,
Will more endear him than if always bright:
At his own Choice he can exert his Ray,
But without Darkness who wou'd prize the Day?
So, tho' your black Aspersor basely drew
A Gloomy Scene between our Eyes and you,
Your shining VVorth the Shade does circumvent;
Remaining veil'd but by your own Consent:
107
That, breaking forth, we might afresh adore,
Confirm'd in all the Good we thought before.
VVhat Reason then to grieve at his Offence
That sought to bring your Goodness in Suspence?
Let him, to his Confusion, now perceive
No Vitious Habit in your Breast can live,
And that the worst Affronts you can forgive.
Not stung with Spight, or raging for Abuse,
VVho knows what your Example may produce!
Thus his Conversion may be wrought by you,
And your be'ng vertu'ous make him vertu'ous too:
How can his clear Conviction be withstood,
That finds his Evil still producing Good?
He will not, dare not, cannot go astray,
That sees you thus persisting in the VVay.
VVho then wou'd rush with Passion on the Shelves
VVhen Patience Saves ev'n Others and our Selves?—
But daring to Instruct You I'm too bold;
Tho' few your Years, in Prudence you are old,
And know how to be Good without be'ng told.
That sought to bring your Goodness in Suspence?
Let him, to his Confusion, now perceive
No Vitious Habit in your Breast can live,
And that the worst Affronts you can forgive.
Not stung with Spight, or raging for Abuse,
VVho knows what your Example may produce!
Thus his Conversion may be wrought by you,
And your be'ng vertu'ous make him vertu'ous too:
How can his clear Conviction be withstood,
That finds his Evil still producing Good?
He will not, dare not, cannot go astray,
That sees you thus persisting in the VVay.
VVho then wou'd rush with Passion on the Shelves
VVhen Patience Saves ev'n Others and our Selves?—
But daring to Instruct You I'm too bold;
Tho' few your Years, in Prudence you are old,
And know how to be Good without be'ng told.
To Madam L.
Fair is your Sex, but ah! so faithless, they
Indeed deserve what we in Satyr say:
But some among the rest, a very few,
Like Dia'monds in the Dust, attract our View:
Among which Number, sparkling like a Star,
Elate, you shine, and spread your Lustre far.
Ah noble Maid! but in thy Age's Noon,
And make Perfection all your Own so soon!
Shewing thy Sex (and ah! that more wou'd please
To trace thy Steps) they may be Good with ease;
That Vertue's not a Scare-Crow to affright,
But soft as kind'ling Love, and mild as op'ning Light.
'Tis true, our Teachers with their wayward Looks,
And doz'd with poring on too Rigid Books,
Say 'tis a Blessing none cou'd ever gain
Without an Age of Patience, Toil and Pain;
But why shou'd they make rough, what you have made so Plain?
While of such strong Impediments they tell,
They fright the striving Few from doing well;
And clog their Thoughts; which else wou'd light-some fly,
Led on by yours, and reach the ample Sky.
'Tis granted that Temptations will abound,
But whom seduce?—The Sickly, not the Sound:
Gold shines in vain, in vain Ambition sings,
To one that does contemplate nobler Things;
That sees the Goal, and with a sober Pace
(For some run fast and tire) keeps on and wins the Race.
Indeed deserve what we in Satyr say:
But some among the rest, a very few,
Like Dia'monds in the Dust, attract our View:
Among which Number, sparkling like a Star,
Elate, you shine, and spread your Lustre far.
Ah noble Maid! but in thy Age's Noon,
And make Perfection all your Own so soon!
Shewing thy Sex (and ah! that more wou'd please
To trace thy Steps) they may be Good with ease;
108
But soft as kind'ling Love, and mild as op'ning Light.
'Tis true, our Teachers with their wayward Looks,
And doz'd with poring on too Rigid Books,
Say 'tis a Blessing none cou'd ever gain
Without an Age of Patience, Toil and Pain;
But why shou'd they make rough, what you have made so Plain?
While of such strong Impediments they tell,
They fright the striving Few from doing well;
And clog their Thoughts; which else wou'd light-some fly,
Led on by yours, and reach the ample Sky.
'Tis granted that Temptations will abound,
But whom seduce?—The Sickly, not the Sound:
Gold shines in vain, in vain Ambition sings,
To one that does contemplate nobler Things;
That sees the Goal, and with a sober Pace
(For some run fast and tire) keeps on and wins the Race.
Ill Fare the rigid Dame, and wrinkl'd Face,
(As far from Common Sense, as Sin from Grace)
That says none can be Wise, or Chast, but those
That whine and cant, and snuffle in the Nose,
And wear, by Choice, unfashionable Cloaths:
But decent Ornament, tho' such abase,
Instead of a Reproof commands our Praise.
Why shou'd that Lady be thought vain, or proud,
That loves to be distinguish'd from the Crowd?
The Crowd (not Sin shou'd be avoided more)
Those two-leg'd Bruits, more senseless than the Four.
(As far from Common Sense, as Sin from Grace)
That says none can be Wise, or Chast, but those
That whine and cant, and snuffle in the Nose,
And wear, by Choice, unfashionable Cloaths:
But decent Ornament, tho' such abase,
Instead of a Reproof commands our Praise.
Why shou'd that Lady be thought vain, or proud,
That loves to be distinguish'd from the Crowd?
The Crowd (not Sin shou'd be avoided more)
Those two-leg'd Bruits, more senseless than the Four.
Yet that a Mean shou'd be observ'd is true,
And 'tis as sure that Mean's observ'd by few.
The Woman shou'd not like her Lady dress,
(She may let her Impertinence be less;)
Nor Drabs of the Exchange, of base Report,
Be trick't like a fine Beauty of the Court.
In Quality there's many things allow'd
Which in a meaner State is being Proud;
Tho' oft in Quality it self we see
A strange Corruption of this Liberty.
Extravagance in Dress is the Abuse,
And that, in no Degree, admits excuse.
The senseless City Spouse does most affect
That costly Wear the better bred reject;
Such will have rich Attire; and when 'tis done,
They're aukwardly and flantingly put on.
