id,comments,provenance,dictionary,created_at,reviewed_on,work_id,theme,context,updated_at,metaphor,text
9508,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""dross"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Metal,2005-07-18 00:00:00 UTC,,3662,"",I've included entire poem,2009-09-14 19:34:16 UTC,"""Nor could they trouble us, but that our mind / Hath its own glory unto dross confin'd.""","'Tis so, and humbly I my will resign,
Nor dare dispute with Providence Divine.
In vain, alas! we struggle with our chains,
But more entangled by the fruitless pains.
For as i'th' great Creation of this All,
Nothing by chance could in such order fall;
And what would single be deform'd confest,
Grows beauteous in its union with the rest:
So Providence like Wisdom we allow,
(For what created once does govern now)
And the same Fate that seems to one Reverse,
Is necessary to the Universe.
All these particular and various things,
Link'd to their Causes by such secret Springs,
Are held so fast, and govern'd by such Art,
That nothing can out of its order start.
The World's God's watch, where nothing is so small,
But makes a part of what composes all:
Could the least Pin be lost or else displac'd,
The World would be disorder'd and defac'd.
It beats no Pulse in vain, but keeps its time,
And undiscern'd to its own height doth climb;
Strung first, and daily wound up by his hand
Who can its motions guide and understand.
No secret cunning then nor multitude
Can Providence divert, cross or delude.
And her just full decrees are hidden things,
Which harder are to find then Births of Springs.
Yet all in various Consorts fitly sound,
And by their Discords Harmony compound.
Hence is that Order, Life and Energy,
Whereby Forms are preserv'd though Matters die;
And shifting dress keep their own living state:
So that what kills this, does that propagate.
This made the ancient Sage in Rapture cry,
That fore the world had full Eternity.
For though it self to Time and Fate submit,
He's above both who made and governs it;
And to each Creature hath such Portion lent,
As Love and Wisdom sees convenient.
For he's no Tyrant, nor delights to grieve
The Beings which from him alone can live.
He's most concern'd, and hath the greatest share
In man, and therefore takes the greatest care
To make him happy, who alone can be
So by Submission and Conformity.
For why should Changes here below surprize,
When the whole World its revolution tries?
Where were our Springs, our Harvests pleasant use,
Unless Vicissitude did them produce?
Nay, what can be so wearisome a pain
As when no Alterations entertain?
To lose, to suffer, to be sick and die,
Arrest us by the same Necessity.
Nor could they trouble us, but that our mind
Hath its own glory unto dross confin'd.
For outward things remove not from their place,
Till our Souls run to beg their mean embrace;
Then doting on the choice make it our own,
By placing Trifles in th' Opinion's Throne.
So when they are divorc'd by some new cross,
Our Souls seem widow'd by the fatal loss:
But could we keep our Grandeur and our state,
Nothing below would seem unfortunate;
But Grace and Reason, which best succours bring,
Would with advantage manage every thing;
And by right Judgment would prevent our moan
For losing that which never was our own.
For right Opinion's like a Marble grott,
In Summer cool, and in the Winter hot;
A Principle which in each Fortune lives,
Bestowing Catholick Preservatives.
'Tis this resolves, there are no losses where
Vertue and Reason are continued there.
The meanest Soul might such a Fortune share,
But no mean Soul could so that Fortune bear.
Thus I compose my thoughts grown insolent,
As th' Irish Harper doth his Instrument;
Which if once struck doth murmur and complain,
But the next touch will silence all again."
9509,"","Searching ""impression"" and ""heart"" HDIS (Poetry); found again ""head""","",2005-05-16 00:00:00 UTC,,3663,"",I've included entire poem,2009-09-14 19:34:16 UTC,"""So Age and Death by slow approches come, / And by that just inevitable doom / By which the Soul (her cloggy dross once gone) / Puts on Perfection, and resumes her own.""","As when the ancient World by Reason liv'd,
The Asian Monarchs deaths were never griev'd;
Their glorious Lives made all their Subjects call
Their Rites a Triumph, not a Funeral:
So still the Good are Princes, and their Fate
Invites us not to weep, but imitate.
