"Remorse the Raven of a guilty Mind, / Is ever croaking horrid in my Ear; / Often I rouse to banish it away, / But the Tormentor still returns again, / And like PROMETHES' Vulture, ever gnaws."
— Gentleman, Francis (1728-1784)
Work Title
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for R. Manby and H.S. Cox
Date
1752
Metaphor
"Remorse the Raven of a guilty Mind, / Is ever croaking horrid in my Ear; / Often I rouse to banish it away, / But the Tormentor still returns again, / And like PROMETHES' Vulture, ever gnaws."
Metaphor in Context
SEJANUS
WHY are my Thoughts still ministring fresh Pain?
Why are new Cares still rank'ling in my Mind?
Nature aloud calls out for balmy Rest,
But all in vain. My ever waking Soul,
Sits brooding o'er a Train of Images,
That constant rise in terrible Array,
And shrink my Resolution into Fears.
But wherefore should vain Fancies thus appall?
Is not an Empire subject to my Rule?
Have I not all that Fortune could bestow;
In ev'ry Thing but Name, an Emperor!
Is not Ambition glutted with my Store?
And yet that faithful Mirror of the Mind,
Reflection, still a gloomy Prospect shews.
Remorse the Raven of a guilty Mind,
Is ever croaking horrid in my Ear;
Often I rouse to banish it away,
But the Tormentor still returns again,
And like PROMETHES' Vulture, ever gnaws.
What then is Glory, without soft Repose?
If sweet Content is banish'd from my Soul,
Life grows a Burden, and a Weight of Woe.
Oh! that I could run o'er my Race again,
Then would I chuse to tread the humble Vale,
Nor lab'ring climb up Greatness painful Hill.
But my past Deeds have set me beyond Cure,
And I must still go on or worse endure.
Assist me, Furies, with your hellish Aid,
Nor let the Tyrant Conscience more invade;
Since I am stain'd with Blood, thro' Blood I'll wade.
(IV.i, p. 37)
WHY are my Thoughts still ministring fresh Pain?
Why are new Cares still rank'ling in my Mind?
Nature aloud calls out for balmy Rest,
But all in vain. My ever waking Soul,
Sits brooding o'er a Train of Images,
That constant rise in terrible Array,
And shrink my Resolution into Fears.
But wherefore should vain Fancies thus appall?
Is not an Empire subject to my Rule?
Have I not all that Fortune could bestow;
In ev'ry Thing but Name, an Emperor!
Is not Ambition glutted with my Store?
And yet that faithful Mirror of the Mind,
Reflection, still a gloomy Prospect shews.
Remorse the Raven of a guilty Mind,
Is ever croaking horrid in my Ear;
Often I rouse to banish it away,
But the Tormentor still returns again,
And like PROMETHES' Vulture, ever gnaws.
What then is Glory, without soft Repose?
If sweet Content is banish'd from my Soul,
Life grows a Burden, and a Weight of Woe.
Oh! that I could run o'er my Race again,
Then would I chuse to tread the humble Vale,
Nor lab'ring climb up Greatness painful Hill.
But my past Deeds have set me beyond Cure,
And I must still go on or worse endure.
Assist me, Furies, with your hellish Aid,
Nor let the Tyrant Conscience more invade;
Since I am stain'd with Blood, thro' Blood I'll wade.
(IV.i, p. 37)
Categories
Provenance
Searching in ECCO-TCP
Citation
At least 1 entry in ESTC (1752).
See Sejanus, a Tragedy: As it was Intended for the Stage. With a Preface, Wherein the Manager's Reasons for Refusing it are Set Forth. By Mr. Gentleman. (London: Printed for R. Manby and H.S. Cox, 1752.) <Link to ESTC><Link to ECCO-TCP>
See Sejanus, a Tragedy: As it was Intended for the Stage. With a Preface, Wherein the Manager's Reasons for Refusing it are Set Forth. By Mr. Gentleman. (London: Printed for R. Manby and H.S. Cox, 1752.) <Link to ESTC><Link to ECCO-TCP>
Date of Entry
08/15/2013