Just as a Coward's known by Bullying Oaths,
So is the City Wife by tawdry Cloaths:
Or if in those her Folly is not seen,
'Tis open'd in her Breeding and her Mien.
This Mushroom Race will still the Ladies hate,
And yet while they revile they Imitate;
But ne'er can reach the soft and conqu'ring Air,
The easy flowing which attends the Fair
That have been nobly born, and train'd with Care:
In Youth th'Impression took, the Charms abide,
So there 'tis Nature, and in these 'tis Pride.
'Tis not a Town, or Court, tho' Daily seen,
That forms a just and an accomplish'd Mien;
The Bright'ning Seed must first within take Root,
Before it can produce the shining Fruit.
To hear these Cits on Quality declaim,
You'd think great Ladies had no Sense of Shame;
So filthily they daub a noble Name.
And yet, forsooth, (so senseless is their Pride)
With Madam they must all be dignify'd:
Rak'd from the Country, and the Stench of Stews,
When e'er they're spoke to we must Madam use:
Their pratt'ling Children must lay Mammy by,
And answer in the Stile of Quality.
This Publick Grievance is not strange, or new,
Nor is it only Practis'd by a few;
The Vice is gen'ral, and the Measure's full,
Ev'n from the Merchant's Spouse down to the Porter's Trull.
And 'tis as sure that Mean's observ'd by few.
The Woman shou'd not like her Lady dress,
(She may let her Impertinence be less;)
109
Be trick't like a fine Beauty of the Court.
In Quality there's many things allow'd
Which in a meaner State is being Proud;
Tho' oft in Quality it self we see
A strange Corruption of this Liberty.
Extravagance in Dress is the Abuse,
And that, in no Degree, admits excuse.
The senseless City Spouse does most affect
That costly Wear the better bred reject;
Such will have rich Attire; and when 'tis done,
They're aukwardly and flantingly put on.
Just as a Coward's known by Bullying Oaths,
So is the City Wife by tawdry Cloaths:
Or if in those her Folly is not seen,
'Tis open'd in her Breeding and her Mien.
This Mushroom Race will still the Ladies hate,
And yet while they revile they Imitate;
But ne'er can reach the soft and conqu'ring Air,
The easy flowing which attends the Fair
That have been nobly born, and train'd with Care:
In Youth th'Impression took, the Charms abide,
So there 'tis Nature, and in these 'tis Pride.
'Tis not a Town, or Court, tho' Daily seen,
That forms a just and an accomplish'd Mien;
The Bright'ning Seed must first within take Root,
Before it can produce the shining Fruit.
To hear these Cits on Quality declaim,
You'd think great Ladies had no Sense of Shame;
So filthily they daub a noble Name.
And yet, forsooth, (so senseless is their Pride)
With Madam they must all be dignify'd:
Rak'd from the Country, and the Stench of Stews,
When e'er they're spoke to we must Madam use:
Their pratt'ling Children must lay Mammy by,
And answer in the Stile of Quality.
110
Nor is it only Practis'd by a few;
The Vice is gen'ral, and the Measure's full,
Ev'n from the Merchant's Spouse down to the Porter's Trull.
A Thousand like Examples we may find:
But thou art to the happy Mean inclin'd,
Ev'n in thy Outward Dress we see thy inmost Mind:
So full of Modesty it dazles Sight,
And renders thee our Wonder and Delight:
Fine, and yet flowing; as there had no Care
Been us'd in Dressing; then thy easie Air
(Neither too stiff, nor, which is worse, too free,
But just what true Deportment ought to be)
Mixt with thy pleasing Converse, is a Charm
That more than Joy allures, and more than Life does warm!
But thou art to the happy Mean inclin'd,
Ev'n in thy Outward Dress we see thy inmost Mind:
So full of Modesty it dazles Sight,
And renders thee our Wonder and Delight:
Fine, and yet flowing; as there had no Care
Been us'd in Dressing; then thy easie Air
(Neither too stiff, nor, which is worse, too free,
But just what true Deportment ought to be)
Mixt with thy pleasing Converse, is a Charm
That more than Joy allures, and more than Life does warm!
Happy for VVomankind, as happy too
For us, were all your Beauteous Sex like you;
VVou'd they Behaviour from thy Pattern learn,
Dress well, but make the Soul their chief Concern.
But ah! Mankind wou'd then too happy be;
And Heav'n has shew'd us, in creating thee,
Such VVorth's a thing we must but seldom see:
For, unlike thee, most of your Sex we find
Not made to Pleasure, but to Plague Mankind.
Vain are our Youth to let you then so long
Thus single live—but 'tis themselves they wrong:
Or rather you're unkind, and will not take
Th'Addresses which, without Dispute, they make:
For they have Hearts Impression to receive,
And you have Eyes to conquer and enslave.
Yes! yes! I see 'em at your Foot-stool kneel,
I hear 'em sigh, and with a Pang reveal
That Love they did with greater Pangs conceal!
O don't persist thus cruel!—but encline
To Pity; Love's a Passion all Divine:
Make some one Happy, and reward his Care;
And ease the rest by giving 'em Despair.
For us, were all your Beauteous Sex like you;
VVou'd they Behaviour from thy Pattern learn,
Dress well, but make the Soul their chief Concern.
But ah! Mankind wou'd then too happy be;
And Heav'n has shew'd us, in creating thee,
Such VVorth's a thing we must but seldom see:
For, unlike thee, most of your Sex we find
Not made to Pleasure, but to Plague Mankind.
Vain are our Youth to let you then so long
Thus single live—but 'tis themselves they wrong:
Or rather you're unkind, and will not take
Th'Addresses which, without Dispute, they make:
For they have Hearts Impression to receive,
And you have Eyes to conquer and enslave.
Yes! yes! I see 'em at your Foot-stool kneel,
I hear 'em sigh, and with a Pang reveal
That Love they did with greater Pangs conceal!
111
To Pity; Love's a Passion all Divine:
Make some one Happy, and reward his Care;
And ease the rest by giving 'em Despair.
To the Happy Mother.
