Man stole the "Mimic Arts at first from Heav'n ... To fill the fairest Mansions of the Soul"
— Jones, Henry (1721-1770)
Author
Work Title
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for R. and J. Dodsley
Date
1753
Metaphor
Man stole the "Mimic Arts at first from Heav'n ... To fill the fairest Mansions of the Soul"
Metaphor in Context
Wide is the Field where MERIT tries her Force,
Painful the Steeps, and various is the Course;
When Nature starting, in her Fervor prides,
When Glory goads us, and when Virtue guides.
The Mimic Arts at first from Heav'n we stole,
To fill the fairest Mansions of the Soul;
On them Ambition to her Throne ascends,
Whilst ev'ry Kindred Grace her Queen attends;
By Turns approach her, and by Turns retire:--
The Muse is oft'nest near--her Notes inspire
The noblest Passions to the noblest Ends;
For Verse and Virtue were of old good Friends.
Hail sacred Art, distinguish'd and divine,
The sweetest sounding Trump of Fame is thine;
Thine are the Wreaths which Time shall ne'er decay,
When breathing Brass, when Marble waste away:
Immortal Register of all that's great,
Above the Strokes of Chance, the Frowns of Fate;
With Nature born, descending from the Sky,
With Worlds coeval, nor with Worlds shall die;
For ever young, who Time himself shall tire,
And smile secure, amid the general Fire.
Great Queen of Harmony, who guides the Spheres,
Who weds the circling Orbs, who rules the Years;
Thy Magic sways the Mind, and charms the Thought,
And all the Soul's by thy Enchantment caught.
When Hope, when Fear, when Love, when Anguish stand,
And Terror takes her Tremor from thy Hand,
When Pity melts us at thy potent Call,
And, at thy Nod, the Passions rise and fall.
Painful the Steeps, and various is the Course;
When Nature starting, in her Fervor prides,
When Glory goads us, and when Virtue guides.
The Mimic Arts at first from Heav'n we stole,
To fill the fairest Mansions of the Soul;
On them Ambition to her Throne ascends,
Whilst ev'ry Kindred Grace her Queen attends;
By Turns approach her, and by Turns retire:--
The Muse is oft'nest near--her Notes inspire
The noblest Passions to the noblest Ends;
For Verse and Virtue were of old good Friends.
Hail sacred Art, distinguish'd and divine,
The sweetest sounding Trump of Fame is thine;
Thine are the Wreaths which Time shall ne'er decay,
When breathing Brass, when Marble waste away:
Immortal Register of all that's great,
Above the Strokes of Chance, the Frowns of Fate;
With Nature born, descending from the Sky,
With Worlds coeval, nor with Worlds shall die;
For ever young, who Time himself shall tire,
And smile secure, amid the general Fire.
Great Queen of Harmony, who guides the Spheres,
Who weds the circling Orbs, who rules the Years;
Thy Magic sways the Mind, and charms the Thought,
And all the Soul's by thy Enchantment caught.
When Hope, when Fear, when Love, when Anguish stand,
And Terror takes her Tremor from thy Hand,
When Pity melts us at thy potent Call,
And, at thy Nod, the Passions rise and fall.
Categories
Provenance
HDIS
Citation
Only 1 entry in ESTC (1753).
Henry Jones, Merit. A Poem: Inscribed to the Right Honourable Philip Earl of Chesterfield. By Mr. Henry Jones, Author of the Earl of Essex (London: Printed for R. and J. Dodsley, 1753). <Link to ECCO>
Henry Jones, Merit. A Poem: Inscribed to the Right Honourable Philip Earl of Chesterfield. By Mr. Henry Jones, Author of the Earl of Essex (London: Printed for R. and J. Dodsley, 1753). <Link to ECCO>
Date of Entry
07/30/2004
