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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On my Lord of Dorset's Marriage
with the Lady Mary Compton.
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 | The Works of Mr. Robert Gould |  |
On my Lord of Dorset's Marriage with the Lady Mary Compton.
If there's a Lot exempt from Human Strife,
It must be His that has a Vertu'ous Wife.
But if with Vertue Wit and Beauty joyn,
What State can we Imagine more Divine!
To Heav'n for Parallels we durst not go,
But we are Sure it is a Heav'n below.
Truth, and all else that Mortals hold so dear,
Wealth, Honour, Peace and Safety Center there.
With such a Spouse Affection ne'er decays;
Nor have her Nights more Rapture than her Days:
Her Love does these, her Duty those employ,
And she admits no Vacancy from Joy.
As at the early Dawn the Guilty Spright
Drives back, and plunges in retiring Night;
So flies Contention from her fairer Eyes;
The Fiend must vanish when those Lights arise:
If Riches come, she lessens not her Flame;
Or if Adversity, she's still the same:
Her happy Husband down in Safety lies,
Sleeps in Content, and to Content does rise.
O DORSET, she is Yours! and only You
Deserve a Joy so Great, a Faith so True.
What others Ages seek you early find,
In One th'abridg'd Endowments of the Kind.
The Vertues we describe sh' has practis'd long,
No Female e'er Perfection reach'd so young.
Her Youth's adorn'd with Nature's freshest Charms,
Her Youth she brings unblemish'd to your Arms.
Uncharm'd with the Regards of Birth and State,
She takes a surer Method to be Great:
To Vertue kind, to Vice a mortal Foe;
No Scorn of Pride did ever higher go,
Or Condescention ever stoop so low.
Meek as the Dove, whom Nature gave no Gall,
And free from Guile as Eve before the Fall:
Had she been there the Tempter cou'd not boast,
Nor had our State of Innocence been lost.
It must be His that has a Vertu'ous Wife.
But if with Vertue Wit and Beauty joyn,
What State can we Imagine more Divine!
To Heav'n for Parallels we durst not go,
But we are Sure it is a Heav'n below.
Truth, and all else that Mortals hold so dear,
Wealth, Honour, Peace and Safety Center there.
With such a Spouse Affection ne'er decays;
Nor have her Nights more Rapture than her Days:
Her Love does these, her Duty those employ,
And she admits no Vacancy from Joy.
180
Drives back, and plunges in retiring Night;
So flies Contention from her fairer Eyes;
The Fiend must vanish when those Lights arise:
If Riches come, she lessens not her Flame;
Or if Adversity, she's still the same:
Her happy Husband down in Safety lies,
Sleeps in Content, and to Content does rise.
O DORSET, she is Yours! and only You
Deserve a Joy so Great, a Faith so True.
What others Ages seek you early find,
In One th'abridg'd Endowments of the Kind.
The Vertues we describe sh' has practis'd long,
No Female e'er Perfection reach'd so young.
Her Youth's adorn'd with Nature's freshest Charms,
Her Youth she brings unblemish'd to your Arms.
Uncharm'd with the Regards of Birth and State,
She takes a surer Method to be Great:
To Vertue kind, to Vice a mortal Foe;
No Scorn of Pride did ever higher go,
Or Condescention ever stoop so low.
Meek as the Dove, whom Nature gave no Gall,
And free from Guile as Eve before the Fall:
Had she been there the Tempter cou'd not boast,
Nor had our State of Innocence been lost.
But equal Joy Fate does on both confer:
She gains in YOU no less than You by HER;
Her utmost Wish!—a Form that does impart
All that can please her Eye, or charm her Heart!
With like Content you on her Beauties look,
With equal Pleasure, equal Wonder strook;
And when Night's welcome Mantle veils her Charms,
With equal Fervor melt within her Arms.
O only, only for each other made!
O Mutual Couple! Transport undecay'd!
Your Vertue does not to her Worth submit,
Nor is her Face more wond'rous than your Wit:
So bright her Eyes! w'are lost in Rapture there,
And while you speak with equal Rapture hear!
To this a Judgment so Mature is joyn'd,
Your Praise, or Blame, determines all Mankind.
To judge of Poesie some make Pretence,
Damn what does please, and Praise what gives Offence;
But all your Approbation-Stamps, is Sense:
Currant it goes, with an unquestion'd Pride,
The Metal prov'd, the Image Dignify'd:
No Author e'er was so presuming yet,
As to appeal from your unerring Wit.
She gains in YOU no less than You by HER;
Her utmost Wish!—a Form that does impart
All that can please her Eye, or charm her Heart!
With like Content you on her Beauties look,
With equal Pleasure, equal Wonder strook;
And when Night's welcome Mantle veils her Charms,
With equal Fervor melt within her Arms.
O only, only for each other made!
O Mutual Couple! Transport undecay'd!
181
Nor is her Face more wond'rous than your Wit:
So bright her Eyes! w'are lost in Rapture there,
And while you speak with equal Rapture hear!
To this a Judgment so Mature is joyn'd,
Your Praise, or Blame, determines all Mankind.
To judge of Poesie some make Pretence,
Damn what does please, and Praise what gives Offence;
But all your Approbation-Stamps, is Sense:
Currant it goes, with an unquestion'd Pride,
The Metal prov'd, the Image Dignify'd:
No Author e'er was so presuming yet,
As to appeal from your unerring Wit.
But tho' that Blessing we so much admire,
Your Charity does raise our Wonder higher.