Whether we with thy Virgin State begin,
A State to that of Angel next of kin;
(Not that in Goodness thou art alter'd since,
For all thy Life's one State of Innocence;)
Ev'n there we such a modest Sweetness see,
As none can have that Copy not from thee:
Never were any of the Virgin Train,
So Fair as thee, so far from being vain.
A State to that of Angel next of kin;
(Not that in Goodness thou art alter'd since,
For all thy Life's one State of Innocence;)
Ev'n there we such a modest Sweetness see,
As none can have that Copy not from thee:
Never were any of the Virgin Train,
So Fair as thee, so far from being vain.
Whether we take thee in that Scene of Life,
That made Hamilcar happy in a Wife:
Or whether next (for Joy but Grief precedes)
We see thee Mourning in thy Sable Weeds:
At once to your dear Husband's Mem'ry kind,
And to the fatal VVill of Heav'n resign'd:
No Plaints we heard, and no Repining saw;
Yet all your Servants treated with that awe,
VVe well perceiv'd that Noble Flame of thine,
Extinct with him was never more to shine:
That one, and only one, was e'er to prove
That more than Mortal Blessing of thy Love.
That made Hamilcar happy in a Wife:
Or whether next (for Joy but Grief precedes)
We see thee Mourning in thy Sable Weeds:
At once to your dear Husband's Mem'ry kind,
And to the fatal VVill of Heav'n resign'd:
No Plaints we heard, and no Repining saw;
Yet all your Servants treated with that awe,
VVe well perceiv'd that Noble Flame of thine,
Extinct with him was never more to shine:
That one, and only one, was e'er to prove
That more than Mortal Blessing of thy Love.
VVell may that Matron from the Gene'ral Voice
Meet gene'ral Praise that makes no second Choice;
It shews the Ardour of her first Desire
Survives her Loss, and upward does aspire
To meet her Consort in the Courts above,
VVhere the whole Scene is Everlasting Love!
Love suited to the long Embrace of Souls;
Not clogg'd, as here, with vain Fantastick Rules.
Meet gene'ral Praise that makes no second Choice;
It shews the Ardour of her first Desire
Survives her Loss, and upward does aspire
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VVhere the whole Scene is Everlasting Love!
Love suited to the long Embrace of Souls;
Not clogg'd, as here, with vain Fantastick Rules.
In all these Stations, thro' th'Entangling Maze,
You still have trod the Path that leads to Praise:
VVhether a Virgin, VVife, or VVidow found,
Fame with her clearest Blast your VVorth does sound:
Pleas'd with the Theme, we all encline an Ear,
And with an Eager Transport crowd to hear:
'Tis then, both profited and charm'd we find
VVhat VVonders may be said of VVomankind.
You still have trod the Path that leads to Praise:
VVhether a Virgin, VVife, or VVidow found,
Fame with her clearest Blast your VVorth does sound:
Pleas'd with the Theme, we all encline an Ear,
And with an Eager Transport crowd to hear:
'Tis then, both profited and charm'd we find
VVhat VVonders may be said of VVomankind.
And yet our Admiration stops not here,
But to a Nobler Call invites the Ear:
Wife, Virgin, Widow, Honour'd o'er and o'er,
VVe yet must praise thee as a MOTHER more.
But to a Nobler Call invites the Ear:
Wife, Virgin, Widow, Honour'd o'er and o'er,
VVe yet must praise thee as a MOTHER more.
Not Lemuel was instructed with that Care
And Prudence thy three vertuous Daughters are;
Nor with that Zeal did, in so short a time,
To Praise, to Honour, and Perfection climb:
Their Fau'tless Lives, and their unspotted Fame,
Shew that from thee their Education came.
And Prudence thy three vertuous Daughters are;
Nor with that Zeal did, in so short a time,
To Praise, to Honour, and Perfection climb:
Their Fau'tless Lives, and their unspotted Fame,
Shew that from thee their Education came.
Thy Eldest has already Copy'd forth
The Noble Scheme of thy Immortal VVorth;
Her Soul the same; like thine still tow'ring higher,
Touch'd with a Coal of the Celestial Fire.
Happy those Virgins that are Vertu'ous Young!
For Vertue's least attain'd by living long:
Age makes our Frailties into Habits grow,
Evil, and when we'd cease from being so,
Like fam'd Alcide's Shirt, our Vice so fast
Does cleave, it tears away the Flesh at last;
We sigh and grieve to leave our Favo'rite Sins,
And 'tis with Sorrow that our Joy begins.
VVhile they that in their Youth become Devout,
Tread but that Path in which they first set out:
Thy Pious Daughter thus her Race began,
And half Perfection has already ran.
Some Ladies nothing talk, yet take it all;
No VVord that e'er she speaks does idly fall.
Books her Delight, Religion all her Thought;
Heav'n must be found with so much Ardour sought.
VVhile other Nymphs of Husband talk, and VVife,
(Which is indeed of Nonsense and of Strife)
Her Heav'nly Study is a Holy Life:
Not that her Beauty wants those Flames and Darts
That charm the Lovers Eyes, and wound their Hearts.
The Noble Scheme of thy Immortal VVorth;
Her Soul the same; like thine still tow'ring higher,
Touch'd with a Coal of the Celestial Fire.
Happy those Virgins that are Vertu'ous Young!
For Vertue's least attain'd by living long:
Age makes our Frailties into Habits grow,
Evil, and when we'd cease from being so,
Like fam'd Alcide's Shirt, our Vice so fast
Does cleave, it tears away the Flesh at last;
113
And 'tis with Sorrow that our Joy begins.
VVhile they that in their Youth become Devout,
Tread but that Path in which they first set out:
Thy Pious Daughter thus her Race began,
And half Perfection has already ran.
Some Ladies nothing talk, yet take it all;
No VVord that e'er she speaks does idly fall.
Books her Delight, Religion all her Thought;
Heav'n must be found with so much Ardour sought.
VVhile other Nymphs of Husband talk, and VVife,
(Which is indeed of Nonsense and of Strife)
Her Heav'nly Study is a Holy Life:
Not that her Beauty wants those Flames and Darts
That charm the Lovers Eyes, and wound their Hearts.
