"Cupid denied of this did backward start, / And ran for hast to hide him in her heart, / Where he renewed fresh flames, and by delay, / So I corcht his wings he could not fly away / Thus force perforce in her my conquer'd breast / Is the poore Inne of such a God-borne guest, / Whom while I harbor, it is hard to tell / Whether his presence be a Heaven or Hell."

— Bold, Henry (1627-1683)


Date
1657
Metaphor
"Cupid denied of this did backward start, / And ran for hast to hide him in her heart, / Where he renewed fresh flames, and by delay, / So I corcht his wings he could not fly away / Thus force perforce in her my conquer'd breast / Is the poore Inne of such a God-borne guest, / Whom while I harbor, it is hard to tell / Whether his presence be a Heaven or Hell."
Metaphor in Context
------ & apta
Spicula sent nobis puris ------

Simple as are the Elements unmixt,
Stedfast as is the earth, whose footing's fixt;
Untainted like the silver suite of Swan,
Alone like truth, well ordered like a man,
Like these in each of these was I, untill
Upon a time, Reason fell foule with Will,
Who back't with sence, that it might battaile move,
Implor'd the ayde of all commanding Love,
Love by his mother taught, doth soone comply,
To be an Actor in this treachery.
The battell's wag'd, and reason fleye the field,
While Sence and Will to Love the Conquest yeeld.
I now, loves subject, am inforclt to doe
What ever his designes commands me to do;
See, see (quoth hee) do you behold that maid,
Whose equall doth not breathe; and there he staid,
To draw fresh aire, So quicke was he to give
Mee notice that I must no longer live,
In my owne selfe, but her whom when I spy'd,
Mee thought I had been happy to have dy'd
Since I at once saw severally in one,
What joyn'd together made perfection.
This was Florella that bright shining starre,
Who might have caused a second Trojan warre,
Were there a second Paris, for her face,
The world might strive, but then there sate a grace
So chast that might expell each spurious thought,
Such as foule Hellen to her Paris brought.
There I might read in my Florella's lookes,
(Such are indeed beauties most perfect bookes)
Loves pleasant Lecture where I might espie
How Cupid once sought entrance at her eye
Whom she repell'd, like snow and chast and cold
Could not admit a Sympathy to hold,
With his hot flames, but melting quite put out
That ardent fire which warm'd her round about.
Cupid denied of this did backward start,
And ran for hast to hide him in her heart,
Where he renewed fresh flames, and by delay,
So I corcht his wings he could not fly away
Thus force perforce in her my conquer'd breast
Is the poore Inne of such a God-borne guest,
Whom while I harbor, it is hard to tell
Whether his presence be a Heaven or Hell.

Such pleasurable paine, such painfull pleasure
Sometimes below, and sometimes above measure.
Mars on a time forsook his Venus bed,
Protesting he no longer would be led
To these embraces, which like Circles charmes,
Made him forget th'Heroicke use of Armes,
Venus heard this whiles halfe in anger shee
Did thrust her darling Cupid off her knee.
Downe falls the youngster and in salling so
Broke all his Arrows, quiver and his bow,
His grandame Nature pittying the mischance,
Wipes the wagges eyes, told him she would advance
Him to his former office: for a dart
That should transfixe the most obdurate heart.
She would create an eye, and for a bow
She'd make a brow, whose art inclining so,
Should shoote such shafts, that deity should yeeld
Themselves glad prisoners in the maiden field,
When streight she made Florella, such a maid,
Who being nam'd, need there ought else be said?
'Tis not long since that I heard Lovers whine
At whose deep wounds, which from their Mistris eyne
They bleeding had ceceiv'd, cause they could winne
No mercy from them, whilst I thought some pinne
Had scratch'd their tender hands, till I too late
Grew sensible they were unfortunate
In their lost loves, 'cause when Florella fround,
Shee like a Commet strucke mee to the ground,
Till shee was pleas'd to cleare her glorious eyes,
Which summon'd mee from death to life to rise.
Wherefore you speedy Merchant doe you runne
Beyond the bounds of the all-bounding Sunne,
To seeke for Rubies, Pearle, and Ivory,
Adventuring hazard both of Land and skie,
When my Florella can afford all this
Without your search in the tumultuous Seas.
Rubies and Pearle, her lips and teeth, her skinne,
Like hollow Ivory, lockes those gems within,
For which you fondly up and downe doe rome
When you may better find this wealth at home
,
What would the Northerne Climate hold too dear
e
To purchase my Florella to live there
?
That where the niggard sute denies to shine
,
They might receive more lustre from her eyne
.
But that I know she loves Religion best,
She had long since, seene India the West,
But least those Pagans who adore the rise
Of the bright Sunne, should doate upon her eyes,
She was resolv'd to stay; wo had I bin
Had she gone thither to encrease their sinne.
East India nothing holds that's worth her view,
There's nothing there, that shee can take for new,
Their aire-perfuming spices, pretious gum,
Their fragrant odors, pleasants, Cinamum
All these and sweeter farre, shee breathes whose smell
Doth all things but it selfe, highly excell:
Once to my friend I did these lines rehearse,
Who streightway smil'd and did applaud my verse
But Ah! I feare 'twas my Florella's name
That brib'd his tongue, so to belie my fame.
Once, and but once I chanc'd to have the sight
Of my Florella, who makes darkness light:
When leaden Morpheus did her sence surprize,
In the lock't casket of her closed eys,
Faine would I steale a kisse, but as I strove,
Those scarlet Judges of my sleeping love
Did swell against my pride, and angry red,
Charg'd mee stand back from her forbidden bed:
While they her precious breath did seem to smother.
Each privately did steale a touch from the other,
I envious at their new begotten blisse
Was hold on her soft lips to print a kisse.
At which she wak't: And have you ever seene
How faire Aurora, heavens illustrious queene.
Shakes off her sable Robe, and with a grace
Smiles in the front of a faire morning face.
Just so my love as if night had beene noone,
Discards the element of the uselesse moone:
And from her glorious tapers sent a fire,
To light the darkest thoughts to quicke desire.
While thus from forth her rosall gate she sent,
Breath form'd in words, the marrow of content.
And have you Sir, at such a tempting time
Betrayd my honour, to this welcome crime,
By stealing pleasure from me, 'twas thy Love
I know, that did thee to this trespasse move
For I have prov'd thy faith which since I finde
The trusty Inmate of a loyall minde,
Of force I must except it; and in part
Of recompence, afford thee all my heart,
Thus having ceaz'd my prize; I told her, sweet,
As by no fouler name we ere may greete,
So what is mine I tender, all, my selfe,
The poorest part of thy unvalued wealth.
Thou hast won much in this, thy mercy showne,
That thus at last thou dost receive thy owne
Least they who after me like fare shall prove,
Should say, See what it is to be in Love.
I am in portu
.
Provenance
Searching "breast" and "guest" in HDIS (Poetry)
Date of Entry
03/15/2006

The Mind is a Metaphor is authored by Brad Pasanek, Assistant Professor of English, University of Virginia.