work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3228,"",HDIS,2004-07-28 00:00:00 UTC,"To heav'n's blest regions, where perfection reigns,
And knowledge absolute her throne maintains;
There when the soul, in search of purer day,
Loos'd from mortality's impris'ning clay
Shall swifter than the forked lightning dart,
His vain attainments shall like shades depart,
And vision infinite of truths divine
That far beyond his weak conception shine,
Drown the faint glimmerings of his mental rays
In one all-pow'rful and immortal blaze.
",2010-03-23,8477,•I've included twice in Architecture: Prison and Tent of Clay,"""There [to Heaven's Regions] when the soul, in search of purer day, / Loos'd from mortality's impris'ning clay / Shall swifter than the forked lightning dart.""","",2010-03-24 02:35:00 UTC,""
5500,"","Searching ""bosom"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-13 00:00:00 UTC,"Full many a circling year had roll'd,
Since Eldred sought the martial field:
Lewellyn's sire, in battle bold;
Courage, the warrior's bosom steel'd.",,14718,"","""Courage, the warrior's bosom steel'd.""",Metal,2009-09-14 19:41:43 UTC,""
5685,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-10 00:00:00 UTC,"Then comes a troop in gilded uniform,
The goodly band Johnsonian. Cowley first,
Poetic child, whose philosophic muse
Distracts, delights, torments, and captivates.
Let me attend, when, from the world retir'd,
He turn'd his restive Pegasus to graze,
And thought, and wrote, sedate and sober prose.
Comes Milton next, that like his wakeful bird
Sings darkling, sings and mourns his eye-sight lost,
And nightly wanders to the Muses' haunt,
Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill,
Smit with the love of sacred song; to us
Displaying nature, and the blissful scenes
Of Paradise, though not to him returns
Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine.
Sweet bard, that bears us softly now, and, smooth
As that unwrinkled flood that slowly winds
By Windsor's haughty tow'rs, and visits shores
Divinely various--rushes now, and leaps,
Confounding sense, immeasurable depth,
A foaming cataract, whose thund'ring fall
Disorders hell, and utmost earth and heav'n.
Comes Butler then, incomparable wit,
And not to be reprov'd, save when his muse
Decorum overleaps, and here and there
Bolts the coarse jest, to the chaste eye and ear
Offensive; for behind the comic mask
We find the scholar and the man of sense,
The friend of virtue, and the foe of vice.
Then follows courtly Waller, and in vain
On Amoret or Saccharissa calls,
With budget full of trifles, birth-day odes,
Congratulations, songs, and compliments,
And mythologic tales. Then Denham charms,
And from his own Parnassus, Cooper's Hill,
Sings the wide prospect that extended lies
Under his proud survey. Then Sprat. And then
Roscommon fills with elegant remark,
His verse as elegant; unspotted lines
Flow from a mind unspotted as themselves.
Then Wilmot tunes his reed, and in his song
Gives early specimen of genius, rare
And prone to excellence. But ah! how vain
Poetic hopes! The prime of life is lost,
His talent wasted, and the giddy fool
Grows old in pleasure, and denies his God.
The grave in view, a holy friend his guide,
He views his conduct with remorse, repents,
Acknowledges his fault, curses the wit
Of erring man that so outwits itself,
And dies, a martyr to the pains of vice.
Then Yalden sings, and fills us with delight,
His harp so tun'd that as the morning breaks
It breathes spontaneous rapture, and again
At ev'ning close with solemn eulogy
Welcomes the reign of night. With dewy eye
But harlot tear, then Otway's muse begins,
And charms who hears her with her Syren air;
To decency, alas, no friend, to vice
No enemy. His Celia then proclaims
Enamour'd Duke, at Floriana's grave
Sweet lamentation chanting. Dorset then
Hums nobly liberal, and hums too much,
Scarce heard an hour. Chaste Montague succeeds,
Stepney less pure, and Walsh with feeble wing
Half flying, half on foot. Then comes a bard,
Worn out and penniless, and poet still
Though bent with years, and in impetuous rhyme
Pours out his unexhausted song. What muse
So flexible, so generous as thine,
Immortal Dryden. From her copious fount
Large draughts he took, and unbeseeming song
Inebriated sang. Who does not grieve,
To hear the soul and insolent rebuke
Of angry satire from a bard so rare?
