work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3957,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-04-06 00:00:00 UTC,"He paused a while, stood silent in his mood;
For yet his rage was boiling in his blood:
But soon his tender mind the impression felt,
As softest metals are not slow to melt,
And pity soonest runs in gentle minds:
Then reasons with himself; and first he finds
His passion cast a mist before his sense,
And either made, or magnified, the offence.
Offence! of what? to whom? who judged the cause?
The prisoner freed himself by Nature's laws:
Born free, he sought his right; the man he freed
Was perjured, but his love excused the deed:
Thus pondering, he looked under with his eyes,
And saw the women's tears, and heard their cries;
Which moved compassion more: he shook his head,
And softly sighing, to himself he said:--
(p. 598, ll. 328-43)",,10310,"John Dryden. Ed. Keith Walker Oxford and New York: Oxford UP, 1987.","""As softest metals are not slow to melt, / And pity soonest runs in gentle minds:""",Metal,2009-09-14 19:34:53 UTC,Book II
3972,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-05-12 00:00:00 UTC,"What not his father's care, nor tutor's art,
Could plant with pains in his unpolished heart,
The best instructor, love, at once inspired,
As barren grounds to fruitfulness are fired;
Love taught him shame, and shame, with love at strife,
Soon taught the sweet civilities of life.
His gross material soul at once could find
Somewhat in her excelling all her kind;
Exciting a desire till then unknown,
Somewhat unfound, or found in her alone.
This made the first impression in his mind,
Above, but just above, the brutal kind.
For beasts can like, but not distinguish too,
Nor their own liking by reflection know;
Nor why they like or this or t'other face,
Or judge of this, or that peculiar grace;
But love in gross, and stupidly admire;
As flies, allured by light, approach the fire.
Thus our man-beast, advancing by degrees,
First likes the whole, then separates what he sees;
On several parts a several praise bestows,
The ruby lips, the well-proportioned nose,
The snowy skin, the raven-glossy hair,
The dimpled cheek, the forehead rising fair,
And, even in sleep itself, a smiling air.
From thence his eyes descending viewed the rest,
Her plump round arms, white hands, and heaving breast.
Long on the last he dwelt, though every part
A pointed arrow sped to pierce his heart.",2011-06-05,10311,•INTEREST. Continues differentiating animals from men: animals without judgment. ,"""This made the first impression in his mind / Above, but just above, the brutal kind.""",Impressions,2011-06-06 03:04:50 UTC,Translations from Boccace
3963,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-05-31 00:00:00 UTC,"God, as a fierce, relentless Foe appears,
And in his Fury me in pieces tears.
He grinds his raging Teeth, and from his Eyes
A Flame against me keen, as Light'ning flies.
My Friends elated with prodigious Pride,
Stand gaping on me, and my Grief deride.
From distant parts they come, not to asswage
My Anguish, but my Suff'rings to enrage.
God has expos'd me likewise to the Bands
Of fierce invaders from the neighb'ring Lands,
And giv'n me up a Prey to impious hands.
My Dwelling flourish'd, and I liv'd at ease,
With Plenty blest, and the soft Joys of Peace;
When God denounc'd his unexpected War,
And with his Darts did me asunder tare.
Me in his griping Arms th' Almighty took,
And with such mighty force my body shook,
That all my Members were in pieces broke.
He sets me as a mark on rising ground,
And his fierce Archers compass me around.
In Showers of singing Death their Arrows fly,
And in my tortur'd Entrails buried ly.
My Gall, so deep, so mortal is the Wound,
As well as Blood, flows out and stains the Ground.
Black throngs of Woes invade my frighted Soul,
As crowding Billows on each other roll.
Th' Almighty runs upon me in his rage,
As a fierce Gyant eager to engage.
Sackcloth I wear, of Ornaments despoil'd,
And in the Dust my Glory lies defil'd.
My Cheeks with Everlasting Weeping fade,
And on my Eye-lids hangs a dismal shade.",2009-01-20,10313,"","""Black throngs of Woes invade my frighted Soul, / As crowding Billows on each other roll.""","",2009-09-14 19:34:53 UTC,""
3975,"","Searching ""breast"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-13 00:00:00 UTC,"O Soul Seraphick, teach us how we may
Thy Praise adapted to thy worth display:
For who can Merit more? or who enough can pay?
Earth was unworthy thy aspiring view,
Sublimer Objects were reserv'd for you.
Thence nothing mean obtrudes on thy design,
Thy Style is equal to thy Theme Divine,
All Heavenly great, and more than Masculine.
