theme,metaphor,work_id,dictionary,provenance,id,created_at,updated_at,reviewed_on,comments,text,context
"","""How soft the first ideas prove, / Which wander through our minds!""",4102,Inhabitants,Reading,10558,2009-09-14 19:35:05 UTC,2013-06-04 16:09:01 UTC,2003-10-22,"•The poem becomes darker after these stanzas: thorns, winter, and then (albeit ""gladly sinking to"") rest.
•I am now including personifications in greater earnest (10/22/2003)","How soft the first ideas prove,
Which wander through our minds!
How full of joys, how free the love
Which does that early season move,
As flowers the western winds!
Our sighs are then but vernal air,
But April-drops our tears,
Which swiftly passing, all grows fair,
Whilst beauty compensates our care,
And youth each vapour clears
(ll. 16-25, p. 9)",""
Ruling Passion,"""Through ev'ry Age some Tyrant Passion reigns""",4182,Ruler,Searching HDIS (Poetry),10850,2004-06-15 00:00:00 UTC,2009-09-14 19:35:19 UTC,,•I've included twice: Ruler and Rule of Passion,"Through ev'ry Age some Tyrant Passion reigns:
Now Love prevails, and now Ambition gains
Reason's lost Throne, and sov'reign Rule maintains.
Tho' beyond Love's, Ambition's Empire goes;
For who feels Love, Ambition also knows,
And proudly still aspires to be possest
Of Her, he thinks superior to the rest.
As cou'd be prov'd, but that our plainer Task
Do's no such Toil, or Definitions ask;
But to be so rehears'd, as first 'twas told,
When such old Stories pleas'd in Days of old.
",""
Ruling Passion,"""Through ev'ry Age some Tyrant Passion reigns: / Now Love prevails, and now Ambition gains / Reason's lost Throne, and sov'reign Rule maintains.""",4182,Empire,"Searching ""rule"" and ""reason"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again searching ""throne"" and ""reason"" (7/19/2004); confirmed in ECCO.",10851,2004-06-15 00:00:00 UTC,2014-07-02 14:37:28 UTC,2012-04-04,""," Through ev'ry Age some Tyrant Passion reigns:
Now Love prevails, and now Ambition gains
Reason's lost Throne, and sov'reign Rule maintains.
Tho' beyond Love's, Ambition's Empire goes;
For who feels Love, Ambition also knows,
And proudly still aspires to be possest
Of Her, he thinks superior to the rest.
As cou'd be prov'd, but that our plainer Task
Do's no such Toil, or Definitions ask;
But to be so rehears'd, as first 'twas told,
When such old Stories pleas'd in Days of old.
(pp. 166-7)
",""
"","""Thus far, our slow Imagination goes: / Wou'd the more skill'd THEANOR his disclose; / Expand the Scene, and open to our Sight / What to his nicer Judgment gives Delight; / Whose soaring Mind do's to Perfections climb, / Nor owns a Relish, but for Things sublime.""",7953,"",Searching in ECCO-TCP,24121,2014-07-02 15:20:49 UTC,2014-07-02 15:20:49 UTC,,"","Thus far, our slow Imagination goes:
Wou'd the more skill'd THEANOR his disclose;
Expand the Scene, and open to our Sight
What to his nicer Judgment gives Delight;
Whose soaring Mind do's to Perfections climb,
Nor owns a Relish, but for Things sublime:
Then, wou'd the Piece fresh Beauties still present,
Nor Length of Time wou'd leave the Eye content:
As Moments, Hours; as Hours the Days wou'd seem,
Observing here, taught to observe by HIM.
(p. 72)",""
"","""An equal Partner in the vanquish'd Earth, / A Brother, not impos'd upon my Birth, / Too weak a Tye unequal Thoughts to bind, / But by the gen'rous Motions of the Mind.""",7955,Fetters,Searching in ECCO-TCP,24127,2014-07-02 15:33:54 UTC,2014-07-02 15:33:54 UTC,,"","But why these single Griefs shou'd I expose?
The World no Mirth, no War, no Bus'ness knows,
But, hush'd with Sorrow, stands, to favour thy Repose.
Ev'n I my boasted Title now resign,
Not Ammon's Son, nor born of Race Divine,
But Mortal all, oppress'd with restless Fears,
Wild with my Cares, and Womanish in Tears.
