"Like Death impartial, [Love] presents his Dart, / And sure to conquer, aims at ev'ry Heart"
— Masters, Mary (1694-1771)
Author
Work Title
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for the Author
Date
1755
Metaphor
"Like Death impartial, [Love] presents his Dart, / And sure to conquer, aims at ev'ry Heart"
Metaphor in Context
Attend ye Fair, while I attempt to prove,
The Pains, the Pleasures, and the Pow'r of Love:
Love the great King whom other Kings obey,
Imperious rules with universal Sway;
The Proud, the Vain, the Humble and the Good,
His Vassals are in equal Servitude.
The Great, the Wise, the Coward and the Brave,
All sink alike in Love, and in the Grave:
Nor think ye fair ones in the peaceful Hour,
To live exempt from his all-ruling Pow'r;
In vain with Frowns you Arm the beauteous Brow,
Sooner or later, you, yourselves, must bow:
Like Death impartial, he presents his Dart,
And sure to conquer, aims at ev'ry Heart:
The Heart once touch'd by Love no longer knows,
An ever Tenor and a calm Repose;
But ever in extremes, freezes or burns,
And Joy, and Grief, and Rage succeed by turns.
Oh! who can dictate, or what Tongue reveal,
The strong Delight which favour'd Lovers feel;
When fancy'd Joys their ravish'd Thoughts inspire,
Elate with Hope, and fed with fond Desire!
Now pleasing Transports fill the youthful Breast,
The Charmer smiles, and we are more than blest!
But should she frown, that Frown our Bliss destroys,
Dashes our Hopes and dissipates our Joys:
Or to another should the heedless Dame,
Give one kind Glance,--our Souls are all in Flame;
Then Doubts and Fears the tortur'd Bosom move,
With Jealousy! the stretching Rack of Love.
'Twere endless to recount the various Woe,
Which sad despairing Lovers undergo;
What vast Distress, what strange distracting Pains,
Are caus'd by faithless Nymphs and perjur'd Swains!
But Man the cruel Shock can better bear,
Bus'ness, or Wine, or Sports, divert his Care;
Whilst the forsaken melancholy Maid,
Seeks out the Covert of a secret Shade;
And in the close Recesses of the Grove,
With Sighs and Tears, bewails her injur'd Love.
My little Heart melts at the sad Review,
And can no more the piteous Tale persue;
Hard-hearted Men!--too much to change inclin'd,
That can to faithful Beauty prove unkind!
Ladies, for once believe me whilst I swear,
When I'm a Man, I vow I'll be sincere.
'Till then let your sweet Smiles reward my Song,
For you may safely smile on one so young.
The Pains, the Pleasures, and the Pow'r of Love:
Love the great King whom other Kings obey,
Imperious rules with universal Sway;
The Proud, the Vain, the Humble and the Good,
His Vassals are in equal Servitude.
The Great, the Wise, the Coward and the Brave,
All sink alike in Love, and in the Grave:
Nor think ye fair ones in the peaceful Hour,
To live exempt from his all-ruling Pow'r;
In vain with Frowns you Arm the beauteous Brow,
Sooner or later, you, yourselves, must bow:
Like Death impartial, he presents his Dart,
And sure to conquer, aims at ev'ry Heart:
The Heart once touch'd by Love no longer knows,
An ever Tenor and a calm Repose;
But ever in extremes, freezes or burns,
And Joy, and Grief, and Rage succeed by turns.
Oh! who can dictate, or what Tongue reveal,
The strong Delight which favour'd Lovers feel;
When fancy'd Joys their ravish'd Thoughts inspire,
Elate with Hope, and fed with fond Desire!
Now pleasing Transports fill the youthful Breast,
The Charmer smiles, and we are more than blest!
But should she frown, that Frown our Bliss destroys,
Dashes our Hopes and dissipates our Joys:
Or to another should the heedless Dame,
Give one kind Glance,--our Souls are all in Flame;
Then Doubts and Fears the tortur'd Bosom move,
With Jealousy! the stretching Rack of Love.
'Twere endless to recount the various Woe,
Which sad despairing Lovers undergo;
What vast Distress, what strange distracting Pains,
Are caus'd by faithless Nymphs and perjur'd Swains!
But Man the cruel Shock can better bear,
Bus'ness, or Wine, or Sports, divert his Care;
Whilst the forsaken melancholy Maid,
Seeks out the Covert of a secret Shade;
And in the close Recesses of the Grove,
With Sighs and Tears, bewails her injur'd Love.
My little Heart melts at the sad Review,
And can no more the piteous Tale persue;
Hard-hearted Men!--too much to change inclin'd,
That can to faithful Beauty prove unkind!
Ladies, for once believe me whilst I swear,
When I'm a Man, I vow I'll be sincere.
'Till then let your sweet Smiles reward my Song,
For you may safely smile on one so young.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "conque" and "heart" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
Only 1 entry in ESTC (1755).
Familiar Letters and Poems on Several Occasions. by Mary Masters. (London: Printed for the author, by D. Henry and R. Cave, 1755). <Link to ESTC>
Familiar Letters and Poems on Several Occasions. by Mary Masters. (London: Printed for the author, by D. Henry and R. Cave, 1755). <Link to ESTC>
Date of Entry
02/10/2005
