"What ever brought him here, or took him hence / It was no mean, or common influence, / Of Heavens best mettal, that inform'd his soul, / And made all vertue, but a blubr'd scrol / Of his great mind."
— Cleland, William (1661?-1689)
Date
1697
Metaphor
"What ever brought him here, or took him hence / It was no mean, or common influence, / Of Heavens best mettal, that inform'd his soul, / And made all vertue, but a blubr'd scrol / Of his great mind."
Metaphor in Context
What ever brought him here, or took him hence
It was no mean, or common influence,
Of Heavens best mettal, that inform'd his soul,
And made all vertue, but a blubr'd scrol
Of his great mind: So that a doubt it is
If he were Vertues soul, or she were his.
I cannot solve the doubt; but this I find,
He being gone, she could not stay behind.
For if she was his soul, he being gone,
She hath no Organ, now to work upon.
If he were hers, he being soar'd above,
She's but a carcase dead, and cannot move.
He's gone, no mortal pensil e're shall limn
A lively draught, or of his worth, or him.
Wit finds it self for that great Task unfit:
For Cleland was an Universe of Wit.
Dumb Rhetorick hath lost her Tongue & sense,
Is quite benumb'd, for he was Eloquence,
And Sense in the pure abstract. Reason she
By weeping her sad loss, hath lost her Eye:
Retaining only store of tears, to keep
A Consort with the mourning World, & weep.
The Muses sory wights, have quit their mountain.
And drown'd their harps in their forsaken fountain.
They were his Converts, he had made them follow
His Heav'nly lays, & quit the devil Apollo. [...]
(p. 1237)
It was no mean, or common influence,
Of Heavens best mettal, that inform'd his soul,
And made all vertue, but a blubr'd scrol
Of his great mind: So that a doubt it is
If he were Vertues soul, or she were his.
I cannot solve the doubt; but this I find,
He being gone, she could not stay behind.
For if she was his soul, he being gone,
She hath no Organ, now to work upon.
If he were hers, he being soar'd above,
She's but a carcase dead, and cannot move.
He's gone, no mortal pensil e're shall limn
A lively draught, or of his worth, or him.
Wit finds it self for that great Task unfit:
For Cleland was an Universe of Wit.
Dumb Rhetorick hath lost her Tongue & sense,
Is quite benumb'd, for he was Eloquence,
And Sense in the pure abstract. Reason she
By weeping her sad loss, hath lost her Eye:
Retaining only store of tears, to keep
A Consort with the mourning World, & weep.
The Muses sory wights, have quit their mountain.
And drown'd their harps in their forsaken fountain.
They were his Converts, he had made them follow
His Heav'nly lays, & quit the devil Apollo. [...]
(p. 1237)
Categories
Provenance
C-H Lion
Citation
Laird of Airdrie, "Elegie Upon the Death of Leiutenent Colonel William Cleland. Who died at Dunkel, 21 of August, 1689," A Collection of Several Poems and Verses, Composed upon Various Occasions. By Mr. William Cleland (1697). <Link to EEBO-TCP>
Date of Entry
06/19/2013
