work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
4056,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-05-31 00:00:00 UTC,"Urit me Patriæ Decor, &c.
The beauty of my native land
Immortal love inspires;
I burn, I burn with strong desires,
And sigh, and wait the high command.
There glides the moon her shining way,
And shoots my heart thro' with a silver ray,
Upward my heart aspires:
A thousand lamps of golden light
Hung high, in vaulted azure, charm my sight,
And wink and beckon with their amorous fires,
O ye fair glories of my heav'nly home,
Bright centinels who guard my Father's court,
Where all the happy minds resort,
When will my Father's chariot come?
Must ye for ever walk the ethereal round?
For ever see the mourner lie
An exile of the sky,
A pris'ner of the ground?
Descend some shining servants from on high,
Build me a hasty tomb;
A grassy turf will raise my head;
The neighbouring lilies dress my bed;
And shed a cheap perfume.
Here I put off the chains of death,
My soul too long has worn:
Friends, I forbid one groaning breath,
Or tear to wet my urn;
Raphael, behold me all undrest,
Here gently lay this flesh to rest;
Then mount, and lead the path unknown,
Swift I pursue thee, flaming guide, on pinions of my own.",2009-03-23,10498,"","""There glides the moon her shining way, / And shoots my heart thro' with a silver ray.""","",2009-09-14 19:35:02 UTC,I've included the entire poem. Book I. Sacred to Devotion and Piety
4090,"","Found searching ""fancy"" and ""guest"" in HDIS (Poetry); text from to ECCO-TCP",2006-03-14 00:00:00 UTC,"MADAM, There's nothing here that's free
From wearisome Anxiety:
And the whole Round of Mortal Joys
With short possession tires and cloys:
'Tis a dull Circle that we tread
Just from the Window to the Bed,
We rise to see and to be seen,
Gaze on the World a while, and then
We Yawn and Stretch to Sleep again.
But FANCY, that uneasie Guest
Still holds a Lodging in our Beast;
She finds or frames Vexations still,
Her self the greatest Plague we feel.
(pp. 189-190 in 1706 ed.)",2014-02-07,10536,"From Book II. Sacred to Virtue, Honour, and Friendship
Note variant in 1810: ""Varia"" for ""Madam""","""But FANCY, that unease Guest / Still holds a Lodging in our Beast; / She finds or frames Vexations still, / Her self the greatest Plague we feel.""",Inhabitants,2014-02-07 15:50:34 UTC,""
4555,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-05-04 00:00:00 UTC,"[1]Tell me, some God, whence does this Change arise;
Why gentle Sleep forsakes my weary Eyes?
Why, turning often, all the tedious Night
In Pain I lie, and watch the springing Light?--
What cruel Dæmon haunts my tortur'd Mind?
Sure, if 'twere Love, I shou'd th'Invader find;
Unless disguis'd he lurks, the crafty Boy,
With silent Arts Ingenious to destroy.
Alas! 'tis so--'tis fix'd the secret Dart;
I feel the Tyrant ravaging my Heart.
Then, shall I yield; or th'Infant Flame oppose?
I yield!--Resistance wou'd increase my Woes:
For struggling Slaves a sharper Doom sustain,
Than such as stoop Obedient to the Chain.
I own thy Pow'r, Almighty Love! I'm thine;
With pinion'd Hands behold me here resign!
Let this Submission then my Life obtain;
Small Praise 'twill be, if thus unarm'd I'm slain.
Go, join thy Mother's Doves; with Myrtle braid thy Hair;
The God of War Himself a Chariot shall prepare;
Then Thou Triumphant thro' the Shouting Throng
Shalt ride, and move with Art the willing Birds along;
While Captive Youths and Maids, in solemn State
Adorn the Scene, and on thy Triumph wait.
There I, a later Conquest of thy Bow,
In Chains will follow too; and as I go,
To pitying Eyes the new-made Wound will show.
Next, all that dare Love's Sov'reign Pow'r defy,
In Fetters bound inglorious shall pass by:
All shall submit to thee--Th'applauding Crowd
Shall lift their Hands, and sing thy Praise aloud.
Soft Looks shall in thy Equipage appear,
With am'rous Play, Mistake, and jealous Fear.
Be this thy Guard, Great Love!--be this thy Train;
Since these extend o'er Men and Gods thy Reign;
But robb'd of these, thy Pow'r is weak and vain.
From Heav'n thy Mother shall the Pomp survey,
And smiling, scatter fragrant Show'rs of Roses in thy way;
Whilst Thou, array'd in thy unrivall'd Pride,
On Golden Wheels, all Gold thy Self, shalt ride:
Thy spreading Wings shall richest Di'monds wear,
And Gems shall sparkle in thy lovely Hair.
Thus passing by, thy Arm shall hurl around
Ten Thousand Fires, Ten Thousand Hearts shall wound.
This is thy Practice, Love, and this thy Gain;
From this thou canst not, if thou wou'dst, refrain;
Since e'en thy Presence, with prolifick Heat,
Does reach the Heart, and active Flames create.
From Conquer'd India, so the[2] Jovial God,
Drawn o'er the Plains by harness'd Tigers, rode.
Then since, Great Love, I take a willing Place
Amidst thy Spoils, the Sacred Show to grace;
O cease to wound, and let thy fatal Store
Of piercing Shafts be spent on me no more.
