work_id,theme,id,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,created_at,context,comments,text,reviewed_on,provenance
3995,"",10374,"But if ideas ""remain in the Soul when I was only thinking of a Horse, whereever they are bestow'd, it may be presum'd, there is room for that one idea more without thrusting out another to give it place: and when that one is among them, I see no more reason why they must be all new imprest, than that the others must have been new imprest when I only thought of that one unless, it be suppos'd that the Soul has always, just one idea [more] than there is place for in the repository of its Ideas; and if that happen to crou'd in, before another has got out, they will all be stifled together, or fly away for Air.""",Inhabitants,2011-08-25 20:16:46 UTC,2005-03-23 00:00:00 UTC,"","•Great Population metaphor.
•Crappy scan of the microfilm makes some of this illegible.","But if the Remarker thinks, that if all our thoughts cease in sound Sleep, all our Ideas are extinct, and must be new imprest; I desire him to consider, when a Sleeping or Waking Man thinks, what becomes of all those Ideas which he does not actually perceive in his own mind, for the mind is capable of taking notice but of very few at once: Must not all the rest by this Argument be extinct? And so we must have them new Imprest; and are as it were, New Born when ever we have any Ideas which we have not always actually perceiv'd, i.e. every time we pass from one thought to another. This is a sure consequence, if when all our thoughts cease, all our Ideas must be new imprest, unless a Man cou'd actually perceive all the Ideas he ever had at once; for his having only one thought in his mind, can no more keep any other there, or excite any other that it has no connexion with, than if he had no thought at all: I am thinking for Example, in my Sleep, of a Horse; his Beauty, Strength, and Usefulness: Does this thought preserve in my mind, the Ideas of a Church, of Happiness or Misery? Or can it help me to any of them, when I have occasion for them? If not, then these Ideas must be new imprest when I awake; but if they remain in the Soul when I was only thinking of a Horse, whereever they are bestow'd, it may be presum'd, there is room for that one idea more without thrusting out another to give it place: and when that one is among them, I see no more reason why they must be all new imprest, than that the others must have been new imprest when I only thought of that one unless, it be suppos'd that the Soul has always, just one idea [more] than there is place for in the repository of its Ideas; and if that happen to crou'd in, before another has got out, they will all be stifled together, or fly away for Air.
(pp. 33-4)",2011-08-25,"Reading in ECCO; found again reading Jonathan Kramnick's Actions and Objects (Stanford: Stanford UP, 2010), 166-7."
4374,"",11498,"""[Love] that Tyrant Passion lords it o'er the Mind, fills every Faculty, and leaves no room for any other Thought--drives Consideration far away--overturns Reflection-- and permits no Image but itself to dwell in Fancy's Region""","",2009-09-14 19:35:57 UTC,2005-09-01 00:00:00 UTC,Part I," •I've included four times: Government, Container, Inhabitant, Region","This young Lady, so highly obliged to Emanuella for this Proof of her Friendship, one would think should never have obliterated the Memory of it; but what Engagements are of force to bind a Thankless and Ungrateful Mind! The Aversion she had for a monastick Life, was soon discover'd by the penetrating Eyes of her Cousin, to proceed from her too great Affection for a young Fop, who had nothing to recommend him to the Approbation of a Woman of Discretion; and talking to her with a little more warmth than was usual on this Occasion, the other resented it, as tho' she took that Liberty on the account of what she had promised to her Father, and from that Moment conceiv'd so great a Hatred, that it grew uneasy to herself, because she had no Opportunity to make the other feel the Effects of it-- [Page 35] But being naturally as cunning as revengeful, she conceal'd her Sentiments, and under the Mask of Friendship, watch'd all her Actions, still hoping some unguarded Minute might arrive, in which she should be able to discover something to expose her for. But not all her Dilligence could furnish what she wanted; Emanuella, among the multiplicity of her Adorers, behav'd herself in such a manner, that might defy the strictest Scrutiny-- all her Actions--all her Words--all her Looks; were govern'd by Prudence, and her malicious Observer began to think it would be but Labour lost to attempt to blast either her Virtue or Reputation. But alas! what Courage, what Discretion, what cool Reserve, what Sanctity of Wishes can defend the Heart, when once the God of Love has found an Entrance there! that Tyrant Passion lords it o'er the Mind, fills every Faculty, and leaves no room for any other Thought--drives Consideration far away--overturns Reflection-- and permits no Image but itself to dwell in Fancy's Region. The soft and tender Soul of Emanuella, was a fit Temple for the enslaving Deity to work his utmost Wonders in; and that she no sooner felt his Power, was not because she was less susceptible than others of her Acquaintance, but that her Taste was more delicate, and so many different Perfections as were necessary to attract her Admiration, were very difficult to be found in one Man.
(pp. 34-5)",,Searching in HDIS (Prose)
4567,"",12009,"""Female youth, left to weak woman's care"" are ""Strangers to reason and reflection made, / Left to their passions, and by them betrayed; / Untaught the noble end of glorious truth, / Bred to deceive even from earliest youth; / Unused to books, nor virtue taught to prize; / Whose mind, a savage waste, unpeopled lies; / Which to supply, trifles fill up the void, / And idly busy, to no end employed.""","",2017-04-13 15:16:21 UTC,2009-09-14 19:36:30 UTC,"","","Can female youth, left to weak woman's care,
Misled by Custom (Folly's fruitful heir);
Told that their charms a monarch may enslave,
That beauty like the gods can kill or save;
Taught the arcanas, the mysterious arts,
By ambush dress to catch unwary hearts;
If wealthy born, taught to lisp French and dance,
Their morals left (Lucretius-like) to chance;
Strangers to reason and reflection made,
Left to their passions, and by them betrayed;
Untaught the noble end of glorious truth,
Bred to deceive even from earliest youth;
Unused to books, nor virtue taught to prize;
Whose mind, a savage waste, unpeopled lies;
Which to supply, trifles fill up the void,
And idly busy, to no end employed:
Can these, from such a school, more virtue show,
Or tempting vice treat like a common foe?