But from this Mirrour, where all Maids may see,
By what She is, what they their selves shou'd be,
Thy Elder Hope, we next descend to Her
That Marriage did to single Life prefer:
Belov'd, and loving, she has took her Fate,
And is an Honour to the Sacred State:
She Honours that, and does her Husband bless
With all that wisest Men call Happiness.
A Face and Form that all Mankind admire,
But then so chast as blasts all vain Desire,
And quench as fast as Love renews the Fire.
Prest in her Snowy Arms, from him we know
That there's (indeed!) a Paradise below:
By a yet closer Tye than Marriage joyn'd;
Not only one in Flesh, but one in Mind.
High in their Orbs to faut'less Joys they go,
And scorn the distant Rack that rolls below;
Where Wedlock-Strifes a fearful Prospect form,
Confusion, Fury, Fright, all driving on the Storm:
From whose rude Breast those Flames and Bolts are hurl'd,
That scatter such Cumbustion thro' the World;
And, like the murde'ring Angel heretofore
Of Egypt's First-born, knock at ev'ry Door.
But they, in Love's bright Goshen, free from fear,
See all around 'em Halcion, still, and clear;
The swift and wide Destroyer comes not there:
For them, ye Pow'rs! your Blessings we implore
Let Plenty clip 'em round with all her Store,
Safety attend behind, and Truth lead on before;
Till, having ran thro' a long Train of Years,
They're rais'd to Heav'n unknown to Human Cares.
By what She is, what they their selves shou'd be,
Thy Elder Hope, we next descend to Her
That Marriage did to single Life prefer:
Belov'd, and loving, she has took her Fate,
And is an Honour to the Sacred State:
She Honours that, and does her Husband bless
With all that wisest Men call Happiness.
A Face and Form that all Mankind admire,
But then so chast as blasts all vain Desire,
And quench as fast as Love renews the Fire.
Prest in her Snowy Arms, from him we know
That there's (indeed!) a Paradise below:
By a yet closer Tye than Marriage joyn'd;
Not only one in Flesh, but one in Mind.
High in their Orbs to faut'less Joys they go,
And scorn the distant Rack that rolls below;
Where Wedlock-Strifes a fearful Prospect form,
Confusion, Fury, Fright, all driving on the Storm:
114
That scatter such Cumbustion thro' the World;
And, like the murde'ring Angel heretofore
Of Egypt's First-born, knock at ev'ry Door.
But they, in Love's bright Goshen, free from fear,
See all around 'em Halcion, still, and clear;
The swift and wide Destroyer comes not there:
For them, ye Pow'rs! your Blessings we implore
Let Plenty clip 'em round with all her Store,
Safety attend behind, and Truth lead on before;
Till, having ran thro' a long Train of Years,
They're rais'd to Heav'n unknown to Human Cares.
Two Daughters such as these may well assure
The World y'are happy, if you had no more:
But O thy Youngest does new Matter raise
Both for our Admiration, and our Praise!
Here Beauty does in all it's Pomp appear,
But comes and sees, and settles Conquest there!
Humbles the Proud, and makes the Wise adore,
And reaches to the Soul thro' ev'ry Pore!
As when before some earnest Saint at Prayer,
An Angel all in Glory does appear,
O'ercome with Rapture and the Blaze of Light,
He for a while does lose his Sense and Sight,
Sunk in the Boundless Ocean of Delight!
So when the bright Serapha's in our view,
We know not where we are! or what we do!
Her Beauties almost Beatifick too!
Such is her Form; but when her Voice we hear.
W' are lost anew, and find fresh Magick there!
Or when she does in Art full Measures move,
There's a new Scene for Wonder and for Love!
We bleed! we burn! and rush upon our Fate,
Resolv'd to die, if she resolves to Hate!
The World y'are happy, if you had no more:
But O thy Youngest does new Matter raise
Both for our Admiration, and our Praise!
Here Beauty does in all it's Pomp appear,
But comes and sees, and settles Conquest there!
Humbles the Proud, and makes the Wise adore,
And reaches to the Soul thro' ev'ry Pore!
As when before some earnest Saint at Prayer,
An Angel all in Glory does appear,
O'ercome with Rapture and the Blaze of Light,
He for a while does lose his Sense and Sight,
Sunk in the Boundless Ocean of Delight!
So when the bright Serapha's in our view,
We know not where we are! or what we do!
Her Beauties almost Beatifick too!
Such is her Form; but when her Voice we hear.
W' are lost anew, and find fresh Magick there!
Or when she does in Art full Measures move,
There's a new Scene for Wonder and for Love!
We bleed! we burn! and rush upon our Fate,
Resolv'd to die, if she resolves to Hate!
115
Pardon this Rapture!—but when we'd express
Serapha's Beauties how can it be less?
She that is all the Lover e'er admir'd,
And all that Poets Praise when they're inspir'd!
Serapha's Beauties how can it be less?
She that is all the Lover e'er admir'd,
And all that Poets Praise when they're inspir'd!
Hail HAPPY MOTHER!—and be blest the Womb
From which this fair Triumviri did come!
If Beauty, Truth, or Piety can give
Their Owners Fame, their Names shall ever Live,
And Thine with theirs! from that they took their Aim,
And by Example follow'd THEE to Fame:
For tho' they might have Vanity withstood,
And seem by Choice, and Inclination, Good,
They ne'er had been to such Perfection brought,
Had they not seen YOU Practice what you Taught.
From which this fair Triumviri did come!
If Beauty, Truth, or Piety can give
Their Owners Fame, their Names shall ever Live,
And Thine with theirs! from that they took their Aim,
And by Example follow'd THEE to Fame:
For tho' they might have Vanity withstood,
And seem by Choice, and Inclination, Good,
They ne'er had been to such Perfection brought,
Had they not seen YOU Practice what you Taught.
To my Lady Long:
With my Poem on the Death of the Queen Enclos'd.
Madam,
Th' Enclos'd does humbly court your View,Lines doubly happy, if approv'd by YOU.
Accept 'em for Her sake of whom they Treat,
And for Your Own, in whom like Wonders meet.
She's gone, alas! who long we hop'd wou'd Reign;
Nor cou'd w' enough condole, enough complain
Were it not some amends that You Remain.
