. Emblems divine and moral . e for help? and where will ye leave yourglory ? Is this that jolly god, whose cyprian bow Has shot so many flaming darts,And made so many wounded beauties goSadly perplexd with whimpring hearts ?Is this that sovreign deity, that bringsThe slavish world in awe, and stingsThe blundring souls of swains, and stoops the heartsof kings ? What Circean charm, what Hecatean spite, Has thus abusd the god of love ?Great Jove was vanquishd by his greater might;(And who is stronger-armd than Jove ?)Or has our lustful god performd a (fearing Argus eyes) would scapeThe v
. Emblems divine and moral . e for help? and where will ye leave yourglory ? Is this that jolly god, whose cyprian bow Has shot so many flaming darts,And made so many wounded beauties goSadly perplexd with whimpring hearts ?Is this that sovreign deity, that bringsThe slavish world in awe, and stingsThe blundring souls of swains, and stoops the heartsof kings ? What Circean charm, what Hecatean spite, Has thus abusd the god of love ?Great Jove was vanquishd by his greater might;(And who is stronger-armd than Jove ?)Or has our lustful god performd a (fearing Argus eyes) would scapeThe view of jealous Earth, in this prodigious shape Where be those rosy cheeks, that lately scornd The malice of injurious fates ?Ah! Wheres that pearl portcullis,* that adorndThose dainty two-leavd ruby gates ? Where be those killing eyes that so controlldThe world, and locks that did infoldLike nots of flaming wire, like curls of burnishdgold? * Portcullis (a term of fortification); i, e, a grate droppeddown, to stop a V,(|riliniiiiL Diern . Sr/i< 7)//it //,t/.vf/ tut/K rrrnd iiiniy ,/.v/i///i f/ir /,/i/Af , (i/it/ (//•(/((/ (t c<//i//i// y)fii ^ BOOK II. EMBLEMS. 81 No, no, twas neither Hecatean spite, Nor charm below, nor power above ;Twas neither Circes spell, nor Stygian thus transformd our god of love; Twas owl-eyd Lust (more potent far than they),Whose eyes and actions hate the day ;Whom all the world observe, whom all the worldobey. See how the latter trumpets dreadful blast Affrights stout Marss trembling son !See how he startles ! how he stands aghast,And scrambles from his melting throne! Hark, how the direful hand of vengeance tearsThe swiltring clouds, whilst Heavn appearsA circle filld with flame, and centred with his fears ! This is that day, whose oft report hath worn Neglected tongues of prophets bare ;The faithless subject of the worldlings sum of men and angels prayr: This, this the day, whose all-discern
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Keywords: ., bookauthorquarlesfrancis159, bookcentury1800, booksubjectemblems
