"There glides the moon her shining way, / And shoots my heart thro' with a silver ray."
— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)
Author
Work Title
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed by S. and D. Bridge, for John Lawrence
Date
1706
Metaphor
"There glides the moon her shining way, / And shoots my heart thro' with a silver ray."
Metaphor in Context
Urit me Patriæ Decor, &c.
The beauty of my native land
Immortal love inspires;
I burn, I burn with strong desires,
And sigh, and wait the high command.
There glides the moon her shining way,
And shoots my heart thro' with a silver ray,
Upward my heart aspires:
A thousand lamps of golden light
Hung high, in vaulted azure, charm my sight,
And wink and beckon with their amorous fires,
O ye fair glories of my heav'nly home,
Bright centinels who guard my Father's court,
Where all the happy minds resort,
When will my Father's chariot come?
Must ye for ever walk the ethereal round?
For ever see the mourner lie
An exile of the sky,
A pris'ner of the ground?
Descend some shining servants from on high,
Build me a hasty tomb;
A grassy turf will raise my head;
The neighbouring lilies dress my bed;
And shed a cheap perfume.
Here I put off the chains of death,
My soul too long has worn:
Friends, I forbid one groaning breath,
Or tear to wet my urn;
Raphael, behold me all undrest,
Here gently lay this flesh to rest;
Then mount, and lead the path unknown,
Swift I pursue thee, flaming guide, on pinions of my own.
The beauty of my native land
Immortal love inspires;
I burn, I burn with strong desires,
And sigh, and wait the high command.
There glides the moon her shining way,
And shoots my heart thro' with a silver ray,
Upward my heart aspires:
A thousand lamps of golden light
Hung high, in vaulted azure, charm my sight,
And wink and beckon with their amorous fires,
O ye fair glories of my heav'nly home,
Bright centinels who guard my Father's court,
Where all the happy minds resort,
When will my Father's chariot come?
Must ye for ever walk the ethereal round?
For ever see the mourner lie
An exile of the sky,
A pris'ner of the ground?
Descend some shining servants from on high,
Build me a hasty tomb;
A grassy turf will raise my head;
The neighbouring lilies dress my bed;
And shed a cheap perfume.
Here I put off the chains of death,
My soul too long has worn:
Friends, I forbid one groaning breath,
Or tear to wet my urn;
Raphael, behold me all undrest,
Here gently lay this flesh to rest;
Then mount, and lead the path unknown,
Swift I pursue thee, flaming guide, on pinions of my own.
Categories
Provenance
Searching in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
36 entries in ESTC (1706, 1709, 1715, 1731, 1737, 1743, 1748, 1750, 1751, 1753, 1758, 1762, 1764, 1765, 1770, 1772, 1778, 1779, 1780, 1781, 1785, 1786, 1788, 1790, 1792, 1793, 1795, 1796, 1798, 1799).
See Horæ Lyricæ: Poems, Chiefly of the Lyric Kind. In Two books. (London: Printed by S. and D. Bridge, for John Lawrence, 1706). <Link to ECCO-TCP>
See also Isaac Watts, Horæ Lyricæ. Poems Chiefly of the Lyric Kind. In Three Books, 2nd ed. (London: Printed by J. Humfreys, for N. Cliff, 1709). <Link to ECCO>
Text from The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D., 6 vols. (London: Printed by and for John Barfield, 1810).
See Horæ Lyricæ: Poems, Chiefly of the Lyric Kind. In Two books. (London: Printed by S. and D. Bridge, for John Lawrence, 1706). <Link to ECCO-TCP>
See also Isaac Watts, Horæ Lyricæ. Poems Chiefly of the Lyric Kind. In Three Books, 2nd ed. (London: Printed by J. Humfreys, for N. Cliff, 1709). <Link to ECCO>
Text from The Works of the Reverend and Learned Isaac Watts, D. D., 6 vols. (London: Printed by and for John Barfield, 1810).
Date of Entry
05/31/2005
Date of Review
03/23/2009
