updated_at,id,text,theme,metaphor,work_id,reviewed_on,provenance,created_at,comments,context,dictionary
2010-06-10 18:58:24 UTC,13762," In all my Enna's beauties blest,
Amidst profusion still I pine;
For though she gives me up her breast,
Its panting tenant is not mine.
(ll. 1-4, p. 593)","","""In all my Enna's beauties blest, / Amidst profusion still I pine; / For though she gives me up her breast, / Its panting tenant is not mine.""",5092,2010-06-10,Reading and HDIS (Poetry),2003-11-27 00:00:00 UTC,"","",Inhabitants
2009-09-14 19:39:27 UTC,13897,"On his spear leans Fillan of Selma, in the wandering of his locks. Thrice he raised his eyes to Fingal: his voice thrice fails him as he speaks. My brother could not boast of battles: at once he strides away. Bent over a distant stream he stands: the tear hangs in his eye. He strikes, at times, the thistle's head, with his inverted spear. Nor is he unseen of Fingal. Sidelong he beholds his son. He beholds him with bursting joy; and turns, amid his crowded soul. In silence turns the king towards Mora of woods. He hides the big tear with his locks. At length his voice is heard.","","""He beholds him with bursting joy; and turns, amid his crowded soul""",5166,2006-01-18,"Searching ""soul"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry). ",2005-06-12 00:00:00 UTC,"",Argument to Book III,Inhabitants
2011-06-20 18:45:39 UTC,14028," O God, to what a pitch are wrought
The councils of omniscient thought,
How dear unto my soul,
To what an infinite of sums
Their meanest estimation comes,
What worlds on worlds the whole!","","""O God, to what a pitch are wrought / The councils of omniscient thought.""",5213,2011-06-20,"HDIS (Poetry): searching internal ""councils""",2004-03-30 00:00:00 UTC,"","",Inhabitants
2013-06-04 15:47:23 UTC,14257,"If to conceive how any thing can be
From shape extracted and locality
Is hard; what think you of the Deity;
His Being not the least relation bears,
As far as to the human mind appears,
To shape, or size, similitude, or place,
Cloath'd in no form, and bounded by no space.
Such then is God, a spirit pure refin'd
From all material dross, and such the human mind.
For in what part of essence can we see
More certain marks of immortality
Ev'n from this dark confinement with delight
She looks abroad, and prunes herself for flight;
Like an unwilling inmate longs to roam
From this dull earth, and seek her native home.","","""Ev'n from this dark confinement with delight / She [the mind] looks abroad, and prunes herself for flight; / Like an unwilling inmate longs to roam / From this dull earth, and seek her native home.""",5302,2013-06-04,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-07-18 00:00:00 UTC,•I've included twice: Inmate and Bird,"",Animals and Inhabitants and Rooms
2014-02-26 22:01:47 UTC,15262,"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)","","""Our mind's unhelm'd, our attributes decay--""",5726,,Searching in HDIS (Poetry); confirmed in ECCO,2005-05-31 00:00:00 UTC,"","",""
2011-10-26 21:28:05 UTC,19304,"I know very well it may, and I doubt not but it will be objected, if Hermippus was so wise a Man, why, instead of drawing old Age to such a Length, did he not preserve the Vigour of his Youth? This surely would have been by far a nobler Discovery, and to which the young Ladies would with the greatest Readiness have contributed. But I must put such People as these in mind, that as, in this Treatise, I have inserted nothing which may not be some way or other serviceable, either to the Instruction or Entertainment of Mankind, so I shall not think myself at all obliged to take Notice of any ludicrous Reflections. The Preservation of Life, the defending the human Body from Decay, and of rendering it a fit Tenement for the Soul to inhabit, in that Season in which she is most capable of exerting her noblest Faculties, are grave and ferious Subjects; with which no trivial Matters ought to mingle. Besides, to speak my Opinion freely, though I think the Method of Hermippus extremely proper for repairing the Wastes of Nature, and preventing the Incommodities which usually attend on Years; yet I am far from believing, that this Method would contribute at all to the Extention of Youth, but rather the contrary; and for this, I think, I am able to offer some very probable reasons.
(pp. 108-9)","","""The Preservation of Life, the defending the human Body from Decay, and of rendering it a fit Tenement for the Soul to inhabit, in that Season in which she is most capable of exerting her noblest Faculties, are grave and ferious Subjects; with which no trivial Matters ought to mingle.""",7123,,Searching in Google Books,2011-10-26 21:28:05 UTC,"","",Rooms
2013-07-14 04:55:49 UTC,21756,"[...] Not having received that letter, I imagine it was in the mail of one of our couriers, who was taken; you will, therefore, my friend, be pleased to re-communicate its contents. I am at a loss to conjecture What they werej and am uneasy about them. For again, I say, if happiness and peace dwell not in Eloisa's mind, I know not where they will find an asylum on earth. You may make her easy, as to the dangers she imagines we are here exposed to; we have to do with an enemy too expert to suffer us to pursue him. With a handful of men, he baffles our attempts, and deprives us of all opportunity to attack him. [...]
