id,dictionary,theme,reviewed_on,metaphor,created_at,provenance,comments,work_id,text,context,updated_at
10160,Impressions,"",,"""I their rude, inbred Cruelty refin'd, / And stampt my perfect Image on their Mind.""",2005-04-06 00:00:00 UTC,"Searching ""stamp"" and ""mind"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",3916,"Then thus the Fury Persecution spake:
I mighty Prince of Hell, will undertake
This glorious Work, I quickly will inspire
Hoel, with my ungovernable Fire.
Without remorse he shall my Will Obey,
And crush this Briton, now his easy Prey.
Nero by me rais'd his illustrious Name,
And Dioclesian got Immortal Fame.
I their rude, inbred Cruelty refin'd,
And stampt my perfect Image on their Mind.
My flames all Love's course mixture did destroy,
And purg'd off soft Compassion's base alloy;
I form'd and dissiplin'd their untaught Hate,
And rais'd their fierceness to a perfect State:
Where shame, and all reflecting Sense is lost,
And Hell can't purer strains of Malice boast.
Inexorable they all Cries withstood,
Ravish'd with Slaughter, and regal'd with Blood.
Hard marble Rocks might with more ease relent,
And Fire and Plague learn sooner to repent.
Then Christian Kings my Fury entertain'd,
And taught by me, in Blood and Slaughter reign'd.
With pious Rage and fierce destructive Zeal,
I first inspir'd their Minds, and did reveal
The mystery, how deep Revenge to take,
And slay the Servants for the Masters sake.
How bloody Wrath might with Devotion joyn,
And sacred Zeal with Cruelty combine.
By me the unknown way they understood,
T'attone the Christian's God with Christian Blood.
By me they shook off Fear's and Love's Restraints;
And on God's Altars burnt his slaughter'd Saints.
I made them call, that all Remorse might cease,
Murder Compassion, Desolation Peace.
Whilst my infernal Heats their Breasts inspir'd,
To the vile Sect their own mad Zeal acquir'd,
Wider Destruction, and more fatal Harms,
Then all your Scythian, or your Gothick Arms:
And Rome, proud Rome her self must owe to me
Her present State, and future Dignity.
The greatest Genius this, I e'er could find,
And to receive my Image best inclin'd.
I will her Mind inspire, and to her Heart
Immortal hate, to Abel's Race impart.
These Breasts she empties with her Infant Jaws,
I file her Teeth, and shape her tender Claws.
I Nurse her on the horrid Alps high Tops,
And feed her hunger with Cerberean Sops
Dipt in Tartarean Gall, and Hemlock Juice,
That in her Veins will noble Blood produce.
Fierce Tygers, Dragons, Wolves about her stay,
They grin, and snap, and bite, and snarling play.
I to her Jaws, throw Infants newly Born;
She sucks their Blood, and by her Teeth are torn
Their tender Limbs, while I rejoyce to see
Such noble Proofs of growing Cruelty.
To her wide Breast, and vast capacious Soul,
I often Torrents of black Poison rowl:
She drinks the livid Flood, and thro her Veins
Mad Fury runs, and wild Distraction reigns.
I'll lead her from the Rocks, her Strength full grown,
Fix her high Seat in the imperial Town,
And give her Scarlet, and a threefold Crown.
No Blood will then her mighty Thirst asswage,
No Ravage cloy her Antichristian Rage.
Her mitred Sons that never can relent,
From the great Cain shall prove their high Descent.
Their Deeds of strange infernal Cruelty,
Shall shew their Race worthy of Him and me.
Lay-Bigots, I with Time and Labour wrought,
Some inward Grudgings still against me fought:
'Twas hard to raise their hate to a degree,
From struggling Nature, and all Pity free.
But these Church-Zealots, of a truer Breed,
Are form'd with Ease, and scarce my Labour need.
Their forward Genius without teaching grows,
And all my hopes, and ev'n my Wish out-does.
How often shall thy Glorious Sons, O Rome,
With Martyrs Flames inlighten Christendom?
How often shall they, to deride their God,
Lift up in Prayer, their Hands all full of Blood?
The wasted World shall feel their loud Alarms,
Their blest Massacres, and their hallowed Arms.
As if their high intent were to Efface,
All Foot-steps left of Abel's hateful Race.
Bloody Tribunals, Rapine, Fire and Sword,
And Desolation, daily Sport afford.
Mankind they shall with such dire Plagues attack,
As will their Church a holy Desart make.
Such is my Zeal to serve th' Infernal State,
And shall this British Prince escape my Hate?
Forbid it Hell, and here she made a pause;
The Lords in Council gave a loud Applause.
