"Soft pity may touch the manly Breast, / And on thy soul mild Nature's stamp imprest"
— Jerningham, Edward (1727-1812)
Work Title
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for R. and J. Dodsley
Date
1761
Metaphor
"Soft pity may touch the manly Breast, / And on thy soul mild Nature's stamp imprest"
Metaphor in Context
From the dark Horrors of a prison's cave,
Where all is cheerless as the doleful grave;
The chain'd Andromache pours forth her grief,
And ev'n from Pyrrhus now implores relief.
If e'er soft pity touch'd thy manly Breast,
And on thy soul mild Nature's stamp imprest,
O take compassion on my deep-felt woe,
"'Tis what the happy to th'unhappy owe."
Too dire alas! to see my Hector dead,
Why dost thou show'r more sorrows on my Head?
Why am I lock'd in this lone Dungeon's cell,
To moan unpity'd? all my suff'rings tell
To heedless walls, that cannot know my pain,
Nor hear Affliction's sorrowing Child complain?
Was it my fault that Hector warr'd with thee?
Why then thy wrath impetuous spent on me?
Yet let me still thy rage unbounded feel,
No more, no longer, for myself I kneel!
--Some friendly Pow'r avert the barb'rous Deed,
For ah I tremble lest my Infant bleed!
Soon as Aurora had unveil'd the Day,
And to my prison sent a hateful ray,
Thy savage Ministers relentless came,
In right of war Astyanax to claim;
At my loud grief no pity they express'd,
But tore the helpless Infant from my Breast.
Yet worse--with impious joy the Ruffians said,
"This night shall find him number'd with the dead."
My Infant die! forbid it Pow'rs above,
And from Despair call back maternal Love.
Where all is cheerless as the doleful grave;
The chain'd Andromache pours forth her grief,
And ev'n from Pyrrhus now implores relief.
If e'er soft pity touch'd thy manly Breast,
And on thy soul mild Nature's stamp imprest,
O take compassion on my deep-felt woe,
"'Tis what the happy to th'unhappy owe."
Too dire alas! to see my Hector dead,
Why dost thou show'r more sorrows on my Head?
Why am I lock'd in this lone Dungeon's cell,
To moan unpity'd? all my suff'rings tell
To heedless walls, that cannot know my pain,
Nor hear Affliction's sorrowing Child complain?
Was it my fault that Hector warr'd with thee?
Why then thy wrath impetuous spent on me?
Yet let me still thy rage unbounded feel,
No more, no longer, for myself I kneel!
--Some friendly Pow'r avert the barb'rous Deed,
For ah I tremble lest my Infant bleed!
Soon as Aurora had unveil'd the Day,
And to my prison sent a hateful ray,
Thy savage Ministers relentless came,
In right of war Astyanax to claim;
At my loud grief no pity they express'd,
But tore the helpless Infant from my Breast.
Yet worse--with impious joy the Ruffians said,
"This night shall find him number'd with the dead."
My Infant die! forbid it Pow'rs above,
And from Despair call back maternal Love.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "soul" and "stamp" in HDIS (Poetry); found again "breast"
Citation
Only 1 entry in ESTC (1761).
Andromache to Pyrrhus. An Heroick Epistle (London: Printed for R. and J. Dodsley, 1761). <Link to ESTC>
Andromache to Pyrrhus. An Heroick Epistle (London: Printed for R. and J. Dodsley, 1761). <Link to ESTC>
Date of Entry
04/08/2005
