"The heart which burns and wastes with hopeless ardors!"
— Cowley [née Parkhouse], Hannah (1743-1809)
Work Title
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed by T. Spilsbury, for L. Davis, T. Longman, J. Dodsley, T. Cadell, W. Owen
Date
1780
Metaphor
"The heart which burns and wastes with hopeless ardors!"
Metaphor in Context
Compos'd, at length, or masking what he felt,
Again ZORADOR sought the pensive King;
Pardon, he cry'd, Oh Prince! a wretch undone!
Forgive the frenzy of a heart unsteel'd
By disappointment's shocks. Nurs'd by prosperity,
By fortune follow'd, I had learnt--fond man!
That fate, that earth, that heaven, for me combin'd,
And from misfortune hallow'd my encircled head.
Your powerful arms, O King of Arragon!
First taught ZORADOR that he was a man;
And now your Daughter's still more powerful eyes
Have taught ZORADOR, that he is a slave.
Master and tyrant of a thousand beauties,
Who court my passions, live for my delight,
I breath'd, unknowing that I had a heart,
Till cruel love, wrapt in Despair's wild torments,
Gave all its nerves a sense of curst existence!
I love--with agony--with madness, love!
Oh, spare me then the horror of a sight
My fiery brain splits but to think on! Save,
--Father of her whose charms thus abject make me,
Save from the tortures of her marriage rites,
The heart which burns and wastes with hopeless ardors!
The ling'ring moon has number'd all the hours
That I allotted for my fleet's return:
Soon as the eastern wind invades their canvass,
The bellying sails will whiten all your channel,
And their red streamers blush along your shores.
My ransom paid, I quit these hostile walls,
--Where my lost peace will stay enchain'd for ever.
Then, whilst I bear my woes to distant seas,
Then may the spousals be triumphant sung,
And not one wretch remain to curse the sound.
(pp. 21-2)
Again ZORADOR sought the pensive King;
Pardon, he cry'd, Oh Prince! a wretch undone!
Forgive the frenzy of a heart unsteel'd
By disappointment's shocks. Nurs'd by prosperity,
By fortune follow'd, I had learnt--fond man!
That fate, that earth, that heaven, for me combin'd,
And from misfortune hallow'd my encircled head.
Your powerful arms, O King of Arragon!
First taught ZORADOR that he was a man;
And now your Daughter's still more powerful eyes
Have taught ZORADOR, that he is a slave.
Master and tyrant of a thousand beauties,
Who court my passions, live for my delight,
I breath'd, unknowing that I had a heart,
Till cruel love, wrapt in Despair's wild torments,
Gave all its nerves a sense of curst existence!
I love--with agony--with madness, love!
Oh, spare me then the horror of a sight
My fiery brain splits but to think on! Save,
--Father of her whose charms thus abject make me,
Save from the tortures of her marriage rites,
The heart which burns and wastes with hopeless ardors!
The ling'ring moon has number'd all the hours
That I allotted for my fleet's return:
Soon as the eastern wind invades their canvass,
The bellying sails will whiten all your channel,
And their red streamers blush along your shores.
My ransom paid, I quit these hostile walls,
--Where my lost peace will stay enchain'd for ever.
Then, whilst I bear my woes to distant seas,
Then may the spousals be triumphant sung,
And not one wretch remain to curse the sound.
(pp. 21-2)
Categories
Provenance
Searching in ECCO-TCP
Citation
Only 1 entry in ECCO and ESTC (1780).
The Maid of Arragon; a Tale: by Mrs. Cowley. Part I. (London: Printed by T. Spilsbury, for L. Davis, T. Longman, J. Dodsley, T. Cadell, W. Owen, [and 8 others in London], 1780). <Link to ESTC><Link to ECCO-TCP>
The Maid of Arragon; a Tale: by Mrs. Cowley. Part I. (London: Printed by T. Spilsbury, for L. Davis, T. Longman, J. Dodsley, T. Cadell, W. Owen, [and 8 others in London], 1780). <Link to ESTC><Link to ECCO-TCP>
Date of Entry
04/28/2014
