work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
6964,"",Reading,2011-06-23 04:13:38 UTC,"Ye pale Inhabitants of Night,
Before my intellectual Sight
In solemn Pomp ascend:
O tell how trifling now appears
The Train of idle Hopes and Fears
That varying Life attend.
Ye faithless Idols of our Sense,
Here own how vain your fond Pretence,
Ye empty Names of Joy!
Your transient Forms like Shadows pass,
Frail Offspring of the magic Glass,
Before the mental Eye.
The dazzling Colours, falsely bright,
Attract the gazing vulgar Sight
With superficial State:
Thro' Reason's clearer Optics view'd,
How stript of all it's Pomp, how rude
Appears the painted Cheat.
(pp. 80-1)",,18773,"","""Ye pale Inhabitants of Night, / Before my intellectual Sight / In solemn Pomp ascend.""","",2011-06-23 04:13:38 UTC,""
6964,Mind's Eye,Reading,2011-06-23 04:17:33 UTC,"Ye pale Inhabitants of Night,
Before my intellectual Sight
In solemn Pomp ascend:
O tell how trifling now appears
The Train of idle Hopes and Fears
That varying Life attend.
Ye faithless Idols of our Sense,
Here own how vain your fond Pretence,
Ye empty Names of Joy!
Your transient Forms like Shadows pass,
Frail Offspring of the magic Glass,
Before the mental Eye.
The dazzling Colours, falsely bright,
Attract the gazing vulgar Sight
With superficial State:
Thro' Reason's clearer Optics view'd,
How stript of all it's Pomp, how rude
Appears the painted Cheat.
(pp. 80-1)",,18775,"","Melancholy's ""transient Forms like Shadows pass, / Frail Offspring of the magic Glass, / Before the mental Eye.""",Mirror,2014-07-15 16:04:26 UTC,""
6979,Mind's Eye,Reading,2011-06-23 20:42:33 UTC,"Not for themselves the toiling artists build,
Not for himself contrives the studious sage:
To distant views by mystic force compell'd,
All give the present to the future age.
Beneath the shelter of this reverend pile
The various schemes of busy care repose:
O'er the dark tombs, along each peopled isle,
The moon's pale beam a faint reflection throws.
Here Death his melancholy pomp displays,
And all his terrors strike on Fancy's eye:
To Fancy's ear each hollow gale conveys,
In chilling sounds, the last expiring sigh.
Mute is each Syren Passion's faithless song
Check'd and suspended by the solemn scene:
Mute the wild clamours of the giddy throng,
And only heard the ""still small voice"" within.
Ambition sick'ning views the laurel'd bust,
The weak reward for years of rival strife:
While Pleasure's garland withering in the dust,
Confutes the gayer hope of frolic life.
(p. 109)",,18806,"","""Here Death his melancholy pomp displays, / And all his terrors strike on Fancy's eye: / To Fancy's ear each hollow gale conveys, / In chilling sounds, the last expiring sigh.""","",2011-06-23 20:42:33 UTC,""