"Touched with my care, my tyrant may prove kind, / Nor let that form conceal an iron mind."
— Ossian; Macpherson, James (1736-1796)
Date
1805
Metaphor
"Touched with my care, my tyrant may prove kind, / Nor let that form conceal an iron mind."
Metaphor in Context
A sudden stupor every sense pervades,
Upon her cheek the roseate tincture fades;
In dumb surprise her soul astonished swims;
The downy bed supports her falling limbs:
A sudden qualm of sorrow and surprise
Bound up the tongue, and blocked the gates of voice:
The wakening soul resumes the seat again,
She ceaseless rolls in agonizing pain;
Tossed round her limbs, and furious with despair,
She beat her breast, and tore her golden hair.
Surprise is o'er; the tears begin to flow;
And words expressive of the mighty woe:
Egidia lives! and what she prized is fled!
Come, death! and waft the hapless to the dead.
Come lop this virgin flower, my sable spouse,
And quench the flood-gates of these rushing woes.
Sooth, sooth, O gentle! all my troubled breast;
Within thy arms at last my soul shall rest!
Birth, grandeur, state, farewell, ye empty toys,
Ye curse of life, obstructions of my joys!
O should a shepherdess upon the plain
Bear me, a daughter, to some humble swain;
Not nursed to grandeur, unconfined to state,
The stately youth might love his rural mate!
Clasped in Love's arms, in some low hut reclined,
I'd pour upon his breast my love-sick mind;
With thee, my swain, would bear the wintry cold,
With thee would guard the cattle to the fold;
Through Poverty's cold stream-with thee would gain,
And lean-cheek'd Want might puff his blast in vain;
With thee, with thee would tempt the rugged heath;
With thee would live, with thee would sink in death.
O bear me, bear me, Fortune, to some grove,
Where your transfixer, harts! and mine may rove.
Touched with my care, my tyrant may prove kind,
Nor let that form conceal an iron mind.
Upon her cheek the roseate tincture fades;
In dumb surprise her soul astonished swims;
The downy bed supports her falling limbs:
A sudden qualm of sorrow and surprise
Bound up the tongue, and blocked the gates of voice:
The wakening soul resumes the seat again,
She ceaseless rolls in agonizing pain;
Tossed round her limbs, and furious with despair,
She beat her breast, and tore her golden hair.
Surprise is o'er; the tears begin to flow;
And words expressive of the mighty woe:
Egidia lives! and what she prized is fled!
Come, death! and waft the hapless to the dead.
Come lop this virgin flower, my sable spouse,
And quench the flood-gates of these rushing woes.
Sooth, sooth, O gentle! all my troubled breast;
Within thy arms at last my soul shall rest!
Birth, grandeur, state, farewell, ye empty toys,
Ye curse of life, obstructions of my joys!
O should a shepherdess upon the plain
Bear me, a daughter, to some humble swain;
Not nursed to grandeur, unconfined to state,
The stately youth might love his rural mate!
Clasped in Love's arms, in some low hut reclined,
I'd pour upon his breast my love-sick mind;
With thee, my swain, would bear the wintry cold,
With thee would guard the cattle to the fold;
Through Poverty's cold stream-with thee would gain,
And lean-cheek'd Want might puff his blast in vain;
With thee, with thee would tempt the rugged heath;
With thee would live, with thee would sink in death.
O bear me, bear me, Fortune, to some grove,
Where your transfixer, harts! and mine may rove.
Touched with my care, my tyrant may prove kind,
Nor let that form conceal an iron mind.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "mind" and "iron" in HDIS (Poetry)
Date of Entry
06/07/2005
