work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
4641,"","Searching ""stamp"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""soul""; text from ECCO-TCP",2005-04-07 00:00:00 UTC,"III.
From thy blest Wounds our Life we draw;
Thy all-atoning Blood
Daily we drink with trembling Awe;
Thy Flesh our daily Food.
Come, LORD, thy sov'reign Aid impart,
Here make thy Likeness shine!
Stamp thy whole Image on our Heart,
And all our Souls be Thine!
(p. 190)",,12220,"","""Stamp thy whole Image on our Heart, / And all our Souls be Thine!""",Impressions,2014-02-10 05:32:14 UTC,""
4754,"",HDIS (Poetry),2004-08-09 00:00:00 UTC,"Wealth to acquire is most Men's sov'reign Care,
And then a Wife to bring that Wealth an Heir.
In Tracts of Waste th'improving Plowshare's seen,
And barren Heaths in fruitful Tilth are green.
Who's satisfy'd, however small his Store,
Should scorn to throw away a Wish for more.
No stately Equipage, no splendid Plate,
No sumptuous House, no Rent-roll of Estate,
E'er gave the fever'd Blood a Moment's Rest,
Or pluck'd one Thorn from out its Master's Breast.
Who thinks to know the use of Joy and Wealth,
Must first be well in Mind, and strong in Health.
Who lives in Fear, or longs with much for more,
Has just such Pleasure from his useless Store,
As Age-dim Eyes from Painting can receive,
Or Musick's Strains to Ears impostum'd give.
The tainted Cask sours all it does contain;
Shun Pleasures, ever bought too dear with Pain.
The Wretch that covets, always lives in Want,
Stint your Desire, Heav'n has no more to grant.
The envious fall to others Joy a Prey,
And as their Neighbours thrive, they pine away;
The Breasts that's Envy's Slave with Pains is prick'd
Beyond what fell Inquisitors inflict.
He who his rising Anger can't controul,
Shall rue the Sallies of his heated Soul,
Shall wish, in Agony of Heart, undone
What Passion will'd in absent Reason's Throne.
Anger's a short-liv'd Madness, and with Sway,
Rules Sovereign if not tutor'd to obey.
Keep strongly in the hot rebellious Mind,
Be it with Bits restrain'd, and Curbs confin'd.
The docile Horse in prime of Years is broke
To bear the Rein, or stretch beneath the Yoke.
The Whelp that hunts the Deer Skin round the Court,
Staunch loves the Field, nor ever quits the Sport.
Drink early then, my Friend, at Reason's Bowl,
And fill with wholesome Draughts thy youthful Soul.
If Wine or Gall the Recent Vessel stains,
Each Scent alike the faithful Cask retains.
(pp. 123, 125, 127)
",2013-06-10,12581,•Why didn't I find this while searching reason and throne? ,"""He who his rising Anger can't controul, / Shall rue the Sallies of his heated Soul, / Shall wish, in Agony of Heart, undone / What Passion will'd in absent Reason's Throne.""","",2013-06-11 02:08:16 UTC,""
4754,"",HDIS (Poetry),2004-08-09 00:00:00 UTC,"Wealth to acquire is most Men's sov'reign Care,
And then a Wife to bring that Wealth an Heir.
In Tracts of Waste th'improving Plowshare's seen,
And barren Heaths in fruitful Tilth are green.
Who's satisfy'd, however small his Store,
Should scorn to throw away a Wish for more.
No stately Equipage, no splendid Plate,
No sumptuous House, no Rent-roll of Estate,
E'er gave the fever'd Blood a Moment's Rest,
Or pluck'd one Thorn from out its Master's Breast.
Who thinks to know the use of Joy and Wealth,
Must first be well in Mind, and strong in Health.
Who lives in Fear, or longs with much for more,
Has just such Pleasure from his useless Store,
As Age-dim Eyes from Painting can receive,
Or Musick's Strains to Ears impostum'd give.
The tainted Cask sours all it does contain;
Shun Pleasures, ever bought too dear with Pain.
The Wretch that covets, always lives in Want,
Stint your Desire, Heav'n has no more to grant.
The envious fall to others Joy a Prey,
And as their Neighbours thrive, they pine away;
The Breasts that's Envy's Slave with Pains is prick'd
Beyond what fell Inquisitors inflict.
