"Not Man, but thriftless Nature, be accused, / Who to seductions left our minds a prey-- / --Nay more, who doth herself ensnare us; / Hath hung us round with senses exquisite, / Hath planted in our hearts resistless passions, / The first to weaken, and the last to war / On poor, defenceless, naked Virtue!
— Cowley [née Parkhouse], Hannah (1743-1809)
Work Title
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed by T. Spilsbury
Date
1779
Metaphor
"Not Man, but thriftless Nature, be accused, / Who to seductions left our minds a prey-- / --Nay more, who doth herself ensnare us; / Hath hung us round with senses exquisite, / Hath planted in our hearts resistless passions, / The first to weaken, and the last to war / On poor, defenceless, naked Virtue!
Metaphor in Context
GONDIBERT.
Painful the race! but Raimond is the prize!
Ye Beings! who, superior to humanity,
Behold, with supercilious eye, our slidings;
Oh, blame not me, thus tempted, if I yield.
Not Man, but thriftless Nature, be accus'd,
Who to seductions left our minds a prey--
--Nay more, who doth herself ensnare us;
Hath hung us round with senses exquisite,
Hath planted in our hearts resistless passions,
The first to weaken, and the last to war
On poor, defenceless, naked Virtue!
How dark the night! The moon hath hid her head,
As scorning with her lucid beams to gild
This murky business. Thro' umbrageous trees
The whistling Eurus speaks, in hollow murmurs;
And dismal fancy, in yon shadowy ailes,
Might conjure up an hundred phantoms.
How strong th'impression of our dawning years!
The tales of sprites and goblins, that did awe
My infancy, all rush upon my mind,
And, spite of haughty reason, make it shrink.
Who is't approaches?
(p. 40)
Painful the race! but Raimond is the prize!
Ye Beings! who, superior to humanity,
Behold, with supercilious eye, our slidings;
Oh, blame not me, thus tempted, if I yield.
Not Man, but thriftless Nature, be accus'd,
Who to seductions left our minds a prey--
--Nay more, who doth herself ensnare us;
Hath hung us round with senses exquisite,
Hath planted in our hearts resistless passions,
The first to weaken, and the last to war
On poor, defenceless, naked Virtue!
How dark the night! The moon hath hid her head,
As scorning with her lucid beams to gild
This murky business. Thro' umbrageous trees
The whistling Eurus speaks, in hollow murmurs;
And dismal fancy, in yon shadowy ailes,
Might conjure up an hundred phantoms.
How strong th'impression of our dawning years!
The tales of sprites and goblins, that did awe
My infancy, all rush upon my mind,
And, spite of haughty reason, make it shrink.
Who is't approaches?
(p. 40)
Categories
Provenance
ECCO-TCP
Citation
7 entries in ESTC (1779, 1780, 1797).
See Albina, Countess Raimond; a Tragedy, by Mrs. Cowley: As It Is Performed at the Theatre-Royal in the Hay-Market. (London: Printed by T. Spilsbury; for J. Dodsley, Pall-Mall; R. Faulder, New Bond-Street; L. Davis, Holborn; T. Becket, in the Strand; W. Owen, T. Lowndes, and G. Kearsly, Fleet-Street; W. Davis, Ludgate-Hill; S. Crowder, and T. Evans, Pater-Noster-Row; and Messrs. Richardson and Urquhart, Royal-Exchange, 1779). <Link to ESTC><Link to ECCO-TCP>
See Albina, Countess Raimond; a Tragedy, by Mrs. Cowley: As It Is Performed at the Theatre-Royal in the Hay-Market. (London: Printed by T. Spilsbury; for J. Dodsley, Pall-Mall; R. Faulder, New Bond-Street; L. Davis, Holborn; T. Becket, in the Strand; W. Owen, T. Lowndes, and G. Kearsly, Fleet-Street; W. Davis, Ludgate-Hill; S. Crowder, and T. Evans, Pater-Noster-Row; and Messrs. Richardson and Urquhart, Royal-Exchange, 1779). <Link to ESTC><Link to ECCO-TCP>
Date of Entry
03/12/2014
