"But the skilful marksman, like our philosopher, examines first the mark he is to shoot at, with all possible diligence and care, to see whether it be soft or hard, for some are impenetrable; then dipping his arrow, not in poison, like the Scythians, nor in opium, like the Curetes, but in a kind of sharp, yet pleasing liquid, take a sure and certain aim: the dart thrown out with that degree of force which is necessary, and fixed in the center, diffuses its medicinal virtues over every part of the soul."
— Francklin, Thomas (1721-1784); Lucian (b.c. 125, d. after 180)
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for T. Cadell
Date
1780
Metaphor
"But the skilful marksman, like our philosopher, examines first the mark he is to shoot at, with all possible diligence and care, to see whether it be soft or hard, for some are impenetrable; then dipping his arrow, not in poison, like the Scythians, nor in opium, like the Curetes, but in a kind of sharp, yet pleasing liquid, take a sure and certain aim: the dart thrown out with that degree of force which is necessary, and fixed in the center, diffuses its medicinal virtues over every part of the soul."
Metaphor in Context
[...] With these, and many other observations of the like nature, he finished his discourse. I was lost in astonishment; and listening still with attention, dreaded his silence, when I perceived he had quite done. The fame thing happened to me, as did to the Phæacians of old; I stood a long time with my eyes fixed on him: my head turned round, the sweat dropped from me, I almost fainted; I endeavoured to speak, but could not; my tongue faltered, my voice was gone, and, at last, I burst into tears. His discourse had not slightly affected me, or grazed the skin alone, but left a deep and mortal wound, and pierced, as it were, to my inmost soul. The mind, in my opinion, of every well-disposed man, is like a soft mark, or butt; many are the archers in this life, with their quivers full of speeches of every kind; but few amongst them aim aright: some stretch the cord too tight, and the arrow, sent forth with more force than is necessary, doth not stick in, but pasting through, leaves the mind sore with its gaping wound; whilst others, from a looser bow, and want of strength to carry them on, fall short of the mark, and, with languid motion, drop down in the middle of their course; or, if they reach the butt, lightly touch the surface of it, and go no farther. But the skilful marksman, like our philosopher, examines first the mark he is to shoot at, with all possible diligence and care, to see whether it be soft or hard, for some are impenetrable; then dipping his arrow, not in poison, like the Scythians, nor in opium, like the Curetes, but in a kind of sharp, yet pleasing liquid, take a sure and certain aim: the dart thrown out with that degree of force which is necessary, and fixed in the center, diffuses its medicinal virtues over every part of the soul. Hence it arises, that the hearer is ravished with the sound; and, as he listens, dissolves in tears: as I myself experienced. [...]
(p. 26)
(p. 26)
Categories
Provenance
Reading
Citation
3 entries in ESTC (1780, 1781). See also Select Dialogues (1785). Translations of select dialogues date from 1634.
Text from The Works of Lucian, from the Greek, by Thomas Francklin, D. D. Some Time Greek Professor in the University of Cambridge. (London: Printed for T. Cadell, in the Strand, 1780). <Link to ESTC><Link to Google Books>
Text from The Works of Lucian, from the Greek, by Thomas Francklin, D. D. Some Time Greek Professor in the University of Cambridge. (London: Printed for T. Cadell, in the Strand, 1780). <Link to ESTC><Link to Google Books>
Date of Entry
11/15/2013
