work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3752,"","Reading Norton Critical Edition of Seventeenth Century British Poetry, 1603-1660",2006-12-15 00:00:00 UTC,"PLEASURE
Welcome the creation's guest,
Lord of earth, and heaven's heir.
Lay aside that warlike crest,
And of Nature's banquet share:
Where the souls of fruits and flowers
Stand prepared to heighten yours.
SOUL
I sup above, and cannot stay
To bait so long upon the way.
(ll. 11-18)",,9681,"","The Soul ""sup[s] above, and cannot stay / To bait so long upon the way""","",2009-09-14 19:34:24 UTC,""
3752,"","Reading Norton Critical Edition of Seventeenth Century British Poetry, 1603-1660",2006-12-15 00:00:00 UTC,"PLEASURE
Hark how music then prepares
For thy stay these charming airs;
Which the posting winds recall,
And suspend the river's fall.
SOUL
Had I but any time to lose,
On this I would it all dispose.
Cease, tempter. None can chain a mind
Whom this sweet chordage cannot bind.
(ll. 37-44)",2011-05-26,9682,"","""None can chain a mind / Whom this sweet chordage cannot bind.""",Fetters,2011-05-26 20:52:49 UTC,""
3753,"",Reading (after conversation with Nick at UCB),2003-12-03 00:00:00 UTC,"Soul.
O who shall, from this Dungeon, raise
A Soul inslav'd so many wayes?
With bolts of Bones, that fetter'd stands
In Feet; and manacled in Hands.
Here blinded with an Eye; and there
Deaf with the drumming of an Ear.
A Soul hung up, as 'twere, in Chains
Of Nerves, and Arteries, and Veins.
Tortur'd, besides each other part,
In a vain Head, and double Heart.
Body.
O who shall me deliver whole,
From bonds of this Tyrannic Soul?
Which, stretcht upright, impales me so,
That mine own Precipice I go;
And warms and moves this needless Frame:
(A Fever could but do the same.)
And, wanting where its spight to try,
Has made me live to let me dye.
A Body that could never rest,
Since this ill Spirit it possest.
Soul.
What Magick could me thus confine
Within anothers Grief to pine?
Where whatsoever it complain,
I feel, that cannot feel, the pain.
And all my Care its self employes,
That to preserve, which me destroys:
Constrain'd not only to indure
Diseases, but, whats worse, the Cure:
And ready oft the Port to gain,
Am Shipwrackt into Health again.
Body.
But Physick yet could never reach
The Maladies Thou me dost teach;
Whom first the Cramp of Hope does Tear:
And then the Palsie Shakes of Fear.
The Pestilence of Love does heat:
Or Hatred's hidden Ulcer eat.
Joy's chearful Madness does perplex:
Or Sorrow's other Madness vex.
Which Knowledge forces me to know;
And Memory will not foregoe.
What but a Soul could have the wit
To build me up for Sin so fit?
So Architects do square and hew,
Green Trees that in the Forest grew.
",,9683,REVISIT and fill in information,"""O who shall, from this Dungeon, raise / A Soul inslav'd so many wayes?""",Prison,2009-09-14 19:34:24 UTC,I've included the whole poem
3753,As it Were,Reading (after conversation with Nick at UC Berkeley),2003-12-03 00:00:00 UTC,"Soul.
O who shall, from this Dungeon, raise
A Soul inslav'd so many wayes?
With bolts of Bones, that fetter'd stands
In Feet; and manacled in Hands.
Here blinded with an Eye; and there
Deaf with the drumming of an Ear.
A Soul hung up, as 'twere, in Chains
Of Nerves, and Arteries, and Veins.
Tortur'd, besides each other part,
In a vain Head, and double Heart.
Body.
O who shall me deliver whole,
From bonds of this Tyrannic Soul?
Which, stretcht upright, impales me so,
That mine own Precipice I go;
And warms and moves this needless Frame:
(A Fever could but do the same.)
And, wanting where its spight to try,
Has made me live to let me dye.
A Body that could never rest,
Since this ill Spirit it possest.
Soul.
What Magick could me thus confine
Within anothers Grief to pine?
Where whatsoever it complain,
I feel, that cannot feel, the pain.
And all my Care its self employes,
That to preserve, which me destroys:
Constrain'd not only to indure
Diseases, but, whats worse, the Cure:
And ready oft the Port to gain,
Am Shipwrackt into Health again.
Body.
But Physick yet could never reach
The Maladies Thou me dost teach;
Whom first the Cramp of Hope does Tear:
And then the Palsie Shakes of Fear.
The Pestilence of Love does heat:
Or Hatred's hidden Ulcer eat.
Joy's chearful Madness does perplex:
Or Sorrow's other Madness vex.
Which Knowledge forces me to know;
And Memory will not foregoe.
What but a Soul could have the wit
To build me up for Sin so fit?