In Youth the same your Shape, your Face and Mien,
And at Your Age she wou'd the same have been;
She only differ'd from You as a QUEEN.
Fate in Her Death by a bold Stroke does show,
Not sparing Princes, Subjects too must go:
At Peace, she now has reach'd her Native Home.
But late, Ah; late may your Removal come.
116
But what wou'd then become of those below?
Where after that wou'd Vertue have Regard?
The Poor, Relief? or Poetry, Reward?
To my Lady Ann Baynton on the 28th of April, her Birth-Day.
'Twas Night, and with a Weight of Grief opprest,
Tho' weary'd with much Toil, I took no Rest:
All wrapt in Melancholy thought I lay,
Wish'd 'twou'd be ever Dark, or soon be Day.
But Heav'n, that looks into the Inmost Grief,
A Lucky Thought inspir'd, and gave Relief;
A Thought that all around did Joy display,
And drove the Anxious Throng of Cares away.
So oft, in Vision, Fancy to us brings
A thousand frightful Images of Things,
Confus'd; but at the op'ning of the Eye
Their Shapes dissolve, the Airy Fantoms fly.
Tho' weary'd with much Toil, I took no Rest:
All wrapt in Melancholy thought I lay,
Wish'd 'twou'd be ever Dark, or soon be Day.
But Heav'n, that looks into the Inmost Grief,
A Lucky Thought inspir'd, and gave Relief;
A Thought that all around did Joy display,
And drove the Anxious Throng of Cares away.
So oft, in Vision, Fancy to us brings
A thousand frightful Images of Things,
Confus'd; but at the op'ning of the Eye
Their Shapes dissolve, the Airy Fantoms fly.
Gods! (strait I cry'd) why lie I longer here?
And, Pleasure smiling, thus Indulge my Care?
Up then, and to high Heav'n Devotion pay
For the Return of this Auspicious Day;
The Day that gave fair ADORISSA Birth,
And with another LUCRECE blest the Earth:
Chast ADORISSA, first in Truth's Esteem,
The Grace's Darling, and the MUSES Theme;
Which ev'ry Pen to write, and ev'ry Ear
With an uncommon Joy inclines to hear:
While in her Conduct we see fairly writ
Her Mother's Heav'nly Modesty, her Father's Pow'rful Wit.
And, Pleasure smiling, thus Indulge my Care?
Up then, and to high Heav'n Devotion pay
For the Return of this Auspicious Day;
The Day that gave fair ADORISSA Birth,
And with another LUCRECE blest the Earth:
Chast ADORISSA, first in Truth's Esteem,
The Grace's Darling, and the MUSES Theme;
Which ev'ry Pen to write, and ev'ry Ear
With an uncommon Joy inclines to hear:
While in her Conduct we see fairly writ
Her Mother's Heav'nly Modesty, her Father's Pow'rful Wit.
117
As thus I spoke, Aurora's cheerful Ray
Brought the glad Tidings of Returning Day;
The Larks, in Air, their Morning Carols sung;
To Heav'ns wide Arch the aspiring Echo rung.
And now the Sun let loose the Reins of Light,
And ne'er before, methought, appear'd so bright:
No Cloudy Aspect interpos'd between
His Beams and us: nor rising Fog was seen:
The Winds were hush'd; only a balmy Breeze,
With am'rous Wings, fann'd Perfume thro' the Trees.
Brought the glad Tidings of Returning Day;
The Larks, in Air, their Morning Carols sung;
To Heav'ns wide Arch the aspiring Echo rung.
And now the Sun let loose the Reins of Light,
And ne'er before, methought, appear'd so bright:
No Cloudy Aspect interpos'd between
His Beams and us: nor rising Fog was seen:
The Winds were hush'd; only a balmy Breeze,
With am'rous Wings, fann'd Perfume thro' the Trees.
Lo! here, cry'd I again, (when all around,
Above, below, a General Joy I found)
NATURE her self, to show we well admire,
Puts on her Gorgeous Robes and Spring Attire,
That we may say her gentlest Looks she cast
To Grace this Day, and bless it as it past.
Never, O Goddess! did thy Favours shine
Yet on a Form that came so near Divine:
The Sex's scatter'd Beams in her unite;
There single Stars, and here a Gallaxy of Light.
Her Vertues, which the nicest Test will bear,
Her easy, melting, yet commanding Air;
A Temper which no Trifling will abide,
Sweet without Art, and stately without Pride.
A Voice so tuneful! such a Nameless Grace!
Such Lovely Motion! such a Lovely Face!—
We can no more! The Theme the Writer fires,
And he can least Describe that most admires.
Above, below, a General Joy I found)
NATURE her self, to show we well admire,
Puts on her Gorgeous Robes and Spring Attire,
That we may say her gentlest Looks she cast
To Grace this Day, and bless it as it past.
Never, O Goddess! did thy Favours shine
Yet on a Form that came so near Divine:
The Sex's scatter'd Beams in her unite;
There single Stars, and here a Gallaxy of Light.
Her Vertues, which the nicest Test will bear,
Her easy, melting, yet commanding Air;
A Temper which no Trifling will abide,
Sweet without Art, and stately without Pride.
A Voice so tuneful! such a Nameless Grace!
Such Lovely Motion! such a Lovely Face!—
We can no more! The Theme the Writer fires,
And he can least Describe that most admires.
These, Madam, were my Thoughts;—but while you stay
To read 'em, you throw precious Time away,
And mar the better Pleasures of the Day:
The Guests, Impatient, long you shou'd appear;
And I shou'd err to keep you longer here.
To read 'em, you throw precious Time away,
And mar the better Pleasures of the Day:
The Guests, Impatient, long you shou'd appear;
And I shou'd err to keep you longer here.
118
Now strike up Musick—let the Virgins Feet,
With equal Harmony your Measures meet;
In Dances let 'em give Delight the Rein,
And, tir'd, take breath; then on, and tire again:
But let not, Swains, your Shepherdesses fair
Make you fix Adoration only there;
O give not Cupid all! let Bacchus have his Share!