To trace the lubricous and oily course
Of abject adulation, the lewd line
Of shameless vice, from page to page, and find
The judgment brib'd, the heart unprincipled,
And only loyal at th' expence of truth,
Of justice, and of virtue? Meaner strain
The dapper wit commends of sprightly Garth.
We smile to see fantastic Poetry
Shake hands with Physic, and with grave burlesque
Arrange his gallipots, and gild his pills;
Then march in dreadful armour to the field,
To screen her new ally from hostile shocks,
With pestle truncheon, Cloacinian helm,
And levell'd squirt. Then heartily we laugh
With laughter-loving King, and much applaud
That vein of mirth which, innocent and clear,
In silver neatness flows. Young Phillips then,
Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme,
A shilling, breeches, and chimeras dire,
Sings gravely jocund. Dismal rag applauds,
With sympathetic ardour touch'd, at sound
Of tatter'd galligaskins, college duns,
And subtle catchpole. Modest Pomfret then,
To soar aloft unable, with light wing
Above the plain scarce elevated skims,
A short and feeble flight. So have I seen
The spaniel-hunted quail with lowly wing
Shear the smooth air: and so too have I heard
That she can sweetly clamour, though compell'd
To tread the humble vale, nor ever mount
High as the ev'ning swift or morning lark.
Then blameless Hughes, in union with Pepusch,
Still to the eloquent orchestra tunes
His virtuous, unmeaning song. And now,
In tones that might attract an angel's ear,
Flows the smooth strain of righteous Addison.
Then Blackmore says an everlasting tale,
Bless'd with a callous muse. Genius in vain
Laughs at the fond attempt, for still he bawls,
And with gigantic dissonance subdues
The universal hiss. No poet--true--
But mark the man, and you shall find him good.
And what's the poet if the man be naught?
Let Buckingham reply. Genius and wit
May flourish for a day, and snatch the wreath
From awkward probity; but soon shall fade
The ready laurels of a vicious muse,
While amaranthine honours crown the brow
Of unpoetic virtue. Waller's muse
In courteous Granville lives, in Granville dies.
Who can refuse applause to tragic Rowe?
Who can withhold his honest praise from thee,
Tickel, thou friend of Addison, and virtue?
Who is not startled at the fertile wit
Of beardless Congreve? and who does not grieve
That 'twas not drawn in the defence of virtue?
How sweet the music of thy happy lines,
Poetic Prior; full of mirth thy muse,
And exquisite her jest. Ah! hear it not,
Ye sober fair, for fulsome is the tale,
And only fit for the distemper'd ear
Of jovial libertines. His graver song
Applaud unsatisfied, and ever laugh
To see him mount his furious Pegasus
Pindaric, often back'd, but back'd in vain,
And never to be tam'd by crazy wits.
'Twas an unruly and a hard-mouth'd horse,
""And slung his rider if he sat not sure,""
Dan Cowley said. Yet up sprung Mat, resolv'd.
O'er sea and land with an unbounded loose
Runs the mad steed, a Gilpin race I ween.
Hardly the muse can sit the head-strong horse.
See, now she gallops round the Belgic shore,
Now through the raging ocean ploughs her way,
To rough Ierne's camps; there sounds alarms,
In the dank marshes finds her glorious theme,
And plunges after him through Boyne's fierce flood.
Back to his Albion then, then with stiff wing
East, over Danube and Propontis' shores,
From the Moeotis to the northern sea,
To visit the young Muscovite; thence up,
Resolv'd to reach the high empyrean sphere,
And ask for William an Olympic crown.
Till, lost in trackless fields of shining day,
Unhors'd, and all revers'd, down, down she comes,
Comes rushing with uncommon ruin down.
Glorious attempt, but not unhappy fate.
