"Her soul, refin'd from passion's base alloy, / Seem'd wrapt in visions of seraphic joy."
— Roberts, William Hayward (d. 1791)
Place of Publication
London
Publisher
Printed for J. Wilkie ... T. Payne ... W. Frederic ... J. Woodyer ... and J. Pote [etc.]
Date
1774
Metaphor
"Her soul, refin'd from passion's base alloy, / Seem'd wrapt in visions of seraphic joy."
Metaphor in Context
Where now is Arimant? what art can save
His fond, his lov'd Tamira from the grave?
All wild, and frantick to the crowd he flies;
Still the mad crowd, a royal victim, cries,
Thence, reckless where he went, in mere despair
He sought the court, for all he lov'd was there.
He found Tamira with extatic eyes,
And hands erect, commercing with the skies.
Her soul, refin'd from passion's base alloy,
Seem'd wrapt in visions of seraphic joy:
Thus fixt she stood, and breath'd her fervent pray'r;
He, with a look of love, and wild despair,
O'er her enamour'd hung in silent grief;
No tear burst forth to give his soul relief:
Then, when a sigh the obstructed passage broke,
Fondly he press'd her hand, and gently spoke.
'And is it thus my fairest hopes are cross'd?
'My scenes of bliss, are thus the phantoms lost?
'Oh, no! we cannot, must not, will not part!
'Come, let me clasp thee to my doating heart.
'Not look, my love,--'tis Arimant is near:
'Not speak--'tis Arimant's fond voice you hear!'
'Go, go, vain man,' at length Tamira said,
'For I am sentenc'd to another's bed.
'The clay-cold grave shall clasp me in his arms,
'The worm shall riot on these lifeless charms.
'Go, go, vain man; the Gods demand my breath,
'My King has pass'd the vow, and welcome death!'
His fond, his lov'd Tamira from the grave?
All wild, and frantick to the crowd he flies;
Still the mad crowd, a royal victim, cries,
Thence, reckless where he went, in mere despair
He sought the court, for all he lov'd was there.
He found Tamira with extatic eyes,
And hands erect, commercing with the skies.
Her soul, refin'd from passion's base alloy,
Seem'd wrapt in visions of seraphic joy:
Thus fixt she stood, and breath'd her fervent pray'r;
He, with a look of love, and wild despair,
O'er her enamour'd hung in silent grief;
No tear burst forth to give his soul relief:
Then, when a sigh the obstructed passage broke,
Fondly he press'd her hand, and gently spoke.
'And is it thus my fairest hopes are cross'd?
'My scenes of bliss, are thus the phantoms lost?
'Oh, no! we cannot, must not, will not part!
'Come, let me clasp thee to my doating heart.
'Not look, my love,--'tis Arimant is near:
'Not speak--'tis Arimant's fond voice you hear!'
'Go, go, vain man,' at length Tamira said,
'For I am sentenc'd to another's bed.
'The clay-cold grave shall clasp me in his arms,
'The worm shall riot on these lifeless charms.
'Go, go, vain man; the Gods demand my breath,
'My King has pass'd the vow, and welcome death!'
Categories
Provenance
Searching "soul" and "alloy" in HDIS (Poetry); again "passion"
Theme
Refinement
Date of Entry
04/14/2005
