work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context 7984,"",Reading,2014-07-25 18:18:55 UTC,"And yet these passions which, on nature's plan,
Call out the hero while they form the man,
Warp'd from the sacred line that nature gave,
As meanly ruin as they nobly save.
The' etherial soul that Heaven itself inspires
With all its virtues, and with all its fires,
Led by these sirens to some wild extreme,
Sets in a vapour when it ought to beam;
Like a Dutch sun that in the' autumnal sky
Looks through a fog, and rises but to die.
But he whose active, unencumber'd mind
Leaves this low earth and all its mists behind,
Fond in a pure unclouded sky to glow,
Like the bright orb that rises on the Po,
O'er half the globe with steady splendour shines,
And ripens virtues as it ripens mines.

(p. 154)",,24301,"","""But he whose active, unencumber'd mind / Leaves this low earth and all its mists behind, / Fond in a pure unclouded sky to glow, / Like the bright orb that rises on the Po, / O'er half the globe with steady splendour shines, / And ripens virtues as it ripens mines.""",Metal,2014-07-25 18:18:55 UTC,""