work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
4534,"","Searching ""wax"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-03-27 00:00:00 UTC,"Can I then grieve for ev'ry wretch's woe,
And weep if I but hear a tale of sorrow?
Say, can I share in ev'ry one's affection,
Yet still remain thus stupid to my own?
Is then my heart to all the world beside
Softer than melting wax or summer snow,
But to myself harder than adamant?
Can I behold the ruin Sin has made,
And feel God's image in my soul defac'd;
Nor heave a sigh, nor drop a pitying tear
At my sad fate, nor lift my eyes to heav'n
For aid against the flatt'ries of the world,
The wiles of Satan and the joys of sense?
Give me, ye springs, O give me all your streams
That I may weep; nor thus with stupid gaze
Behold my ruin, like a wretch inchanted
Whose faculties are bound with pow'rful charms,
To some accursed spot of earth confin'd.
Give me, ye gentle winds, your balmy breath
To heave my bosom with continued sighs.--
Teach me, ye wood-doves, your complaining note,
To mourn my fall, to mourn my rocky heart,
My headstrong will, and every sinful thought.
In silent shades retir'd I long to dwell,
Far from the tumults of the busy world,
And all the sounds of mirth and clamorous joy,
Till every stormy passion is subdu'd,
And God has full possession of my soul;
Till all my wishes centre in his will,
And I no more am fetter'd to the world;
Till all the business of my life is praise,
And my full heart o'erflows with heav'nly love,
While all created beauties lose their charms,
And God is all in all.
",2011-07-20,11930,"•I've included thrice: Wax, Snow, Adamant.
•Cross-reference: Watts seems to mix here Psalm XXII and Virgil's Pastoral VIII (as translated by Dryden). INTEREST","""Is then my heart to all the world beside / Softer than melting wax or summer snow, / But to myself harder than adamant?""","",2011-07-20 14:16:26 UTC,I've included the entire poem.
5726,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""bank"" in HDIS (Poetry); confirmed in ECCO",2005-05-31 00:00:00 UTC,"My recollection portrays all the past,
The bliss was sure too exquisite to last:
When Henry's supplication fill'd my days,
And every echo warbled Gabrielle's praise;
Train'd from my reason's dawn in noble deeds,
I sung of Virtue, and I sought her meeds:
My pliant fancy yielded to embrace
Those laws of honor, which upheld my race:
Oh! hesitate, ye generous nymphs, I pray,
Ere ye condemn the tenor of my lay.
Knew ye the sorcery that freights his tale,
Alas, you'd marvel not that men prevail!
A king, a hero, brilliant, wise and great,
Who seems the favor'd delegate of fate;
When such assail the melting virgin's breast,
Love is all-governing, and fear a jest.
With soft solicitude, with matchless charms,
He came, he woo'd, he won me to his arms!
So regal Jove his tender wishes told,
When the high ruler found Alcmena cold--
He swore his love should with his being last,
But scarce was sworn before that love was past:
Such vows, like poppies, mid the golden grain,
Tho' gay, are worthless, tho' alluring, vain:
When Passion's tides thro' mans' strong art'ries roar,
His heart resists them like a flinty shore;
But our frail frames, like mould'ring banks, give way,
Our mind's unhelm'd, our attributes decay--
His bright, his keen, his fascinating eyes,
Like wond'rous basilisks seduce their prize.
Go not, ye nymphs, you'll perish if you gaze,
For necromancy warms their weakest blaze!
If in the vortex of his arts you're found,
Your agency will die, your sense run round.
There Ruin's baneful circles never cease,
Till central potency ingulphs your peace!
(cf. pp. 24-5 in 1788 printing)",,15260,•I've included twice: Flinty Shore and Tide,"""When Passion's tides thro' mans' strong art'ries roar, / His heart resists them like a flinty shore; / But our frail frames, like mould'ring banks, give way.""","",2014-02-26 21:59:56 UTC,""
7407,"",Reading,2013-06-10 20:12:48 UTC,"Such, Britons! is the cause, to you unknown,
Or worse, o'erlook'd; o'erlook'd by magistrates,
Thus criminals themselves. I grant the deed
Is madness; but the madness of the heart.
And what is that? Our utmost bound of guilt.
A sensual, unreflecting life is big
With monstrous births, and Suicide, to crown
The black infernal brood. The bold to break
Heaven's law supreme, and desperately rush
Through sacred Nature's murder on their own,
Because they never think of death, they die.
'Tis equally man's duty, glory, gain,
At once to shun and meditate his end.
When by the bed of languishment we sit,
(The seat of wisdom! if our choice, not fate,)
Or o'er our dying friends in anguish hang,
Wipe the cold dew, or stay the sinking head,
Number their moments, and in every clock
Start at the voice of an eternity;
See the dim lamp of life just feebly lift
An agonizing beam, at us to gaze,
Then sink again, and quiver into death,
That most pathetic herald of our own:---
How read we such sad scenes? as sent to man
In perfect vengeance? No; in pity sent,
To melt him down, like wax, and then impress,
Indelible, Death's image on his heart;
Bleeding for others, trembling for himself.