He who his rising Anger can't controul,
Shall rue the Sallies of his heated Soul,
Shall wish, in Agony of Heart, undone
What Passion will'd in absent Reason's Throne.
Anger's a short-liv'd Madness, and with Sway,
Rules Sovereign if not tutor'd to obey.
Keep strongly in the hot rebellious Mind,
Be it with Bits restrain'd, and Curbs confin'd.
The docile Horse in prime of Years is broke
To bear the Rein, or stretch beneath the Yoke.
The Whelp that hunts the Deer Skin round the Court,
Staunch loves the Field, nor ever quits the Sport.
Drink early then, my Friend, at Reason's Bowl,
And fill with wholesome Draughts thy youthful Soul.
If Wine or Gall the Recent Vessel stains,
Each Scent alike the faithful Cask retains.
(pp. 123, 125, 127)",,12582,"","""Anger's a short-liv'd Madness, and with Sway, / Rules Sovereign if not tutor'd to obey""","",2013-06-11 02:09:53 UTC,""
4759,Walpole,Searching in HDIS (Poetry); found also in ECCO,2005-06-07 00:00:00 UTC,"Thrice shou'd Rebellion rear her Head,
With Front of Brass, but Heart of Lead,
Still bent upon Restoring;
Before my Sons thrice shall she fly,
Thrice at their Feet in vain shall lie
Wives for their Lords imploring.
(p. 275 in Whaley, p. 10 in Browne's reprint)",,12589,Why reprinted and commented on by Browne in 1765. Authorship may be confused? (LION lists as anonymous but also placed in Whaley's Poems?),"""Thrice shou'd Rebellion rear her Head, / With Front of Brass, but Heart of Lead""",Metal,2014-02-22 20:34:17 UTC,""
4760,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry); confirmed in ECCO.",2005-06-12 00:00:00 UTC,"Let num'rous Acres others Hopes employ,
Let Heaps of hoarded Gold give others Joy,
Whom neigh'bring Fear for ever keeps awake,
Or whose short Slumbers early Trumpets break;
Let Ease, by Poverty begot, be mine,
While on my Hearth the scanty Faggots shine,
And my own Hand sets down the swelling Vine.
Let but each Year afford me fresh supplies,
And faithful to my Hopes my Crops arise;
For to each Stock or Stone I bend my Brow,
That bears the hallow'd, tho' neglected, Bough;
And the first Fruit with which my Branches nod,
Falls ever sacred to the rural God.
Nor be the Gift to Ceres' Temple small,
But the full Sheaf hang trembling on the Wall;
And in the Garden let Priapus stand
To scare the Birds with his red threat'ning Wand.
Ye too, once Guardians of a happier Plain,
Now scarce employ'd to watch my small Domain,
Ye Lares, yet ye shall your Rites obtain.
Then the fat Calf before your Altars bled,
Suffice it now that the Lamb's Blood be shed;
An ample Victim from my lessen'd Mead.
The Lamb; round whom the rustick Lad and Lass
Shall briskly trip it o'er th' unbending Grass,
And Io! Ceres, sing, and crown the sparkling Glass,
Content I live now on the humble plain,
Nor envy toilsome Riches got with Pain;
While the Palm guards me from the Dog Star's Heat,
And the cool Stream runs murm'ring at my Feet.
Without a Blush I oft bear home the Lamb
Shiv'ring and cold forsaken of its Dam;
Nor sometimes scorn to hold the Plowman's Rein,
And force the Oxen thro' the stubborn Plain.
Oh! spare ye Wolves, and Thieves, my little Stock,
Your Appetites require the rich Man's Flock.
To Shepherd Pan I sacrifice each Year,
And the next Shrine to peaceful Pales rear,
On humble Tables serv'd, and earthen Ware:
On earthen Ware, such was the Ancients Way,
And such they fashion'd of the yielding Clay.
I ask nor Gold nor Silver on my Board,
Nor Barns with Corn by thrifty Grandsires stor'd,
Let my small Table be but neatly spread,
And give me, Gods, a clean, tho' homely Bed;
And in my Arms when charmig Delia lies,
Let the Sea roar and blust'ring Winds arise,
Her Breasts my Port, my Guardian Stars her Eyes.