So Architects do square and hew,
Green Trees that in the Forest grew.",2011-05-24,9684,"•REVISIT and fill in citation information.
•There is a complex conceit here that is not easy to atomize. INTEREST. USE in entry.
•Uses the ""as it were"" formula","""A soul hung up as 'twere, in Chains / Of Nerves, and Arteries, and Veins.""",Fetters,2013-10-28 15:19:02 UTC,I've included the whole poem
3755,"",Reading (after conversation with Nick at UCB),2003-12-03 00:00:00 UTC,"Within this sober Frame expect
Work of no Forrain Architect ;
That unto Caves the Quarries drew,
And Forrests did to Pastures hew;
Who of his great Design in pain
Did for a Model vault his Brain,
Whose Columnes should so high be rais'd
To arch the Brows that on them gaz'd.
(ll. 1-8)",,9685,"•REVISIT and fill in information
•The new Norton gives for line 6: ""Design in his brain its absurdly high vaulted ceilings"" (p. 1704).
","""Within this sober Frame expect / Work of no Forrain Architect ; / That unto Caves the Quarries drew, / And Forrests did to Pastures hew; / Who of his great Design in pain / Did for a Model vault his Brain, / Whose Columnes should so high be rais'd / To arch the Brows that on them gaz'd.""",Rooms,2009-12-29 05:41:34 UTC,""
3756,"","Reading Norton Critical Edition of Seventeenth Century British Poetry, 1603-1660",2006-12-15 00:00:00 UTC,"My mind was once the true survey
Of all these meadows fresh and gay;
And in the greenness of the grass
Did see its hopes as in a glass;
When Juliana came, and she,
What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts and me.
(ll. 1-6)",,9687,"","""My mind was once the true survey / Of all these meadows fresh and gay""","",2009-09-14 19:34:24 UTC,""
3756,"","Reading Norton Critical Edition of Seventeenth Century British Poetry, 1603-1660",2006-12-15 00:00:00 UTC,"But what you in compassion ought,
Shall now by my revenge be wrought:
And flowers, and grass, and I and all,
Will in one common ruin fall.
For Juliana comes, and she,
What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts and me.
(ll. 19-24)",,9689,•The refrain. Recurs in each stanza. This is the only refrain in Marvell's poetry,"""For Juliana comes, and she, / What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts and me.""","",2009-09-14 19:34:24 UTC,""
3757,"","Reading Norton Critical Edition of Seventeenth Century British Poetry, 1603-1660",2006-12-15 00:00:00 UTC,"Meanwhile the mind, from pleasure less,
Withdraws into its happiness;
The mind, that ocean where each kind
Does straight its own resemblance find,
Yet it creates, transcending these,
Far other worlds, and other seas;
Annihilating all that's made
To a green thought in a green shade.
(ll. 41-48)
",,9691,"","""The mind, that ocean where each kind / Does straight its own resemblance find, / Yet it creates, transcending these, / Far other worlds, and other seas""","",2009-09-14 19:34:24 UTC,""
3757,"","Reading Norton Critical Edition of Seventeenth Century British Poetry, 1603-1660; found again reading Rosalie Osmond's Imagining the Soul: A History (Phoenix Mill: Sutton Publishing, 2003), 139.",2006-12-15 00:00:00 UTC,"Here at the fountain's sliding foot,
Or at some fruit tree's mossy root,
Casting the body's vest aside,
My soul into the boughs does glide;
There like a bird it sits and sings,
Then whets, and combs its silver wings;
And, till prepar'd for longer flight,
Waves in its plumes the various light.
(ll. 49-56)",2012-04-04,9692,2008-12-03,"""Here at the fountain's sliding foot, / Or at some fruit tree's mossy root, / Casting the body's vest aside, / My soul into the boughs does glide; / There like a bird it sits and sings, / Then whets, and combs its silver wings; / And, till prepar'd for longer flight, / Waves in its plumes the various light.""",Animals,2013-06-04 15:20:31 UTC,""
3758,"","Reading Norton Critical Edition of Seventeenth Century British Poetry, 1603-1660",2006-12-15 00:00:00 UTC," What may not others fear
If thus he crown each year!
A Cæsar he ere long to Gaul,
To Italy an Hannibal,
And to all states not free,
Shall climacteric be.
The Pict no shelter now shall find
Within his parti-colour'd mind;
But from this valour sad
Shrink underneath the plaid,
Happy if in the tufted brake
The English hunter him mistake,
Nor lay his hounds in near
The Caledonian deer.
But thou, the war's and fortune's son,
March indefatigably on;
And for the last effect
Still keep thy sword erect;
Besides the force it has to fright
The spirits of the shady night,
The same arts that did gain
A pow'r, must it maintain.",2008-12-03,9693,"","""The Pict no shelter now shall find / Within his parti-colour'd mind; / But from this valour sad / Shrink underneath the plaid.""","",2009-09-14 19:34:24 UTC,""