work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
5647,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""Brass"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again, ""pence;"" confirmed in ECCO.
",2005-06-07 00:00:00 UTC,"In that snug room, the scene of shrewd remark,
Whose window stares upon the saunt'ring park;
Where many a hungry bard, and gambling sinner,
In chop-fall'n sadness, counts the trees for dinner
In that snug room where any man of spunk
Would find it a hard matter to get drunk;
Where coy Tokay ne'er feels a cooks embraces,
Nor port nor claret show their rosy faces;
But where old Adam's beverage flows with pride,
From wide-mouth'd pitchers, in a plenteous tide;
Where veal, pork, mutton, beef, and fowl, and fish,
All club their joints to make one handsome dish;
Where stew-pan covers serve for plates, I ween,
And knives and forks and spoons are never seen;
Where pepper issues from a paper bag,
And for a cruet stands a brandy cag;
Where Madam Schwellenberg too often sits,
Like some old tabby in her mousing fits,
Demurely squinting with majestic mien,
To catch some fault to carry to the queen:
In that snug room, like those immortal Greeks,
Of whom, in book the thirteenth, Ovid speaks--
Around the table, all with sulky looks,
Like culprits doom'd to Tyburn, sat the cooks:
At length, with phiz that show'd the man of woes,
The sorrowing king of spits and stew-pans rose;
Like Paul at Athens, very justly sainted,
And by the charming brush of Raphael painted,
With out-stretch'd hands, and energetic grace,
He fearless thus harangues the roasting race;
Whilst gaping round, in mute attention, sit,
The poor forlorn disciples of the spit:
'Cooks, scullions, hear me ev'ry mother's son--
Know that I relish not this royal fun:
George thinks us scarcely fit ('tis very clear)
To carry guts, my brethren, to a bear.'--
'Guts to a bear!' the cooks, up-springing, cry'd--
'Guts to a bear,' the major loud reply'd.
'Guts to the dev'l!' loud roar'd the cooks again,
And toss'd their noses high in proud disdain:
The plain translation of whose pointed noses
The reader needeth not, the bard supposes;
But if the reason some dull reader looks,
'Tis this--whatever kings may think of cooks,
Howe'er crown'd heads may deem them low-born things,
Cooks are possess'd of souls as well as kings.
Yet are there some who think (but what a shame!)
Poor people's souls like pence of Birmingham,
Adulterated brass--base stuff--abhorr'd--
That never can pass current with the Lord;
And think because of wealth they boast a store,
With ev'ry freedom they may treat the poor:
Witness the story that my Muse, with tears,
Relates, O reader, to thy shrinking ears:
(cf. pp. 27-9 in 1787 edition)",2012-06-27,15095,"•Do these belong in Mineral or Uncategorized?
•INTEREST. USE in Entry
•Footnotes give, ""1. The larder. 2. This will be deemed strange by my country readers--but it is nevertheless true.""
• Reviewed 2007-04-26","""Yet are there some who think (but what a shame!) / Poor people's souls like pence of Birmingham, / Adulterated brass--base stuff--abhorr'd-- / That never can pass current with the Lord; / And think because of wealth they boast a store, / With ev'ry freedom they may treat the poor.""",Coinage,2014-03-03 18:24:27 UTC,Canto II
5762,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-11 00:00:00 UTC,"Thy bravery often did I much approve;
Rais'd by that queen of passions, Love.
Whene'er in Love's delicious phrensy crost
By long-ear'd brothers, lo wert thou a host!
Love did thy lion-heart with courage steel!
Quicker than that of Vestris mov'd thy heel:
Here, there, up, down, in, out, how thou didst smite!
And then no alderman could match thy bite!",,15349,"","""Love did thy lion-heart with courage steel!""",Metal,2009-09-14 19:43:24 UTC,"The Remonstrance; To which is Added an Ode to my Ass; Also the Magpie and Robin, A Tale; An Apology for Kings; and an Address to my Pamphlet"
5752,"","Searching ""bosom"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-13 00:00:00 UTC,"Rouse! and let 'Richard be himself again!'--
Forge, forge anew Oppression's galling chain;
Strip o'er his ears bold Opposition's skin,
And bid with gags the mouth of Freedom grin.
Bid the dark Furies all thy bosom steel,
And Cumberland afresh thine anger feel:
Yes, yes, of Cumberland the comet, blaze,
And, crab-like, roast her rascals with thy rays.
Stretch o'er the shrinking towns thine arm of pow'r,
And, hydra-like, their croaking frogs devour.
Show that thy breath, like Envy's, baleful blows:
A canker be, that kills the lovely rose.
Prove how a rising country can be curst,
And bid with spleen old Nero's spectre burst.",,15352,•Earliest appearance in Gentleman's Magazine Vol. 61. ii. p. 1131 R.,"""Bid the dark Furies all thy bosom steel, / And Cumberland afresh thine anger feel.""",Metal,2011-09-28 01:32:41 UTC,""
6182,"","Searching ""coin"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Poetry); confirmed in ECCO",2005-04-14 00:00:00 UTC,"O could I gain by gold those heav'nly charms?
Could gold once give thee to my eager arms,
Lo, into guineas would I coin my heart;
Those would I pour pell-mell into thy lap,
With thee to wake to love, and then to nap,
Then wake again--again to sleep depart.
(cf. p. 36 in 1792 ed.)",2007-04-26,16359,"","""Could gold once give thee to my eager arms, / Lo, into guineas would I coin my heart;""",Coinage,2014-03-03 17:02:27 UTC,""
6187,"","Searching ""mill"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Poetry); confirmed in ECCO",2006-12-12 00:00:00 UTC,"You're told that in my ways I'm very evil!
So ugly; fit to travel for a show,
And that I look all grimly where I go!
Just like a devil!
With horns, and tail, and hoofs that make folks start;
And in my breast a millstone for a heart!",,16365,"","""With horns, and tail, and hoofs that make folks start; / And in my breast a millstone for a heart!""","",2014-03-03 18:11:26 UTC,""
6188,"","Searching ""mill"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-12-12 00:00:00 UTC,"Still to be serious, Pitt, before we part:
Let Mercy melt the mill-stone of thy heart[1].
How nobler far, for honest fame to toil,
And change a kingdom's curses for a smile!
Yet, if resolv'd to worry wigs and hair,
And, Herod-like, not little children spare,
Say (for methinks the land has much to dread)
How long in safety may we wear the head?
Enough our necks have bow'd beneath the yoke;
Enough our sides have felt the goad and stroke;
Then cease to make, by further irritation,
Our patience the sole rock of thy salvation.
Notes
1. I principally allude in this place to the political character of this statesman, which is rather marked with severity. As for the domestic, it possesses some traits belonging to the Jolly God. Even Parliament last year saw him enter the walls of St. Stephen, arm in arm with his dear colleague and constant companion honest Harry Dundas; both fortunately conducted to the Treasury Bench without a fall, by the boozing reeling deity, where 'Palinurus nodded at the helm.'",,16366,"","""Still to be serious, Pitt, before we part: / Let Mercy melt the mill-stone of thy heart.""","",2014-03-03 17:45:14 UTC,""