"The noblest passions, and the living pow'rs / Of intellectual light, the soul's pure lamp, / All, all extinguish'd! "
— Robinson [Née Darby], Mary [Perdita] (1758-1800)
Work Title
Place of Publication
London
Date
1793, 1806
Metaphor
"The noblest passions, and the living pow'rs / Of intellectual light, the soul's pure lamp, / All, all extinguish'd! "
Metaphor in Context
Look round the lofty palaces of pride,
Behold the breathing canvas, wond'rous proof
Of imitative pow'r! where human forms,
Colours, and space, miraculously rang'd,
Drew order out of chaos! where the vast
Of bold perception varied hues disclos'd,
From the rich foliage of embow'ring woods,
To mountains, azure capp'd, scarce visible
Amid the dusk of distance. Trace the lines
That form the graceful statue, Grecian born
From rough-hewn quarries! See the rounding limb,
The modest look serene! which marks the nymph
Of Medicean fame: pround monument
Of heav'n-instructed genius! thou shalt charm
When pomp and pride shall mingle in the mass
Of undistinguish'd clay, inanimate!
That, having borne its hour of busy toil,
Shrinks into shapeless nothing! Dreadful thought!
To mingle with the cold and senseless earth;
In spells of dull inanity to rest;
The noblest passions, and the living pow'rs
Of intellectual light, the soul's pure lamp,
All, all extinguish'd! Tell me, nature's God!
Then what is the warm magic that supplies
The strong life-loving flame, which fills the breast,
Enliv'ning time's slow journey? Liberty!
If thou art not the impulse exquisite,
Where does it dwell? What else can teach the wretch
(Lab'ring with mortal ills, disease and pain,
Deep-wounding poverty, presumptuous scorn,
High-crested arrogance, affections spurn'd,)
To bear the weight of thought, and linger out
This weary task of being? Blest with thee,
The peasant were as happy as his lord--
For nature knows no difference! Summer smiles
For the poor cottager, and smiling shews
The vegetating scene, diffusing fair
And equal portions for the sons of earth!
But man, proud man, a bold usurper, takes
The law of nature from its destin'd course,
And fashions it at pleasure! Hence we trace
The gloomy annals of receding time
Spotted with gore, and blurr'd by pity's tears,
Where genius, virtue, nature's progeny!
Mark'd by th' Eternal's hand with ev'ry charm,
Have shrunk beneath oppression!--bow'd the neck
Before the blood-stain'd shrines of impious fraud,
Flouted by fools, the gilded dregs of earth,
And forc'd to hide the gushing tear of scorn,
Till driv'n to mountain caves, and desert glooms,
The godlike wonders fled. The first, sublime,
The darling of his race; majestic! grand!
With eyes, whose living lustre beam'd afar
The blaze of intellect, Promethean-touch'd,
And infinitely radiant!--
Behold the breathing canvas, wond'rous proof
Of imitative pow'r! where human forms,
Colours, and space, miraculously rang'd,
Drew order out of chaos! where the vast
Of bold perception varied hues disclos'd,
From the rich foliage of embow'ring woods,
To mountains, azure capp'd, scarce visible
Amid the dusk of distance. Trace the lines
That form the graceful statue, Grecian born
From rough-hewn quarries! See the rounding limb,
The modest look serene! which marks the nymph
Of Medicean fame: pround monument
Of heav'n-instructed genius! thou shalt charm
When pomp and pride shall mingle in the mass
Of undistinguish'd clay, inanimate!
That, having borne its hour of busy toil,
Shrinks into shapeless nothing! Dreadful thought!
To mingle with the cold and senseless earth;
In spells of dull inanity to rest;
The noblest passions, and the living pow'rs
Of intellectual light, the soul's pure lamp,
All, all extinguish'd! Tell me, nature's God!
Then what is the warm magic that supplies
The strong life-loving flame, which fills the breast,
Enliv'ning time's slow journey? Liberty!
If thou art not the impulse exquisite,
Where does it dwell? What else can teach the wretch
(Lab'ring with mortal ills, disease and pain,
Deep-wounding poverty, presumptuous scorn,
High-crested arrogance, affections spurn'd,)
To bear the weight of thought, and linger out
This weary task of being? Blest with thee,
The peasant were as happy as his lord--
For nature knows no difference! Summer smiles
For the poor cottager, and smiling shews
The vegetating scene, diffusing fair
And equal portions for the sons of earth!
But man, proud man, a bold usurper, takes
The law of nature from its destin'd course,
And fashions it at pleasure! Hence we trace
The gloomy annals of receding time
Spotted with gore, and blurr'd by pity's tears,
Where genius, virtue, nature's progeny!
Mark'd by th' Eternal's hand with ev'ry charm,
Have shrunk beneath oppression!--bow'd the neck
Before the blood-stain'd shrines of impious fraud,
Flouted by fools, the gilded dregs of earth,
And forc'd to hide the gushing tear of scorn,
Till driv'n to mountain caves, and desert glooms,
The godlike wonders fled. The first, sublime,
The darling of his race; majestic! grand!
With eyes, whose living lustre beam'd afar
The blaze of intellect, Promethean-touch'd,
And infinitely radiant!--
Categories
Provenance
Searching "soul" and "lamp" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
Text from The Poetical Works of the Late Mrs Mary Robinson: Including Many Pieces Never Before Published. 3 vols. (London: Printed for Richard Phillips, 1806). <Link to vol. I in Google Books><Vol. II><Vol. III>
Date of Entry
01/19/2006