'Twas lucky, Mat, thou had'st not giv'n a name
To some Icarian gulf, or shook at least
The carnal man so sore, that he had limp'd,
And lamely hobbled to the verge of life;
But, thanks to fate, thy pace is even yet,
And happily the Muse her mirthful song
In durance vile prolongs. So have I heard
The captive finch, in narrow cage confin'd,
Charm all his woe away with cheerful song,
Which might have melted e'en a heart of steel
To give him liberty. Hence, hence, away
Ye meaner wits, hide your diminish'd heads,
See genius self approaches. Homer's soul
A puny child informs. Let envy laugh
To see an urchin ugly as herself
The glory of our isle. For thee, great bard,
We twine the laurel wreath, and grant it thine
Thrice-won. Shall any mortal tongue presume
To scatter censure on thy charming page?
Hark, 'tis the din of twenty thousand curs
Who bark at excellence. Who best deserves
Must feel the scourge of infinite abuse,
For man to man is fiercer than the wolf,
More cruel than the tiger. Who can brook
The sight of aught more worthy than himself?
Invite an angel from the courts of heav'n,
Our critic eye shall spy a thousand faults
Where not a fault exists. Mistake me not,
I name not thee an angel, haughty bard,
Thy deeds were human. With an honest heart
I love the poet, but detest the man.
Thy purer lays what mortal can despise,
Thy baser song what mortal can approve,
Thou witty, dirty, patriotic Dean?
Laugh on, laugh on. With pencil exquisite
Picture the features of encourag'd vice,
And fashionable folly. Give the fair,
The peerless Stella, everlasting worth,
Deride thy narrow paper-sparing friend;
And gall the great. But why shall thy sweet Muse
Turn scavenger, and the foul kennel rake
For themes and similes? What heart but grieves,
To find an equal portion in thy song
Of elegantly fair and grossly foul?
Now honest Gay, a city shepherd, sings,
Nor sings in vain to us. In Arcady
We love to stray, and dream of happy days
No eye has seen, no heart has felt. We love
The land of Fairy, and the puny deeds
Of dapper elves. Whate'er the frantic poet
In his wild mood imagines, we applaud.
Nor wholly scorn with Gay or Broom to stray,
Or Ambrose Philips, through enchanted land
To painted meadows, flow'ry lawns and hills,
To crystal floods, cool groves, and shady bow'rs,
And rills that babble, tinkle, purl, and murmur.
How sweet the song that from thy mellow pipe,
Dear Parnel, flow'd. Death overheard amaz'd,
And his stone couch forsook, all wonder now,
And now all envy. Sure he thought no bard
Of mortal mixture could such tones create;
Or if of mortal mixture, he had liv'd
Double the days of man, and stol'n from years
Due to the reign of silence and of death,
Song so divine. With the bad thought possess'd,
He keen'd his arrow on a flint, advanc'd,
And threw it greedily, his lipless jaws
Gnashing with hate. So fell betimes the bard,
So triumph'd death, and at the bloody deed
Shook his lean bones with laughter. Cursed fiend,
Thou bane of excellence, go hence, and laugh;
Yet shall the pious poet sing again,
And thou shalt hear, and with eternal wrath
Ay burning, dance with agony, and gnaw,
Howling for pain, the adamantine gates
Of treble-bolted Hell.",,15196,•C-H takes from Poems (1808),"""So have I heard / The captive finch, in narrow cage confin'd, / Charm all his woe away with cheerful song, / Which might have melted e'en a heart of steel / To give him liberty""",Metal,2009-09-14 19:43:00 UTC,""
5729,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""iron"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-07 00:00:00 UTC,"To the door he went,
And left her. She obey'd, to be set free
From this her dreary mansion little loth,
And having paid her landlord, left his house,
And came to Ernest's. With a gracious smile,
Such as the tender father gives his child,
He at his door receiv'd her. To her room
Now he conducts her, at the table's head
Now seats her, and proclaims her with delight
Queen of the feast. With cheerfulness and ease
She rules the board, and half forgets her grief.
Day rose, and day retir'd. Night after night
Withdrew, and ere she thinks of preparation
The promis'd week is gone. She begs one more,
And yet another. To protract her stay
Ernest consents, unwilling to dismiss
A guest so lovely. At the long delay
Young Henry too was pleas'd, with secret love
Towards Ophelia burning. For what youth
Can look on woman beauteous as the morn
With tearful eyes emerging from distress,
All penitence and sorrow--and not love?
