text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"Shock'd to the Soul, you saw the woful fate
Of Rhadzan, great and good; yet ev'n the fire
That burnt his plenty, Heav'n in mercy sent.
His alms, that first in charity began,
In foolish ostentation now were giv'n;
The lazy Drone, and him of real want,
Shar'd all alike; and vain his heart became;
The offspring of his wisdom and desert,
He held his mighty wealth; but now he sees
And mourns his folly. A rich fleet next day,
Long since giv'n up for lost, all safe arrives:
Rhadzan again is wealthy, and again
The Father of the Poor; but now no more
Th' Encourager of baneful Idleness,
Vain and forgetful of his God no more.
Th' unfeeling Cadmor, whom you thought so blest,
Swiming in plenty, and, tho' ill of heart,
Sharing the care of Heav'n, while Rhadzan mourn'd
Abandon'd in a jail; Cadmor is curs'd,
And long has been, with wealth he cannot use.
Devoted to his gold, the meagre Wretch
Grudges his own coarse morsel; never joy,
Save th' anxious sordid one to view his gold,
Could touch his marble heart; each blast of wind
That murmurs in his key-hole, tears his Soul
With dire chimeras; from his bed he starts,
And feels his bolts and bars: oft as he trusts,
When lur'd by profit, till he get again,
He trembles for his gold. By night and day,
Intense and restless, works his little mind,
Still to increase the wealth he cannot use;
And when a loss befalls, the pains of hell
Seize on his breast. Such fruits his treasures yield.",2009-09-14 19:39:24 UTC,"""never joy, / Save th' anxious sordid one to view his gold, / Could touch his marble heart""",2005-05-27 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),13877,5159
"Arandus now approach'd; a sudden dread
Surpriz'd Emilec, while with kind intent
The Sage began: Alas! why thus, my Son,
Driv'n on by fury, and that fiend Despair?
Summon thy Reason: Reason was ordain'd
By the eternal Sire to be our guide;
And when we disobey, 'tis yonder Heav'n
That holds us rebels: but her voice is low,
And very slow her speech; the young and vain
Or hear her not, or hear but part; the Calm
Alone can understand her heav'nly voice.
When Man goes hence, when o'er the silent Dead
The wild flow'rs of the field spring forth, the Mind,
Unfetter'd, then receives the just reward
Of ev'ry action: and, if Heav'n its lot,
Among the Sons of God, from joy to joy
For ever shall advance. Then, if it bore
The miseries of life with patient heart
And meek submission to the Will Supreme,
Sublime its joy shall be. Attend, my Son,
And let this awful truth sink to thy heart:
False is the heart of Man, false to itself,
When sweet Prosperity smiles all around:
Intoxicated with the pleasing cup,
Proud, hard, and selfish, it becomes; the voice
Of Mis'ry is but faintly heard; and God
Is quite forgot, or with a cold regard
Remember'd, if at all: But as the fire
Refines the silver; so a taste of woe
Awakes the Soul. Below the adverse tide
The little Mind is sunk; but the great Soul
With heav'nly lustre shines thro' the black cloud
Of dread Adversity, and great at last
Finds herself happy, and contemns her woes.
(pp. 7-8, ll. 114-47)",2009-09-14 19:39:25 UTC,"""But as the fire / Refines the silver; so a taste of woe / Awakes the Soul.""",2005-06-03 00:00:00 UTC,"",Refinement,,Metal,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""silver"" in HDIS (Poetry)",13882,5159
"Sir Launcelot thrusting his hand mechanically into his pocket, pulled out a couple of guineas, and desired Felton to accommodate her with that trifle in his own name; but he declined the proposal, and refused to touch the money. ""God forbid, (said he) that I should attempt to thwart your charitable intention: but this, my good sir, is no object--she has many resources. Neither should we number the clamorous beggar [Page 188] among those who really feel distress. He is generally gorged with bounty misapplied. The liberal hand of charity should be extended to modest want that pines in silence, encountering cold, and nakedness, and hunger, and every species of distress. Here you may find the wretch of keen sensations, blasted by accident in the blossom of his fortune, shivering in the solitary recess of indigence, disdaining to beg, and even ashamed to let his misery be known. Here you may see the parent who has known happier times, surrounded by his tender offspring, naked and forlorn, demanding food, which his circumstances cannot afford. --That man of decent appearance and melancholy aspect, who lifted his hat as you passed him in the yard, is a person of unblemished character. He was a reputable tradesman in the city, and failed through inevitable losses. A commission of bankruptcy was taken out against him by his sole creditor, a quaker, who refused to sign his certificate. He has [Page 189] lived these three years in prison, with a wife and five small children. In a little time after his commitment, he had friends who offered to pay ten shillings in the pound of what he owed, and to give security for paying the remainder in three years, by installments. The honest quaker did not charge the bankrupt with any dishonest practices; but he rejected the proposal with the most mortifying indifference, declaring that he did not want his money. The mother repaired to his house, and kneeled before him with her five lovely children, imploring mercy with tears and exclamations. He stood this scene unmoved, and even seemed to enjoy the prospect, wearing the looks of complacency while his heart was steeled with rancour. ""Woman, (said he) these be hopeful babes, if they were duly nurtured. Go thy ways in peace; I have taken my resolution."" Her friends maintained the family for some time; but it is not in human charity to persevere: some of them died; [Page 190] some of them grew unfortunate; some of them fell off; and now the poor man is reduced to the extremity of indigence, from whence he has no prospect of being retrieved. The fourth part of what you would have bestowed upon the lady would make this poor man and his family sing with joy.""",2009-09-14 19:39:25 UTC,"""He stood this scene unmoved, and even seemed to enjoy the prospect, wearing the looks of complacency while his heart was steeled with rancour""",2005-06-09 00:00:00 UTC,"Vol. 2, Chap. 21","",,Metal,
,"Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Prose)",13885,5112
"""Behold,"" said the king of generous shells, ""how Lochlin divides on Lena! they stand like broken clouds on a hill; or an half-consumed grove of oaks: when we see the sky through its branches, and the meteor passing behind! Let every chief among the friends of Fingal take a dark troop of those that frown so high: Nor let a son of the echoing groves bound on the waves of Inistore!
