The soul may be poured into a "laboured whole"
— Collins, William (1721-1759)
Author
Work Title
Date
1746
Metaphor
The soul may be poured into a "laboured whole"
Metaphor in Context
Yet even, where'er the least appeared,
The admiring world thy hand revered;
Still midst the scattered states around
Some remnants of her strength were found;
They saw by what escaped the storm
How wondrous rose her perfect form;
How in the great, the laboured whole,
Each mighty master poured his soul!
For sunny Florence, seat of art,
Beneath her vines preserved a part,
Till they, whom Science loved to name,
(O who could fear it?) quenched her flame.
And lo, an humbler relic laid
In jealous Pisa's olive shade!
See small Marino joins the theme,
Though least, not last in thy esteem;
Strike, louder strike the ennobling strings
To those whose merchant sons were kings;
To him who, decked with pearly pride,
In Adria weds his green-haired bride;
Hail, port of glory, wealth and pleasure,
Ne'er let me change this Lydian measure:
Nor e'er her former pride relate
To sad Liguria's bleeding state.
Ah no! more pleased thy haunts I seek
On wild Helvetia's mountains bleak
(Where, when the favoured of thy choice,
The daring archer, heard thy voice,
Forth from his eyrie roused in dread,
The ravening Eagle northward fled);
Or dwell in willowed meads more near,
With those to whom thy stork is dear:
Those whom the rod of Alva bruised,
Whose crown a British queen refused!
The magic works, thou feel'st the strains,
One holier name alone remains;
The perfect spell shall then avail.
Hail nymph, adored by Britain, hail!
(ll. 26-63, pp. 444-7)
The admiring world thy hand revered;
Still midst the scattered states around
Some remnants of her strength were found;
They saw by what escaped the storm
How wondrous rose her perfect form;
How in the great, the laboured whole,
Each mighty master poured his soul!
For sunny Florence, seat of art,
Beneath her vines preserved a part,
Till they, whom Science loved to name,
(O who could fear it?) quenched her flame.
And lo, an humbler relic laid
In jealous Pisa's olive shade!
See small Marino joins the theme,
Though least, not last in thy esteem;
Strike, louder strike the ennobling strings
To those whose merchant sons were kings;
To him who, decked with pearly pride,
In Adria weds his green-haired bride;
Hail, port of glory, wealth and pleasure,
Ne'er let me change this Lydian measure:
Nor e'er her former pride relate
To sad Liguria's bleeding state.
Ah no! more pleased thy haunts I seek
On wild Helvetia's mountains bleak
(Where, when the favoured of thy choice,
The daring archer, heard thy voice,
Forth from his eyrie roused in dread,
The ravening Eagle northward fled);
Or dwell in willowed meads more near,
With those to whom thy stork is dear:
Those whom the rod of Alva bruised,
Whose crown a British queen refused!
The magic works, thou feel'st the strains,
One holier name alone remains;
The perfect spell shall then avail.
Hail nymph, adored by Britain, hail!
(ll. 26-63, pp. 444-7)
Categories
Provenance
Searching keywords in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
Ed. Roger Lonsdale. The Poems of Thomas Gray, William Collins, and Oliver Goldsmith. London and New York: Longman and Norton: 1972
Date of Entry
11/22/2003
