Poems, chiefly consisting of satyrs and satyrical epistles by Robert Gould.

TO THE Right Honourable CHARLES, EARL of Dorset and Middlesex, &c.

My Lord,

DEny'd the Press, forbid the Publick view, This Trifle for a Refuge flies to You; To You, my Lord, in whom we well may see What a true English Noble-Man shou'd be: Firm to his Honour, to his Prince sincere, Kind to desert, and think it worth his care; But to the servile Flatterer, severe: 'Tis him we ought to fear of all Mankind; He's never without mischief in his mind:

The sweetest words still hide destructive Gall, For 'twas a gawdy outside damn'd us all: But such you scorn, their Poison can repell; Yet, spite of your Example, Fools will use 'em well.

Who strives by noble ways to raise his name, And makes true worth the Centre of his aim, Can never miss of an establisht Fame: He marks the Vices that disgrace the Age, Flutter to Court and flourish on the Stage, Does shun 'em too; silence the Knavish Tongue, And rescue injur'd Honesty from wrong. This is the Man to whom our Praise is due, And this Man treads in the same Path with You.

There hardly e'r was known so good a thing, But felt the subtle point of Envy's sting; She seldom vents her rage on worthless Game; Good Actions and good Men are still her aim: But here we may (and speak it too with Pride) Say more of You than all Mankind beside, Y' are Envy-proof! and so is all y' ave writ; For no Man e're was so presuming, yet, To fix a brand on your unquestion'd Wit:

So good! I durst ev'n hope you will excuse This rude address of my unpollish't Muse; What greater proof? who, in return, will raise Her Wings above the usual pitch to sing her Patron's praise.

Your Actions still their Parent-Soul confest, And shew'd they took birth from a Gallant Breast: A Breast which all the full-blown worth displays, That can transmit a name to after days: A generous temper and untainted mind; A Conversation pleasant and refin'd, Made up of all the Charms that can delight Man∣kind! Courage enough to quell the Age's Crimes, And firmly Loyal in Rebellious Times: Then 'tis, he, who a heart unshaken brings, Is touch't, found right and fit for glorious things, Stands Bullwark in the Gap, and ev'n obliges Kings.

Reflecting on all this, how dare I bring To your strict view so mean an Offering? Yet, since truth made me write, perhaps you may In its perusal throw an hour away:

For here, my Lord, you'l meet with Knaves chastis'd, Buffoons and Bullys equally despis'd: Strumpets not spar'd, whate'r is their degree; If bad, what is their Quality to me? Ill Plays and Doggrel Poets damn'd in shoals, With their devout admirers, Coquets, Fops and Fools: But this, perhaps, might make its value less, And for the Publick thought too fit a Dress; For to write truth is one sure way to be deny'd the Press.

I am,

My Lord,

Your Lordship's most humble And Devoted Servant, R. Gould.