Un poema de la norteamericana Elizabeth Graeme Fergusson (1737-1801) sobre el egotismo y sus efectos en la atención y la percepción, y sobre nuestra perspectiva sobre el mundo:
On the Mind's Being Engrossed by One Subject
When one fond object occupies the mind,
In nature's scenes we still that object find,
And trees, and meads, and sweetly purling rill,
By us made mirrors with ingenious skill,
Reflect the constant subject of our thought,
We view that image in their substance wrought.
The common peasant treads the fresh turn'd soil,
And hopes of future crops his steps beguile.
The nat'ralist observes each simple's use,
Where lodg'd the healthy, where the baneful juice.
The lover sees his mistress all around
And her sweet voice in vocal birds is found;
He views the brilliant glories of the skies,
But to remind him of her sparkling eyes.
Th' alchymist still anxious seeks the gold,
For this he pierces every cavern's fold:
Trembling to try the magic hazle's pow'r
Which points attractive to the darling show'r.
While pious Hervey in each plant and tree
Can nought but God and his redeemer see.
When Zephyr's play, or when fierce Boreas roars,
The merchant only for his bark implores.
The beau and belle attentive dread the sky,
Lest angry clouds the sprightly scene deny.
But if a coach's procur'd, torrents may pour,
And winds, and tempests, shattered fleets devour.
Thus over all, self-love presides supreme,
It cheers the morn, and gives the ev'ning dream.
Tho' oft we change thro' life's swift gliding stage,
And seek fresh objects at each varying age,
Here we are constant, faithful to one cause,
Our own indulgence as a centre draws.
That faithful inmate makes our breast its home,
From the soft cradle, to the silent tomb.
When one fond object occupies the mind,
In nature's scenes we still that object find,
And trees, and meads, and sweetly purling rill,
By us made mirrors with ingenious skill,
Reflect the constant subject of our thought,
We view that image in their substance wrought.
The common peasant treads the fresh turn'd soil,
And hopes of future crops his steps beguile.
The nat'ralist observes each simple's use,
Where lodg'd the healthy, where the baneful juice.
The lover sees his mistress all around
And her sweet voice in vocal birds is found;
He views the brilliant glories of the skies,
But to remind him of her sparkling eyes.
Th' alchymist still anxious seeks the gold,
For this he pierces every cavern's fold:
Trembling to try the magic hazle's pow'r
Which points attractive to the darling show'r.
While pious Hervey in each plant and tree
Can nought but God and his redeemer see.
When Zephyr's play, or when fierce Boreas roars,
The merchant only for his bark implores.
The beau and belle attentive dread the sky,
Lest angry clouds the sprightly scene deny.
But if a coach's procur'd, torrents may pour,
And winds, and tempests, shattered fleets devour.
Thus over all, self-love presides supreme,
It cheers the morn, and gives the ev'ning dream.
Tho' oft we change thro' life's swift gliding stage,
And seek fresh objects at each varying age,
Here we are constant, faithful to one cause,
Our own indulgence as a centre draws.
That faithful inmate makes our breast its home,
From the soft cradle, to the silent tomb.
Montgomery.
F.
Se publicó hacia 1790 en The New York Magazine (Google Books). Richard Gray lo fecha en 1789.
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario
Se aceptan opiniones alternativas, e incluso coincidentes: