text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"This Heart of mine, now wreck'd upon despair,
Was once as free and careless as the Air;
In th' early Morning of my tender years,
E're I was sensible of Hopes and Fears,
It floated in a Sea of Mirth and Ease,
And thought the World was only made to please;
No adverse Wind had ever stopp'd its Course,
Nor had it felt great Love's tempestuous Force,
(That Storm that swells the Tydes of Human Care,
And makes black Waves come rolling from afar,)
'Till too much Freedom made it grow secure,
As if the Sunshine always would endure;
And I, with haughty and disdainful Pride,
Mock'd the blind God, and all his Force defy'd.
At this enrag'd, the injur'd Deity
Chose out the best of his Artillery,
And in a blooming Virgin's Dove-like Eyes
He planted his Victorious Batteries;
(Phillis her Name, the best of Woman-kind,
Could Love have gain'd the Empire of her Mind)
These shot so furiously against my Heart,
That Nature's strength, tho' much improv'd by Art,
With Groans gave way to each resistless stroak,
As when the Thunder rends some sturdy Oak.
The wing'd Battalions from her lovely face
Flew to the Breach, and, rushing in apace,
Did quickly make her Mistress of the place.
",2018-06-18 15:32:17 UTC,"""This Heart of mine, now wreck'd upon despair, / Was once as free and careless as the Air; / In th' early Morning of my tender years, / E're I was sensible of Hopes and Fears, / It floated in a Sea of Mirth and Ease, / And thought the World was only made to please; / No adverse Wind had ever stopp'd its Course, / Nor had it felt great Love's tempestuous Force, / (That Storm that swells the Tydes of Human Care, / And makes black Waves come rolling from afar,) / 'Till too much Freedom made it grow secure, / As if the Sunshine always would endure; / And I, with haughty and disdainful Pride, / Mock'd the blind God, and all his Force defy'd.""",2004-08-10 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),9866,3834
" Whoe'er he was, he does my fancy move,
Who painted first the little God of Love.
Plainly he saw the senseless Lovers snare,
What solid good they lose, for empty care;
Thence did he Justly windy Wings impart,
And made the God fly with a humane Heart.
By Fortune's waves he knew us wildly tost,
While, by each dash, we may be wreck'd, and lost.
Justly he knew what the old Poets sung,
That from the Seas Love's Beauteous Mother sprung.
E'er since which time, unhappy Lovers see,
Their Passion ne'er can be from Tempests free.
It Ebbs and Flows, unfixt, not long the same,
A rowling Ocean of tumultuous Flame.
He feign'd him blind, with true design, to show
That every Lover, while he Loves, is so.
Justly indeed his Darts were bearded found,
For, what they hurt, can never be made sound;
And 'ere we see him, he is sure to wound.
My Breast his Arrows, and his Image boast,
But sure his Wings, with which he flies, are lost.
My Heart's his Throne, yet Rebel Passions Jar,
Which Fire my Veins, and thro' my Blood make War.
Why Cruel Love, should you the Tyrant Play?
By what pretence can you demand your sway?
But you have Pow'r, and I must still obey.
When I am gone, who shall your praises sing?
And my Light Muse can weighty glories bring.
",2012-02-09 16:22:39 UTC,"""E'er since which time, unhappy Lovers see, / Their Passion ne'er can be from Tempests free / It Ebbs and Flows, unfixt, not long the same, / A rowling Ocean of tumultuous Flame.""",2004-06-14 00:00:00 UTC,I've included the entire poem,"",2012-02-09,"",•I've included twice: Tempest and Ocean.,HDIS (Poetry),10287,3958
"17. May be an effect and emanation from a holy Conscience; but conscience in itself may be either good or bad, or it may be good when the heart is not clean, as it is in all the worst men who actually sin against conscience, doing that which conscience forbids them. In these men the principles are holy, the instruction perfect, the law remaining, the perswasions uncancelled; but against all this torrent there is a whirlwind of passions, and filthy resolutions, and wilfulness, which corrupt the heart, while as yet the head is uncorrupted in the direct rules of conscience. But yet sometimes a clean conscience and a clean heart are the same; and a good conscience is taken for holiness, so S. Paul uses the word, holding faith and a good conscience, which some having put away have made shipwreck [GREEK], so Clemens Alexandrinus explicates the place, they have by infidelity polluted their divine and holy conscience: but S. Paul seems to argue
otherwise, and that they, laying aside a good conscience, fell into infidelity ; their hearts and conscience were first corrupted, and then they turned heretics. But this sense of a good conscience is that which in Mystic Divinity is more properly handled, in which sense also it is sometimes used in
law. Idem est conscientiaquod vir bonus intrinsece, said
Ungarellus out of Baldus; and from thence Aretine*
gathered this conclusion, that if any thing be committed to
the conscience of any one, they must stand to his determination, & ab ea appellari non potest ; there lies no appeal, quia vir bonus, pro quo sumitur conscientia, non potest mentiri et falsum dicere vel judicare. A good man, for whom the word conscience is used, cannot lye, or give a false judgment or testimony: of this sort of conscience it is said by Ben Sirach, bonam substantiam habet, cui non est peccatum in conscientia. It is a mans wealth to have no sin in our conscience. But in our present and future discourses, the word conscience is understood in the Philosophical sence, not in the Mystical, that is, not for the conscience as it is invested with the accidents of good or bad, but as it abstracts
from both, but is capable of either.
