work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
5369,Ruling Passion,"Searching HDIS for ""ruling passion""",2004-05-25 00:00:00 UTC,"Now, by Degrees, the parti-colour'd Blue
Of both our Loves the faithful Painting drew,
When, on a sudden, a tumultuous Sound
Awak'd my Thoughts; the Temple shook around:
Then was my warm Imagination fir'd
With what my Tenderness for you inspir'd;
Trembling with Hope, impatient I await
The Ynca's Office, to unite our Fate;
Thy manly Beauties all my Thoughts employ;
Fearless, I spring to meet my coming Joy.
But, ah! what different horrid Scenes appear!
The sad Remembrance fills my Soul with Fear;
The Temple Pavement stain'd with human Gore;
And the Sun's Image prostrate on the Floor;
Our frighted Virgins from the Murderers fly;
And helpless Mamas, struck with Thunder, die.
Trembling, I sought the Temple's deep Recess;
But there no Shelter found for my Distress.
Can'st thou believe it?--these unhallow'd Bands
On the Sun's Daughter urg'd their impious Hands;
Their frantic Rage the Sun himself disdain'd,
Nor fear'd due Vengeance from his Rites prophan'd;
Their ruling Passion Want of Gold supplies,
To that alone they offer Sacrifice;
The Thirst of Gold was first the guilty Source
Of our Misfortunes, and their bloody Force.
",2012-01-09,14444,"•This looks like a crazy piece of poetry: colonialists, watch out!
•BIO: Moore and R. B. Sheridan attended Whyte's school. ","""Their ruling Passion Want of Gold supplies, / To that alone they offer Sacrifice; / The Thirst of Gold was first the guilty Source / Of our Misfortunes, and their bloody Force.""","",2012-01-09 17:08:49 UTC,Letter I
5369,"","Searching ""bond"" and ""thought"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2012-01-09 17:12:08 UTC,"Ah! wretched Maid! those heart-felt Sighs forbear!
Why trickles thus the unavailing Tear?
Too well, I know, these Sighs must rise in vain;
Too true, these Tears unpity'd must complain:
Oh! could my Soul, endu'd with proper Pride,
Its Love, its Grief, its Indignation hide!
But burst it will; my Patience can no more:
But, to what Friend? whose Aid can I implore?
My Brain's disturb'd; alas! alas! I rave;
What can I do? a poor forsaken Slave!
Like Birds, that spend their little idle Rage,
And, fruitless, mourn, indignant of their Cage,
From Thought to Thought, my fluttering Spirits rove,
Betray'd to Bondage, and, ah! lost to Love.
Why did the hasty Messenger return
With such Dispatch, for hapless me to mourn?
Curs'd be the Wretch that brought the Tidings here,
Whose blasting Tale, like Thunder, sought my Ear;
Curs'd be the Day, when I was doom'd to see
My Husband's Heart, estrang'd from widow'd me;
Curs'd be that Face, whose more persuasive Charms
Have lur'd the faithless Aza to her Arms.",,19415,"INTEREST: USE in ENTRY, BEASTS.
Echoing Gray's ""I fruitless mourn""?","""My Brain's disturb'd; alas! alas! I rave; / What can I do? a poor forsaken Slave! / Like Birds, that spend their little idle Rage, / And, fruitless, mourn, indignant of their Cage, / From Thought to Thought, my fluttering Spirits rove, / Betray'd to Bondage, and, ah! lost to Love.""",Beasts and Fetters,2012-01-09 17:16:27 UTC,Letter VIII