""Mine,"" said Gaul, ""be the seven chiefs, that came from Lano's lake."" ""Let Inistore's dark king,"" said Oscar, ""come to the sword of Ossian's son."" To mine the king of Iniscon,"" said Connal, ""heart of steel!"" ""Or Mudan's chief or I,"" said brown-haired Dermid, ""shall sleep on clay-cold earth."" My choice, though now so weak and dark, was Terman's battling king; I promised with my hand to win the hero's dark-brown shield. ""Blest and victorious be my chiefs,"" said Fingal of the mildest look. ""Swaran, king of roaring waves, thou art the choice of Fingal!""
(pp. 57-8)",2009-09-14 19:39:25 UTC,"""To mine the king of Iniscon,' said Connal, 'heart of steel'""",2005-06-10 00:00:00 UTC,Book IV,"",2006-01-18,Metal,•REVISIT and update text from C-H to ECCO.,"Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",13886,5164
"Ossian rushed along the heath. Fillan bounded over Lena. Fergus flew with feet of wind. Fingal strode in his strength, and the light of his shield is terrible. The sons of Erin saw it far distant; they trembled in their souls. They knew that the wrath of the king arose: and they foresaw their death. We first arrived; we fought; Erin's chiefs withstood our rage. But when the king came, in the sound of his course, what heart of steel could stand! Erin fled over Lena. Death pursued their flight.
We saw Oscar leaning on his shield. We saw his blood around. Silence darkened on every hero's face. Each turned his back and wept. The king strove to hide his tears. His gray beard whistled in the wind. He bends his head aover his son: and his words are mixed with sighs.
(p. 181)",2009-09-14 19:39:26 UTC,"""But when the king came, in the sound of his course, what heart of steel could stand!""",2005-06-10 00:00:00 UTC,Book I,"",2006-01-18,Metal,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry). Text replaced with first edition from ECCO.",13887,5166
"When Oscar beheld his friends around, his white breast rose with a sigh.--The groans, he said, of my aged heroes, the howling of my dogs, the sudden bursts of the song of grief, have melted Oscar's soul. My soul, that never melted before; it was like the steel of my sword.--Ossian, carry me to my hills! Raise the stones of my renown. Place the horn of a deer, and my sword within my narrow dwelling.--The torrent hereafter may raise the earth of my tomb: the hunter may find the steel, and say, ""This has been Oscar's sword.""
(p. 182)",2009-09-14 19:39:26 UTC,"""My soul, that never melted before; it was like the steel of my sword""",2005-06-12 00:00:00 UTC,Argument to Book I,"",2006-01-18,Metal,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry). Text taken from ECCO.",13888,5166
"The second species of invention we mentioned was that of CHARACTERS. Ordinary Writers, and even those who are possessed of no inconsiderable talents, commonly satisfy themselves, in this branch of composition, with copying the characters which have been drawn by Authors of superior merit, and think they acquit themselves sufficiently, when they produce a just resemblance of the originals they profess to imitate. A moderate degree of praise is no doubt due to successful imitators; but an Author of original Genius will not content himself with a mediocrity of reputation; conscious of the strength of his own talents, he disdains to imitate what perhaps he is qualified to excel. Imitation indeed, of every kind, except that of nature, has a tendency to cramp the inventive powers of the mind, which, if indulged in their excursions, might discover new mines of intellectual ore, that lie hid only from those who are incapable or unwilling to dive into the recesses in which it lies buried. A Writer however, of the kind last mentioned, instead of tracing the footsteps of his predecessors, will allow his imagination to range over the field of Invention, in quest of its materials; and, from the group of figures collected by it, will strike out a character like his own Genius, perfectly Original.
