text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"But, for the day of trial is at hand,
And the whole fortunes of a mighty land
Are staked on me, and all their weal or woe
Must from my good or evil conduct flow,
Will I, or can I, on a fair review,
As I assume that name, deserve it too?
Have I well weigh'd the great, the noble part
I'm now to play? have I explored my heart,
That labyrinth of fraud, that deep, dark cell,
Where, unsuspected, e'en by me, may dwell
Ten thousand follies? have I found out there
What I am fit to do, and what to bear?
Have I traced every passion to its rise,
Nor spared one lurking seed of treach'rous vice?
Have I familiar with my nature grown?
And am I fairly to myself made known?",2012-01-12 20:30:43 UTC,"""Have I well weigh'd the great, the noble part / I'm now to play? have I explored my heart, / That labyrinth of fraud, that deep, dark cell, / Where, unsuspected, e'en by me, may dwell / Ten thousand follies?""",2005-08-16 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2012-01-12,Inhabitants,•I've included twice: Cell and Dwelling,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),14013,5202
"Ne'er could he feel how truly man is blest
In blessing those around him; in his breast,
Crowded with follies, Honour found no room;
Mark'd for a coward in his mother's womb,
He was too proud without affronts to live,
Too timorous to punish or forgive.",2009-09-14 19:39:45 UTC,"""[I]n his breast, / Crowded with follies, Honour found no room""",2006-03-08 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Inhabitants,"","Searching ""breast"" and ""crowd"" in HDIS (Poetry)",14020,5202
"
With these grave fops, who (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Ensured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not, Heaven forbid it! waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why,--
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding objects force;
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen,
When I say wit, I wisdom mean)
Where, (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.",2012-05-29 14:09:21 UTC,"""(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen, / When I say wit, I wisdom mean) / Where, (such the practice of the court, / Which legal precedents support) / Not one idea is allow'd / To pass unquestion'd in the crowd, / But ere it can obtain the grace / Of holding in the brain a place, / Before the chief in congregation / Must stand a strict examination.""",2012-05-29 14:09:21 UTC,Book IV,"",,Court and Inhabitants,"",Reading,19786,5175
"C. Ah! what, my Lord, hath private life to do
With things of public Nature? why to view
Would You thus cruelly those scenes unfold,
Which, without pain and horror to behold,
Must speak me something more, or less than man;
Which Friends may pardon, but I never can?
Look back! a Thought which borders on despair,
Which human Nature must, yet cannot bear.
'Tis not the babbling of a busy world,
Where Praise and Censure are at random hurl'd,
Which can the meanest of my thoughts controul,
Or shake one settled purpose of my Soul.
Free and at large might their wild curses roam,
If All, if All alas! were well at home.
No--'tis the tale which angry Conscience tells,
When She with more than tragic horror swells
Each circumstance of guilt; when stern, but true,
She brings bad actions forth into review;
And, like the dread hand-writing on the wall,
Bids late Remorse awake at Reason's call,
Arm'd at all points bids Scorpion Vengeance pass,
And to the mind holds up Reflexion's glass,
The mind, which starting, heaves the heart-felt groan,
And hates that form She knows to be her own.
(pp. 11-12)",2013-08-22 16:53:21 UTC,"""No--'tis the tale which angry Conscience tells, / When She with more than tragic horror swells / Each circumstance of guilt; when stern, but true, / She brings bad actions forth into review; / And, like the dread hand-writing on the wall, / Bids late Remorse awake at Reason's call, / Arm'd at all points bids Scorpion Vengeance pass, / And to the mind holds up Reflexion's glass, / The mind, which starting, heaves the heart-felt groan, / And hates that form She knows to be her own.""",2013-08-18 17:51:58 UTC,"","",,Mirror,"",ECCO-TCP,22381,5192