"My Brain's disturb'd; alas! alas! I rave; / What can I do? a poor forsaken Slave! / Like Birds, that spend their little idle Rage, / And, fruitless, mourn, indignant of their Cage, / From Thought to Thought, my fluttering Spirits rove, / Betray'd to Bondage, and, ah! lost to Love."
— Whyte, Samuel (1733-1811) [Editor]
Date
1772
Metaphor
"My Brain's disturb'd; alas! alas! I rave; / What can I do? a poor forsaken Slave! / Like Birds, that spend their little idle Rage, / And, fruitless, mourn, indignant of their Cage, / From Thought to Thought, my fluttering Spirits rove, / Betray'd to Bondage, and, ah! lost to Love."
Metaphor in Context
Ah! wretched Maid! those heart-felt Sighs forbear!
Why trickles thus the unavailing Tear?
Too well, I know, these Sighs must rise in vain;
Too true, these Tears unpity'd must complain:
Oh! could my Soul, endu'd with proper Pride,
Its Love, its Grief, its Indignation hide!
But burst it will; my Patience can no more:
But, to what Friend? whose Aid can I implore?
My Brain's disturb'd; alas! alas! I rave;
What can I do? a poor forsaken Slave!
Like Birds, that spend their little idle Rage,
And, fruitless, mourn, indignant of their Cage,
From Thought to Thought, my fluttering Spirits rove,
Betray'd to Bondage, and, ah! lost to Love.
Why did the hasty Messenger return
With such Dispatch, for hapless me to mourn?
Curs'd be the Wretch that brought the Tidings here,
Whose blasting Tale, like Thunder, sought my Ear;
Curs'd be the Day, when I was doom'd to see
My Husband's Heart, estrang'd from widow'd me;
Curs'd be that Face, whose more persuasive Charms
Have lur'd the faithless Aza to her Arms.
Why trickles thus the unavailing Tear?
Too well, I know, these Sighs must rise in vain;
Too true, these Tears unpity'd must complain:
Oh! could my Soul, endu'd with proper Pride,
Its Love, its Grief, its Indignation hide!
But burst it will; my Patience can no more:
But, to what Friend? whose Aid can I implore?
My Brain's disturb'd; alas! alas! I rave;
What can I do? a poor forsaken Slave!
Like Birds, that spend their little idle Rage,
And, fruitless, mourn, indignant of their Cage,
From Thought to Thought, my fluttering Spirits rove,
Betray'd to Bondage, and, ah! lost to Love.
Why did the hasty Messenger return
With such Dispatch, for hapless me to mourn?
Curs'd be the Wretch that brought the Tidings here,
Whose blasting Tale, like Thunder, sought my Ear;
Curs'd be the Day, when I was doom'd to see
My Husband's Heart, estrang'd from widow'd me;
Curs'd be that Face, whose more persuasive Charms
Have lur'd the faithless Aza to her Arms.
Categories
Provenance
Searching "bond" and "thought" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
5 entries in the ESTC (1772, 1773, 1774, 1782).
See The Shamrock: or, Hibernian Cresses. A Collection of Poems, Songs, Epigrams, &c. Latin as well as English, The Original Production of Ireland. (Dublin: Printed by R. Marchbank, 1772). <Link to ECCO> <Link to 1774 edition in Google Books>
See The Shamrock: or, Hibernian Cresses. A Collection of Poems, Songs, Epigrams, &c. Latin as well as English, The Original Production of Ireland. (Dublin: Printed by R. Marchbank, 1772). <Link to ECCO> <Link to 1774 edition in Google Books>
Date of Entry
01/09/2012
