"And if their Heads but any Substance hold, / Love ripens all that Dross into the purest Gold."
— Sheffield, John, first duke of Buckingham and Normanby (1647-1721)
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for T. Wotton ... D. Browne [etc.]
Date
1740
Metaphor
"And if their Heads but any Substance hold, / Love ripens all that Dross into the purest Gold."
Metaphor in Context
For Love the Miser will his Gold despise,
The False grow faithful, and the Foolish wise;
Cautious the Young, and complaisant the Old,
The Cruel gentle, and the Coward bold.
Thou glorious Sun within our Souls,
Whose Influence so much controuls;
Ev'n dull and heavy Lumps of Love,
Quicken'd by thee, more lively move;
And if their Heads but any Substance hold,
Love ripens all that Dross into the purest Gold.
In Heav'n's great Work thy Part is such,
That master-like thou giv'st the last great Touch
To Heav'n's own Master-piece of Man;
And finishest what Nature but began:
Thy happy Stroke can into Softness bring
Reason, that rough and wrangling thing.
From Childhood upwards we decay,
And grow but greater Children ev'ry Day:
So, Reason, how can we be said to rise?
So many Cares attend the being wise,
'Tis rather falling down a Precipice.
From Sense to Reason unimprov'd we move;
We only then advance, when Reason turns to Love.
The False grow faithful, and the Foolish wise;
Cautious the Young, and complaisant the Old,
The Cruel gentle, and the Coward bold.
Thou glorious Sun within our Souls,
Whose Influence so much controuls;
Ev'n dull and heavy Lumps of Love,
Quicken'd by thee, more lively move;
And if their Heads but any Substance hold,
Love ripens all that Dross into the purest Gold.
In Heav'n's great Work thy Part is such,
That master-like thou giv'st the last great Touch
To Heav'n's own Master-piece of Man;
And finishest what Nature but began:
Thy happy Stroke can into Softness bring
Reason, that rough and wrangling thing.
From Childhood upwards we decay,
And grow but greater Children ev'ry Day:
So, Reason, how can we be said to rise?
So many Cares attend the being wise,
'Tis rather falling down a Precipice.
From Sense to Reason unimprov'd we move;
We only then advance, when Reason turns to Love.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "head" and "dross" in HDIS (Poetry)
Date of Entry
07/19/2005