Nature intends a progress of each stage
Whereby weak Man creeps to succeeding Age,
Ripens him for that Change for which he's made,
Where th' active Soul is in her Centre staid.
And since none stript of Infancy complain,
'Cause 'tis both their necessity and gain:
So Age and Death by slow approches come,
And by that just inevitable doom
By which the Soul (her cloggy dross once gone)
Puts on Perfection, and resumes her own.
Since then we mourn a happy Soul, O why
Disturb we her with erring Piety?
Who's so enamour'd on the beauteous Ground,
When with rich Autumn's livery hung round,
As to deny a Sickle to his Grain,
And not undress the teeming Earth again?
Fruits grow for use, Mankind is born to die;
And both Fates have the same necessity.
Then grieve no more, sad Relatives, but learn;
Sigh not, but profit by your just concern.
Read over her Life's volume: wise and good,
Not 'cause she must be so, but 'cause she wou'd.
To chosen Vertue still a constant friend,
She saw the Times which chang'd, but did not mend.
And as some are so civil to the Sun,
They'd fix his beams, and make the Earth to run:
So she unmov'd beheld the angry Fate
Which tore a Church, and overthrew a State:
Still durst be Good, and own the noble Truth,
To crown her Age which had adorn'd her Youth.
Great without Pride, a Soul which still could be
Humble and high, full of calm Majesty.
She kept true state within, and could not buy
Her Satisfaction with her Charity.
Fortune or Birth ne're rais'd her Mind, which stood
Not on her being rich, but doing good.
Oblig'd the World, but yet would scorn to be
Paid with Requitals, Thanks or Vanity.
How oft did she what all the World adore,
Make the Poor happy with her useful store?
So general was her Bounty, that she gave
Equality to all before the Grave.
By several means she different persons ty'd,
Who by her Goodness onely were ally'd.
Her Vertue was her Temper, not her Fit;
Fear'd nothing but the Crimes which some commit;
Scorn'd those dark Arts which pass for Wisdom now,
Nor to a mean ignoble thing could bow.
And her vast Prudence had no other end,
But to forgive a Foe, endear a Friend:
To use, but slight, the World; and fixt above,
Shine down in beams of Piety and Love.
Why should we then by poor unjust complaint
Prove envious Sinners 'cause she is a Saint?
Close then the Monument; let not a Tear
That may prophane her Ashes now appear:
For her best Obsequies are that we be
Prudent and Good, Noble and Sweet, as she."
9844,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Metal,2005-06-09 00:00:00 UTC,,3823,"",Stanza V.,2009-09-14 19:34:31 UTC,"""Or coldness, worse than Steel, the Loyal heart doth wound"""," But Friendship fain would yet it self defend,
And Mighty Things it does pretend,
To be of this Sad Journey, Life, the Baite,
The sweet Refection of our toylsome State.
But though True Friendship a Rich Cordial be,
Alas, by most 'tis so alay'd,
Its Good so mixt with Ill we see,
That Dross for Gold is often paid.
And for one Grain of Friendship that is found,
Falshood and Interest do the Mass compound,
Or coldness, worse than Steel, the Loyal heart doth wound.
Love in no Two was ever yet the same,
No Happy Two ere felt an Equal Flame.
"
9845,•C-H includes twive: Once under Dryden and once under Killigrew. The poem is Dryden's.,"Searching ""mind"" and ""dross"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Metal,2005-07-18 00:00:00 UTC,,3824,"",Stanza II.,2009-09-14 19:34:31 UTC,"A "" Heav'n-born Mind"" may have ""no Dross to purge from [its] Rich Ore:"""," If by Traduction came thy Mind,
Our Wonder is the less to find
A Soul so charming from a Stock so good;
Thy Father was transfus'd into thy Blood:
So wert thou born into the tuneful strain,
(An early, rich, and inexhausted Vain.)
But if thy Præexisting Soul
Was form'd, at first, with Myriads more,
It did through all the Mighty Poets roul,
Who Greek or Latine Laurels wore.
And was that Sappho last, which once it was before.
