updated_at,id,text,theme,metaphor,work_id,reviewed_on,provenance,created_at,comments,context,dictionary
2009-09-14 19:33:36 UTC,8483," Where, lovely Goddess, dost thou dwell?
In what remote and silent shade?
Within what cave or lonely cell?
With what old hermit, or unpractis'd maid?
In vain I've sought thee all around,
But thy unfashionable sound
In crowds was never heard,
Nor ever has thy form in town or court appear'd.
The sanctuary is not safe to thee,
Chas'd thence by endless mystery;
Thy own professors chase thee thence,
And wage eternal war with thee and sense;
Then in perplexing comments lost,
E'en when they would be thought to show the most.
Most beautiful when most distress'd,
Descend, O Goddess, to my breast;
There thou may'st reign, unrivall'd and alone,
My thoughts thy subjects, and my heart thy throne.
","","""Descend, O Goddess, to my breast; / There thou may'st reign, unrivall'd and alone, / My thoughts thy subjects, and my heart thy throne.""",3233,2009-04-14,"Searching ""throne"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2004-08-07 00:00:00 UTC,"","",""
2013-06-04 16:07:02 UTC,10387,"O that my Mind were cent'red where it ought!
Entirely freed from all distracting Thought:
Vain wandring Thoughts, that crowd within my Breast
Do oft obstruct my Soul from Solid Rest;
And, like to vagrant Clouds, obscure the Mind
Which should to serious watching be inclin'd:
Ah! Rise thou Sun of Righteousness, thy Light
Can soon dispel the Gloominess of Night:
Appear, appear, let thy Victorious Ray,
And long'd-for Presence, still renew the Day;
Whereby my slumb'ring Eyes may walk and see
The Dawning Morning of Felicity,
Still more and more break forth to perfect Day,
Whose Heav'nly Light guides in the Blessed Way,
That leads to thy renowned Holy Hill;
Where true Obedience to thy Sacred Will
Makes glad the Hearts of thy Redeemed Ones,
Who know the Comfort of Adopted Sons;
And can sing Praises to that Gracious Hand,
Which rais'd 'em up, and taught 'em how to stand,
To walk and run the pleasant Paths of Peace,
Rejoycing in true Joys that never cease.","","""Vain wandring Thoughts, that crowd within my Breast / Do oft obstruct my Soul from Solid Rest; / like to vagrant Clouds, obscure the Mind / Which should to serious watching be inclin'd.""",4004,2013-06-04,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2006-03-07 00:00:00 UTC,"",I've included the entire poem,Inhabitants
2009-09-14 19:34:58 UTC,10414,"Sorrow like theirs, what Language can express!
Their All was lost, their only Happiness!
The good Ægeus could not more be griev'd
When he the Sable Flag perceiv'd,
Than was the Prince; but we this difference find,
The last was calmer, more resign'd,
And had the stronger, more Majestick Mind:
He knew Complaints could give him no Relief,
And therefore cast a Veil upon his sullen Grief:
Th' afflicted Princess could not thus controul
The tender Motions of her troubled Soul:
Unable to resist, she gave her Sorrows way,
And did the Dictates of her Grief obey:
Maternal Kindness still does preference claim,
And always burns with a more ardent Flame:
But sure no Heart was ever thus opprest,
The Load is much too great to bear;
In sad Complaints are all her Minutes spent,
And she lives only to lament:
All soft Delights are Strangers to her Breast:
His unexpected Fate does all her Thoughts ingross,
And she speaks nothing but her mighty Loss.