Is there a man whose iron heart is proof
Against such charms? Lay not his bones by mine.
For should they touch, 'twere like a sudden spark
Let fall by chance among the nitrous casks
Lodg'd in the bowels of a ship of war,
Which in a moment blows her to the Moon.",,15286,"","""Is there a man whose iron heart is proof / Against such charms?""",Metal,2009-09-14 19:43:15 UTC,""
5730,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-06-07 00:00:00 UTC,"'Are ye dismay'd, my friends? Where is the gay,
'The cheerful sunshine that few moments past
'Enliven'd ev'ry countenance I saw?
'So soon eclips'd and overcast with clouds
'Of weak and childish apprehension? What,
'Can ye forget, that he who leads the foe
'Has been already once repuls'd with loss?
'Is it not Croesus, whom we fought before
'At wond'rous odds, yet drove him from the field?
'He had an army then, whose swarming foot
'Were more in number than our army now
'Take horse and foot together. Yet besides,
'He had four hundred chariots, and fleet horse
'Full sixty thousand. We were few and weak,
'Our horse one third, our total foot half his,
'And not a chariot seen in all our ranks.
'Yet we engag'd him, and the day was won.
'We fought it bravely, the Assyrian fell,
'Conquest was our's, confusion was the foe's,
'And shall we fear him when he comes again,
'Bearing in mind that he was once repuls'd
'By numbers more unequal? Shall we not
'Assault him rather with augmented fire,
'Remembring how he fled and we pursued?
'Immortal Gods, if ye so quake with fear
'To think of Croesus and the tyrant King
'Thus coming, with what terror had ye shook
'Had ye been born supporters of their cause,
'And such an army as our own approach'd
'To give you battle? Say, we are Assyrians,
'And lo! where Cyrus comes, the fiery boy,
'Who beat us soundly when we fought him last
'And longs to fight again. Flying he comes
'Elate with victory and strong with toil.
'Shall we oppose him? Grant, that we are many,
'He too is num'rous, and he conquer'd then
'When we engag'd a lion to a lamb.
'Shall we prevail if we engage him now
'A lion to a lion? Mark his horse
'Cloth'd to the ears in armour. See his lines
'Of hardy Persians, since we fought him last
'Doubled, and more than doubled by ten thousand.
'Who foils a Persian? Are they not all flint,
'All steel and iron to the very heart?
'Look at his troop of camels. Call to mind
'That nature 'twixt the camel and the horse
'Put strange antipathy. Dispatch but one,
'A million horse shall not abide the sight.
'Look at his chariots. Can ye count their wheels?
'Yet ev'ry axle-tree is hid with scythes
'As Death were come to make the world his harvest,
'And these his sturdy ministers stood up
'To sweep away an empire in a breath.
'Look at his tow'rs, with skilful archers fill'd,
'Who sit above like Gods, and from on high
'Govern the fortune of the war below.
'Consider this, my friends, and let me ask
'Is there among you who presumes to think
'Our cause is desperate? If such there be,
'Let him forsake us, and support those arms
'He trembles to oppose. The man who fears
'May do his country service by desertion.'",,15287,"•I've included thrice: Iron, Flint, and Steel","""'Who foils a Persian? Are they not all flint, / 'All steel and iron to the very heart?""","",2009-09-14 19:43:15 UTC,""
5730,Negated Metaphor,"Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-10 00:00:00 UTC,"'Fear not,'
'Replied the Prince. 'There is not much to blame.
'To fail is human, and the soldier's lot
'Is often to miscarry. 'Twas not thine
'To strive with love and beauty, and prevail.
'I told thee 'twas not, when thy forward zeal
'Boasted its power to outbrave alike
'The frown of anger and the smile of love.
'The hero's heart is neither steel nor flint.
'Youth in the pow'rful rays of beauty's noon
'Is ice before the sun. As soon expect
'Snow to be stedfast in the midst of flame,
'As youth to look on beauty and not love.
''Twould melt a mountain, 'twould dissolve a world,
'Be wise in future, and believe thy friend,
'That Babylon may lose, but love will win.
