text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"I am the man who long have known
The strength and rage of inbred sin;
My soul is dead, my heart is stone,
A cage of birds and beasts unclean,
A den of thieves, a dire abode
Of dragons, but no house of God.",2012-04-29 15:19:26 UTC,"""My soul is dead, my heart is stone, / A cage of birds and beasts unclean, / A den of thieves, a dire abode / Of dragons, but no house of God.""",2012-04-29 15:19:26 UTC,"","",,Beasts,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""bird"" in HDIS (Poetry)",19734,3330
"Imagination is the Paphian shop,
Where feeble Happiness, like Vulcan, lame,
Bids foul Ideas, in their dark recess,
And hot as hell, (which kindled the black fires,)
With wanton art, those fatal arrows form
Which murder all thy time, health, wealth, and fame.
Wouldst thou receive them, other Thoughts there are,
On angel-wing, descending from above,
Which these, with art Divine, would counterwork,
And form celestial armour for thy peace.
(p. 175, ll. 994-1003)",2013-09-02 03:20:49 UTC,"""Imagination is the Paphian shop, / Where feeble Happiness, like Vulcan, lame, / Bids foul Ideas, in their dark recess, / And hot as hell, (which kindled the black fires,) / With wanton art, those fatal arrows form / Which murder all thy time, health, wealth, and fame.""",2013-09-02 03:20:49 UTC,Night the Eighth,"",,Metal,"",Reading,22640,7665