The Prince of Darkness leaping from his Place,
Did in his Arms, his darling Fiend embrace:
Her Anger then rose higher, and all Hell
Uneasie seem'd, she grew so terrible.","",2013-07-02 17:37:51 UTC
11013,Coinage,"",,"Honor is ""The richest Treasure of a generous Breast, / 'That gives the Stamp and Standard to the rest.""",2005-04-11 00:00:00 UTC,"Searching ""stamp"" and ""breast"" in HDIS (Poetry)",•I've included twice: Stamp and Treasure,4229," Great Sir, renown'd for Constancy, how just
'Have we obey'd the Crown, and serv'd our Trust,
'Espous'd your Cause and Interest in Distress,
'Your self must witness, and our Foes confess!
'Permit us then ill Fortune to accuse,
'That you at last unhappy Councils use,
'And ask the only thing we must refuse.
'Our Lives and Fortunes freely we'll expose,
'Honour alone we cannot, must not lose:
'Honour, that Spark of the Celestial Fire,
'That above Nature makes Mankind aspire;
'Enobles the rude Passions of our Frame,
'With Thirst of Glory, and Desire of Fame;
'The richest Treasure of a generous Breast,
'That gives the Stamp and Standard to the rest.
'Wit, Strength, and Courage, are wild dangerous Force,
'Unless this softens and directs their Course;
'And would you rob us of the noblest Part,
'Accept a Sacrifice without a Heart?
''Tis much beneath the Greatness of a Throne,
'To take the Casket when the Jewel's gone;
'Debauch our Principles, corrupt our Race,
'And teach the Nobles to be False and Base;
'What Confidence can you in them repose,
'Who e're they serve you, all their Value lose?
'Who once enslave their Conscience to their Lust,
'Have lost their Reins, and can no more be Just.
(pp. 11-12, ll. 20-46; pp. 1-2 in 1689 ed.)","An embedded speech by ""brave SHREWSBURY and LUMLY's Name""",2013-10-15 01:23:39 UTC
21432,"","",,"""At such Reflections do's not Nature start, / And try at every Spring to touch your Heart? / Do's not soft Pity's fire begin to burn, / Do not your yearning Bowels in you turn? / In such a case Breasts arm'd with temper'd Steel / And Hearts of Marble, should impression feel.""",2013-07-02 19:00:32 UTC,C-H Lion,"",3938,"These are next you, of all my Joys the chief,
But if you die will give me no Relief,
But minding me of you, revive my Grief.
When on them I shall look theyll but invite
New floods of Tears, and fresh Complaints excite.
Can't these endearing Pledges of our Love
Dissolve your Heart, and your Compassion move?
Can you these sweet Delights chuse to forsake,
And from the helpless Babes their Father take?
Think how their Lives they must in Sorrow spend,
Who will you leave your Orphans to defend?
You know your Foes will labour to Oppress
Your helpless Widow, and your Fatherless.
Can such a Father e'er Unnatural prove,
Cease to be tender, and forget to Love?
Can you lay by th'Indulgent Parent's care,
And leave these Babes abandon'd to despair?
At such Reflections do's not Nature start,
And try at every Spring to touch your Heart?
Do's not soft Pity's fire begin to burn,
Do not your yearning Bowels in you turn?
In such a case Breasts arm'd with temper'd Steel
And Hearts of Marble, should impression feel.
Then on her bended Knees she fell, and fast,
All drown'd in Tears, his Fetter'd Limbs embrac'd.
And thus she cry'd, here ever will I stay,
Here will I lie, here beg, and weep, and pray,
And strive in Sighs to breath my Life away;
Till Clovis shall our heavy Doom retrieve,
And say he do's at last consent to Live.
(Bk VIII, p. 223, ll. 569-598)",Book VIII,2013-07-02 19:00:32 UTC
23861,Impressions,"",,"""And, as the soften'd Wax new Seals receives, / This Face assumes, and that Impression leaves; / Now call'd by one, now by another Name; / The Form is only chang'd, the Wax is still the same.""",2014-05-26 20:19:34 UTC,Reading,USE IN ENTRY?,7163,"Then, Death, so call'd, is but old Matter dress'd
In some new Figure, and a vary'd Vest:
Thus all Things are but alter'd, nothing dies;
And here and there th' unbodied Spirit flies,
By Time, or Force, or Sickness dispossest,
And lodges, where it lights, in Man or Beast;
Or hunts without, till ready Limbs it find,
And actuates those according to their kind;
From Tenement to Tenement is toss'd;
The Soul is still the same, the Figure only lost:
And, as the soften'd Wax new Seals receives,
This Face assumes, and that Impression leaves;
Now call'd by one, now by another Name;
The Form is only chang'd, the Wax is still the same:
So Death, so call'd, can but the Form deface,
Th' immortal Soul flies out in empty space;
To seek her Fortune in some other Place.
(p. 512, cf. p. 821 in OUP)","",2014-05-26 20:19:34 UTC