work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
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,""
4099,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""window"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-01-25 00:00:00 UTC,"My Friend and I brought up the Rear,
Squeez'd in, and Elbow'd pretty near
The consecrated Tub, in which
The Gospel Emp'rick was to teach:
At length up step'd the formal Prater,
Who was of Countrey May-pole Stature,
Slender, Stiff-neck'd, extreamly Tall,
Long-fac'd, and very Lean withal.
No sooner had old Heart of Oak,
Upon a Peg hung Hat and Cloak,
But round their Sockets did he rowl
The little Windows of his Soul;
But soon we found his Eye-balls hid,
Turn'd up beneath each upper Lid,
And then he work'd about the Whites,
As Madmen do in raving Fits;
Reel'd in his Tub from side to side,
And wrung his Hands, as if he Cry'd.
His Beard from Shoul' to Shoulder rov'd,
And like the Clock-work Drummers mov'd;
He yawn'd, and gap'd, and gently stir'd
His Head, but yet said ne'er a Word;
Made many strange Geneva Faces,
And out did twenty Apes Grimaces.
At last his Tongue its Silence broke,
And thus the Rev'rend Spintext spoke:",,10556,"","""But round their Sockets did he rowl / The little Windows of his Soul""",Room,2009-09-14 19:35:05 UTC,""
4143,"","Searching ""breast"" and ""window"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-01-25 00:00:00 UTC,"However now to shew they were,
As Loyal as they say they are;
The Saints began with all their art,
To vouch their Zeal to Q*****n, and Court,
In such Addresses as might best
Open the Windows of their Breast,
That Sacred Majesty might see
Their Ancient Love and Loyalty;
And that they now ador'd their Prince,
Just as they us'd to do long since,
And were, unto our G****s Q****n,
The same as they had ever been;
Pointing most Loyally to those
They would have deem'd the Nations Foes,
Meaning the Church, least they themselves,
Should now be thought those wicked Elves;
Who by their Malice, Heat and Fury
Had rais'd up the Tempestous Flurry,
Which blew with such Precipitation,
Against the Sons of Moderation,
That many meetings met with harm,
And suffer'd greatly in the Storm;
Whilst those that rais'd the Wind so High,
Beheld the danger with an Eye
Of fear, unable to foresee,
What the strange Consequence might be;
Thus Conjurers of Common Weal,
who do with Restless Spirits deal;
In Spite of all their cunning may
Raise Devils that they cannot lay.",,10671,"","""The Saints began with all their art, / To vouch their Zeal to Q*****n, and Court, / In such Addresses as might best / Open the Windows of their Breast, / That Sacred Majesty might see / Their Ancient Love and Loyalty""",Rooms,2009-09-14 19:35:10 UTC,""
4219,"","Searching ""cell"" and ""breast"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-08-29 00:00:00 UTC,"Base sordid Monster! Mercenary Slave!
Thou Church-Yard Pimp, and Pander to the Grave,
Death's busy Factor, Son of Desolation,
Thy Country's Curse, and Grievance of the Nation.
Thou motly Lump of Ignorance and Pride,
In all the scoundrel Arts of Killing try'd;
How shall I tell thy Guilt, or how begin
To lash a Villain crusted o'er with Sin?
Sure in some Powder-mill, that hot-brain'd Sot
Thy Father in the Dog-days thee begot;
And some She-Bear, in horrid Woods alone,
Suckled thee young, and nurst thee for her own.
Hence thy sour brutal Temper first began,
The Beast was thinly plated with the Man.
No Beams of softning Pity touch thy Breast,
Too vile a Cell to harbour such a Guest.
Oh hadst thou liv'd in that curst Tyrant's Reign,
By whose Command the Innocents were slain,
Herod might then have sav'd his Men the Pains,
At Bethlem to knock out the Children's Brains.
Thy Pills alone the fatal Work had done,
And soon dispatch'd them, every Mother's Son.
Why with our Laws, vain Volumes do we fill,
If such as thou have privilege to kill?
Mean, lousy Felons, for less Crimes by far
Have oft receiv'd their Sentence at the Bar:
I'th' Face of Day, thou robb'st us of our Health,
And yet art never question'd for the Stealth.