How sweet those furious Blasts and Tempests prove,
That make each Kiss come warmer from my Love?
How do thick Show'rs improve my silent Joy,
And aid the Sleep they threaten to destroy?
This be my Fate.--Wealthy the Wretch shou'd be
That bears the Wind, and Rain, and raging Sea.
Rather be lost all Wealth; all India burn
Than any Nymph should for my Absence mourn,
In dreadful War let great Messalla shine,
And on the Land or Main his Battles join;
Me the soft Fair agreeably detains,
A Captive blest I triumph in her Chains.
Thee only Delia, thee I seek, not Fame,
To live with thee I'll bear a Coward's Name:
May I thy Face in my last Hour behold,
May I thy Hand with dying Farewel hold;
Thou'lt weep and place me, Delia, on the Pyre,
And with thy Tears a while retard the Fire:
Thou'lt weep, I know thy gentle Soul, my Fair,
No senseless Steel, no rugged Flint dwells there.
From that sad Dirge no Youth unmov'd shall go,
No Nymph not bear away a friendly Woe.
But mod'rate then thy Sorrow, Oh my Fair,
Nor strike in Grief thy swelling Breasts, nor dare
To violate thy Cheeks or flowing Hair.",,12590,•I've included twice: Flint and Steel,"""Thou'lt weep, I know thy gentle Soul, my Fair, / No senseless Steel, no rugged Flint dwells there.""",Metal,2014-02-22 20:45:38 UTC,""
7237,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""bird"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2012-04-29 15:35:55 UTC,"My heart and flesh cry out for God:
There would I fix my soul's abode,
As birds that in the altars nest;
There would I all my young ones bring,
An offering to my God and King,
And in Thy courts for ever rest.
",,19735,"","""My heart and flesh cry out for God: / There would I fix my soul's abode, / As birds that in the altars nest.""",Beasts,2012-04-29 15:36:08 UTC,""
4640,"",Reading in ECCO-TCP,2014-02-09 19:19:02 UTC,"IV.
Unwearied may I this pursue,
Dauntless to the high Prize aspire;
Hourly within my Breast renew
This holy Flame, this heav'nly Fire;
And Day and Night be all my Care
To guard this sacred Treasure there.
(156)",,23398,"","""Hourly within my Breast renew / This holy Flame, this heav'nly Fire; / And Day and Night be all my Care / To guard this sacred Treasure there.""",Coinage,2014-02-09 19:19:02 UTC,""
4640,"",Reading in ECCO-TCP,2014-02-09 19:21:16 UTC,"VI.
More hard than Marble is my Heart,
And foul with Sins of deepest Stain:
But Thou the mighty Saviour art,
Nor flow'd thy cleansing Blood in vain.
Ah! soften, melt this Rock, and may
Thy Blood wash all these Stains away.
(p. 157)",,23399,"","""More hard than Marble is my Heart, / And foul with Sins of deepest Stain: / But Thou the mighty Saviour art, / Nor flow'd thy cleansing Blood in vain. / Ah! soften, melt this Rock, and may / Thy Blood wash all these Stains away.""","",2014-02-09 19:21:16 UTC,""
4640,"",Reading in ECCO-TCP,2014-02-09 19:22:24 UTC,"VIII.
O that I as a little Child
May follow Thee, nor ever rest
Till sweetly Thou hast pour'd thy mild
And lowly Mind into my Breast.
Nor may we ever parted be
Till I become one Spirit with Thee.
(p. 157)",,23400,"","""O that I as a little Child / May follow Thee, nor ever rest / Till sweetly Thou hast pour'd thy mild / And lowly Mind into my Breast.""","",2014-02-09 19:22:46 UTC,""
4641,"",Reading in ECCO-TCP,2014-02-10 05:31:50 UTC,"II.
As Incense to thy Throne above
O let our Pray'rs arise!
O wing with Flames of Holy Love
Our living Sacrifice.
Stir up thy Strength, O LORD of Might,
Our willing Breasts inspire:
Fill our whole Souls with heav'nly Light,
Melt with Seraphick Fire.
(p. 190)",,23403,"","""Fill our whole Souls with heav'nly Light, / Melt with Seraphick Fire.""","",2014-02-10 05:31:50 UTC,""