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 my Lady Peterborow on her saying
she did not like Panegyrick.
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 | The Works of Mr. Robert Gould |  |
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:
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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 | |