If so, then cease thy flight, O Heav'n-born Mind!
Thou hast no Dross to purge from thy Rich Ore:
Nor can thy Soul a fairer Mansion find,
Than was the Beauteous Frame she left behind:
Return, to fill or mend the Quire, of thy Celestial kind."
10378,"•Lots of inwardness in this poem. Silver, Voice, living Word (all in the heart)","Searching ""heart"" and ""silver"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Metal,2005-04-17 00:00:00 UTC,,3997,"",I've included the entire poem,2009-09-14 19:34:56 UTC,"""To seek the piece of Silver, hid within / The House, thy Heart; Redeem thy precious Time, / And find it out.""","Could pious Paul desire that dreadful State,
To be anathemiz'd, or separate
From Jesus Christ, his high esteemed Lord,
For Isr'elites, to whom the Heavenly Word,
The Promises and Law, did appertain,
The People unto whom the Cov'nants came,
His Kindred in the Flesh? Then how can I
Be unconcern'd for thee, my near Ally?
No, no; for Love, the Universal Love,
Which tenderly doth visit from above,
Desires the good of all; takes no delight
That Sinners die in Sin, but doth invite
All to return to Him, and Live; for He
Hath promis'd their Iniquity shall be
Forgotten, they in Righteousness shall live;
And He, to them that overcomes, will give
A Crown of Life; yea, they shall splendidly
Be cloath'd with Robes of Immortality.
Consider well these things, my Friend, and learn
To know what chiefly is thy great Concern;
That Noble Off-spring of the Deity,
Why should it be seduc'd with Vanity?
O come, and in true lowliness of Mind,
Receive Instruction! Seek, and ye shall find,
Is a Sufficient Warrant to begin
To seek the piece of Silver, hid within
The House, thy Heart; Redeem thy precious Time,
And find it out. O let thy Mind incline
Unto the Voice, that doth in secret say,
As one behind thee, This is Wisdom's Way,
Walk in it; this will lead to lasting Joys;
Despise them not for transitory Toys.
Aim'st thou at Honour? Know, a sudden Puff
Blasts it, and often leaves a Stinking Snuff.
Ah, see'st thou not, that here all vain Renown
Is dash'd and disannulled with a Frown?
Seek Honour from above, and fear the Lord,
And hearken to his holy living Word,
Hid in thy Heart, that frequently reproves:
Wisdom rebukes, and chastens whom she loves.
But where there's no Reproof, there's cause of fear,
Lest that the Holy One cease striving there:
Such may too late bewail themselves, and say,
O that I might be spar'd another Day!
What can a wounded Spirit satiate,
When Soul and Body must be separate?
Whilst therefore Time doth unto thee remain,
Take up the Cross, and own that holy Name,
Christ crucify'd, and risen from the Grave,
Whose Life's the Light of Men, that comes to save.
But what avails to read the History!
In silence learn to know the Mystery:
For inwardly the Heart's defil'd with Sin,
Therefore Salvation must be wrought within,
By that which humbles, and that boweth down
To Judgment; first the Cross, and then the Crown.
The Word is as a Fire to purify
The Heart of Man from all Iniquity,
Before it be a Word of Consolation,
And bring the Soul glad tidings of Salvation.
All this (I hope) thou know'st; but he that knows it
Is not thereby approv'd, but he that does it:
The Doer of the Word is Justify'd,
Because he by the same is Sanctify'd.
Slight not the day of small things, lest there be
Greater with-holden and conceal'd from thee.
Was it not said, when Ephr'im was a Child,
I loved him (that's lowly, meek, and mild?)
O be not high and lofty, but come down,
With quick Zacheus, if thou'lt gain the Crown
Of Life and Peace! Hark, doth not Jesus say,
Salvation's come unto thy House this day?
If thou'lt receive it, cast it not away.
1680.
