"The lamp of sense, that glows in ev'ry breast, / Nature illumes, that man may stand confest"
— Boyce, Samuel (d. 1775)
Author
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for R. and J. Dodsley ... J. Newbery ... and W. Reeve
Date
1757
Metaphor
"The lamp of sense, that glows in ev'ry breast, / Nature illumes, that man may stand confest"
Metaphor in Context
Who breathe this humble air, estrang'd to courts,
Where wild ambition reigns, and fortune sports,
Care not what nations rise to war and noise,
While This destroying That itself destroys:
And tho' my heart its native climate prize,
And supplicate Troy's welfare of the skies,
Yet trust me, goddess, I'm too calm of mind
To wish myself the slayer of mankind.
Say, can the warriour boast one tranquil hour?
Does no mysterious vision awe his pow'r?
Does ne'er reflection midst his triumphs rise,
To sting the wretch who spurns at nature's ties?
Who fir'd by pride, or urg'd by thirst of gain,
Some kingly vanity, some hop'd domain,
Cuts off his image who the being gave,
Whose great peculiar attribute's to save?
Can his fond country pay him with its love,
As praise below may not be praise above?
I envy not th'exultings in his breast
For armies slaughter'd, and for realms distrest;
By me such triumphs wou'd be unenjoy'd,
My heart wou'd pity whom my hand destroy'd.
Tho' charm'd not by the trumpet's silver strain,
Unus'd to sounds that fire the martial train,
Yet heav'n who suits our pleasures to our sphere,
And bids sensation know its just barrier,
Gives melody, that sung to man the art,
To wake my ear, and animate my heart;
Music that first taught nature to rejoice,
And hymn'd the great Creator with its voice:
Soon as Aurora darts th'enliv'ning ray,
Up mounts the lark, and hails the new-born day;
The feather'd nations hear their herald's call,
Each sings to each, and echo answers all:
At noon, when phoebus in the zenith reigns,
And languid nature pants around the plains,
Tho' mute the birds,, still music sooths the hour;
Screen'd in the grott', or shelter'd in the bow'r,
The rural reed, or love-concerted lay
Diverts the fancy, wears the time away:
At eve, when western clouds refulgent glow,
And phoebe dawns, to light the world below,
Then pours sweet Philomel, through dulcet throat,
The musically, melancholy, note;
Tereus she mourns, all lonely on a thorn,
While turtles coo a soft farewell till morn:
Rills purl, brooks murmur, babbling riv'lets creep,
To hush my thoughts, and lull my sense asleep;
Ev'n sleep is here by harmony refin'd,
I slumber to the music of my mind:
Long be the slumbers of the Peaceful mine;
The mighty hero, goddess, I decline.
Nor pants my heart for scientific lore:
When much is known, that knowledge thirsts for more
Like Tantalus, the mind of science vain,
Incessant toils for what it can't obtain.
The lamp of sense, that glows in ev'ry breast,
Nature illumes, that man may stand confest;
That good and ill may to his soul be known;
His int'rest pointed, but the choice his own;
To light the ductile thought life's sea to run,
What haven covet, and what rocks to shun:
Yet oft' when science sheds its op'ning day,
This beam instinctive vanishes away;
At pride's first glance th'irradiation dies,
And folly triumphs o'er the mighty wise;
Still may I view that light unsully'd shine;
Still be the test of rural knowledge mine.
Ye sons of learning! court the world's applause;
Ye warriours, patriots! fire in freedom's cause:
Be yours whate'er aspiring spirits claim,
Eternal rapture, and eternal fame!
And while you soar, with emulative zeal,
And give to kindred minds the warmth you feel,
In humbler life your virtues I'll revere;
To rise I wish not, nor depression fear.
In truth's clear mirrour, bounteous queen, I see
Thy blessings would reverse their name with me;
Yet, not unduteous, thou my thanks receive;
The sole return sincerity can give;
For one celestial claimant's yet untry'd;
Beauty must win, and justice must decide.
Thus he.
Where wild ambition reigns, and fortune sports,
Care not what nations rise to war and noise,
While This destroying That itself destroys:
And tho' my heart its native climate prize,
And supplicate Troy's welfare of the skies,
Yet trust me, goddess, I'm too calm of mind
To wish myself the slayer of mankind.