(p. 5)",2010-01-12 19:17:34 UTC,"""In these men the principles are holy, the instruction perfect, the law remaining, the perswasions uncancelled; but against all this torrent there is a whirlwind of passions, and filthy resolutions, and wilfulness, which corrupt the heart, while as yet the head is uncorrupted in the direct rules of conscience.""",2010-01-12 19:17:34 UTC,"Book I, Chapter I","",,"","",Reading,17667,3617
"O! that some usual Labour were injoyn'd,
And not the Tyrant Vice enslav'd my mind!
No weight of Chains cou'd grieve my captive Hands,
Like the loath'd Drudg'ry of its base Commands;
By this a double mis'ry I contract,
Ev'n I condemn the hated Ills I act.
Yet of my Chains I'm not so weary grown,
But that I still am putting others on.
For Sin has always this attending Curse,
To back the first Transgression with a worse:
This to my sorrow, I too often find!
Yet no Experience warns my heedless mind.
Thus Vice and Virtue do my Soul divide,
Like a Ship tost between the Wind and Tide.
Pleasure, the Bawd to Vice, here draws me in,
There, Grief, its Follow'r, pulls me back from Sin:
Yet Pleasure oft comes Conqueror from the Field,
Whilst I to Vice, inglorious Homage yield.
Tho' Grief does still with Vice in triumph ride,
Plac'd like a Slave by that great Conqu'ror's side.
Thus Vice and Virtue have alternate sway,
While I, with endless labour, Both obey:
And to increase my pains, as if too small,
Thy heavy hand comes in the rear of all,
And with deep piercing strokes corrects me more,
For what was punish'd in it self before.
Thus guilty Souls in Hell are scourg'd for Sin;
Their never-ending Pains thus still begin.",2011-06-29 03:07:53 UTC,"""Thus Vice and Virtue do my Soul divide, / Like a Ship tost between the Wind and Tide.""",2011-06-29 03:07:53 UTC,"","",,"","","Searching ""mind"" and ""chain"" in HDIS (Poetry)",18841,4169
"CLARINDA
My heart is now calm and even like a standing water, and I could wish it would so remain, without the Flux, and Reflux of a passionate tyde agitated and driven at the mercy of the winds; sometimes rising with the floods of Joy, above the banks of moderation: and afterwards discending into the Gulf of Sorrow and dispair. Fortune chains us Women like Prentices, to the will and humour of our Husbands, who must rise or fall by their care and Management; while the distracting cares of Families and Children devides our hearts, and spirits us away into remote and distant Countrys and by degrees Supplant that kindness which at present governs our hearts.
LADY WARY
The Love I owe my Husband, is a seperate duty, and does not interfer with our Friendship: which like a chain firmly unites our hearts, whereon the least stroak given, is by both sensibly felt: Then let us twine our weak defenceles Vines about the armes of two strong Neighbouring Oakes, who still shall joyn in Friendship to support our Interest, and honour: against the Canker of all envious Tongues, where they may flourish to our wishes and still preserve our Friendship.
