"But when the circling seasons as they roll, / Have cleans'd the dross long-gather'd round the soul; / When the celestial fire divinely bright, / Breaks forth victorious in her native light;""

— Pitt, Christopher (1699-1748)


Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for R. Dodsley [etc.]
Date
1753
Metaphor
"But when the circling seasons as they roll, / Have cleans'd the dross long-gather'd round the soul; / When the celestial fire divinely bright, / Breaks forth victorious in her native light;""
Metaphor in Context
[1]Know first, a spirit, with an active flame,
Fills, feeds and animates the mighty frame;
Runs thro' the watry worlds, the fields of air,
The pond'rous earth, the depths of heav'n; and there
Glows in the sun and moon, and burns in every star.
Thus, mingling with the mass, the general soul
Lives in the parts, and agitates the whole.
From that celestial energy began
The low-brow'd brute; th'imperial race of man;
The painted birds who wing th'aërial plain,
And all the mighty monsters of the main.
Their souls at first from high Olympus came;
And, if not blunted by the mortal frame,
Th'etherial fires would ever burn the same!
But while on earth; by earth-born passions tost,
The heavenly spirits lie extinct and lost;
Nor steal one glance, before their bodies die,
From those dark dungeons to their native sky.
Ev'n when those bodies are to death resign'd,
Some old inherent spots are left behind;
A sullying tincture of corporeal stains
Deep in the substance of the soul remains.
[2]Thus are her splendors dimm'd, and crusted o'er
With those dark vices, that she knew before.
For this the souls a various penance pay,
To purge the taint of former crimes away:
Some in the sweeping breezes are refin'd,
And hung on high to whiten in the wind:
Some cleanse their stains beneath the gushing streams,
And some rise glorious from the searching flames.
Thus all must suffer; and, those sufferings past,
The clouded minds are purify'd at last.
But when the circling seasons as they roll,
Have cleans'd the dross long-gather'd round the soul;
When the celestial fire divinely bright,
Breaks forth victorious in her native light;

Then we, the chosen few, Elysium gain,
And here expatiate on the blissful plain.
But those thin airy throngs thy eyes behold,
When o'er their heads a thousand years have roll'd,
In mighty crowds to yon' Lethæan flood
Swarm at the potent summons of the god;
There the deep draught of dark oblivion drain;
Then they desire new bodies to obtain,
And visit heav'ns etherial realms again.
This said, the sire conducts their steps along
Thro' the loud tumult of th'aërial throng;
Then climb'd a point, and every face descry'd,
As the huge train prest forward to the tide:
Categories
Provenance
Searching "soul" and "dross" in HDIS (Poetry)
Theme
Refinement; Stoical and Platonic Philosophy
Date of Entry
07/19/2005

The Mind is a Metaphor is authored by Brad Pasanek, Assistant Professor of English, University of Virginia.