Since He that taught that Duty hither came,
No Mortal Breast has known so bright a Flame.
Never to One did yet a Portion fall
That came so near the Great Original,
The vast Compassion that Reliev'd us all.
So close this Vertue to your Soul does cleave,
Not starving Debtors with more Joy receive,
Than you with an ungrudging Bounty give.
Nor did you, giving, ever yet deride
The poor Receiver, such a Dole's but Pride;
We see but Little to the Alms you hide:
With secret Aid whole Families you raise,
And scarcely fly Detraction more than Praise.
The Muses Sons with like Regard you Grace,
A Craving, Insolent, and Teazing Race:
Like common Beggars, they your Doors besiege,
Ingrateful, most; so dang'rous to oblige:
They hang on Bounty just like Ticks for Blood,
And scandalize the Hand that throws 'em Food.
This Pest of Men you shou'd to starve permit,
For Impudence is ill excus'd by Wit.
Your Charity does raise our Wonder higher.
Since He that taught that Duty hither came,
No Mortal Breast has known so bright a Flame.
Never to One did yet a Portion fall
That came so near the Great Original,
The vast Compassion that Reliev'd us all.
So close this Vertue to your Soul does cleave,
Not starving Debtors with more Joy receive,
Than you with an ungrudging Bounty give.
Nor did you, giving, ever yet deride
The poor Receiver, such a Dole's but Pride;
We see but Little to the Alms you hide:
With secret Aid whole Families you raise,
And scarcely fly Detraction more than Praise.
The Muses Sons with like Regard you Grace,
A Craving, Insolent, and Teazing Race:
Like common Beggars, they your Doors besiege,
Ingrateful, most; so dang'rous to oblige:
They hang on Bounty just like Ticks for Blood,
And scandalize the Hand that throws 'em Food.
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For Impudence is ill excus'd by Wit.
Unweary'd Goodness! Kindness unconfin'd!
O Youth to Manhood wonderfully joyn'd!
Who e'er than Buckhurst was so fam'd so young?
Or who but Dorset ever liv'd so long
Without one Slander from an Envious Tongue?
Ev'n different Parties in your Praises meet,
And so employ'd, their Mutual Feuds forget:
Ah! wou'd they joyn, our Liberties were sav'd,
But, blind with Spite, they see not those Enslav'd:
Pride, Bigottry, and Pow'r unbounded Rules,—
But such a Government is fit for Fools.
O Youth to Manhood wonderfully joyn'd!
Who e'er than Buckhurst was so fam'd so young?
Or who but Dorset ever liv'd so long
Without one Slander from an Envious Tongue?
Ev'n different Parties in your Praises meet,
And so employ'd, their Mutual Feuds forget:
Ah! wou'd they joyn, our Liberties were sav'd,
But, blind with Spite, they see not those Enslav'd:
Pride, Bigottry, and Pow'r unbounded Rules,—
But such a Government is fit for Fools.
Your Courage, Friendship, Truth, we need not name,
Nor Loyalty, so amply known to Fame,
So oft in Dangers try'd, and still the same.
'Tis not for nothing Providence does bless
All that you undertake with such Success.
Ev'n that rough Sea where most Adventu'rers fail,
That Bay of Biscay, that tears ev'ry Sail,
Has favour'd You with an Auspicious Gale:
Safe in the Port you ride (the Peace design'd)
And looking back, Your careless Followers find
Driving on Rocks, and fighting with the Wind.
There, unconcern'd You sit, and daily see
The Wrecks of Marriage, from the Danger free:
Clasp'd in the Magick Circle of her Arms,
Melting in Joys, and guarded with her Charms,
Y'ave nothing now to fear of Human Harms.
Nor Loyalty, so amply known to Fame,
So oft in Dangers try'd, and still the same.
'Tis not for nothing Providence does bless
All that you undertake with such Success.
Ev'n that rough Sea where most Adventu'rers fail,
That Bay of Biscay, that tears ev'ry Sail,
Has favour'd You with an Auspicious Gale:
Safe in the Port you ride (the Peace design'd)
And looking back, Your careless Followers find
Driving on Rocks, and fighting with the Wind.
There, unconcern'd You sit, and daily see
The Wrecks of Marriage, from the Danger free:
Clasp'd in the Magick Circle of her Arms,
Melting in Joys, and guarded with her Charms,
Y'ave nothing now to fear of Human Harms.
Slow let the Time go on, ye Gracious Pow'rs,
Their happy Moments lengthen into Hours,
Their Hours to Days, their Days to Years convert;
Such Lovers seldom meet, and shou'd not quickly part.
Be such a Buckhurst the next Ages Bliss,
As HE that was the Ornament of this.
Like Comfort in him let his Parents have,
As Dorset to his happy Parents gave:
A Liberal Patron may he like Him be,
And by his Worth assert his Family.
Hark how the General Shout approves my Prayer!
The Omen's good; the Gracious Pow'r does hear,
And as the FATHER, such shall be his HEIR.
Their happy Moments lengthen into Hours,
Their Hours to Days, their Days to Years convert;
Such Lovers seldom meet, and shou'd not quickly part.
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As HE that was the Ornament of this.
Like Comfort in him let his Parents have,
As Dorset to his happy Parents gave:
A Liberal Patron may he like Him be,
And by his Worth assert his Family.
Hark how the General Shout approves my Prayer!
The Omen's good; the Gracious Pow'r does hear,
And as the FATHER, such shall be his HEIR.
| The Works of Mr. Robert Gould | |