(V.v)",2011-07-30 20:10:18 UTC,"""My heart is now calm and even like a standing water, and I could wish it would so remain, without the Flux, and Reflux of a passionate tyde agitated and driven at the mercy of the winds; sometimes rising with the floods of Joy, above the banks of moderation: and afterwards discending into the Gulf of Sorrow and dispair.""",2011-07-30 20:10:18 UTC,"Act V, scene v",Stream of Consciousness,,"","","Searching ""heart"" and ""chain"" in HDIS (Drama)",19070,3902
"There is not so Disproportionate a Mixture in any Creature, as that is in Man, of Soul and Body. There is Intemperance, join'd with Divinity; Folly, with Severity; Sloth, with Activity; and Uncleanness, with Purity. But, a Good Sword is never the worse for an ill Scabbard. We are mov'd more by Imaginary Fears, than Truths; for Truth has a Certainty, and Foundation; but, in the other, we are expos'd to the Licence, and Conjecture of a distracted Mind; and our Enemies, are not more Imperious, than our Pleasures. We set our Hearts upon Transitory Things; as if they Themselves were Everlasting; or We, on the other side, to possess them for Ever. Why do we not rather advance our Thoughts to things that are Eternal, and contemplate the Heavenly Original of all Beings? Why do we not, by the Divinity of Reason, triumph over the Weaknesses of Flesh, and Blood? It is by Providence that the World is preserv'd; and not from any Virtue in the Matter of it; for the World is as Mortal as we are; only the Almighty Wisdom carries it safe through all the Motions of Corruption. And so by Prudence, Human Life it self may be prolong'd if we will but stint our selves in those Pleasures, that bring the greater part of us untimely to our End. Our Passions are nothing else but certain Disallowable Motions of the Mind; Sudden, and Eager; which, by Frequency, and Neglect, turn to a Disease; as a Distillation brings us first to a Cough, and then to a Phthisick. We are carry'd Up to the Heavens, and Down again into the Deep, by Turns; so long as we are govern'd by our Affections, and not by Virtue: Passion, and Reason, are a kind of Civil War within us; and as the one, or the other has Dominion, we are either Good, or Bad. So that it should be our Care, that the worst Mixture may not prevail. And they are link'd, like the Chain of Causes, and Effects, one to another. Betwixt violent Passion, and a Fluctuation, or Wambling of the Mind, there is such a Difference, as betwixt the Agitation of a Storm, and the Nauseous Sickness of a Calm. And they have all of them their Symptoms too, as well as our Bodily Distempers: They that are troubled with the Falling-Sickness, know when the Fit is a coming, by the Cold of the Extreme Parts; the Dazling of the Eyes; the Failing of the Memory; the Trembling of the Nerves, and the Giddiness of the Head: So that every Man knows his own Disease, and should provide against it. Anger, Love, Sadness, Fear, may be read in the Countenance; and so may the Virtues too. Fortitude makes the Eye Vigorous; Prudence makes it Intent; Reverence shews it self in Modesty; Joy, in Serenity; and Truth, in Openness, and Simplicity. There are sown the Seeds of Divine Things in Mortal Bodies. If the Mind be well Cultivated, the Fruit answers the Original; and, if not, all runs into Weeds. We are all of us Sick of Curable Diseases; And it costs us more to be Miserable, than would make us perfectly Happy. Consider the Peaceable state of Clemency, and the Turbulence of Anger; the Softness, and Quiet of Modesty, and the Restlessness of Lust. How cheap, and easie to us is the Service of Virtue, and how dear we pay for our Vices! The Sovereign Good of Man, is a Mind that subjects all things to it self; and is it self subject to nothing: His Pleasures are Modest, Severe, and Reserv'd; and rather the Sauce, or the Diversion of Life, than the Entertainment of it. It may be some Question, whether such a Man goes to Heaven, or Heaven comes to Him: For a good Man is Influenc'd, by God himself; and has a kind of Divinity within him. What if one Good Man Lives in Pleasure, and Plenty, and another in Want, and Misery? 'Tis no Virtue, to contemn Superfluities, but Necessities: And they are both of them Equally Good, though under several Circumstances, and in different Stations.
(pp. 474-476)",2011-09-20 16:31:06 UTC,"""Betwixt violent Passion, and a Fluctuation, or Wambling of the Mind, there is such a Difference, as betwixt the Agitation of a Storm, and the Nauseous Sickness of a Calm.""",2011-09-20 16:31:06 UTC,Epistle XXII.,"",,"","","Searching ""mind"" in Google Books",19198,7097
"The Ear in winding Labyrinths is laid,
Fit to receive and keep the Sound, is made:
But yet what Mind's so sharp, so deep, so strong,
To tell the Mysteries to this Sense belong?
What Garbs the fluid Atoms do array
When they our Thoughts to others do convey?
Whether the Atoms are of different size,
Or but from various Impulses rise?
When Soft and Melting Streams do flow from Love,
Or Stormy Accents do from Anger move?
Whence flow the Charms that do to Speech belong,
When Graces dance on a beloved Tongue!
Why the same Words from one should Love create,
And from another but ingender Hate?
Who can the Charms of Rhetorick express,
The Tunefull Motions and the Godlike Dress?
What Magick force the Captiv'd Ear doth ty,
When well plac'd Words from Artfull Lips do fly,
And calm or raise the Mind, as Storms the Sea?
How these Impulses, that to th' Ear do pass,
Such transports in the heightned Spirits cause?
The Ferment scarce will cool and sink again,
And Pleasure's more tumultuous, than Pain.