So! to the Top fill up the flowing Bowl;
Come! he that spills least has the greatest Soul:
Let no dull sniv'ling Coxcomb baulk his Glass,
But if he will not drink, dismiss the Ass;
Ill fare the Man that, at the needful Time,
Thinks Dancing, Kissing, Love, or Drink a Crime:
What if they call us Sots? So let 'em do;
Your sober Sot's the dullest of the two.
Fill round again, to the large Brim fill up,
'Tis Adorissa's Health—unlade the Cup:
But, prithee, tho' y'are Merry don't forget
The Poet;—Wine's his best Pretence to Wit.
With equal Harmony your Measures meet;
In Dances let 'em give Delight the Rein,
And, tir'd, take breath; then on, and tire again:
But let not, Swains, your Shepherdesses fair
Make you fix Adoration only there;
O give not Cupid all! let Bacchus have his Share!
So! to the Top fill up the flowing Bowl;
Come! he that spills least has the greatest Soul:
Let no dull sniv'ling Coxcomb baulk his Glass,
But if he will not drink, dismiss the Ass;
Ill fare the Man that, at the needful Time,
Thinks Dancing, Kissing, Love, or Drink a Crime:
What if they call us Sots? So let 'em do;
Your sober Sot's the dullest of the two.
Fill round again, to the large Brim fill up,
'Tis Adorissa's Health—unlade the Cup:
But, prithee, tho' y'are Merry don't forget
The Poet;—Wine's his best Pretence to Wit.
But whither does the Muse intend her flight?
Or has she, else, forgot to whom I write?
Or am I drunk indeed? turn'd giddy with Delight?
How e'er it is, Madam, I'm confident
Here's nothing said, but dutifully meant:
Permit me then to hope you will forgive
These Lines, and condescend to let 'em live:
The Poet's Friend! when e'er y'are pleas'd to smile,
You wing our Fancy, and improve our Stile.
Wherefore this April's Sun shall cease to warm,
Your Spouse to Love, and your own Eyes to Charm;
E'er I desist, Indulgent to your Fame,
To sing your Praise, and celebrate your Name.
Long may you in your Consort's Arms be prest
With the same Ardor you at first Carest,
When the dear Man came panting to your Breast:
May you see many of these Days return,
And, e'er the next Arrives, an HEIR to Damon born.
'Tis granted Heav'n does to the Prayer incline;
Nor shall the Sun his Annual Progress shine,
Before you give that Blessing to the Line.
Or has she, else, forgot to whom I write?
Or am I drunk indeed? turn'd giddy with Delight?
How e'er it is, Madam, I'm confident
Here's nothing said, but dutifully meant:
Permit me then to hope you will forgive
These Lines, and condescend to let 'em live:
The Poet's Friend! when e'er y'are pleas'd to smile,
You wing our Fancy, and improve our Stile.
Wherefore this April's Sun shall cease to warm,
Your Spouse to Love, and your own Eyes to Charm;
E'er I desist, Indulgent to your Fame,
To sing your Praise, and celebrate your Name.
Long may you in your Consort's Arms be prest
With the same Ardor you at first Carest,
When the dear Man came panting to your Breast:
119
And, e'er the next Arrives, an HEIR to Damon born.
'Tis granted Heav'n does to the Prayer incline;
Nor shall the Sun his Annual Progress shine,
Before you give that Blessing to the Line.
To my Lady Abingdon.
If to commend and raise true Vertue high,
To fix its Station in the Starry Sky,
To cloath it gay, and make it flourish long,
Be the best Subject for a Poet's Song;
Then, Madam, I may hope you will excuse
This Dutiful Presumption of the Muse:
For since so far in that bright Chase y've gone,
And with unweary'd Swiftness still keep on,
Something we ought to your vast Merit raise;
What all Mankind admire 'twere impious not to Praise.
To fix its Station in the Starry Sky,
To cloath it gay, and make it flourish long,
Be the best Subject for a Poet's Song;
Then, Madam, I may hope you will excuse
This Dutiful Presumption of the Muse:
For since so far in that bright Chase y've gone,
And with unweary'd Swiftness still keep on,
Something we ought to your vast Merit raise;
What all Mankind admire 'twere impious not to Praise.
Long the Fair Sex under Reproach have lain,
Too often just; disdain'd as they disdain:
But you Redeem their Fame, and soar a Pitch,
We first must be translated Saints to Reach.
Too often just; disdain'd as they disdain:
But you Redeem their Fame, and soar a Pitch,
We first must be translated Saints to Reach.
Of some bright Dames w'ave been by Poets told
Whose Breasts were heaving Snow, and Hair of flowing Gold;
Whose Eyes were Lights able to rule the Day,
In which ten Thousand Cupid's basking lay,
And on their Lips did all the Graces play;
When e'er they smil'd the faded Flowers reviv'd,
Encreas'd their Odours, and grew longer liv'd;
Arabian Spices round their Temples flew,
But their own Breath a richer Fragrance blew;
The Winds to hear did all their Rage suspend,
And List'ning Streams the Wond'rous Notes attend;
This we thought. Fiction all;—but seeing YOU,
We own 'tis possible it might be true.
Whose Breasts were heaving Snow, and Hair of flowing Gold;
Whose Eyes were Lights able to rule the Day,
In which ten Thousand Cupid's basking lay,
And on their Lips did all the Graces play;
When e'er they smil'd the faded Flowers reviv'd,
Encreas'd their Odours, and grew longer liv'd;
Arabian Spices round their Temples flew,
But their own Breath a richer Fragrance blew;
120
And List'ning Streams the Wond'rous Notes attend;
This we thought. Fiction all;—but seeing YOU,
We own 'tis possible it might be true.
So finely temper'd, and so nobly form'd,
With so much Goodness, so much Grace adorn'd,
If ought like Angels we can see below,
It is to YOU that Happiness we owe!
With so much Goodness, so much Grace adorn'd,
If ought like Angels we can see below,
It is to YOU that Happiness we owe!
None sees You that unwounded can retire;
He knows his Error—but he must admire:
Yet, tho' he Loves, he dares not hope Your Grace;
Your Chastity (confin'd to one Embrace)
Reprizes all the Conquests of Your Face.