Tho' Tears, before, I for old Clytus shed,
And wept more Drops, than the old Hero bled;
Ev'n now, methinks, I see him on the Ground,
Now my dire Arms the wretched Corpse sur|round,
Now the fled Soul I wooe, now rave upon the Wound.
Yet He, for whom this mighty Grief did spring,
Not Alexander valu'd, but the King.
Then think, how much that Passion must tran|scend,
Which not a Subject raises but a Friend;
An equal Partner in the vanquish'd Earth,
A Brother, not impos'd upon my Birth,
Too weak a Tye unequal Thoughts to bind,
But by the gen'rous Motions of the Mind.
(pp. 100-101)",""
"",""How soft the first Ideas prove, / Which wander through our Minds!""",7956,"",Searching in ECCO-TCP,24128,2014-07-02 15:36:01 UTC,2014-07-02 15:36:01 UTC,,"","How soft the first Ideas prove,
Which wander through our Minds!
How full the Joys, how free the Love,
Which do's that early Season move;
As Flow'rs the Western Winds!
(p. 260)",""
"","""Bless me, each cries, from such a working Brain! / And to Hippocrates they send / The Sage's long-acquainted Friend, / To put in Tune his jarring Mind again, / And Pericranium mend.""",7957,"",Searching in ECCO-TCP,24129,2014-07-02 15:37:55 UTC,2014-07-02 15:37:55 UTC,,"","IN Vulgar Minds what Errors do arise!
How diff'ring are the Notions, they possess,
From theirs, whom better Sense do's bless,
Who justly are enroll'd amongst the Learn'd and Wise!
Democritus, whilst he all Science taught,
Was by his foolish Neighbours thought
Distracted in his Wits;
Who call his speculative Flights,
His solitary Walks in starry Nights,
But wild and frantick Fits.
Bless me, each cries, from such a working Brain!
And to Hippocrates they send
The Sage's long-acquainted Friend,
To put in Tune his jarring Mind again,
And Pericranium mend.
(p. 285)",""
"","""Away the Skilful Doctor comes / Of Recipes and Med'cines full, / To check the giddy Whirl of Nature's Fires, / If so th' unruly Case requires; / Or with his Cobweb-cleansing Brooms / To sweep and clear the over-crouded Scull, / If settl'd Spirits flag, and make the Patient dull.""",7957,Rooms,Searching in ECCO-TCP,24130,2014-07-02 15:40:18 UTC,2014-07-02 15:40:42 UTC,,"","Away the Skilful Doctor comes
Of Recipes and Med'cines full,
To check the giddy Whirl of Nature's Fires,
If so th' unruly Case requires;
Or with his Cobweb-cleansing Brooms
To sweep and clear the over-crouded Scull,
If settl'd Spirits flag, and make the Patient dull.
But asking what the Symptoms were,
That made 'em think he was so bad?
The Man indeed, they cry'd, is wond'rous Mad
You, at this Distance, may behold him there
Beneath that Tree in open Air,
Surrounded with the Engines of his Fate,
The Gimcracks of a broken Pate.
Those Hoops a Sphere he calls,
That Ball the Earth;
And when into his raving Fit he falls,
'Twou'd move at once your Pity, and your Mirth,
To hear him, as you will do soon,
Declaring, there's a Kingdom in the Moon;
And that each Star, for ought he knows,
May some Inhabitants enclose:
Philosophers, he says, may there abound,
Such Jugglers as himself be in them found;
Which if there be, the World may well turn round;
At least to those, whose Whimsies are so strange,
That, whilst they're fixt to one peculiar Place,
Pretend to measure far extended Space,
And 'mongst the Planets range.
Behold him now contemplating that Head,
From which long-since both Flesh, and Brains are fled;
Questioning, if that empty, hollow Bowl
Did not ere while contain the Human Soul:
Then starts a Doubt, if 'twere not to the Heart
That Nature rather did that Gift impart.
Good Sir, employ the utmost of your Skill,
To make him Wiser, tho' against his Will;
Who thinks, that he already All exceeds,
And laughs at our most solemn Words and Deeds:
Tho' once amongst us he wou'd try a Cause,
And Bus'ness of the Town discuss,
Knowing, as well as one of us,
The Price of Corn, and standing Market-Laws;
Wou'd bear an Office in his Turn,
For which good Purposes all Men were born;
Not to be making Circles in the Sand,
And scaling Heav'n, till they have sold their Land.
