"Honour! the fatal Tumor of the Mind; / From which our Modern Gentry take their Bent, / And think they're Noble, if they're Insolent."
— Gould, Robert (b. 1660?, d. in or before 1709)
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for W. Lewis
Date
1709
Metaphor
"Honour! the fatal Tumor of the Mind; / From which our Modern Gentry take their Bent, / And think they're Noble, if they're Insolent."
Metaphor in Context
Here you that cherish an o'erboyling Heat,
And, when y'ave murder'd, say y'ave Souls too great,
Laying on Providence (that must be just)
Th'Effects of your Intemperance, Rage and Lust;
See but to what your boasted Honour tends;
In Pride it is begun, in Blood it ends.
Honour, th'Excuse you for Presumption find,
And Lordly Domineering o'er Mankind;
Honour! the fatal Tumor of the Mind;
From which our Modern Gentry take their Bent,
And think they're Noble, if they're Insolent.
True Honour (if that Vertue still remain)
Does not consist in Actions lewd and vain,
In lacquer'd Coaches, or a glitt'ring Train;
'Tis not a haughty Port, or peevish Will;
'Tis firmly hating all that's mean and ill:
To publick Good and mutual Aid it leads,
And Peace of Mind the glorious Toil succeeds.
Where was his Honour then that basely spilt
Such noble Blood, and triumph'd in the Guilt?
He thought perhaps to raise himself a Name,
But who wou'd have his Conscience for his Fame?
Tho' fled from Justice to evade his Sin,
Can he suppress the living Judge within?
Dissolv'd in Lust, in Wine his Mem'ry drown'd,
With his returning Sense Guilt will the more abound.
Thro' Unbelief it self e'en Sin will break,
And to the Soul it's frightful Message speak;
Set Future Fear directly in his View,
Terror, Despair, and all the grizly Crew:
Those direful Vultures on his Soul shall gnaw,
And make him wish for his Relief from Law.
And, when y'ave murder'd, say y'ave Souls too great,
Laying on Providence (that must be just)
Th'Effects of your Intemperance, Rage and Lust;
See but to what your boasted Honour tends;
In Pride it is begun, in Blood it ends.
Honour, th'Excuse you for Presumption find,
And Lordly Domineering o'er Mankind;
Honour! the fatal Tumor of the Mind;
From which our Modern Gentry take their Bent,
And think they're Noble, if they're Insolent.
True Honour (if that Vertue still remain)
Does not consist in Actions lewd and vain,
In lacquer'd Coaches, or a glitt'ring Train;
'Tis not a haughty Port, or peevish Will;
'Tis firmly hating all that's mean and ill:
To publick Good and mutual Aid it leads,
And Peace of Mind the glorious Toil succeeds.
Where was his Honour then that basely spilt
Such noble Blood, and triumph'd in the Guilt?
He thought perhaps to raise himself a Name,
But who wou'd have his Conscience for his Fame?
Tho' fled from Justice to evade his Sin,
Can he suppress the living Judge within?
Dissolv'd in Lust, in Wine his Mem'ry drown'd,
With his returning Sense Guilt will the more abound.
Thro' Unbelief it self e'en Sin will break,
And to the Soul it's frightful Message speak;
Set Future Fear directly in his View,
Terror, Despair, and all the grizly Crew:
Those direful Vultures on his Soul shall gnaw,
And make him wish for his Relief from Law.
Categories
Provenance
HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
Only 1 entry in ECCO and ESTC (1709).
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 (London: W. Lewis, 1709). <Link to ECCO>
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 (London: W. Lewis, 1709). <Link to ECCO>
Date of Entry
08/26/2004