(ll. 27-44, p. 151 in Lonsdale)",,Reading
4631,"",12247,"""Thoughts of what I must suffer by the Loss of Don Antonio were crowded in my Imagination, and left no Room for Rest.""",Inhabitants,2013-06-13 21:20:38 UTC,2005-09-03 00:00:00 UTC,"","","I bowed to him in return of Thanks, but Sleep was all that Night a Stranger to my Eyes; the Thoughts of what I must suffer by the Loss of Don Antonio were crowded in my Imagination, and left no Room for Rest; the finding my old Lover amongst the Slaves gave me some Confusion, and I could not conclude what would be the Event if I should chance to",,"Searching in HDIS (Prose); found again ""thought"" and ""crowd""; again ""imagination"""
5612,"",14999,"""Such rapture filled Lactilla's vacant soul, /
When the bright Moralist, in softness dressed, / Opes all the glories of the mental world, / Deigns to direct the infant thought, to prune / The budding sentiment, uprear the stalk / Of feeble fancy, bid idea live, / Woo the abstracted spirit form its cares, / And gently guide her to scenes of peace.""",Inhabitants,2013-11-17 17:09:00 UTC,2003-07-29 00:00:00 UTC,"",•I've included all the stanzas but the first because of the density of metaphors (8 entries total).,"O, Montagu! forgive me, if I sing
Thy wisdom tempered with the milder ray
Of soft humanity, and kindness bland:
So wide its influence, that the bright beams
Reach the low vale where mists of ignorance lodge,
Strike on the innate spark which lay immersed,
Thick-clogged, and almost quenched in total night--
On me it fell, and cheered my joyless heart.
Unwelcome is the first bright dawn of light
To the dark soul; impatient, she rejects,
And fain would push the heavenly stranger back;
She loathes the cranny which admits the day;
Confused, afraid of the intruding guest;
Disturbed, unwilling to receive the beam,
Which to herself her native darkness shows.
The effort rude to quench the cheering flame
Was mine, and e'en on Stella could I gaze
With sullen envy, and admiring pride,
Till, doubly roused by Montagu, the pair
Conspire to clear my dull, imprisoned sense,
And chase the mists which dimmed my visual beam.
Oft as I trod my native wilds alone,
Strong gusts of thought would rise, but rise to die;
The portals of the swelling soul ne'er oped
By liberal converse, rude ideas strove
Awhile for vent, but found it not, and died.
Thus rust the Mind's best powers. Yon starry orbs,
Majestic ocean, flowery vales, gay groves,
Eye-wasting lawns, and heaven-attempting hills
Which bound th' horizon, and which curb the view;
All those, with beauteous imagery, awaked
My ravished soul to ecstasy untaught,
To all the transport the rapt sense can bear;
But all expired, for want of powers to speak;
All perished in the mind as soon as born,
Erased more quick than cyphers on the shore,
O'er which cruel waves, unheedful roll.
Such timid rapture as young Edwin seized,
When his lone footsteps on the Sage obtrude,
Whose noble precept charmed his wondering.
Such rapture filled Lactilla's vacant soul,
When the bright Moralist, in softness dressed,
Opes all the glories of the mental world,
Deigns to direct the infant thought, to prune
The budding sentiment, uprear the stalk
Of feeble fancy, bid idea live,
Woo the abstracted spirit form its cares,
And gently guide her to scenes of peace.
Mine was than balm, and mine the grateful heart,
Which breathes its thanks in rough, but timid strains.
(ll. 30-79, pp. 395-6)",2009-12-28,Reading
5404,"",23518,"""Hail to pleasure's frolic train; / Hail to fancy's golden reign; / Festive mirth, and laughter wild, / Free and sportful as the child; / Hope with eager sparkling eyes, / And easy faith, and fond surprise: / Let these, in fairy colours drest, / Forever share my careless breast; / Then, tho' wise I may not be, / The wise themselves shall envy me.""",Empire and Inhabitants,2014-03-08 17:35:02 UTC,2014-03-08 17:35:02 UTC,"","TYPO: ""driest""/drest","But if thou com'st with frown austere
To nurse the brood of care and fear;
To bid our sweetest passions die,
And leave us in their room a sigh;
Or if thine aspect stern have power
To wither each poor transient flower,
That cheers the pilgrimage of woe,
And dry the springs whence hope should flow;
WISDOM, thine empire I disclaim,
Thou empty boast of pompous name!
In gloomy shade of cloisters dwell,
But never haunt my chearful cell.
Hail to pleasure's frolic train;
Hail to fancy's golden reign;
Festive mirth, and laughter wild,
Free and sportful as the child;
Hope with eager sparkling eyes,
And easy faith, and fond surprise:
Let these, in fairy colours drest,
Forever share my careless breast;
Then, tho' wise I may not be,
The wise themselves shall envy me.
(pp. 57-8)",,Reading; text from ECCO-TCP.