(pp. 130-2)",2013-07-01 17:17:28 UTC,"""Imitation indeed, of every kind, except that of nature, has a tendency to cramp the inventive powers of the mind, which, if indulged in their excursions, might discover new mines of intellectual ore, that lie hid only from those who are incapable or unwilling to dive into the recesses in which it lies buried.""",2013-07-01 17:17:28 UTC,"","",,Metal,"REVIST: recess metaphors, I'm categorizing variously...",C-H Lion,21375,7498
"The first reason we shall assign of ORIGINAL Poetic Genius being most remarkably displayed in an early and uncultivated period of society, arises from the antiquity of the period itself, and from the appearance of novelty in the objects which Genius contemplates. A Poet of real Genius, who lives in a distant uncultivated age, possesses great and peculiar advantages for original composition, by the mere antiquity of the period in which he lives. He is perhaps the first Poet who hath arisen in this infant state of society; by which means he enjoys the undivided empire of Imagination without a rival. The mines of Fancy not having been opened before his time, are left to be digged by him; and the treasures they contain become his own, by a right derived from the first discovery. The whole system of nature, and the whole region of fiction, yet unexplored by others, is subjected to his survey, from which he culls those rich spoils, which adorn his compositions, and render them original. It may be said indeed, in answer to this, and it is true, That the stores of nature are inexhaustible by human imagination, and that her face is ever various and ever new; but it may be replied, That some of her stores are more readily found than others, being less hid from the eye of Fancy, and some of her features more easily hit, because more strongly marked. The first good Poet therefore, possessing those unrifled treasures, and contemplating these unfullied features, could not fail to present us with a draught so striking, as to deserve the name of a complete Original. We may farther observe, that the objects with which he is surrounded, have an appearance of novelty, which, in a more cultivated period, they in a great measure lose; but which, in that we are speaking of, excites an attention, curiosity and surprise, highly favourable to the exertion of Genius, and somewhat resembling that which Milton attributes to our first ancestor:
(pp. 265-7)",2013-07-01 18:30:02 UTC,"""The mines of Fancy not having been opened before his time, are left to be digged by him; and the treasures they contain become his own, by a right derived from the first discovery. The whole system of nature, and the whole region of fiction, yet unexplored by others, is subjected to his survey, from which he culls those rich spoils, which adorn his compositions, and render them original.""",2013-07-01 18:30:02 UTC,"","",,Metal,"",C-H Lion,21391,7498
"All cold the hand, that soothed Woe's weary head!
And quench'd the eye, the pitying tear that shed!
And mute the voice, whose pleasing accents stole,
Infusing balm, into the rankled soul!
O Death, why arm with cruelty thy power,
And spare the idle weed, yet lop the flower!
Why fly thy shafts in lawless error driven!
Is Virtue then no more the care of Heaven!---
But peace, bold thought! be still my bursting heart!
We, not Eliza, felt the fatal dart.
Scaped the dark dungeon does the slave complain,
Nor bless the hand that broke the galling chain?
Say, pines not Virtue for the lingering morn,
On this dark wild condemn'd to roam forlorn?
Where Reason's meteor-rays, with sickly glow,
O'er the dun gloom a dreadful glimmering throw?
Disclosing dubious to th' affrighted eye
O'erwhelming mountains tottering from on high,
Black billowy seas in storm perpetual toss'd,
And weary ways in wildering labyrinths lost.
O happy stroke, that bursts the bonds of clay,
Darts through the rending gloom the blaze of day,
And wings the soul with boundless flight to soar,
Where dangers threat, and fears alarm no more.
(p. 51, ll. 63-85)",2014-03-10 22:02:26 UTC,"""O happy stroke, that bursts the bonds of clay, / Darts through the rending gloom the blaze of day, / And wings the soul with boundless flight to soar, / Where dangers threat, and fears alarm no more.""",2013-07-02 15:59:15 UTC,"","",,"","",C-H Lion (Poetry); confirmed in ECCO.,21418,7501
"AEMILIUS.
Of Rome! aye, and of thee, of thee, my son,
And of thy brother. O unequall'd pair,
Your deeds, your destiny have rais'd your sire
Above the pitch of man. My heart is steel,
I weep not, nor complain. Relentless fiend,
Inhuman MAXIMIN! for thee I live;
To bury in thy hated breast my sword,
Then die upon the blow.
(p. 54)",2014-03-13 03:13:13 UTC,"""My heart is steel, / I weep not, nor complain.""",2014-03-13 03:13:13 UTC,"","",,Metal,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in ECCO-TCP",23698,7854