"If Pity be no Stranger to thy Breast, / (As sure it should not to a Breast like thine, / Soft as the Swanny Down!) relenting, hear"
— Thompson, William (bap. 1712, d.c. 1766)
Work Title
Date
1746, 1757
Metaphor
"If Pity be no Stranger to thy Breast, / (As sure it should not to a Breast like thine, / Soft as the Swanny Down!) relenting, hear"
Metaphor in Context
"If Pity be no Stranger to thy Breast,
(As sure it should not to a Breast like thine,
Soft as the Swanny Down!) relenting, hear;
In Feelingness of Spirit, mildly lend
Attention to the Language of my Heart,
Sick with o'er-flowing Tenderness and Love.
I love thee with that Innocence of Truth,
That Purity of Passion, and Desire
Unutterable, of bequeathing up
My Heart, my Life, my All into thy Hands,
Into thy gentle Custody;--that All,
My Heart, my Life, are Bitterness and Weight
Of Agony without thee. Since I first,
(By Bacchus' self I swear,) beheld that Face,
And nameless Magick of those radiant Eyes,
All the Foundation of my Peace gave way:
While Hopes and Fears rose up in bosom-War
To desolate the Quiet of my Days.
Thy dear Idea was my fancy's Dream;
It mingled with my Blood; and in my Veins
Throb'd, undulating, as my Life were stung.
I live but on the Thought of Thee; my Breast
Bleeds in me, with Distress to see Thee frown.
O smile! by thy dead Mother's reverend Dust,
By all thy Bowels are most fond of, smile,
And chase these heavy Clouds of Grief away.
I beg by Bacchus; for His Sake be kind."
(Book II)
(As sure it should not to a Breast like thine,
Soft as the Swanny Down!) relenting, hear;
In Feelingness of Spirit, mildly lend
Attention to the Language of my Heart,
Sick with o'er-flowing Tenderness and Love.
I love thee with that Innocence of Truth,
That Purity of Passion, and Desire
Unutterable, of bequeathing up
My Heart, my Life, my All into thy Hands,
Into thy gentle Custody;--that All,
My Heart, my Life, are Bitterness and Weight
Of Agony without thee. Since I first,
(By Bacchus' self I swear,) beheld that Face,
And nameless Magick of those radiant Eyes,
All the Foundation of my Peace gave way:
While Hopes and Fears rose up in bosom-War
To desolate the Quiet of my Days.
Thy dear Idea was my fancy's Dream;
It mingled with my Blood; and in my Veins
Throb'd, undulating, as my Life were stung.
I live but on the Thought of Thee; my Breast
Bleeds in me, with Distress to see Thee frown.
O smile! by thy dead Mother's reverend Dust,
By all thy Bowels are most fond of, smile,
And chase these heavy Clouds of Grief away.
I beg by Bacchus; for His Sake be kind."
(Book II)
Categories
Provenance
Searching "breast" and "stranger" in HDIS (Poetry)
Citation
At least 2 entries in ECCO and ESTC (1746, 1757).
First published as Sickness. A Poem. In Three Books. By William Thompson, M. A. of Queen’s College, Oxon. (London: Printed for R. Dodsley, 1746). <Link to ESTC><Link to ECCO>
Text from Poems on Several Occasions, To which is added Gondibert and Birtha, A Tragedy. By William Thompson (Oxford: Printed at the Theatre, 1757).
Some verses found in The Christian's Pocket Library (New York: 1796), vol. 1 of 2.
First published as Sickness. A Poem. In Three Books. By William Thompson, M. A. of Queen’s College, Oxon. (London: Printed for R. Dodsley, 1746). <Link to ESTC><Link to ECCO>
Text from Poems on Several Occasions, To which is added Gondibert and Birtha, A Tragedy. By William Thompson (Oxford: Printed at the Theatre, 1757).
Some verses found in The Christian's Pocket Library (New York: 1796), vol. 1 of 2.
Date of Entry
03/06/2006