(pp. 100-1, ll. 1-73)"
10380,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""dross"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",2005-07-19 00:00:00 UTC,,3999,Inwardness; Refinement,I've included the entire poem,2009-09-14 19:34:56 UTC,"""The Sun of Righteousness, which when it shines / With its Resplendent Conqu'ring Ray, refines / The drossy Nature; rightly purifies / The Heart, consuming all Impurities.""","O love! Thou Substance of the Royal Law,
Let thy sweet Influencing Power draw
Our troubled Hearts, in true Humility,
To wait on thee with holy Fervency:
For thou our Souls hast often visited,
That we might, by thy tender hand, be led
From Darkness unto Light; from Enmity,
Strife and Contention, unto Unity,
In Undefiled, in Unfeigned Love;
Which, tho' it may in Gentleness reprove,
Or otherwise instruct, it covers all
Faults and Offences; yea, if any fall
Through Weakness, it bears up with ready Hand,
And lends a Shoulder, till such learn to stand,
And walk more strongly: For it joys to see
Brethren to dwell in perfect Unity,
Only Contending who may most be found
In Lowliness, that Love may more abound.
But, ah, 'tis Hatred, Wrath, Revenge, and Strife,
Discovers Faults, strikes at the very Life;
Provoking oft one seeming Friend or Brother,
To bite, despise, if not devour another,
For empty Trifles; so that Vanity
Becomes Vexatious, and Perplexity
Of Spirit: For, as well observ'd by one,
All things are Vanity below the Sun;
The Sun of Righteousness, which when it shines
With its Resplendent Conqu'ring Ray, refines
The drossy Nature; rightly purifies
The Heart, consuming all Impurities;
Whereby, at last, the Enmity is slain,
And Love exalted over all to Reign.
Great Prince of Peace! Instruct our Souls to wait
To be Establish'd in this happy State;
Where Joys abound, and Enmity does cease,
And Charity withal doth still increase;
That, with thy dear Redeemed Ones, we may
Walk Hand in Hand in Sion's blessed Way;
Where no Iniquity can e'er be found,
Nor Love wax cold, but more and more abound;
Yea, Love that thinks no Evil, but doth seek
The Good of all, and teacheth to be meek;
Not easily provoked, but in Peace
With all: Here Happiness shall still increase.
Then may our cheerful Souls triumph, and sing
Pure, holy, living Praise to Salem's King.
1679."
10395,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""allay"" (""alloy"") in HDIS (Poetry)",Metal,2005-04-14 00:00:00 UTC,2012-01-06,4010,"",20,2012-01-06 21:13:35 UTC,"""But they who are all Intellect and Will, / And what they please fulfil, / Whose Minds are pure, free from the least Allay, / Serene, and clear, as everlasting Day, / Imbibe the most extatick Joys with eager Haste, / Nor can th' immense Excess immortal Spirits waste.""","O let the Earth her great Creator bless,
And all the Wonders of his Pow'r confess:
From Pole to Pole, let her resound his Praise;
Around her Globe let the glad Accents fly,
Till they are echo'd by the neighbouring Skie:
To all the list'ning Worlds above
Let her proclaim aloud
The blest Effects of his transcendent Love,
Who out of nothing did her beauteous Fabrick raise.
O Prodigy of Art Divine!
The Deity did in the wondrous Structure shine!
Who can in sit Expressions the sublime Idea dress,
Or the stupendous Marvels of that Work express!
Angels themselves, whose Intellects are free
From those dark Mists which our weak Reason cloud,
Who things in their remotest Causes see,
Whose Knowledge like their Station's great and high,
Above the loftiest Flights of weak Mortality,
Astonish'd saw the rising World appear;
The new, the glorious, the transporting Sight,
So full of Wonder, and Delight,
With rapt'rous Joys fill'd each celestial Breast,
With Joys too vast to be exprest;
Such Extasies as here
We could not feel, and live;
They to our Beings wou'd a Period give:
The killing Pleasure wou'd be too intense,
And quite o'erwhelm our feeble Sense;
But they who are all Intellect and Will,
And what they please fulfil,
Whose Minds are pure, free from the least Allay,
Serene, and clear, as everlasting Day,
Imbibe the most extatick Joys with eager Haste,
Nor can th' immense Excess immortal Spirits waste.