So mourn'd Andromache when she beheld
Astyanax expos'd to lawless Pow'r,
Precipitated from a lofty Tow'r:
Depriv'd of Life the Royal Youth remain'd,
And with the richest Trojan Blood the Pavement stain'd:
Speechless she gaz'd, and by her Grief impell'd,
Fearless amidst the Græcian Troops she run,
And to her panting Bosom clasp'd her mangl'd Son.","","""All soft Delights are Strangers to her Breast""",4017,,"Searching ""breast"" and ""stranger"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-03-05 00:00:00 UTC,"",Stanza 9,Inhabitants
2009-09-14 19:34:58 UTC,10415," Self-love so crouds the human Breast,
That there's no Room for any other Guest;
By it inspir'd we all Mankind despise,
And think our selves the only Good and Wise:
Fond Thought! a Thought that only can
Become the vainest Part of the Creation, Man:
That haughty Creature, who puff'd up with Pride,
And fill'd with airy Notions soars on high,
And thinks himself the Glory of the Sky,
Where for a while in Fancy's flatt'ring Light
Th' enkindl'd Vapour plays,
Much pleas'd with its imaginary Rays;
Till having wasted its small Stock of Flame,
The heavy Lump, the thing without a Name,
Falls headlong down from its exalted Height
Into Oblivion's everlasting Night.","","""Self-love so crouds the human Breast, / That there's no Room for any other Guest""",4020,,"Searching ""breast"" and ""guest"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-03-15 00:00:00 UTC,"•Note also ""crouds."" I've only searched for ""crowd metaphors.""
•I've included twice: Guest and Crowd",Stanza 3,Inhabitants
2013-06-04 16:09:01 UTC,10558,"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)","","""How soft the first ideas prove, / Which wander through our minds!""",4102,2003-10-22,Reading,2009-09-14 19:35:05 UTC,"•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)","",Inhabitants
2009-09-14 19:35:10 UTC,10672,"In other Countries we have Trophies rais'd;
The wise Zenobia can't enough be prais'd;
She famous, as her August Tadmor, grew,
Almost as much as its first Founder knew.
No guilty Passion e're her Glory stain'd,
She still with Justice and with Mildness reign'd,
And when inslav'd, she never once complain'd.
Still was the same in each Extreme of Fate,
Humble when high, and when depress'd sedate.
In latter Times a great Example's found,
A Cottage-Virtue for her Merit crown'd;
An Athenais, by her Learning led
To the bright Honours of a Royal Bed!
Admir'd, tho' poor, both for her Mind and Face,
In both you might surprizing Beauties trace:
But 'twas the First wise Theodosius gain'd,
Such Charms he lik'd, as still the same remain'd,
Which neither Age, nor Sickness, cou'd remove,
Which still would shine, still would attract his Love.
Italian Shores with Female Praise resound,
Amalasuntha there was suff'ring found;
A Lady blest by Nature and by Art:
She'd all the Treasures Knowledge could impart,
A Mind well furnish'd, and gen'rous Heart.
But these, alas! could not a Husband move,
Could not perswade his barbarous Soul to love.
Her shining Qualities glar'd much too bright,
They shew'd those Vices he had hid in Night.
Provok'd, and blushing at the shameful View,
He at the guiltless Cause invenom'd Arrows threw.
Love fled, affrighted, from his Savage Breast,
A Place too cruel for so kind a Guest.
The gentle God to Paphian Shrines retir'd,
And there his Goddess Mother's Aid requir'd:
They join'd their Skill, their utmost Pow'r they try'd;
But he both them, and all their Arts defy'd,
Stood unconcern'd while his fair Princess dy'd,
By him destroy'd, who shou'd have sav'd her Life;
O Wretch! unworthy of so good a Wife:
Inhuman Prince, her Charms had Tygers mov'd,
She'd been for them, by fiercest Lions lov'd;
Thro' wildest Desarts might have safely stray'd,
And there been by the bestial World obey'd,
By none, but treacherous Man, have ever been betray'd.
Virtue's no Shield, it rather does expose;
The Bad are still the Good's inveterate Foes.
Merit in them does always Envy raise,
They hate the Persons they are forc'd to praise.","","""Love fled, affrighted, from his Savage Breast, / A Place too cruel for so kind a Guest.""",4150,,"Searching ""breast"" and ""guest"" HDIS (Poetry)",2006-03-15 00:00:00 UTC,"","",Inhabitants
2009-09-14 19:35:29 UTC,11022,"Whilst Our dear Soldier in th'Iberian Fields
The Noble Harvest reaps, that Honour yields;
The Muse salutes Thee, (she that saw from far
Thy coming Glories,) Future Hope of War.
What may not growing Tyrants dread from thee,
Thou early Champion of true Liberty?
When at the Head of Armies Thou shalt show,
What thou hast learnt under Great Marlborough;
Marlbrô, whose Fame thro' the wide Globe has flown,
And every Country fill'd, except his Own.
