"Base vulgar drossie minds, with more alloy / Then is that captive wealth they might enjoy; / Which Thieves may steal, which Rust or Fire destroy."
— Wesley, Samuel, The Elder (bap. 1662, d. 1735)
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for Charles Harper ... and Benj. Motte [etc.]
Date
1693
Metaphor
"Base vulgar drossie minds, with more alloy / Then is that captive wealth they might enjoy; / Which Thieves may steal, which Rust or Fire destroy."
Metaphor in Context
Mistaken men! He cries, who still complain,
Still search for happiness, but search in vain,
For when you dream you've found it, false as fair
It cheats your clasping arms with empty air.
There are who think their Bliss fast lockt they hold,
If their strong Chests are fill'd with Ophirs gold:[1]
Base vulgar drossie minds, with more alloy
Then is that captive wealth they might enjoy;
Which Thieves may steal, which Rust or Fire destroy;
True happiness is always in our pow'r,
Beyond the reach of one unlucky hour
To rend away, 'tis for its self desir'd,
While Riches are for something else admir'd,
Pleasure or Ease, nor therefore can they be
The solid Basis of Felicity.
Woe, woe, eternal woe and pain are near[2]
To those who only place their Treasure here.
Sooner may happiness be found with them
Whom for their Poverty the World contemn;
Who, when my Honour and their Conscience call
With generous unconcern'dness part with all:
If Providence a larger stock affords,
Its Gifts enjoy as Stewards, not as Lords:
These, rich in Faith, to Heav'n directly tend,
Heirs of a Kingdom that shall never end.
Still search for happiness, but search in vain,
For when you dream you've found it, false as fair
It cheats your clasping arms with empty air.
There are who think their Bliss fast lockt they hold,
If their strong Chests are fill'd with Ophirs gold:[1]
Base vulgar drossie minds, with more alloy
Then is that captive wealth they might enjoy;
Which Thieves may steal, which Rust or Fire destroy;
True happiness is always in our pow'r,
Beyond the reach of one unlucky hour
To rend away, 'tis for its self desir'd,
While Riches are for something else admir'd,
Pleasure or Ease, nor therefore can they be
The solid Basis of Felicity.
Woe, woe, eternal woe and pain are near[2]
To those who only place their Treasure here.
Sooner may happiness be found with them
Whom for their Poverty the World contemn;
Who, when my Honour and their Conscience call
With generous unconcern'dness part with all:
If Providence a larger stock affords,
Its Gifts enjoy as Stewards, not as Lords:
These, rich in Faith, to Heav'n directly tend,
Heirs of a Kingdom that shall never end.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "mind" and "alloy" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
Samuel Wesley, The Life of Our Blessed Lord & Saviour Jesus Christ. An Heroic Poem: Dedicated to Her Most Sacred Majesty. In Ten Books. Attempted by Samuel Wesley ... Each Book illustrated by necessary Notes, explaining all the more difficult Matters in the whole History: Also a Prefatory Discourse concerning Heroic Poetry. With Sixty Copper-Plates (London: Printed for Charles Harper ... and Benj. Motte, 1693).
Date of Entry
04/14/2005
