"Thus, led by what delusive Fame imparts, / We think thy [Modesty's] Throne's erected in their Hearts; / But w'are deceiv'd, as all our Fathers were, / For if thou Art at all, 'tis sure thou art not there."
— Gould, Robert (b. 1660?, d. in or before 1709)
Work Title
Place of Publication
London
Date
1682, 1683, 1709
Metaphor
"Thus, led by what delusive Fame imparts, / We think thy [Modesty's] Throne's erected in their Hearts; / But w'are deceiv'd, as all our Fathers were, / For if thou Art at all, 'tis sure thou art not there."
Metaphor in Context
Forgive me Modesty, if I have been,
In any thing I've mention'd here, obscene.
And yet, why shou'd I ask that Boon of Thee,
When 'tis a Doubt if such a thing there be?
For Woman, in whose Breast, Y'are said to Reign,
And shew the Glorious Conquests thou dost gain,
Renounce the Virtue, and but court the Name.
Sounds, tho' we can't perceive e'm, we may hear,
And wonder at their Echoing thro' the Air:
Thus, led by what delusive Fame imparts,
We think thy Throne's erected in their Hearts;
But w'are deceiv'd, as all our Fathers were,
For if thou Art at all, 'tis sure thou art not there.
Nothing in that black Mansion does reside,
But Spite, Contention, Luxury and Pride:
PRIDE is the Deity they all adore,
Hardly their own dear Selves they Cherish more:
Survey their very Looks you'll find it there;--
How can you miss it when 'tis ev'ry where?
Some thro' all hunted Nature's Secrets trace,
To fill the Furrows of a Wrinkl'd Face;
And after all their Toil (observe the Curse)
They've only made a Ruful Visage worse:
So some that wou'd have plated Mony pass,
Decrease the Silver, and betray the Brass.
Nay those that have the Blessing to be fair,
And know how Charming and admir'd they are;
Who one wou'd think Created so compleat,
They had no need of Artifice and Cheat.
Yet they, too, in Adulte'rate Washes share,
And wou'd, if possible, be more than Fair.
Deluded Woman! Tell me, where's the Gain
Of wasting Time upon a thing so vain?
Your Precious Time! (O to your Selves unkind!)
When 'tis uncertain Y'ave an Hour behind
That You can call your Own; for tho' y'are bright
As Summer's Sun, and mild as op'ning Light,
Adorn'd by Nature, and display'd by Art
In all the Glories that delude the Heart,
The Frowns of Age no Favourite Charm will save,
Nor all your Sweets Protect You from the Grave;
The Grave which favours not the Rich, or Fair;
Beauty with Beast lies undistinguisht there.
In any thing I've mention'd here, obscene.
And yet, why shou'd I ask that Boon of Thee,
When 'tis a Doubt if such a thing there be?
For Woman, in whose Breast, Y'are said to Reign,
And shew the Glorious Conquests thou dost gain,
Renounce the Virtue, and but court the Name.
Sounds, tho' we can't perceive e'm, we may hear,
And wonder at their Echoing thro' the Air:
Thus, led by what delusive Fame imparts,
We think thy Throne's erected in their Hearts;
But w'are deceiv'd, as all our Fathers were,
For if thou Art at all, 'tis sure thou art not there.
Nothing in that black Mansion does reside,
But Spite, Contention, Luxury and Pride:
PRIDE is the Deity they all adore,
Hardly their own dear Selves they Cherish more:
Survey their very Looks you'll find it there;--
How can you miss it when 'tis ev'ry where?
Some thro' all hunted Nature's Secrets trace,
To fill the Furrows of a Wrinkl'd Face;
And after all their Toil (observe the Curse)
They've only made a Ruful Visage worse:
So some that wou'd have plated Mony pass,
Decrease the Silver, and betray the Brass.
Nay those that have the Blessing to be fair,
And know how Charming and admir'd they are;
Who one wou'd think Created so compleat,
They had no need of Artifice and Cheat.
Yet they, too, in Adulte'rate Washes share,
And wou'd, if possible, be more than Fair.
Deluded Woman! Tell me, where's the Gain
Of wasting Time upon a thing so vain?
Your Precious Time! (O to your Selves unkind!)
When 'tis uncertain Y'ave an Hour behind
That You can call your Own; for tho' y'are bright
As Summer's Sun, and mild as op'ning Light,
Adorn'd by Nature, and display'd by Art
In all the Glories that delude the Heart,
The Frowns of Age no Favourite Charm will save,
Nor all your Sweets Protect You from the Grave;
The Grave which favours not the Rich, or Fair;
Beauty with Beast lies undistinguisht there.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "throne" and "heart" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
At least 7 entries in ESTC (1682, 1683, 1685, 1686, 1690, 1709, 1710).
See Love Given O're: or, a Satyr Against the Pride, Lust, and Inconstancy, &c. of Woman. (London: Printed for Andrew Green, 1682). <Link to ESTC>
See also Love Given Over: Or, A Satyr Against the Pride, Lust, and Inconstancy, &c. of Woman (London: Printed for W. Lewis, 1709). <Link to Google>
Text from 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., 2 vols. (London: Printed for W. Lewis, 1709).
See Love Given O're: or, a Satyr Against the Pride, Lust, and Inconstancy, &c. of Woman. (London: Printed for Andrew Green, 1682). <Link to ESTC>
See also Love Given Over: Or, A Satyr Against the Pride, Lust, and Inconstancy, &c. of Woman (London: Printed for W. Lewis, 1709). <Link to Google>
Text from 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., 2 vols. (London: Printed for W. Lewis, 1709).
Date of Entry
08/07/2004
Date of Review
01/09/2012