Or, when unstock'd below their Pasture lies,
To find out Bulls and Rams, amidst the Skies.
From these Mistakes his Madness we conclude;
And hearing, you was with much Skill endu'd,
Your Aid we sought. Hippocrates amaz'd,
Now on the Sage, now on the Rabble gaz'd;
And whilst he needless finds his artful Rules,
Pities a Man of Sense, judg'd by a Croud of Fools
Then how can we with their Opinions join,
Who, to promote some Int'rest, wou'd define
The Peoples Voice to be the Voice Divine?
(pp. 286-8)",""
"","""Behold him now contemplating that Head, / From which long-since both Flesh, and Brains are fled; / Questioning, if that empty, hollow Bowl / Did not ere while contain the Human Soul.""",7957,"",Searching in ECCO-TCP,24131,2014-07-02 15:41:57 UTC,2014-07-02 15:41:57 UTC,,"","Away the Skilful Doctor comes
Of Recipes and Med'cines full,
To check the giddy Whirl of Nature's Fires,
If so th' unruly Case requires;
Or with his Cobweb-cleansing Brooms
To sweep and clear the over-crouded Scull,
If settl'd Spirits flag, and make the Patient dull.
But asking what the Symptoms were,
That made 'em think he was so bad?
The Man indeed, they cry'd, is wond'rous Mad
You, at this Distance, may behold him there
Beneath that Tree in open Air,
Surrounded with the Engines of his Fate,
The Gimcracks of a broken Pate.
Those Hoops a Sphere he calls,
That Ball the Earth;
And when into his raving Fit he falls,
'Twou'd move at once your Pity, and your Mirth,
To hear him, as you will do soon,
Declaring, there's a Kingdom in the Moon;
And that each Star, for ought he knows,
May some Inhabitants enclose:
Philosophers, he says, may there abound,
Such Jugglers as himself be in them found;
Which if there be, the World may well turn round;
At least to those, whose Whimsies are so strange,
That, whilst they're fixt to one peculiar Place,
Pretend to measure far extended Space,
And 'mongst the Planets range.
Behold him now contemplating that Head,
From which long-since both Flesh, and Brains are fled;
Questioning, if that empty, hollow Bowl
Did not ere while contain the Human Soul:
Then starts a Doubt, if 'twere not to the Heart
That Nature rather did that Gift impart.
Good Sir, employ the utmost of your Skill,
To make him Wiser, tho' against his Will;
Who thinks, that he already All exceeds,
And laughs at our most solemn Words and Deeds:
Tho' once amongst us he wou'd try a Cause,
And Bus'ness of the Town discuss,
Knowing, as well as one of us,
The Price of Corn, and standing Market-Laws;
Wou'd bear an Office in his Turn,
For which good Purposes all Men were born;
Not to be making Circles in the Sand,
And scaling Heav'n, till they have sold their Land.
Or, when unstock'd below their Pasture lies,
To find out Bulls and Rams, amidst the Skies.
From these Mistakes his Madness we conclude;
And hearing, you was with much Skill endu'd,
Your Aid we sought. Hippocrates amaz'd,
Now on the Sage, now on the Rabble gaz'd;
And whilst he needless finds his artful Rules,
Pities a Man of Sense, judg'd by a Croud of Fools
Then how can we with their Opinions join,
Who, to promote some Int'rest, wou'd define
The Peoples Voice to be the Voice Divine?
(pp. 286-8)",""
"","""But silent Musings urge the Mind to seek / Something, too high for Syllables to speak; / Till the free Soul to a compos'dness charm'd, / Finding the Elements of Rage disarm'd, / O'er all below a solemn Quiet grown, / Joys in th'inferiour World, and thinks it like her Own.""",7958,"",Searching in ECCO-TCP,24132,2014-07-02 15:44:18 UTC,2014-07-02 15:44:18 UTC,,"","When a sedate Content the Spirit feels,
And no fierce Light disturbs, whilst it reveals;
But silent Musings urge the Mind to seek
Something, too high for Syllables to speak;
Till the free Soul to a compos'dness charm'd,
Finding the Elements of Rage disarm'd,
O'er all below a solemn Quiet grown,
Joys in th'inferiour World, and thinks it like her Own:
In such a Night let Me abroad remain,
Till Morning breaks, and All's confus'd again;
Our Cares, our Toils, our Clamours are renew'd.
Or Pleasures, seldom reach'd, again pursu'd.
(p. 293)",""