(IV, p. 1)","","""For again, I say, if happiness and peace dwell not in Eloisa's mind, I know not where they will find an asylum on earth.""",7544,,Google Books,2013-07-14 04:55:49 UTC,"","",Inhabitants
2013-07-14 16:50:53 UTC,21762,"YOU offer me books; I will have nothing to do with them: for heaven's sake don't send me any. I don't wish to be again guided, heated, agitated. Alas! my heart is of itself but too much agitated already. I want strains that may lull me; and Homer furnishes them in abundance. Often have I strove to calm the blood that seemed boiling in my veins; often have I endeavoured to stop the keen and sudden passions of my heart--But 'tis not to you that I need explain its feelings; you have often seen with
concern my quick transitions from sorrow to immoderate joy, and from soft melancholy to violent and dangerous passions. My heart is like a sick child; and like a sick child I let it have its way:--But that between ourselves; for I know I mould be blamed for it.
(Vol. I, Letter IV [May 13], pp. 11-12)
Du fragst, ob du mir meine Bücher schicken sollst? – lieber, ich bitte dich um Gottes willen, laß mir sie vom Halse! Ich will nicht mehr geleitet, ermuntert, angefeuert sein, braust dieses Herz doch genug aus sich selbst; ich brauche Wiegengesang, und den habe ich in seiner Fülle gefunden in meinem Homer. Wie oft lull' ich mein empörtes Blut zur Ruhe, denn so ungleich, so unstet hast du nichts gesehn als dieses Herz. Lieber! Brauch' ich dir das zu sagen, der du so oft die Last getragen hast, mich vom Kummer zur Ausschweifung und von süßer Melancholie zur verderblichen Leidenschaft übergehen zu sehn? Auch halte ich mein Herzchen wie ein krankes Kind; jeder Wille wird ihm gestattet. Sage das nicht weiter; es gibt Leute, die mir es verübeln würden.
(Am 13. Mai, p. 9 in Reclam)","","""My heart is like a sick child; and like a sick child I let it have its way.""",5441,,Google Books,2013-07-14 16:50:53 UTC,"","",Inhabitants
2013-11-15 17:07:29 UTC,23198,"[...] He took occasion at the same time to extol the liberty which they enjoyed in their retreat, their manner of living, free from envy and ambition; their safety, ease, and happiness, with all the virtues that accompanied it, proved how consonant it was with true philosophy, that such a life alone could preserve pure and untainted morality, and highly became the good and virtuous, who knew how to despise riches, and live according to the dictates of nature. For those, indeed, who are in search of wealth, who measure happiness by power and splendour, who have never tasted of liberty, enjoyed the open freedom of speech, or beheld the face of truth; but have been brought up to, and for ever conversant with servitude and flattery: for those who are given up to pleasure, fond of luxurious tables, wine, and women; full of fraud, treachery, and lying; who attend to the sound of the harp, and listen with delight to lascivious sonnets; for such men the city alone is the proper habitation; where every street and market-place is full of enjoyments; there pleasure enters in at every gate: through the eye, the ear, the taste, the smell; through every part and every sense she gains admittance, and not a path remains that is not widened by this rapid and ever-flowing torrent. There meet together, adultery, avarice, perjury, and every other vice; the soul is overwhelmed beneath them, and justice, modesty, and virtue are no more: bereft of these, the mind becomes dry and barren, or only teems with savage and brutal extravagance. Such, according to his description, is this great city, and such the lessons of instruction to be learned from her. [...]
(p. 19)","","""There meet together, adultery, avarice, perjury, and every other vice; the soul is overwhelmed beneath them, and justice, modesty, and virtue are no more: bereft of these, the mind becomes dry and barren, or only teems with savage and brutal extravagance.""",7771,,Reading,2013-11-15 17:07:29 UTC,"","",Inhabitants
2014-04-07 14:54:09 UTC,23750,"VIII.
Yet there's a grief surpassing all the rest;
A jealous daemon whispers in my breast,
Marius was false; for liberty alone
The show of love the hypocrite put on.
(p. 96)","","""A jealous daemon whispers in my breast.""",7860,,Reading,2014-04-07 14:54:09 UTC,"","",Inhabitants