"Let us awhile divert our spleen, / Recall the gay, the cheerful scene; /Awhile in Fancy's mirror trace / The social night, the joyous chase"
— Anstey, Christopher (1724-1805)
Date
1808
Metaphor
"Let us awhile divert our spleen, / Recall the gay, the cheerful scene; /Awhile in Fancy's mirror trace / The social night, the joyous chase"
Metaphor in Context
Then cease, my Friend, thy fond complaint;
Resume thy mirth and humour quaint,
Let us awhile divert our spleen,
Recall the gay, the cheerful scene;
Awhile in Fancy's mirror trace
The social night, the joyous chase;
Let us of ---'s trophies sing,
How he the fox was wont to sting,
While you, when all the hounds were gone,
With boots too short, no stocking on,
Sick, and with midnight supper cramm'd,
All huntsmen, dogs, and foxes d-m-'d;
Yet still unwilling to submit,
Kept spurring on your jaded tit:
Thy image still provokes my smiles,
And many a serious thought beguiles,
No time, my Berney, can efface
The record of thy queer grimace.
Yet, though these joyous hours be past,
Let's catch the present while they last,
And ever through each varying scene
Calm be the soul, the mind serene;
Let not lost friends augment thy pain,
But think on those who still remain:
And of that number be the bard,
Who sends this tribute of regard,
And trims once more his withering bays,
To cheer thee with his faithful lays.
Resume thy mirth and humour quaint,
Let us awhile divert our spleen,
Recall the gay, the cheerful scene;
Awhile in Fancy's mirror trace
The social night, the joyous chase;
Let us of ---'s trophies sing,
How he the fox was wont to sting,
While you, when all the hounds were gone,
With boots too short, no stocking on,
Sick, and with midnight supper cramm'd,
All huntsmen, dogs, and foxes d-m-'d;
Yet still unwilling to submit,
Kept spurring on your jaded tit:
Thy image still provokes my smiles,
And many a serious thought beguiles,
No time, my Berney, can efface
The record of thy queer grimace.
Yet, though these joyous hours be past,
Let's catch the present while they last,
And ever through each varying scene
Calm be the soul, the mind serene;
Let not lost friends augment thy pain,
But think on those who still remain:
And of that number be the bard,
Who sends this tribute of regard,
And trims once more his withering bays,
To cheer thee with his faithful lays.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "fancy" and "mirror" in HDIS (Poetry)
Date of Entry
11/26/2005
