"While Mercy bids admiring nations own, / Thy sword her weapon, and thy heart her throne, / My love need only to thy thought commend / One dearer life, which, mighty God! defend."
— Hayley, William (1745-1820)
Author
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for T. Cadell
Date
1788
Metaphor
"While Mercy bids admiring nations own, / Thy sword her weapon, and thy heart her throne, / My love need only to thy thought commend / One dearer life, which, mighty God! defend."
Metaphor in Context
He comes! thy Courier!--on affection's wing
I fly to catch the tidings of my King!--
O joy! O bounteous Heaven! O blessed hour!
Delight that drowns expression's feeble power!--
Great God of Battles! whose high will has shed
This signal glory round my Hero's head,
O! while thy praise, in hymns of triumph sung,
Fills the glad earth, forgive my faltering tongue,
Survey my soul, accept its silent prayer,
And see thy mercies all engraven there!--
And thou, my Lord, my Life, dear Victor, say,
What words my transport can to thee convey:
I write, but tears th'imperfect line destroy,
And every thought dissolves in floods of joy!
What aweful scenes, what images arise,
In swift succession to my wond'ring eyes!
Thy wound now shakes my shudd'ring heart with fear,
Thy shouts of victory now strike my ear;
I see afflicted Angels staunch thy blood,
I see thee plunge in Boyne's immortal flood,
I see thee lift thy leading sword on high,
The cruel sons of persecution fly;
I see the rout;--but, in that flying band,
One sacred head--O! stretch thy saving hand!
O! for thy Mary's sake, in mercy spare!--
Forgive this vain unnecessary prayer,
The weakness of that heart with pity see,
Which recommends Humanity to thee:
As well might Man, proud offspring of the dust,
Enjoin the God of Justice to be just;
For O! my William! in thy godlike breast
Celestial Mercy is a constant guest:
No vain, ambitious, sanguinary pride,
No bigot fury is thy frantic guide;
Heaven's purest law, and Man's most sacred right,
Lead thy mild spirit to the wasting fight:
Like some pure Seraph, who, by Heaven enjoin'd
To search, to punish, to correct mankind,
With sweet reluctance wields his flaming blade,
With pity views the waste by Justice made;
And, pleas'd the voice of Penitence to hear,
Drops on each wound a salutary tear:
Such, in the storm of war, thy virtues shine;
The welfare of the world thy great design.
While Mercy bids admiring nations own,
Thy sword her weapon, and thy heart her throne,
My love need only to thy thought commend
One dearer life, which, mighty God! defend;
For, of the many lives that ask my prayer,
None but thy own will want thy constant care:
Learn from thy wound--Alas! its terrors still
Thro' Triumph's glowing bosom strike their chill.
I fly to catch the tidings of my King!--
O joy! O bounteous Heaven! O blessed hour!
Delight that drowns expression's feeble power!--
Great God of Battles! whose high will has shed
This signal glory round my Hero's head,
O! while thy praise, in hymns of triumph sung,
Fills the glad earth, forgive my faltering tongue,
Survey my soul, accept its silent prayer,
And see thy mercies all engraven there!--
And thou, my Lord, my Life, dear Victor, say,
What words my transport can to thee convey:
I write, but tears th'imperfect line destroy,
And every thought dissolves in floods of joy!
What aweful scenes, what images arise,
In swift succession to my wond'ring eyes!
Thy wound now shakes my shudd'ring heart with fear,
Thy shouts of victory now strike my ear;
I see afflicted Angels staunch thy blood,
I see thee plunge in Boyne's immortal flood,
I see thee lift thy leading sword on high,
The cruel sons of persecution fly;
I see the rout;--but, in that flying band,
One sacred head--O! stretch thy saving hand!
O! for thy Mary's sake, in mercy spare!--
Forgive this vain unnecessary prayer,
The weakness of that heart with pity see,
Which recommends Humanity to thee:
As well might Man, proud offspring of the dust,
Enjoin the God of Justice to be just;
For O! my William! in thy godlike breast
Celestial Mercy is a constant guest:
No vain, ambitious, sanguinary pride,
No bigot fury is thy frantic guide;
Heaven's purest law, and Man's most sacred right,
Lead thy mild spirit to the wasting fight:
Like some pure Seraph, who, by Heaven enjoin'd
To search, to punish, to correct mankind,
With sweet reluctance wields his flaming blade,
With pity views the waste by Justice made;
And, pleas'd the voice of Penitence to hear,
Drops on each wound a salutary tear:
Such, in the storm of war, thy virtues shine;
The welfare of the world thy great design.
While Mercy bids admiring nations own,
Thy sword her weapon, and thy heart her throne,
My love need only to thy thought commend
One dearer life, which, mighty God! defend;
For, of the many lives that ask my prayer,
None but thy own will want thy constant care:
Learn from thy wound--Alas! its terrors still
Thro' Triumph's glowing bosom strike their chill.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "throne" and "heart" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
Only 1 entry in ESTC (1788).
See Occasional Stanzas, Written at the Request of the Revolution Society, and Recited on Their Anniversary, November 4, 1788. to Which Is Added, Queen Mary to King William, During His Campaign in Ireland, 1690; a Poetical Epistle. by William Hayley, Esq. (London: Printed for T. Cadell, in the Strand, 1788). <Link to ESTC>
See Occasional Stanzas, Written at the Request of the Revolution Society, and Recited on Their Anniversary, November 4, 1788. to Which Is Added, Queen Mary to King William, During His Campaign in Ireland, 1690; a Poetical Epistle. by William Hayley, Esq. (London: Printed for T. Cadell, in the Strand, 1788). <Link to ESTC>
Date of Entry
08/07/2004
Date of Review
01/06/2012