Tho' neither Vernal Bloom, nor Summer's Rose
Their opening Beauties could to Thee disclose:
Tho' Nature's curious Characters which we
Exactly view, were all eras'd to Thee.
Yet Heav'n stood Witness to thy piercing Sight;
Below was Darkness, but Above was Light.
Thy Soul was Brightness all; nor could he stay
In lower Night, and such a want of Day:
But wing'd aloft, from sordid Earth retires
To higher Glory, and his kindred Fires;
Like an unhooded Hawk, who loose to prey,
With open Eyes pursues the Ætherial way.
There, happy Soul, assume thy destin'd place,
And in yon Sphere begin thy glorious race:
That Sphere, which Lucifer did once Disgrace.
Or, if amongst the Laurell'd Heads there be,
A Mansion in the Sky reserv'd for Thee;
There, Ruler of thy Orb, aloft appear,
And rowl with Homer in the brightest Sphere.
To whom Calliope has joyn'd thy Name,
And recompenc'd thy Fortunes with his Fame:
Tho' she (forgive our freedom!) some times flows;
In Lines too rugged, and a-kin to Prose.
When Scope is granted to your Speech and Thought,
Verse with a lively smoothness should be Wrote.
Like some fair Planet thy Majestick Song,
Should move with ease and Sparkle as it rowl'd along.
Like Waller's Muse, who, though inchain'd by Rhyme,
Taught Wondring Poets to keep even Chime.
Harmonious Waller's praise inflames my Breast,
Waller, more sweet and Courtly than the rest
Of Poets, no unmanly Turns pursues,
Rash Errors of an injudicious Muse.
Such Wit, like Lightning, for a while looks gay;
Just gilds the place, and vanishes away.
In one continued blaze he upwards sprung,
Like those Seraphick Flames of which he Sung.
If, Cromwell, he laments thy mighty Fall,
Nature attending Weeps at the great Funeral.
Or if his Muse with joyful Triumph brings,
The Monarch to his ancient Throne; or Sings
Batavians worsted on the Conquer'd Main,
Fleets flying, and Advent'rous Opdam Slain;
Then Rome and Athens to his Song repair,
With Brittish Graces Smiling on his care,
Divinely Charming in a Dress so fair.
As Squadrons in well Marshal'd Order fill,
The Flandrian Plains, and speak no vulgar Skill:
So rank'd is every line, each Sentence such,
No Word is wanting, and no Word's too much.
As Pearls in Gold with their own lustre shine,
The Substance precious, and the Work Divine.
So did his Words his beauteous Thoughts enchase,
Both shone and sparkled with unborrow'd Grace,
A mighty value in a little space.
So the Venusian Clio sung of Old,
When lofty acts in well-chose Phrase she told.
But Rome's aspiring Lyrick mov'd us less,
Sung not so moving, tho' with more success.
O Sacharissa, what could steel thy breast,
To rob the charming Waller of his rest?
To send him murm'ring through the Cypress Grove,
In strains lamenting his Neglected Love.
The attentive Forest did his Grief partake,
And Sympathizing Okes their knotted Branches shake.
Each Nymph, tho' coy, to pity would incline,
And every stubborn Heart was mov'd but Thine.
Hence forth be thou to future Ages known,
Like Niobe, a Monument of Stone.",,10316,•Later version of poem in Poems (1710),"""O Sacharissa, what could steel thy breast, / To rob the charming Waller of his rest?""",Metal,2009-09-14 19:34:53 UTC,""
3978,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-08-16 00:00:00 UTC,"A Cave there is wherein those Nymphs reside
Who all the Realms of Sense and Fancy guide;
Nay some affirm that in the deepest Cell
Imperial Reason's self does not disdain to dwell:
With Living Reed 'tis thatch'd and guarded round,
Which mov'd by Winds emit a Silver Sound:
Two Crystal Fountains near its Entrance play,
Wide scatt'ring Golden Streams which ne'er decay,
Two Labyrinths behind harmonious Sounds convey:
Chiefly, within, the Room of State is fam'd
Of rich Mosaick Work divinely fram'd:
Of small Extent to view, 'twill all things hide,
Heav'n's Azure Arch it self not half so wide:
Here all the Arts their sacred Mansion chuse,
Here dwells the Mother of the Heav'n-born Muse:
With wond'rous mystic Figures round 'tis wrought
Inlaid with Fancy, and anneal'd with Thought:
With more than humane Skill depicted here
The various Images of Things appear;
What Was, or Is, or labours yet to Be
Within the Womb of Dark Futurity,
May Stowage in this wondrous Storehouse find,
Yet leave unnumber'd empty Cells behind:
But ah! as fast they come, they fly too fast,
Not Life or Happiness are more in haste:
Only the First Great Mind himself can stay
The Fugitives, and at one Glance survey;
But those whom he disdains not to befriend,
Uncommon Souls, who nearest Heav'n ascend
Far more, at once, than others comprehend:
Whate'er within this sacred Hall you find,
Whate'er will lodge in your capacious Mind
Let Judgment sort, and skilful Method bind;
And as from these you draw your antient Store
Daily supply the Magazine with more.