What Motions Speech must to the Ear convey,
Or in how many Forms the Atoms stray?
Since We can scarcely find two words alike,
But all must diversly the Organ strike.
Some no distinct Idea do create;
And Some are what We call Articulate.
The Birds have one, the Beasts another Tone,
And every Species hath a different one.
Beside from senseless things the various Noise,
That from Collision of their Parts doth rise:
What doth from Solids, what from Fluids flow,
What do from Winds, from Seas, and Thunder grow.
(ll. 278-312)",2013-06-19 20:17:37 UTC,"""What Magick force the Captiv'd Ear doth ty, / When well plac'd Words from Artfull Lips do fly, / And calm or raise the Mind, as Storms the Sea?""",2013-06-19 20:17:37 UTC,"","",,"","",C-H Lion,21035,3876
"ARPASIA.
Sure 'tis a Horror, more than Darkness brings
That fit's upon the Night; Fate is abroad.
Some ruling Fiend hangs in the dusky Air,
And scatters Ruin, Death, and wild Distraction,
O'er all the wretched Race of Man below:
Not long ago, a Troop of ghastly Slaves
Rush't in, and forc't Moneses from my Sight;
Death hung so heavy on his drooping Spirits,
That scarcely could he say--Farewel--for ever.
And yet, methinks, some gentle Spirit whispers
Thy Peace draws near, Arpasia Sigh no more;
And see the King of Terrors is at hand;
His Minister appears.
[Enter Bajazet, and Haly.
BAJAZET. aside to Haly]
The rest I leave
To thy dispatch. For oh! My faithful Haly,
Another Care has taken up thy Master;
Spight of the high-wrought Tempest in my Soul,
Spight of the Pangs, which Jealousy has cost me;
This haughty Woman reigns within my Breast:
In vain I strive to put her from my Thoughts,
To drive her out with Empire, and Revenge:
Still she comes back like a retiring Tide,
That Ebbs a while, but strait returns again,
And swells above the Beach.
(V.i, p. 61)",2013-07-17 04:13:24 UTC,"""For oh! My faithful Haly, / Another Care has taken up thy Master; / Spight of the high-wrought Tempest in my Soul, / Spight of the Pangs, which Jealousy has cost me; / This haughty Woman reigns within my Breast: / In vain I strive to put her from my Thoughts, / To drive her out with Empire, and Revenge: / Still she comes back like a retiring Tide, / That Ebbs a while, but strait returns again, / And swells above the Beach.""",2013-07-17 04:13:24 UTC,"Act V, scene i","",,"","",C-H Lion,21854,7548
"LOTHARIO.
Oh 'twas great.
I found the Fond, Believing, Love-sick Maid,
Loose, unattir'd, warm, tender, full of Wishes;
Fierceness and Pride, the Guardians of her Honour,
Were charm'd to Rest, and Love alone was waking.
Within her rising Bosom all was calm,
As peaceful Seas that know no Storms, and only
Are gently lifted up and down by Tides.
I snatch'd the glorious, golden Opportunity,
And with prevailing, youthful Ardour prest her,
'Till with short Sighs, and murmuring Reluctance,
The yielding Fair one gave me perfect Happiness.
Ev'n all the live-long Night we past in Bliss,
In Extacies too fierce to last for ever;
At length the Morn and cold Indifference came;
When fully sated with the luscious Banquet,
I hastily took leave, and left the Nymph
To think on what was past, and sigh alone.
(I.i, pp. 5-6)",2013-07-18 18:16:10 UTC,"""I found the Fond, Believing, Love-sick Maid, / Loose, unattir'd, warm, tender, full of Wishes; / Fierceness and Pride, the Guardians of her Honour, / Were charm'd to Rest, and Love alone was waking. / Within her rising Bosom all was calm, / As peaceful Seas that know no Storms, and only / Are gently lifted up and down by Tides.""",2013-07-18 18:16:10 UTC,"Act I, scene i","",,Inhabitants,"",C-H Lion,21860,7550
"LUCILLA.
Trust not to that;
Rage is the shortest Passion of our Souls,
Like narrow Brooks that rise with sudden Show'rs,
It swells in haste, and falls again as soon;
Still as it ebbs the softer Thoughts flow in,
And the Deceiver Love supplies its place.
(II.i, p. 14)",2013-07-18 21:25:46 UTC,"""Trust not to that; / Rage is the shortest Passion of our Souls, / Like narrow Brooks that rise with sudden Show'rs, / It swells in haste, and falls again as soon; / Still as it ebbs the softer Thoughts flow in, / And the Deceiver Love supplies its place.""",2013-07-18 21:25:46 UTC,"Act II, scene i",Stream of Consciousness,,"","",C-H Lion,21867,7550