"'Let those soft Ties of Life, your better Part, / 'String ev'ry Nerve, and steel each Hero's Heart"
— Harvey, John (fl.1729)
Author
Place of Publication
Edinburgh
Publisher
Printed by John Catanach
Date
1729
Metaphor
"'Let those soft Ties of Life, your better Part, / 'String ev'ry Nerve, and steel each Hero's Heart"
Metaphor in Context
Fellows in Arms! long did our Sires oppose
'The haughty Insults of ambitious Foes.
'Long hath our Country struggled with her Fate,
'With Pictish Fraud, and Saxons savage Hate.
'These too supported by Ausonian Pow'rs!
'How did the mighty Ruin spread her Shores?
'What Seas of Blood, what Mountains of the Slain,
'Choak'd ev'ry Vale, and strow'd each purple Plain?
'Thus fell our Sires; or, drove by Sword and Flame,
'Fled far; and Scotia scarce remain'd a Name.
'Yet Heav'n, relenting Heav'n beheld her Fate,
'And arm'd the great Restorer of the State!
'From frozen Climes, and Scythia's distant Strand,
'The Godlike Man collects the scatter'd Band[1].
'He came, he conquer'd, and her Right restor'd,
'Doom'd to the Sway, and Albion's fated Lord.
'Pictish and Saxon Spoils his Triumphs grace,
'These banish'd, those a quite extinguish'd Race.
'Next from the North, where Baltic Billows rave,
'And Cimbrian Rocks the foamy Tempests lave;
'Against our Sires advance the swarming Train,
'Our hardy Sires, undaunted, take the Plain.
'Let wond'ring Loncarty record the Day,
'And to great Kenneth joyn the greater Hay.
'Let Malcolm next, and Keith's superior Rage,
'And Barry's Field run Purple in the Page!
'When Lochty's Current, choak'd with Tides of Blood,
'Groan'd to the Ocean in a Crimson Flood.
'For Scotia's Right thus stood the Scots of Old,
'Thus glare your Fathers in recording Gold.
'Such were their Acts, and such their loyal Flame,
'Such Glories blaze around each deathless Name!
'And now, my Friends, this Day, methinks, I see
'Those noble Patriots in their Progeny.
'This Day! the last of all our long Debate,
'The fix'd, important Period of our Fate.
'How does yon King in Gold and Jewels glare?
'What Pride of Armies! and what Pomp of War!
'Behold yon vast Array, yon swarming Host,
'How the extended Legions cloud the Coast!
'This Hour! this instant Hour of Fate demands
'Your Fathers Souls, and all your Fathers Hands.
'We know the Deeds of ev'ry doughty Sire,
'Nor shall we doubt their hardy Offspring's Fire.
'Methinks I see great Graham undaunted go,
''Gainst Rome's proud Eagles, and the Saxon Foe.
'Here are his Sons, behold the manly Race,
'See how the Father threatens in their Face.
'Methinks I see the Douglas' Sire of Old,
'Red from his Toils, and resting on the Mold;
'When the just Prince enquir'd the Hero's Name,
'And Sholto Dow glas pointed him to Fame.[2]
'Already mention'd, needless I run o'er,
'The Trophies by our Sires obtain'd before.
'This glorious Day shall ev'n eclipse their Rage,
'And Bannock-burn roll redder in the Page;
'A new, a nobler Æra shall unfold,
'And Scotia's Sons shall stand in brighter Gold.
'Pardon, my Friends, that I the Field delay,
'And stop with Words the Laurels of the Day;
'That I retard the Freedom of the State,
'Your Glory, and my own propitious Fate.
'Go on, brave Scots, and let each Hero's Fire
'Prove his bold Lineage, and assert his Sire.
'Scotia this Day demands her ancient Right,
''Tis Scotia arms her daring Sons to fight.
'The Pride, the Hate, the Tyranny you know,
'And all the Rage of yon relentless Foe:
'Think then, your Wives, and helpless Infants stand,
'And Weep for Safety at each Warrior's Hand.
'Dear Pledges! Let their Images remain
'Fix'd in your Souls, and bear you thro' the Plain.
'Let those soft Ties of Life, your better Part,
'String ev'ry Nerve, and steel each Hero's Heart;
'Thro' ev'ry Scene of Action point your Way,
'And Heav'n, propitious, shall conduct the Day.'
He spoke--And Tears, indignant, swell'd their Eyes,
And furious Shouts to Battle tore the Skies.
'The haughty Insults of ambitious Foes.