Furnish'd with such Materials he'll excel
Who when he works is sure to work 'em well;
This Art alone, as Nature that bestows,
And in Perfection both, th' accomplish'd Verser knows.
Knows to persuade, and how to speak, and when;
The Rules of Life, and Manners knows and Men:
Those narrow Lines which Good and Ill divide;
And by what Balance Just and Right are try'd:
How Kindred-Things with Things are closely join'd;
How Bodies act, and by what Laws confin'd,
Supported, mov'd and rul'd by th' Universal Mind.
When the moist Kids or burning Sirius rise;
Through what ambiguous Ways Hyperion flies,
And marks our Upper or the Nether Skies.
He knows those Strings to touch with artful Hand
Which rule Mankind, and all the World command:
What moves the Soul, and every secret Cell
Where Pity, Love, and all the Passions dwell.
The Music of his Verse can Anger raise,
Which with a softer Stroak he smooths and lays:
Can Emulation, Terror, all excite,
Compress the Soul with Grief, or swell with vast Delight.
If this you can, your Care you'll well bestow,
And some new Milton or a Spencer grow;
If not, a Poet ne'er expect to be,
Content to Rime, like D---y or like me.",,10320,•REREAD. Interesting passage. Confuses interior and exterior. A metaphor of mind that is not in the mind!,"""Nay some affirm that in the deepest Cell / Imperial Reason's self does not disdain to dwell.""
","",2013-11-13 05:10:37 UTC,""
3978,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-08-16 00:00:00 UTC,"A Cave there is wherein those Nymphs reside
Who all the Realms of Sense and Fancy guide;
Nay some affirm that in the deepest Cell
Imperial Reason's self does not disdain to dwell:
With Living Reed 'tis thatch'd and guarded round,
Which mov'd by Winds emit a Silver Sound:
Two Crystal Fountains near its Entrance play,
Wide scatt'ring Golden Streams which ne'er decay,
Two Labyrinths behind harmonious Sounds convey:
Chiefly, within, the Room of State is fam'd
Of rich Mosaick Work divinely fram'd:
Of small Extent to view, 'twill all things hide,
Heav'n's Azure Arch it self not half so wide:
Here all the Arts their sacred Mansion chuse,
Here dwells the Mother of the Heav'n-born Muse:
With wond'rous mystic Figures round 'tis wrought
Inlaid with Fancy, and anneal'd with Thought:
With more than humane Skill depicted here
The various Images of Things appear;
What Was, or Is, or labours yet to Be
Within the Womb of Dark Futurity,
May Stowage in this wondrous Storehouse find,
Yet leave unnumber'd empty Cells behind:
But ah! as fast they come, they fly too fast,
Not Life or Happiness are more in haste:
Only the First Great Mind himself can stay
The Fugitives, and at one Glance survey;
But those whom he disdains not to befriend,
Uncommon Souls, who nearest Heav'n ascend
Far more, at once, than others comprehend:
Whate'er within this sacred Hall you find,
Whate'er will lodge in your capacious Mind
Let Judgment sort, and skilful Method bind;
And as from these you draw your antient Store
Daily supply the Magazine with more.
Furnish'd with such Materials he'll excel
Who when he works is sure to work 'em well;
This Art alone, as Nature that bestows,
And in Perfection both, th' accomplish'd Verser knows.
Knows to persuade, and how to speak, and when;
The Rules of Life, and Manners knows and Men:
Those narrow Lines which Good and Ill divide;
And by what Balance Just and Right are try'd:
How Kindred-Things with Things are closely join'd;
How Bodies act, and by what Laws confin'd,
Supported, mov'd and rul'd by th' Universal Mind.
When the moist Kids or burning Sirius rise;
Through what ambiguous Ways Hyperion flies,
And marks our Upper or the Nether Skies.
He knows those Strings to touch with artful Hand
Which rule Mankind, and all the World command:
What moves the Soul, and every secret Cell
Where Pity, Love, and all the Passions dwell.