Had You or Greece, or Rome, adorn'd of old,
What Stories had the Antique Poets told?
It had been doubly then an Age of Gold:
The Goddesses had (tho' in Beauty rare)
No more contended which had been the Fair;
But with a joynt Consent resign'd the Ball;
Assur'd your Lustre wou'd Eclipse 'em all.
He knows his Error—but he must admire:
Yet, tho' he Loves, he dares not hope Your Grace;
Your Chastity (confin'd to one Embrace)
Reprizes all the Conquests of Your Face.
Had You or Greece, or Rome, adorn'd of old,
What Stories had the Antique Poets told?
It had been doubly then an Age of Gold:
The Goddesses had (tho' in Beauty rare)
No more contended which had been the Fair;
But with a joynt Consent resign'd the Ball;
Assur'd your Lustre wou'd Eclipse 'em all.
For Mine, 'tis but the weakest Voice of Fame,
But Future Times (tenacious of your Name,)
With louder Notes your Vertues will proclaim:
These Artless Strains (nor aiming to be higher)
Serve but for Prime to give that Volley fire;
When one and all your sacred Worth recite,
Struck from this Darkness into Radiant Light.
But Future Times (tenacious of your Name,)
With louder Notes your Vertues will proclaim:
These Artless Strains (nor aiming to be higher)
Serve but for Prime to give that Volley fire;
When one and all your sacred Worth recite,
Struck from this Darkness into Radiant Light.
Blest in Your Issue! 'tis at once Your Doom
To be this Ages Joy, and that to come;
This, by a Grace that all the Nation warms,
The next, by a Deduction of your Charms:
Those Beauties then shall shine now in their Spring
And the then Poets their Applauses sing;
Like you, in all Exteriour Gifts compleat;
Aud may (ye Gods!) their Vertues be as great.
A Race of Hero's, too, that Age shall know,
Who by their Deeds will their Extraction show;
Add lasting Honours to the Bertie's Fame,
And with fresh Lawrels crown that noble Name.
To be this Ages Joy, and that to come;
This, by a Grace that all the Nation warms,
The next, by a Deduction of your Charms:
121
And the then Poets their Applauses sing;
Like you, in all Exteriour Gifts compleat;
Aud may (ye Gods!) their Vertues be as great.
A Race of Hero's, too, that Age shall know,
Who by their Deeds will their Extraction show;
Add lasting Honours to the Bertie's Fame,
And with fresh Lawrels crown that noble Name.
Happy the Children sprung from vertuous Wives!
Thrice happy they to whom that Fate arrives!
The bright Example, thro' Life's wand'ring Maze,
Gives 'em the faithful Clue that leads to Praise.
A Vertu'ous Wife!—but such, alas! there's few,
And in the Van your Merit places You.
A Vertu'ous Wife! which who can e'er attain,
Has got the chiefest Good, the richest Gain;
No greater Blessing can the Gods bestow
When they'd oblige a Favourite below.
A Vertu'ous Wife! which Heav'n and Earth regards,
And Heav'n and Earth, too bounteously rewards;
For in both Worlds the highest Fate she'll share,
Below Immortal Praise, Immortal Glory there!
Thrice happy they to whom that Fate arrives!
The bright Example, thro' Life's wand'ring Maze,
Gives 'em the faithful Clue that leads to Praise.
A Vertu'ous Wife!—but such, alas! there's few,
And in the Van your Merit places You.
A Vertu'ous Wife! which who can e'er attain,
Has got the chiefest Good, the richest Gain;
No greater Blessing can the Gods bestow
When they'd oblige a Favourite below.
A Vertu'ous Wife! which Heav'n and Earth regards,
And Heav'n and Earth, too bounteously rewards;
For in both Worlds the highest Fate she'll share,
Below Immortal Praise, Immortal Glory there!
To my Lady Peterborow on her saying she did not like Panegyrick.
The
Royal Bard, and best that ever writ,
Whose Hymns are us'd in our Devotions yet,
Too coldly us'd—were Heav'n with Ardor sought,
We shou'd recite 'em with that Warmth he wrote:
The Thought so pure, th'Expression so Divine,
Th'Inspiration glows in ev'ry Line.
Ev'n He has shown when we wou'd highest raise
Our Thoughts, it must be on the Wings of Praise.
After God's Heart—that Glorious Title came.
Nor from his Crown, but this more sacred Flame.
While Praise is forming, and when Praise is giv'n,
Our Minds a Correspondence hold with Heav'n:
Such Contemplation purges off, the Allay
From Nature, doubly Animates our Clay,
And from our Souls does brush the Earth away.
Whose Hymns are us'd in our Devotions yet,
Too coldly us'd—were Heav'n with Ardor sought,
We shou'd recite 'em with that Warmth he wrote:
The Thought so pure, th'Expression so Divine,
Th'Inspiration glows in ev'ry Line.
122
Our Thoughts, it must be on the Wings of Praise.
After God's Heart—that Glorious Title came.
Nor from his Crown, but this more sacred Flame.
While Praise is forming, and when Praise is giv'n,
Our Minds a Correspondence hold with Heav'n:
Such Contemplation purges off, the Allay
From Nature, doubly Animates our Clay,
And from our Souls does brush the Earth away.
Nor is our Praise to those above confin'd,
But does descend to the Terrestrial Kind.
Where an Unusual Excellence is giv'n,
In not applauding we dissent from Heav'n:
Vertue and Wit are his peculiar Care;
There to the Clouds the Muse her Tour shou'd rear;
Nor can we, silent, gaze upon the Fair.
But does descend to the Terrestrial Kind.
Where an Unusual Excellence is giv'n,
In not applauding we dissent from Heav'n:
Vertue and Wit are his peculiar Care;
There to the Clouds the Muse her Tour shou'd rear;
Nor can we, silent, gaze upon the Fair.
In Waller's noble Panegyrick Strain
We see that Way of Writing's not in vain:
Not in her Orb Astrœa brighter shines,
Than Sacharissa in his deathless Lines:
When e'er he does in Praise of Beauty rise,
Delight our Hearts, and Wonder fills our Eyes;
Yet in his Verse we but the Shadow see;
What then, what must the daz'ling Substance be?
