"My Soul, with softning Airs, prepar'd by Fate, / Took the Impression of that charming Face,"

— Egerton [née Fyge; other married name Field], Sarah (1670-1723)

Place of Publication
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"My Soul, with softning Airs, prepar'd by Fate, / Took the Impression of that charming Face,"
Metaphor in Context
Yes, I will tell you; my unweary'd Tongue,
Speaking of him, can ne'er think Ages long.
Daphne, you know what time the lovely Swain,
With his Blest Flocks, has grac'd our happy Plain:
From the first Hour, he did obliging prove;
(I little thought, to pay him back in Love)
He within bounds, my wandring Lambs would keep,
When I was weary, gladly Fold my Sheep.
And as I rested, in the verdant Shade,
On oaten Reeds melodious Airs he play'd.
The listning Shepherds not far distant stand,
Pleas'd, and yet envying that dear skilful Hand:
Not Pan's immortal Pipe, could more Inspire,
Or glad the Plains, than my Exalis Lyre.
It Joy'd all Hearts, to mine did Fatal prove,
And taught my listning Soul, the way to Love.
On a fresh Bank, by a clear Fountain side,
(Where Flora smil'd with gaudy vernal Pride.
Phoebus was gone, to Thetis yielding Arms,
But Luna left her Dear, Endymion's Charms;
Smil'd o'er the Grove, scarce Day it self more Bright,
And thro' the Boughs, sprinkled the Shade with Light.)
There with gay Innocence, supine we sate,
Hear'd injur'd Philomel her Wrongs relate,
But no forwarning Bird told my approaching Fate.
Then as I lean'd on the enamel'd Ground,
I cropt the fragrant Flowers all around;
The various Colours, artfully I plac'd,
And with them pleas'd Exalis Bosom dress'd.
To him a Crook and Beachen bowl I gave,
(Did with my careful Hand the last Ingrave,)
One side, with various Silvan Nymphs, I grac'd,
And on the other Pan and Flora plac'd.
Take these, said I; for all the generous Care,
In which, so oft, my Flocks and I did share;
And when I die, Exalis take them too,
Tho' lost to me, they'll Joy to be with you;
Like me, they'r wonted to your gentle Call;
I only grieve their number is so small.
He smil'd to hear the tender things I said,
While grateful looks his pleasing Answers made;
And then half Blushing on his Musick play'd,
List'ning; that dear undoing Face I view'd,
To catch each Smile, which kindly was bestow'd.
But Oh! too long, too long I gazeing sate;
My Soul, with softning Airs, prepar'd by Fate,
Took the Impression of that charming Face,

Which, Smiling, darted Glory round the Place:
A thousand Loves in amorous Fires drest,
With one dear look pierc'd my too ready Breast:
I thought Heaven's Brightness in those radiant Eyes,
And blusht, and fainted at the soft surprize;
Yet hop'd the mighty Transport would be o'er,
And the gay Youth but please as heretofore:
But oh! you may as soon yon Mountain move,
As raze out the immortal Characters of Love.
Searching "soul" and "impression" in HDIS (Poetry)
Date of Entry

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