The Music of his Verse can Anger raise,
Which with a softer Stroak he smooths and lays:
Can Emulation, Terror, all excite,
Compress the Soul with Grief, or swell with vast Delight.
If this you can, your Care you'll well bestow,
And some new Milton or a Spencer grow;
If not, a Poet ne'er expect to be,
Content to Rime, like D---y or like me.",,10321,•REREAD. Interesting passage. Confuses interior and exterior.,"""Whate'er within this sacred Hall you find, / Whate'er will lodge in your capacious Mind """,Inhabitant,2009-09-14 19:34:53 UTC,""
3978,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""cell"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""reason""",2005-08-29 00:00:00 UTC,"A Cave there is wherein those Nymphs reside
Who all the Realms of Sense and Fancy guide;
Nay some affirm that in the deepest Cell
Imperial Reason's self does not disdain to dwell:
With Living Reed 'tis thatch'd and guarded round,
Which mov'd by Winds emit a Silver Sound:
Two Crystal Fountains near its Entrance play,
Wide scatt'ring Golden Streams which ne'er decay,
Two Labyrinths behind harmonious Sounds convey:
Chiefly, within, the Room of State is fam'd
Of rich Mosaick Work divinely fram'd:
Of small Extent to view, 'twill all things hide,
Heav'n's Azure Arch it self not half so wide:
Here all the Arts their sacred Mansion chuse,
Here dwells the Mother of the Heav'n-born Muse:
With wond'rous mystic Figures round 'tis wrought
Inlaid with Fancy, and anneal'd with Thought:
With more than humane Skill depicted here
The various Images of Things appear;
What Was, or Is, or labours yet to Be
Within the Womb of Dark Futurity,
May Stowage in this wondrous Storehouse find,
Yet leave unnumber'd empty Cells behind:
But ah! as fast they come, they fly too fast,
Not Life or Happiness are more in haste:
Only the First Great Mind himself can stay
The Fugitives, and at one Glance survey;
But those whom he disdains not to befriend,
Uncommon Souls, who nearest Heav'n ascend
Far more, at once, than others comprehend:
Whate'er within this sacred Hall you find,
Whate'er will lodge in your capacious Mind
Let Judgment sort, and skilful Method bind;
And as from these you draw your antient Store
Daily supply the Magazine with more.
Furnish'd with such Materials he'll excel
Who when he works is sure to work 'em well;
This Art alone, as Nature that bestows,
And in Perfection both, th' accomplish'd Verser knows.
Knows to persuade, and how to speak, and when;
The Rules of Life, and Manners knows and Men:
Those narrow Lines which Good and Ill divide;
And by what Balance Just and Right are try'd:
How Kindred-Things with Things are closely join'd;
How Bodies act, and by what Laws confin'd,
Supported, mov'd and rul'd by th' Universal Mind.
When the moist Kids or burning Sirius rise;
Through what ambiguous Ways Hyperion flies,
And marks our Upper or the Nether Skies.
He knows those Strings to touch with artful Hand
Which rule Mankind, and all the World command:
What moves the Soul, and every secret Cell
Where Pity, Love, and all the Passions dwell.
The Music of his Verse can Anger raise,
Which with a softer Stroak he smooths and lays:
Can Emulation, Terror, all excite,
Compress the Soul with Grief, or swell with vast Delight.
If this you can, your Care you'll well bestow,
And some new Milton or a Spencer grow;
If not, a Poet ne'er expect to be,
Content to Rime, like D---y or like me.",,10322,•REREAD. Interesting passage. Confuses interior and exterior.
•I've included twice: Cell and Dwelling,"""He knows those Strings to touch with artful Hand / Which rule Mankind, and all the World command: / What moves the Soul, and every secret Cell / Where Pity, Love, and all the Passions dwell.""",Rooms,2009-09-14 19:34:53 UTC,""
3963,"","Searching ""breast"" and ""lamp"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-01-20 00:00:00 UTC,"But you my Friends, to my Discourse attend,
And weigh my Words your Errors to amend.
For hitherto I can't among you find,
One of a clear, judicious, equal Mind.
You would in vain my Expectations raise,
(If I Repent) of future prosp'rous Days.
For my appointed Hours are almost past,
My Hopes and Projects Death will quickly blast.
The Lamp of Life burns dimly in my Breast,
Soon from its beating toil my weary Heart will rest.
If for a happy Change you lay a Scheme,
You but amuse me with an empty Dream,
Terrestrial Joys are but an idle Theme.
