"Rais'd on the noble prospect of the mind, / From that proud eminence they view mankind"
— Pitt, Christopher (1699-1748)
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed by Sam. Palmer, For A. Bettesworth
Date
1725
Metaphor
"Rais'd on the noble prospect of the mind, / From that proud eminence they view mankind"
Metaphor in Context
For what remains; the poet I enjoyn
To form no glorious scheme, no great design,
'Till free from business he retires alone,
And flies the giddy tumult of the Town;
Seeks rural pleasures, and enjoys the glades,
And courts the thoughtful silence of the shades,
Where the fair Dryads haunt their native woods
With all the orders of the sylvan Gods.
Here in their soft retreats the poets lye,
Serene, and blest with chearful poverty;
No guilty schemes of wealth their souls molest,
No cares, no prospects discompose their rest;
No scenes of grandeur glitter in their view;
Here they the joys of innocence pursue,
And taste the Pleasures of the happy few.
From a rock's entrails the barbarian sprung
Who dares to violate the sacred Throng
By deeds or words--The wretch, by fury driv'n,
Assaults the darling colony of Heav'n!
Some have look'd down, we know, with scornful Eyes
On the bright muse who taught 'em how to rise,
And paid, when rais'd to grandeur, no regard
From that high station to the sacred bard.
Uninjur'd, mortals, let the poets lye,
Or dread th' impending vengeance of the sky;
The Gods still listen'd to their constant pray'r,
And made the poets their peculiar care.
They, with contempt on fortune's gifts look down
And laugh at kings who fill an envy'd throne.
Rais'd on the noble prospect of the mind,
From that proud eminence they view mankind
Lost in a cloud; they see them toil below
All busie to promote their common woe.
Of guilt unconscious, with a steddy soul,
They see the lightnings flash, and hear the thunders roll.
When girt with terrors, heav'ns almighty sire
Launches his triple bolts, and forky fire,
When o'er high tow'rs the red destroyer plays,
And strikes the mountains with the pointed blaze;
Safe in their innocence, like gods, they rise,
And lift their souls serenely to the skies.
To form no glorious scheme, no great design,
'Till free from business he retires alone,
And flies the giddy tumult of the Town;
Seeks rural pleasures, and enjoys the glades,
And courts the thoughtful silence of the shades,
Where the fair Dryads haunt their native woods
With all the orders of the sylvan Gods.
Here in their soft retreats the poets lye,
Serene, and blest with chearful poverty;
No guilty schemes of wealth their souls molest,
No cares, no prospects discompose their rest;
No scenes of grandeur glitter in their view;
Here they the joys of innocence pursue,
And taste the Pleasures of the happy few.
From a rock's entrails the barbarian sprung
Who dares to violate the sacred Throng
By deeds or words--The wretch, by fury driv'n,
Assaults the darling colony of Heav'n!
Some have look'd down, we know, with scornful Eyes
On the bright muse who taught 'em how to rise,
And paid, when rais'd to grandeur, no regard
From that high station to the sacred bard.
Uninjur'd, mortals, let the poets lye,
Or dread th' impending vengeance of the sky;
The Gods still listen'd to their constant pray'r,
And made the poets their peculiar care.
They, with contempt on fortune's gifts look down
And laugh at kings who fill an envy'd throne.
Rais'd on the noble prospect of the mind,
From that proud eminence they view mankind
Lost in a cloud; they see them toil below
All busie to promote their common woe.
Of guilt unconscious, with a steddy soul,
They see the lightnings flash, and hear the thunders roll.
When girt with terrors, heav'ns almighty sire
Launches his triple bolts, and forky fire,
When o'er high tow'rs the red destroyer plays,
And strikes the mountains with the pointed blaze;
Safe in their innocence, like gods, they rise,
And lift their souls serenely to the skies.
Categories
Provenance
HDIS
Citation
At least 5 entries in ECCO and ESTC (1725, 1726, 1742, 1743, 1750).
Text from Vida's Art of poetry, Translated Into English Verse, by the Reverend Mr. Christoph. Pitt, A. M. Late Fellow of New-College in Oxford, Rector of Pimpern in Dorsetshire, and Chaplain to the Right Honourable Philip, Earl Stanhope, &c. (London : printed by Sam. Palmer, for A. Bettesworth, at the Red Lion in Pater-Noster-Row, 1725). <Link to ESTC>
Text from Vida's Art of poetry, Translated Into English Verse, by the Reverend Mr. Christoph. Pitt, A. M. Late Fellow of New-College in Oxford, Rector of Pimpern in Dorsetshire, and Chaplain to the Right Honourable Philip, Earl Stanhope, &c. (London : printed by Sam. Palmer, for A. Bettesworth, at the Red Lion in Pater-Noster-Row, 1725). <Link to ESTC>
Date of Entry
07/09/2004