Sure some dire Planet all thy Steps pursues,
Name All-kill, and a Sickness strait ensues.
Thro' thy destroying Skill Diseases reign,
Nor did a Blacksmith teach thee first in vain;
Not Sword, nor Plague, nor Famine ravage more,
Thou kill'st, and Fate has hardly Time to score.
Death, tho' unsought, waits on thy murdring Quill,
Attends each Dose, and lurks in every Pill.
With little Pains, and very little bribing,
Whole Nations might be kill'd by thy prescribing.
But know, dull Sot, the dreadful Hour's at Hand,
When before aweful Justice thou must stand.
The Muse her ancient Freedom does assume,
Then tremble, while she thus proclaims thy Doom.",,10988,•I've included twice: Cell and Guest,"""No Beams of softning Pity touch thy Breast, / Too vile a Cell to harbour such a Guest.""",Rooms,2009-09-14 19:35:27 UTC,""
4220,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""room"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-08-29 00:00:00 UTC,"In all Love's Dominions I challenge the Boy,
To shew such a forward frank Lover as I,
So faithful and true where my Promise is past,
At the first so sincere, and so warm at the last.
Imprimis, I've sworn true Allegiance to Phillis,
And the same I have done to divine Amarillis.
Then to Cælia the fair, I my Heart did resign,
Next I laid down the Trifle at Iris's Shrine.
Calista then gently put in for the Prize,
Nor did the coy Sylvia my Offering despise.
But now you'll enquire, can they all quarter there?
Why, Madam, my Heart's large enough, never fear.
There's room for my Phillis,
And soft Amarillis:
And Cælia the Fair,
Who need not despair
Of a good Lodging there:
With Iris, Calista, and Sylvia beside.
Yes, Madam, this oft by Experience I've try'd.
So large is the Place, and so plenteous my Store,
I with ease can provide for six Mistresses more,
Nay, if you distrust me, e'en send me a Score.",,10989,"","""But now you'll enquire, can they all quarter there? / Why, Madam, my Heart's large enough, never fear. / There's room for my Phillis, / And soft Amarillis: / And Cælia the Fair, / Who need not despair / Of a good Lodging there:""","",2009-09-14 19:35:27 UTC,I've included the entire poem
4221,Inwardness,"Searching ""mind"" and ""dross"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-07-19 00:00:00 UTC,"His Politicks from Scripture he deriv'd,
And, like a Christian Monarch rul'd and liv'd,
Strictly maintaining, by the Laws of Heav'n,
The Pow'r which God into his Hands had giv'n.
No British Sov'reign better knew than he,
The just and legal Bounds of Majesty,
Or kept, with more unspotted Innocence,
Within the Limits of that sacred Fence,
Till daring Rebels tore the Sep'ment down,
And with inhumane Rage attack'd the Throne;
Forcing the most abus'd of Kings to draw
His Sword, and have recourse to Nature's Law.
Till then, and after, no Forgiving Prince,
That ever rul'd the Land before or since,
Could have a Heart more peacefully inclin'd,
Or tow'rds his People bear a juster Mind.
No crafty Machiavelian Arts possest
The pious Closets of his Royal Breast;
But with a Dove-like Innocence he reign'd,
And by Religious Rules his Crown sustain'd;
Till Faction first compel'd him to submit
To Councils not so truly Just as Fit,
And at length forc'd him to unsheath his Sword
In such a Quarrel that his Soul abhor'd,
Which they unjustly charg'd upon the Throne,
When both the Faults intirely were their own.",,10990,"","""No crafty Machiavelian Arts possest / The pious Closets of his Royal Breast""",Rooms,2009-09-14 19:35:27 UTC,"Vol II, A.D. 1648, The Character of the Royal Martyr"
4217,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""cabinet"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-09-07 00:00:00 UTC,"Can Dust-born Men be proud or vain, who know
From whence they come, and whither doom'd to go?
Or can they ought that's mean, when God has set
A Jewel in their earthly Cabinet?