With my Designs and anxious Thoughts I part,
Farewel ye Cares, that once possest my Heart.
I to my Sorrows only can attend,
In groans the Day, in groans the Night I spend.
If Grief and Woe denominate the Night,
I ne'er enjoy the Day, or see the Light.
The gloomy Terrors that my Soul surround,
Efface its marks, and Day with Night confound.",,10324,"","""The Lamp of Life burns dimly in my Breast, / Soon from its beating toil my weary Heart will rest.""","",2009-09-14 19:34:53 UTC,""
3963,"","Searching ""breast"" and ""guest"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-03-15 00:00:00 UTC,"Thus into Nature's Secrets Men descend,
And may to Knowledge in her Works pretend;
But who can Heav'n's deep Counsels comprehend?
Who can inform th' Enquirer, who can tell
Where Skill Divine, and Heav'nly Wisdom dwell?
For sensless Man its value does not know,
'Tis never found midst Mortals here below.
The Land exclaims aloud, I am not blest
To be th' abode of this Celestial Guest.
The Sea and all its noisy Waves, declare,
In vain you seek the sacred Stranger here.
Th' Infernal Deep cries with a hollow Sound,
Here's no Apartment for her under ground.
Th' unvaluable Blessing can't be bought,
With all the golden Wealth from Ophir brought.
He that has Wisdom Rubies will despise,
And Pearl, if tender'd as an equal Price.
Saphires and Diamonds, with vast labour sought,
The Topaz fetch'd from Countries far remote;
Which worn by mighty Kings, attract regard,
Are worthless Toys, with this bright Gem compar'd.
Who can instruct us then whence Wisdom flows?
And who the place of Understanding knows:
Since after strict enquiry we despair
To find it in the Land, the Sea, or Air?
Death and Destruction cry, midst all our Slaves
We ne'r saw Wisdom; to our secret Caves
We the Celestial Stranger ne'er convey'd,
Nor hid her in our solitary Shade.
We only are acquainted with her Name,
Have only heard of her Immortal Fame.
Only the Great All-penetrating God
Knows his own Offspring, Wisdom's blest abode.
For he surveys from Heav'n's bright Crystal brow,
The vast expanded Universe below;
The spacious liquid Vales of Sky and Air,
And all his Worlds, that hang in order there.
The Bounds of Nature, Chaos, and old Night,
Limit the Sun's, but not its Maker's Sight:
He has in Prospect this Terrestrial Isle,
And sees th' extreamest Bound'rys of its Soil.
He forms the various Meteors which appear
Thro' the low Regions of the Atmosphere.
He deals out to the Winds their proper weight,
Gives them their Wings, and then directs their Flight.
He measures out the drops with wondrous Skill,
Which the black Clouds his floating Bottles fill.
When he decreed the manner of the Rain,
And did the Lightning's crooked Path ordain;
When he appointed Nature's course and way,
And gave command that thence she should not stray;
Then Wisdom he beheld, he search'd with care
His own All-seeing Mind, and found it there.
He oft reflected on the sacred Guest,
Which had her fixt abode within his Breast,
And in his Works her God-like Form exprest.
But then to Man, to whom he had deny'd
The perfect Knowledge of his Ways, he cry'd,
The Fear of God is Wisdom, to depart
From Evil, this is Science, this is Art.
Attempt to know no more than God reveals,
Search not the Secrets which his Breast conceals.
In this Abyss trust not thy vent'rous Oar,
Wouldst thou be safe, then keep upon the Shore,
And from afar this awful Deep adore.
Thy Happiness in being Righteous lies,
Be Good, and in Perfection thou art wise.
Justly thou mayst despise the boastful Schools,
And learned Cant of grave, disputing Fools.",,10327,•I've included twice: Guest and Abode,"""He oft reflected on the sacred Guest, / Which had her fixt abode within his Breast, / And in his Works her God-like Form exprest.""",Inhabitants,2009-09-14 19:34:53 UTC,""
4121,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""impression"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again in C-H Lion's Poems on Affairs of State",2005-05-12 00:00:00 UTC,"I here had answer'd but the Dame withdrew;
And with Her Sleep retir'd, and left me too:
But left th'Impression deep upon my Mind
Of DUNCOMB honour'd, and AUGUSTA kind.
Ah Heav'n! I cry'd, let him but Prospe'rous be,
And 'tis no matter what becomes of me.",,10583,"","""But left th'Impression deep upon my Mind / Of DUNCOMB honour'd, and AUGUSTA kind.""",Impressions,2013-08-08 15:58:49 UTC,Vol. I. Epistles From the Country.