We bleed, we tremble; we forget, we smile:
The mind turns fool before the cheek is dry.
Our quick-returning folly cancels all;
As the tide rushing rases what is writ
In yielding sands, and smooths the letter'd shore.
(ll. 483-515, pp. 129-130 in CUP edition)",,20499,"","""We bleed, we tremble; we forget, we smile: / The mind turns fool before the cheek is dry. / Our quick-returning folly cancels all; / As the tide rushing rases what is writ / In yielding sands, and smooths the letter'd shore.""",Writing,2013-06-10 20:13:06 UTC,Night the Fifth
7407,"",Reading,2013-06-10 20:39:24 UTC,"Our funeral tears from different causes rise.
As if from separate cisterns in the soul,
Of various kinds, they flow. From tender hearts,
By soft contagion call'd, some burst at once,
And stream obsequious to the leading eye.
Some ask more time, by curious art distill'd.
Some hearts, in secret hard, unapt to melt,
Struck by the magic of the public eye,
Like Moses' smitten rock, gush out amain.
Some weep to share the fame of the deceased,
So high in merit, and to them so dear.
They dwell on praises which they think they share;
And thus, without a blush, commend themselves.
Some mourn in proof that something they could love;
They weep, not to relieve their grief, but show .
Some weep in perfect justice to the dead,
As conscious all their love is in arrear.
Some mischievously weep, not unapprized
Tears sometimes aid the conquest of an eye.
With what address the soft Ephesians draw
Their sable net-work o'er entangled hearts!
As seen through crystal, how their roses glow,
While liquid pearl runs trickling down their cheek!
Of hers not prouder Egypt's wanton queen,
Carousing gems, herself dissolved in love.
Some weep at Death, abstracted from the dead,
And celebrate, like Charles , their own decease.
By kind construction some are deem'd to weep,
Because a decent veil conceals their joy.
(ll. 522-550, pp. 130-1)",,20501,Interesting biblical allusion...,"""Some hearts, in secret hard, unapt to melt, / Struck by the magic of the public eye, / Like Moses' smitten rock, gush out amain.""","",2013-06-10 20:39:24 UTC,Night the Fifth
7743,"",ECCO,2013-10-28 19:34:24 UTC,"From early Morning, to the Close of Day,
Let not the Hours roll unimploy'd away.
Minds slothful, like uncultivated Earth,
To Weeds of Vice, and Folly, give a Birth;
Silver, and Gold, for Want of proper Use,
Their Splendor lose, and cancrous Rust produce;
Streams owe their Purity, to active Speed,
If Waters stagnate, they Corruption breed.
Learn to be active, from the busy Bee, [...]
(p. 203)",,23121,"","""Minds slothful, like uncultivated Earth, / To Weeds of Vice, and Folly, give a Birth; / Silver, and Gold, for Want of proper Use, / Their Splendor lose, and cancrous Rust produce; / Streams owe their Purity, to active Speed, / If Waters stagnate, they Corruption breed.""",Metal,2013-10-28 19:34:24 UTC,""
4057,"",Reading; text from ECCO-TCP,2014-02-07 15:42:25 UTC,"COME let me Love: or is my Mind
Harden'd to Stone, or froze to Ice?
I see the Blessed Fair One bend
And stoop t' embrace me from the Skies!
(p. 80 in 1706 ed.)",,23396,"","""COME let me Love: or is my Mind / Harden'd to Stone, or froze to Ice?""","",2014-02-07 15:42:39 UTC,""
7840,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in ECCO-TCP.",2014-03-12 17:04:07 UTC,"Whelm'd with such violence of woe,
Would melt a heart of steel,
Which only those who love can know,
Who lose can only feel.",,23646,"","""Whelm'd with such violence of woe, / Would melt a heart of steel, / Which only those who love can know, / Who lose can only feel.""",Metal,2014-03-12 17:04:07 UTC,""
4525,"","Reading Patricia Meyer Spacks, An Argument of Images: The Poetry of Alexander Pope (Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1971), 3.",2017-03-08 19:58:54 UTC,"GOD loves from Whole to Parts: but human Soul
Must rise from Individual to the Whole.
Self-Love but serves the virtuous Mind to wake,
As the small Pebble stirs the peaceful Lake,
The Centre mov'd, a Circle strait succeeds,
Another still, and still another spreads;
Friend, Parent, Neighbour, first it will embrace,
His Country next, and next all human-Race.
Wide, and more wide, th' O'erflowings of the Mind
Take ev'ry Creature in, of ev'ry Kind;
Earth smiles around, with boundless Bounty blest,
And Heav'n beholds its Image in his Breast.
(pp. 52-3, Epistle IV, ll. 361-372)",,25041,"","""Self-Love but serves the virtuous Mind to wake, / As the small Pebble stirs the peaceful Lake, / The Centre mov'd, a Circle strait succeeds, / Another still, and still another spreads.""","",2017-03-08 19:58:54 UTC,Epistle IV