Say, can the warriour boast one tranquil hour?
Does no mysterious vision awe his pow'r?
Does ne'er reflection midst his triumphs rise,
To sting the wretch who spurns at nature's ties?
Who fir'd by pride, or urg'd by thirst of gain,
Some kingly vanity, some hop'd domain,
Cuts off his image who the being gave,
Whose great peculiar attribute's to save?
Can his fond country pay him with its love,
As praise below may not be praise above?
I envy not th'exultings in his breast
For armies slaughter'd, and for realms distrest;
By me such triumphs wou'd be unenjoy'd,
My heart wou'd pity whom my hand destroy'd.
Tho' charm'd not by the trumpet's silver strain,
Unus'd to sounds that fire the martial train,
Yet heav'n who suits our pleasures to our sphere,
And bids sensation know its just barrier,
Gives melody, that sung to man the art,
To wake my ear, and animate my heart;
Music that first taught nature to rejoice,
And hymn'd the great Creator with its voice:
Soon as Aurora darts th'enliv'ning ray,
Up mounts the lark, and hails the new-born day;
The feather'd nations hear their herald's call,
Each sings to each, and echo answers all:
At noon, when phoebus in the zenith reigns,
And languid nature pants around the plains,
Tho' mute the birds,, still music sooths the hour;
Screen'd in the grott', or shelter'd in the bow'r,
The rural reed, or love-concerted lay
Diverts the fancy, wears the time away:
At eve, when western clouds refulgent glow,
And phoebe dawns, to light the world below,
Then pours sweet Philomel, through dulcet throat,
The musically, melancholy, note;
Tereus she mourns, all lonely on a thorn,
While turtles coo a soft farewell till morn:
Rills purl, brooks murmur, babbling riv'lets creep,
To hush my thoughts, and lull my sense asleep;
Ev'n sleep is here by harmony refin'd,
I slumber to the music of my mind:
Long be the slumbers of the Peaceful mine;
The mighty hero, goddess, I decline.
Nor pants my heart for scientific lore:
When much is known, that knowledge thirsts for more
Like Tantalus, the mind of science vain,
Incessant toils for what it can't obtain.
The lamp of sense, that glows in ev'ry breast,
Nature illumes, that man may stand confest;
That good and ill may to his soul be known;
His int'rest pointed, but the choice his own;
To light the ductile thought life's sea to run,
What haven covet, and what rocks to shun:
Yet oft' when science sheds its op'ning day,
This beam instinctive vanishes away;
At pride's first glance th'irradiation dies,
And folly triumphs o'er the mighty wise;
Still may I view that light unsully'd shine;
Still be the test of rural knowledge mine.
Ye sons of learning! court the world's applause;
Ye warriours, patriots! fire in freedom's cause:
Be yours whate'er aspiring spirits claim,
Eternal rapture, and eternal fame!
And while you soar, with emulative zeal,
And give to kindred minds the warmth you feel,
In humbler life your virtues I'll revere;
To rise I wish not, nor depression fear.
In truth's clear mirrour, bounteous queen, I see
Thy blessings would reverse their name with me;
Yet, not unduteous, thou my thanks receive;
The sole return sincerity can give;
For one celestial claimant's yet untry'd;
Beauty must win, and justice must decide.
Thus he.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "breast" and "lamp" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
2 entries in ECCO and ESTC (1755, 1757).
See Paris; or, the force of beauty: a poem. In two cantos. By Samuel Boyce. (London: Printed for W. Reeve, at Shakespear’s Head, Fleet-Street, 1755).
Text from Poems on Several Occasions. By Samuel Boyce (London: Printed for R. and J. Dodsley, in Pall-Mall; J. Newbery, in St. Paul’s Church-Yard; and W. Reeve, in Fleet-Street, 1757). <Link to ESTC>
See Paris; or, the force of beauty: a poem. In two cantos. By Samuel Boyce. (London: Printed for W. Reeve, at Shakespear’s Head, Fleet-Street, 1755).
Text from Poems on Several Occasions. By Samuel Boyce (London: Printed for R. and J. Dodsley, in Pall-Mall; J. Newbery, in St. Paul’s Church-Yard; and W. Reeve, in Fleet-Street, 1757). <Link to ESTC>
Date of Entry
01/20/2006