If midst of Thoughts that crowd into thy Mind,
The Care of absent Friends a Place can find,
Retire a while from Warlike Noise and Throng
Into thy inmost Tent, and listen to my Song.","","""If midst of Thoughts that crowd into thy Mind, / The Care of absent Friends a Place can find, / Retire a while from Warlike Noise and Throng / Into thy inmost Tent, and listen to my Song.""",4235,,"Searching ""mind"" and ""crowd in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-03-07 00:00:00 UTC,•I've included twice: Crowd and Tent,"",Inhabitants
2013-11-04 01:34:38 UTC,11213,"Here let the Muse perform the painter's art,
And strike the picture fo my face and heart.
Poetry is called the image of the mind,
In mine my soul and body both are joined:
Large is my forehead made, not wond'rous fair,
But room enough for all the Muses there;
Full are my eyes, and of a harmless blue,
As if no wound they made, no dart they knew;
My eyebrows circling o'er a shade bestow,
Veiling the dullness of the eye below;
Nature so niggard in the upper part,
Fell to my lips, and gave a dash of art:
Oft have I heard her faithful lover swear
That Poetry and Love were shining there;
Even my white teeth, but rarely shown,
In life I've little cause for smiling known;
The loss of friends fell on my tender years,
Dashed every hope, and turned my smiles to tears;
A gloomy sweetness on my features hung,
Sorrows my pen, and trembles on my tongue;
Slow is its speech, and with no music fraught,
Wronging the richness of my soul's best thought.
(ll. 1-22, p. 86)","","""Large is my forehead made, not wond'rous fair, / But room enough for all the Muses there.""",4287,,Reading,2003-10-23 00:00:00 UTC,•This record belongs in both 'Population' and 'Architecture. I've put it both places.,"",Inhabitants
2009-09-14 19:38:23 UTC,13426,"Say, in what gentle Sounds, what healing Strain,
The friendly Muse shall sooth the wounded Swain?
Thy self, the Muses Servant, best may know
To mourn in moving Verse the latent Woe:
Such Verse where Fear and humble Passion speak,
Where crowding Thoughts in soft Confusion break,
With falt'ring Eloquence the Fair might move,
Tho' cold as Northern Snows to mutual Love.
Tho' that perhaps thou hast in vain essay'd:
The Muse, at best, is but a faithless Aid;
So Princes by Auxiliars are betray'd.
Lonely thou wander'st where the sounding Stones
Of Balliol's Walls return thy hollow Groans;
Or where Severus' Work describes the Bound
Of Roman Conquests on the British Ground.
The ruin'd Pile stood threatning o'er the Waste;
Prodigious Monument of Greatness past!
Hither perhaps the pensive Lover goes,
To shun his chearful Friends, and speak his Woes.
How art thou chang'd? Thou! who wert always known,
With modest Wit our temp'rate Mirth to crown.
What? Cannot Politicks and deep Debate
What menaces the Church, or shakes the State,
How great Eugenius clouds the waning Moon,
What Spain intends, or they who drink the Rhone,
From thy unquiet Breast these Cares remove?
This 'tis, unhappy Youth! to be in Love.","","""Such Verse where Fear and humble Passion speak, / Where crowding Thoughts in soft Confusion break""",5005,,"Searching ""thought"" and ""crowd"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-03-07 00:00:00 UTC,"","",Inhabitants
2014-07-02 15:27:29 UTC,24124,"Falsly, the Mortal Part we blame
Of our deprest, and pond'rous Frame,
Which, till the First degrading Sin
Let Thee, its dull Attendant, in,
Still with the Other did comply,
Nor clogg'd the Active Soul, dispos'd to fly,
And range the Mansions of it's native Sky.
(p. 89)","","""Falsly, the Mortal Part we blame / Of our deprest, and pond'rous Frame, / Which, till the First degrading Sin / Let Thee, its dull Attendant, in, / Still with the Other did comply, / Nor clogg'd the Active Soul, dispos'd to fly, / And range the Mansions of it's native Sky.""",7954,,Searching in ECCO-TCP,2014-07-02 15:27:29 UTC,"","",Inhabitants