France "spurning base controul ... pluck'd the iron from her wounded soul [and] O'erthrew her proud Bastile, as with a charm"
— Hayley, William (1745-1820)
Author
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for J. Debrett [etc.]
Date
1795
Metaphor
France "spurning base controul ... pluck'd the iron from her wounded soul [and] O'erthrew her proud Bastile, as with a charm"
Metaphor in Context
England, brave nation, of an honest mind,
Yet often dup'd as credulously blind;
Too apt, when artifice obstructs thy view,
To shrink from fancied ills, and scorn the true;
Learn, when thy neighbour of superb pretence,
Whose feelings are too quick for sober sense;
Learn, when assuming France, by Folly led,
Might best awaken thy judicious dread:
Not in the hour when, spurning base controul,
She pluck'd the iron from her wounded soul;
Not in the hour when Indignation's arm
O'erthrew her proud Bastile, as with a charm,
And gave to festive Joy the vacant space,
Nobly disburthen'd of Earth's dark disgrace:
No--in her ancient calm, her nerveless hour
Of tame submission to despotic power,
France might excite more reasonable fear,
Than all her armies in their first career;
For, when in Tyranny's cold grasp she lay,
And strove to smile her sense of wrongs away,
On her soft breast a specious Fiend she nurs'd,
Of all insinuating fiends the worst:
Pleas'd to empoison nations with her breath,
And sow the viewless seeds of public death;
To deaden virtue, to dispirit joy,
And all the energies of life destroy.
For in the minds that, fearful of deceit,
Slowly embrace this fascinating cheat,
Reason, self-puzzled, loses all its skill,
To mark th'eternal bounds of good and ill;
To them Religion's sweet seraphic face
Appears the sickly mask of sour grimace:
Man, her dear charge, they deem a moving clod,
And, deaf to the paternal voice of God,
Despise the gift his gracious power bestow'd,
Feeling existence a lethargic load.
(pp. 16-9, ll. 215-50)
Yet often dup'd as credulously blind;
Too apt, when artifice obstructs thy view,
To shrink from fancied ills, and scorn the true;
Learn, when thy neighbour of superb pretence,
Whose feelings are too quick for sober sense;
Learn, when assuming France, by Folly led,
Might best awaken thy judicious dread:
Not in the hour when, spurning base controul,
She pluck'd the iron from her wounded soul;
Not in the hour when Indignation's arm
O'erthrew her proud Bastile, as with a charm,
And gave to festive Joy the vacant space,
Nobly disburthen'd of Earth's dark disgrace:
No--in her ancient calm, her nerveless hour
Of tame submission to despotic power,
France might excite more reasonable fear,
Than all her armies in their first career;
For, when in Tyranny's cold grasp she lay,
And strove to smile her sense of wrongs away,
On her soft breast a specious Fiend she nurs'd,
Of all insinuating fiends the worst:
Pleas'd to empoison nations with her breath,
And sow the viewless seeds of public death;
To deaden virtue, to dispirit joy,
And all the energies of life destroy.
For in the minds that, fearful of deceit,
Slowly embrace this fascinating cheat,
Reason, self-puzzled, loses all its skill,
To mark th'eternal bounds of good and ill;
To them Religion's sweet seraphic face
Appears the sickly mask of sour grimace:
Man, her dear charge, they deem a moving clod,
And, deaf to the paternal voice of God,
Despise the gift his gracious power bestow'd,
Feeling existence a lethargic load.
(pp. 16-9, ll. 215-50)
Categories
Provenance
Searching "soul" and "iron" in HDIS (Poetry)
Date of Entry
06/08/2005
