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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530104" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>An Allegory On Man</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A thoughtful Being, long and spare,<br>Our Race of Mortals call him Care:<br>(Were Homer living, well he knew<br>What Name the Gods have call'd him too)<br>With fine Mechanick Genius wrought,<br>And lov'd to work, tho' no one bought.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">This Being, by a Model bred<br>In Jove's eternal sable Head,<br>Contriv'd a Shape impow'rd to breathe,<br>And be the Worldling here beneath. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The Man rose staring, like a Stake;<br>Wond'ring to see himself awake!<br>Then look'd so wise, before he knew<br>The Bus'ness he was made to do;<br>That pleas'd to see with what a Grace<br>He gravely shew'd his forward Face,<br>Jove talk'd of breeding him on high,<br>An Under-something of the Sky.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But e'er he gave the mighty Nod,<br>Which ever binds a Poet's God:<br>(For which his Curls Ambrosial shake,<br>And Mother Earth's oblig'd to quake<br>He saw old Mother Earth arise,<br>She stood confess'd before his Eyes;<br>But not with what we read she wore,<br>A Castle for a Crown before,<br>Nor with long Streets and longer Roads<br>Dangling behind her, like Commodes:<br>As yet with Wreaths alone she drest,<br>And trail'd a Landskip-painted Vest.<br>Then thrice she rais'd, (as Ovid said)<br>And thrice she bow'd, her weighty Head.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Her Honours made, Great Jove, she cry'd,<br>This Thing was fashion'd from my Side;<br>His Hands, his Heart, his Head are mine;<br>Then what hast thou to call him thine?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nay rather ask, the Monarch said,<br>What boots his Hand, his Heart, his Head,<br>Were what I gave remov'd away?<br>Thy Part's an idle Shape of Clay.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Halves, more than Halves! cry'd honest Care,<br>Your Pleas wou'd make your Titles fair,<br>You claim the Body, you the Soul,<br>But I who join'd them, claim the whole.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thus with the Gods Debate began,<br>On such a trivial Cause, as Man.<br>And can Celestial Tempers rage?<br>(Quoth Virgil in a later Age.) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">As thus they wrangled, Time came by;<br>(There's none that paint him such as I,<br>For what the Fabling Antients sung<br>Makes Saturn old, when Time was young.)<br>As yet his Winters had not shed<br>Their silver Honours on his Head;<br>He just had got his Pinions free<br>From his old Sire Eternity.<br>A Serpent girdled round he wore,<br>The Tail within the Mouth before;<br>By which our Almanacks are clear<br>That learned Ægypt meant the Year.<br>A Staff he carry'd, where on high<br>A Glass was fix'd to measure by,<br>As Amber Boxes made a Show<br>For Heads of Canes an Age ago.<br>His Vest, for Day, and Night, was py'd;<br>A bending Sickle arm'd his Side;<br>And Spring's new Months his Train adorn;<br>The other Seasons were unborn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Known by the Gods, as near he draws,<br>They make him Umpire of the Cause.<br>O'er a low Trunk his Arm he laid,<br>(Where since his Hours a Dial made<br>Then leaning heard the nice Debate,<br>And thus pronounc'd the Words of Fate.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Since Body from the Parent Earth,<br>And Soul from Jove receiv'd a Birth,<br>Return they where they first began;<br>But since their Union makes the Man,<br>'Till Jove and Earth shall part these two,<br>To Care who join'd them, Man is due.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">He said, and sprung with swift Career<br>To trace a Circle for the Year;<br>Where ever since the Seasons wheel,<br>And tread on one another's Heel.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis well, said Jove, and for consent<br>Thund'ring he shook the Firmament.<br>Our Umpire Time shall have his Way, <br>With Care I let the Creature stay:<br>Let Bus'ness vex him, Av'rice blind,<br>Let Doubt and Knowledge rack his Mind,<br>Let Error act, Opinion speak,<br>And Want afflict, and Sickness break,<br>And Anger burn, Dejection chill,<br>And Joy distract, and Sorrow kill.<br>'Till arm'd by Care and taught to Mow,<br>Time draws the long destructive Blow;<br>And wasted Man, whose quick decay<br>Comes hurrying on before his Day,<br>Shall only find, by this Decree,<br>The Soul flies sooner back to Me.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Parnell">Thomas Parnell</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=530104" data-title="An Allegory On Man de Thomas Parnell" data-description="A thoughtful Being, long and spare,
Our Race of Mortals call him Care:
(Were Homer living, well he knew
What Name the Gods have call'd him too)
With fine Mechanick Genius wrought,
And lov'd to work, tho' no one bought.

This Being, by a Model bred..."></div>
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