"
10402,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""dross"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Metal,2005-06-13 00:00:00 UTC,,4017,Refinement,"",2009-09-14 19:34:57 UTC,"""Those dear Delights, in which I still shall find / Ten thousand Joys to feast my Mind, / Joys, great as Sense can bear, from all its Dross refin'd.""","I'le take my Leave of Business, Noise and Care,
And trust this stormy Sea no more:
Condemn'd to Toil, and fed with Air,
I've often sighing look'd towards the Shore:
And when the boistrous Winds did cease,
And all was still, and all was Peace,
Afraid of Calms, and flatt'ring Skies,
On the deceitful Waves I fixt my Eyes,
And on a sudden saw the threatning Billows rise:
Then trembling beg'd the Pow'rs Divine,
Some little safe Retreat might be for ever mine:
O give, I cry'd, where e'er you please,
Those Gifts which Mortals prize,
Grown fond of Privacy and Ease,
I now the gaudy Pomps of Life despise.
Still let the Greedy strive with Pain,
T'augment their shining Heaps of Clay;
And punish'd with the Thirst of Gain,
Their Honour lose, their Conscience stain:
Let th'ambitious Thrones desire
And still with guilty hast aspire;
Thro' Blood and Dangers force their Way,
And o'er the World extend their Sway,
While I my time to nobler Uses give,
And to my Books, and Thoughts entirely live;
Those dear Delights, in which I still shall find
Ten thousand Joys to feast my Mind,
Joys, great as Sense can bear, from all its Dross refin'd."
10404,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""dross"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Metal,2005-06-13 00:00:00 UTC,,4017,"","",2009-09-14 19:34:57 UTC,"""But those who're from their earthly Dross calcin'd,
Who tast the Pleasures of a virtuous Mind""","When by soft moving Ovid I am told,
Of those strange Changes which were wrought of old,
When Gods in Brutal Shapes did Mortals court,
And unbecoming Actions made their Sport,
When helpless Wretches fled from impious Pow'rs,
And hid themselves in Birds, Beasts, Trees, and Flow'rs:
When none from Outrage cou'd securely dwell,
But felt the Rage of Heav'n, of Earth, and Hell:
Methinks, I see those Passions well exprest,
Which play the Tyrant in the Mortal Breast:
They to Ten thousand Miseries expose,
And are our only, and our deadly Foes:
They like the Vultur on our Entrails prey,
And in our Path the Golden Apple lay,
But from us snatch our dear Euridices away.
Up the steep Hill the pond'rous Torment roll,
And cheat with empty Shews the famish'd Soul:
Those who are still submitted to their Sway,
Must in the gloomy Realms of Pluto stay,
And never more re-visit cheerful Day:
But those who're from their earthly Dross calcin'd,
Who tast the Pleasures of a virtuous Mind,
Who'd rather chuse to die, than once their Conscience stain,
Who midst Temptations Innocence retain,
And o'er themselves an undisputed Empire gain:
In th' Elysian Fields shall be for ever blest,
And with the Happy, there enjoy the Sweets of Rest."
10405,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""dross"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",2005-06-13 00:00:00 UTC,,4019,"",First Stanza,2011-03-08 21:23:44 UTC,"Some might ""still think on, till the confining Clay / Fall off, and nothing's left behind /Of drossy Earth, nothing to clog the Mind."""," Happy are they who when alone
Can with themselves converse;
Who to their Thoughts are so familiar grown,
That with Delight in some obscure Recess,
They cou'd with silent Joy think all their Hours away,
And still think on, till the confining Clay
Fall off, and nothing's left behind
Of drossy Earth, nothing to clog the Mind,
Or hinder its Ascent to those bright Forms above,
Those glorious Beings whose exalted Sense
Transcends the highest Flights of human Wit;
Who with Seraphick Ardor fir'd,
And with a Passion more intense
Than Mortal Beauty e'er inspir'd;
With all th' endearing Extasies of Love,
Will to their blest Society again
The long lost Wand'rers admit,
Where freed from all their former Pain,
And cleans'd from ev'ry Stain,
They bask with Pleasure in eternal Day,
And grow as pure, and as refin'd as they.
"