'Long hath our Country struggled with her Fate,
'With Pictish Fraud, and Saxons savage Hate.
'These too supported by Ausonian Pow'rs!
'How did the mighty Ruin spread her Shores?
'What Seas of Blood, what Mountains of the Slain,
'Choak'd ev'ry Vale, and strow'd each purple Plain?
'Thus fell our Sires; or, drove by Sword and Flame,
'Fled far; and Scotia scarce remain'd a Name.
'Yet Heav'n, relenting Heav'n beheld her Fate,
'And arm'd the great Restorer of the State!
'From frozen Climes, and Scythia's distant Strand,
'The Godlike Man collects the scatter'd Band[1].
'He came, he conquer'd, and her Right restor'd,
'Doom'd to the Sway, and Albion's fated Lord.
'Pictish and Saxon Spoils his Triumphs grace,
'These banish'd, those a quite extinguish'd Race.
'Next from the North, where Baltic Billows rave,
'And Cimbrian Rocks the foamy Tempests lave;
'Against our Sires advance the swarming Train,
'Our hardy Sires, undaunted, take the Plain.
'Let wond'ring Loncarty record the Day,
'And to great Kenneth joyn the greater Hay.
'Let Malcolm next, and Keith's superior Rage,
'And Barry's Field run Purple in the Page!
'When Lochty's Current, choak'd with Tides of Blood,
'Groan'd to the Ocean in a Crimson Flood.
'For Scotia's Right thus stood the Scots of Old,
'Thus glare your Fathers in recording Gold.
'Such were their Acts, and such their loyal Flame,
'Such Glories blaze around each deathless Name!
'And now, my Friends, this Day, methinks, I see
'Those noble Patriots in their Progeny.
'This Day! the last of all our long Debate,
'The fix'd, important Period of our Fate.
'How does yon King in Gold and Jewels glare?
'What Pride of Armies! and what Pomp of War!
'Behold yon vast Array, yon swarming Host,
'How the extended Legions cloud the Coast!
'This Hour! this instant Hour of Fate demands
'Your Fathers Souls, and all your Fathers Hands.
'We know the Deeds of ev'ry doughty Sire,
'Nor shall we doubt their hardy Offspring's Fire.
'Methinks I see great Graham undaunted go,
''Gainst Rome's proud Eagles, and the Saxon Foe.
'Here are his Sons, behold the manly Race,
'See how the Father threatens in their Face.
'Methinks I see the Douglas' Sire of Old,
'Red from his Toils, and resting on the Mold;
'When the just Prince enquir'd the Hero's Name,
'And Sholto Dow glas pointed him to Fame.[2]
'Already mention'd, needless I run o'er,
'The Trophies by our Sires obtain'd before.
'This glorious Day shall ev'n eclipse their Rage,
'And Bannock-burn roll redder in the Page;
'A new, a nobler Æra shall unfold,
'And Scotia's Sons shall stand in brighter Gold.
'Pardon, my Friends, that I the Field delay,
'And stop with Words the Laurels of the Day;
'That I retard the Freedom of the State,
'Your Glory, and my own propitious Fate.
'Go on, brave Scots, and let each Hero's Fire
'Prove his bold Lineage, and assert his Sire.
'Scotia this Day demands her ancient Right,
''Tis Scotia arms her daring Sons to fight.
'The Pride, the Hate, the Tyranny you know,
'And all the Rage of yon relentless Foe:
'Think then, your Wives, and helpless Infants stand,
'And Weep for Safety at each Warrior's Hand.
'Dear Pledges! Let their Images remain
'Fix'd in your Souls, and bear you thro' the Plain.
'Let those soft Ties of Life, your better Part,
'String ev'ry Nerve, and steel each Hero's Heart;
'Thro' ev'ry Scene of Action point your Way,
'And Heav'n, propitious, shall conduct the Day.'
He spoke--And Tears, indignant, swell'd their Eyes,
And furious Shouts to Battle tore the Skies.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "heart" and "steel" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
At least 7 entries in the ESTC (1729, 1768, 1769, 1776, 1789, 1793, 1799).
See The Life of Robert Bruce King of Scots. A Poem, by John Harvey M.A. (Edinburgh: Printed by John Catanach, in Wariston's Closs, opposite to the Luckenbooths, 1729). <Link to ESTC>
See The Life of Robert Bruce King of Scots. A Poem, by John Harvey M.A. (Edinburgh: Printed by John Catanach, in Wariston's Closs, opposite to the Luckenbooths, 1729). <Link to ESTC>
Date of Entry
06/10/2005