No more, too pow'rful in my Charmer's Eyes,
Torment a Slave, that for her Beauty dies;
Or look in Smiles from thence, and I shall be
A Slave no longer, but a God, like Thee!",,11971,"•Note 1 gives, ""In Imitation of OVID, Amorum Lib. I. Eleg. 2."" Note 2: ""BACCHUS""
•I've included twice: Haunting and Demon",""" What cruel Dæmon haunts my tortur'd Mind? / Sure, if 'twere Love, I shou'd th'Invader find;""","",2009-09-14 19:36:27 UTC,I've included the entire poem
4555,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-05-04 00:00:00 UTC," Tell me, some God, whence does this Change arise;
Why gentle Sleep forsakes my weary Eyes?
Why, turning often, all the tedious Night
In Pain I lie, and watch the springing Light?--
What cruel Dæmon haunts my tortur'd Mind?
Sure, if 'twere Love, I shou'd th'Invader find;
Unless disguis'd he lurks, the crafty Boy,
With silent Arts Ingenious to destroy.
Alas! 'tis so--'tis fix'd the secret Dart;
I feel the Tyrant ravaging my Heart.
Then, shall I yield; or th'Infant Flame oppose?
I yield!--Resistance wou'd increase my Woes:
For struggling Slaves a sharper Doom sustain,
Than such as stoop Obedient to the Chain.
I own thy Pow'r, Almighty Love! I'm thine;
With pinion'd Hands behold me here resign!
Let this Submission then my Life obtain;
Small Praise 'twill be, if thus unarm'd I'm slain.
Go, join thy Mother's Doves; with Myrtle braid thy Hair;
The God of War Himself a Chariot shall prepare;
Then Thou Triumphant thro' the Shouting Throng
Shalt ride, and move with Art the willing Birds along;
While Captive Youths and Maids, in solemn State
Adorn the Scene, and on thy Triumph wait.
There I, a later Conquest of thy Bow,
In Chains will follow too; and as I go,
To pitying Eyes the new-made Wound will show.
Next, all that dare Love's Sov'reign Pow'r defy,
In Fetters bound inglorious shall pass by:
All shall submit to thee--Th'applauding Crowd
Shall lift their Hands, and sing thy Praise aloud.
Soft Looks shall in thy Equipage appear,
With am'rous Play, Mistake, and jealous Fear.
Be this thy Guard, Great Love!--be this thy Train;
Since these extend o'er Men and Gods thy Reign;
But robb'd of these, thy Pow'r is weak and vain.
From Heav'n thy Mother shall the Pomp survey,
And smiling, scatter fragrant Show'rs of Roses in thy way;
Whilst Thou, array'd in thy unrivall'd Pride,
On Golden Wheels, all Gold thy Self, shalt ride:
Thy spreading Wings shall richest Di'monds wear,
And Gems shall sparkle in thy lovely Hair.
Thus passing by, thy Arm shall hurl around
Ten Thousand Fires, Ten Thousand Hearts shall wound.
This is thy Practice, Love, and this thy Gain;
From this thou canst not, if thou wou'dst, refrain;
Since e'en thy Presence, with prolifick Heat,
Does reach the Heart, and active Flames create.
From Conquer'd India, so the Jovial God,
Drawn o'er the Plains by harness'd Tigers, rode.
Then since, Great Love, I take a willing Place
Amidst thy Spoils, the Sacred Show to grace;
O cease to wound, and let thy fatal Store
Of piercing Shafts be spent on me no more.
No more, too pow'rful in my Charmer's Eyes,
Torment a Slave, that for her Beauty dies;
Or look in Smiles from thence, and I shall be
A Slave no longer, but a God, like Thee!",2011-07-15,11974,"•Note 1 gives, ""In Imitation of OVID, Amorum Lib. I. Eleg. 2."" Note 2: ""BACCHUS""
","""Alas! 'tis so--'tis fix'd the secret Dart; / I feel the Tyrant [Love] ravaging my Heart.""","",2011-07-15 14:10:26 UTC,I've included the entire poem
4559,"","Searching ""breast"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-13 00:00:00 UTC," If o'er the Steepy Alps he go,
Vast Mountains of eternal Snow,
Or where fam'd Ganges and Hydaspes flow;
If o'er parch'd Libya's desart Land,
Where, threatning from afar,
Th'affrighted Traveller
Encounters moving Hills of Sand;
No Sense of Danger can disturb his Rest;
He fears no human Force, nor savage Beast;
Impenetrable Courage steels his manly Breast.",,11979,•Appears twice: Duncombe uses in his Horace. ,"""Impenetrable Courage steels his manly Breast""",Metal,2009-09-14 19:36:28 UTC,""
6123,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""Steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-11 00:00:00 UTC,"He forms our generals for the field,
With all their dreadful skill;
Gives them his awful sword to wield,
And makes their hearts of steel.",2012-07-02,16167,Checked in ECCO and found on page 51 of 1719 edition. ,"""He forms our generals for the field, / With all their dreadful skill; / Gives them his awful sword to wield, / And makes their hearts of steel.""",Metal,2012-07-02 20:57:57 UTC,""
7282,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""beast"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2012-07-02 20:49:36 UTC,"My soul is like a wilderness,
Where beasts of midnight howl;
There the sad raven finds her place,
And there the screaming owl.",,19838,"","""My soul is like a wilderness, / Where beasts of midnight howl; / There the sad raven finds her place, / And there the screaming owl.""",Animals,2014-06-22 17:21:04 UTC,""