A Soul, of heavenly Seed, of Angel-kind,
And marry'd Matter with Immortal Mind?",,10991,•I've included twice: Jewel and Cabinet,"""Or can they ought that's mean, when God has set / A Jewel in their earthly Cabinet?""",Rooms,2009-09-14 19:35:27 UTC,""
4284,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""window"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-09-08 00:00:00 UTC,"For Shame, since you are Old and Poor,
Reform, and give Intriguing o'er;
Your Trade, your Bawdy Function leave,
And to your aged Cuckold cleave:
Resort not to the Young and Fair,
But for your latter end prepare:
From Bawls and Crowds of Beauties fly,
For Stars and Clowds but ill agree.
Young Pholoe may safely do
That which is Impudence in you.
She, with an Air and Grace, can make
A Bacchanal, or Midnight Rake,
Or with her Lover sport and play,
As wanton as a Kid in May;
Whilst with the same resistless Art
She storms his Windows, and his Heart:
But you, the Spindle or the Loom,
And not the Lyre and Dance, become;
No Garlands can your Spring restore,
Nor Hogsheads drain'd abate Threescore.",,11203,"","""Whilst with the same resistless Art / She storms his Windows, and his Heart""",Rooms,2009-09-14 19:35:39 UTC,"Book III, Ode XV. To Chloris. I've included the entire poem."
4331,Refinement,"Searching ""mind"" and ""dross"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-07-19 00:00:00 UTC,"Why, haughty Wretch! art thou so proud and vain,
To look awry on others with Disdain?
Why dost thou damn that Fellow for a Fool,
When thee thyself art so profoundly dull?
Why brand that blust'ring Bully with the Name
Of Coward, when thou know'st thou art the same?
What makes thee strut, command, and look so big,
Since thus adorn'd with new unpaid-for Wig?
And by some trusting cozen'd Taylor made,
According to the Mode, so spruce a Blade,
When all the Jauntee Outside which you boast,
Consists of borrow'd Plumes at others cost;
And thy unpolish'd Inside, at the best,
Furnish'd with nothing but a faithless Breast,
Where only filthy Lusts and Passions dwell,
Like Dirt and Cobwebs in a Hermet's Cell.
Porters, 'tis true, thy Quality mistake,
And, bowing, call thee Master, when they spake.
The Drawer Sirs thee up at e'ery Word,
And Tapster Tom pays Homage to thy Sword.
Maim'd begging Sailers, dogging at thy Heels,
Give thee the Style of Captain, in Moorefields,
And pray, perhaps, Your Honour, as you pass,
To bless them with your Charity in Brass.
These Flatterers, in Thought may make thee Great,
Because they're Strangers to thy vagrant State;
Prompt thee to vainly fancy that they see
Not half so much in others as in thee:
But he, alas, who knows thee, well observes
Thy Pride's too soaring for a Wretch that starves,
And sits amaz'd to hear so little Worth
Set others Failings with such envy forth.
As if bewilder'd with a vain Conceit
Of thy own Learning, Honesty, and Wit,
When none but thy mistaken self can find
One real Vertue seated in thy Mind,
Except the lewd Delights of Punk and Glass,
For wise Pursuits and great Atchievements pass;
And tricking Frauds impos'd upon a Friend,
Are Deeds that to Immortal Glory tend.
How therefore canst thou proudly Pish and Poh,
And snarl at what thy Betters say or do,
Rake into other's Dunghils that the Steem
Of thy own Filth, may less offensive seem,
Injure the Worthy, at their Merits snort,
And make their Vertues thy indecent sport?",,11324,•INTEREST.,"""Furnish'd with nothing but a faithless Breast, / Where only filthy Lusts and Passions dwell, Like Dirt and Cobwebs in a Hermet's Cell.""",Rooms,2009-09-14 19:35:47 UTC,Numb. IV.
4335,"",HDIS,2004-08-25 00:00:00 UTC," Curse on that foppish Name, that empty Sound,
In whose dark Maze Mens Intellects are drown'd;
That Courtly Bauble, thin as airy Thought,
Most boasted on by those who have it not;
That Maggot that infects the giddy Brains
Of Cowards, Fools, rich Knaves, and Curtizans.",,11367,"•Honour is the ""empty Sound""","""Curse on that foppish Name, that empty Sound ['Honour'], / In whose dark Maze Mens Intellects are drown'd.""","",2011-05-31 03:41:26 UTC,"Dialogue VII. Between an Officer at his Departure, and his affectionate Wife."