"But now, farewell, ye flow'ry Cells, / Where bright Imagination dwells, / Round whom in Circles ever gay / The young Ideas love to play"
— Keate, George (1729-1797)
Author
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for J. Dodsley [etc.]
Date
1781
Metaphor
"But now, farewell, ye flow'ry Cells, / Where bright Imagination dwells, / Round whom in Circles ever gay / The young Ideas love to play"
Metaphor in Context
--Ah! how much happier pass'd those Days,
When, ravish'd by the Poets Lays,
The Hours were wont too swift to fly,
And danc'd in wanton Measures by.
I then, transported, Hand in Hand
With Spencer trod enchanted Land,
While plumed Knights and burnish'd Shields,
Wide glitter'd round his Fairy Fields:
Or felt great Shakespeare's Pow'rs controul
Each various Movement of the Soul,
From Pity's source compel the Tear,
Or chill my throbbing Breast with Fear,
Transport me thro' the yielding Air,
And place me how he would, and where.
Or when, of earthly Story tir'd,
To higher Knowledge I aspir'd,
Through young Creation rang'd along,
Imparadis'd in Milton's Song.
Or pass'd intent on Themes sublime,
Th'unmeasurable Bounds of Time.
But now, farewell, ye flow'ry Cells,
Where bright Imagination dwells,
Round whom in Circles ever gay
The young Ideas love to play;
Farewell, to Fancy's sportive Shades!
Farewell, ye sweet Aonian Maids!
Receive this last Adieu from me;
Go, bless some Youth whose Mind is free;
Whilst I a Slave to formal Courts,
To Cases, Records, and Reports,
The Course I hate am doom'd to run,
And if I backward turn, undone.
When, ravish'd by the Poets Lays,
The Hours were wont too swift to fly,
And danc'd in wanton Measures by.
I then, transported, Hand in Hand
With Spencer trod enchanted Land,
While plumed Knights and burnish'd Shields,
Wide glitter'd round his Fairy Fields:
Or felt great Shakespeare's Pow'rs controul
Each various Movement of the Soul,
From Pity's source compel the Tear,
Or chill my throbbing Breast with Fear,
Transport me thro' the yielding Air,
And place me how he would, and where.
Or when, of earthly Story tir'd,
To higher Knowledge I aspir'd,
Through young Creation rang'd along,
Imparadis'd in Milton's Song.
Or pass'd intent on Themes sublime,
Th'unmeasurable Bounds of Time.
But now, farewell, ye flow'ry Cells,
Where bright Imagination dwells,
Round whom in Circles ever gay
The young Ideas love to play;
Farewell, to Fancy's sportive Shades!
Farewell, ye sweet Aonian Maids!
Receive this last Adieu from me;
Go, bless some Youth whose Mind is free;
Whilst I a Slave to formal Courts,
To Cases, Records, and Reports,
The Course I hate am doom'd to run,
And if I backward turn, undone.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "cell" and "imagination" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
George Keate, The Poetical Works of George Keate 2 vols. (London: Printed for J. Dodsley, 1781).
Date of Entry
08/28/2005