How can we such a Blaze of Glory bear,
When the Reflexion is so Radiant there?
Thus Beauty, but describ'd, the Soul o'erpow'rs;
And, reading there, we make his Passion Ours,
Take Hints from him, in Verse our Flame improve,
Equal his Strain, and find Success in Love.
We see that Way of Writing's not in vain:
Not in her Orb Astrœa brighter shines,
Than Sacharissa in his deathless Lines:
When e'er he does in Praise of Beauty rise,
Delight our Hearts, and Wonder fills our Eyes;
Yet in his Verse we but the Shadow see;
What then, what must the daz'ling Substance be?
How can we such a Blaze of Glory bear,
When the Reflexion is so Radiant there?
Thus Beauty, but describ'd, the Soul o'erpow'rs;
And, reading there, we make his Passion Ours,
Take Hints from him, in Verse our Flame improve,
Equal his Strain, and find Success in Love.
Nor does he only blow our Am'rous Fires,
But Courage to the Hero's Breast inspires;
Who meeting there with some Immortal Name,
Advent'rous, strives to make his own the same,
And with like Ardor presses on to Fame.
But Courage to the Hero's Breast inspires;
123
Advent'rous, strives to make his own the same,
And with like Ardor presses on to Fame.
Your Consort hence his Emulation draws,
And Nations crown his Valour with Applause:
He who o'er half the Globe his Conquest stretch'd,
From a like Spring his Inspiration fetch'd,
Nor blame the Parallel—so Homer wrote,
And by his Lesson so that Hero fought.
And Nations crown his Valour with Applause:
He who o'er half the Globe his Conquest stretch'd,
From a like Spring his Inspiration fetch'd,
Nor blame the Parallel—so Homer wrote,
And by his Lesson so that Hero fought.
But small Acquaintance he must hold with Fame,
That has not heard of Peterborow's Name;
He that the roughest Path to Honour chose,
And, fearless, did despotick Pow'r oppose,
When in the Land it scarce had twenty Foes;
Yet then he nobly did himself acquit;
His Courage no less Active than his Wit.
That has not heard of Peterborow's Name;
He that the roughest Path to Honour chose,
And, fearless, did despotick Pow'r oppose,
When in the Land it scarce had twenty Foes;
Yet then he nobly did himself acquit;
His Courage no less Active than his Wit.
The Man that can in Courts so much excell,
In Field command, in Senate speak so well;
That high in Pow'r, can yet so low descend,
Wit to Reward, and the Distress'd Befriend;
Tho' Envy grin, and Discontent does blame,
In spite of Prejudice, is sure of Fame.
In Field command, in Senate speak so well;
That high in Pow'r, can yet so low descend,
Wit to Reward, and the Distress'd Befriend;
Tho' Envy grin, and Discontent does blame,
In spite of Prejudice, is sure of Fame.
In vain wou'd Vice, with her Envenom'd Tongue,
Such Honour stain and Reputation wrong;
Triumphant, he shall in our Annals stand
The first of those that sav'd a sinking Land.
Such Honour stain and Reputation wrong;
Triumphant, he shall in our Annals stand
The first of those that sav'd a sinking Land.
To Worth, like this, the utmost Praise is due,
On such a Theme Hyperbole's were true:
Here Angels wou'd not our Applause condemn,
Nor yet shou'd YOU, so near a Kin to them:
In YOU we see all we of THEM conceive,
Of You we know what we but there believe:
Of that bright Race we but Idea's frame,
You are the Thing, and they are but the Name.
So sweet your Aspect, and so bright your Eyes,
In ev'ry Look there lasting Magick lies!
We gaze with Pleasure, but we stop it there;
Your Beauty Love, but Vertue gives Despair.
On such a Theme Hyperbole's were true:
Here Angels wou'd not our Applause condemn,
Nor yet shou'd YOU, so near a Kin to them:
124
Of You we know what we but there believe:
Of that bright Race we but Idea's frame,
You are the Thing, and they are but the Name.
So sweet your Aspect, and so bright your Eyes,
In ev'ry Look there lasting Magick lies!
We gaze with Pleasure, but we stop it there;
Your Beauty Love, but Vertue gives Despair.
All sublunary things to Ruin hast;
Wit may Remain, but how can Beauty last?
In Contradiction to the Natu'ral Course,
Your Charms retain their first Triumphant Force:
Your Years advance, your Beauty don't decline,
But last as you were not of Human Line;
Your Face the same; no least decay we find;
Time has gone on but left no Print behind.
Wit may Remain, but how can Beauty last?
In Contradiction to the Natu'ral Course,
Your Charms retain their first Triumphant Force:
Your Years advance, your Beauty don't decline,
But last as you were not of Human Line;
Your Face the same; no least decay we find;
Time has gone on but left no Print behind.
In this Perfection was your Form design'd,
To suit with the Endowments of your Mind:
Equal'd in Excellence; the Vertues here
Are just proportion'd to the Graces there.
To hear you speak does charm the Heart of Man
Much more than all the Art of Musick can:
So sweet the Accent, and the Phrase so fit,
The Harmony is doubled by the Wit.
To suit with the Endowments of your Mind:
Equal'd in Excellence; the Vertues here
Are just proportion'd to the Graces there.
To hear you speak does charm the Heart of Man
Much more than all the Art of Musick can:
So sweet the Accent, and the Phrase so fit,
The Harmony is doubled by the Wit.
Thus your own Worth, were there no other Cause,
The willing Muse to this Employment draws,
And shews her noblest Work's to give Applause.
Dissenting from you were, I own amiss,
And, bold in any other Cause but this:
Your Modesty, indeed, it does proclaim
Not to affect a Celebrated Name;—
But then Remember, Modesty is Fame.
The willing Muse to this Employment draws,
And shews her noblest Work's to give Applause.
Dissenting from you were, I own amiss,
And, bold in any other Cause but this:
Your Modesty, indeed, it does proclaim
Not to affect a Celebrated Name;—
But then Remember, Modesty is Fame.
| The Works of Mr. Robert Gould | |