'Cyrus may conquer all the realms on earth,
'But love still triumphs, and may conquer hi",,15289,"•I've included twice: Flint, and Steel","""'The hero's heart is neither steel nor flint""",Metal,2009-09-14 19:43:15 UTC,""
5730,Negated Metaphor,"Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-10 00:00:00 UTC,"He said, and to begin the dreadful storm,
Flew like an arrow to his chosen force.
'Twas time, for Croesus had his signal giv'n,
And all the armies of the martial foe
Slowly advanc'd. Then momentary dread
Shot thro' the ranks of Cyrus. For what heart,
Not made of steel, could look on such a scene,
Three armies deep and strong, with countless horse,
Chariots untold, innumerable foot,
Advancing with their weapons drawn to kill,
And not one passage open to escape--
Who could behold it and not feel afraid?
Deep silence reign'd, and not a sound was heard,
Save the low thunder of approaching files.
But fear was transient as the lightning glimpse,
Not long admitted to a Persian breast.
Courage returns, and ev'ry heart is rous'd,
Hearing the sound of onset.
",,15291,"•I've included twice: Flint, and Steel","""For what heart, / Not made of steel, could look on such a scene, / Three armies deep and strong, with countless horse, / Chariots untold, innumerable foot""",Metal,2009-09-14 19:43:16 UTC,""
5732,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-10 00:00:00 UTC,"""Then hear,"" said Gilbert. ""To this spot I came,
""Intending hurt to none. From the loud surge
""But ill escap'd, and climbing the rude cliff
""Through a steep moulder'd gap, at a small hut
""Belonging to the fisher and his son,
""I found this suit, and chang'd it for my own
""All dripping wet. Soon as the tempest ceas'd
""I left the hut thus clad, and tow'rds the wood
""Came with all speed, well knowing these my friends
""And these my sisters had not hearts of steel,
""And might be griev'd at my delay. I saw,
""Just as my weary feet had reach'd this spot,
""This lovely maid upon that bench asleep.
""I saw, and was refresh'd; but had not gaz'd
""A moment's space, ere yonder villain came,
""Thy friend; and I retir'd, and unperceiv'd
""Beheld the dev'lish antic at his wiles.
""I knew his purpose, (for the outward act
""Gives true assurance of the inward mind,)
""And burning with impatience stood awhile,
""Till he all passion seiz'd the helpless maid
""Alone and sleeping, and with touch profane
""Thought to have feasted on those crimson lips
""And that vermilion cheek. I sprung to help her
""And sure my arm had more than usual strength,
""For with one blow I fell'd him to the earth,
""And set the captive free. She fled alarm'd,
""And hardly stay'd to cast one thankful look
""On him who sav'd her--but that gracious smile
""Repays me well. The shameless villain rose,
""And, cursing me by ev'ry name above,
""Ran at my life. The second blow you saw,
""Which plung'd him headlong in the miry brook.
""And if an act like this can need defence,
""I stand prepar'd to give it; for be sure,
""Had it been Fred'rick I had done the same,
""And Fred'rick had deserv'd it.""",,15292,•C-H takes from Poems (1808),"""'And these my sisters had not hearts of steel, / 'And might be griev'd at my delay""",Metal,2009-09-14 19:43:16 UTC,""
5758,"","Searching ""passion"" and ""alloy"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-04-14 00:00:00 UTC,"While yet 'tis mine to trace the feeling Hour,
And win young Fancy from the Muses Bower,
Ere pressing Cares, too numerous, intervene
To disenchant the bosom-soothing Scene;
Come, nor so soon, alas! to Memory fade
Ye Views, fast-fainting into sombre Shade!
O come, where never Cares engender'd Strife,
Ye spotless Visions of untroubled Life!
There may I colour, where our College-Day
Triumph'd in youthful Spirits light and gay,
The generous Mind expanding into Joy,
While no mean Passion mixt its base Alloy;
Melt o'er our parting Moments not in vain,
Fresh as I read my Greville's Heart again;
Rescue each Sparkle of our wishing Eyes,
And from severe Oblivion steal our Sighs!",,15340,"","""The generous Mind expanding into Joy, / While no mean Passion mixt its base Alloy;""",Metal,2009-09-14 19:43:23 UTC,""
5787,"","Searching ""breast"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-13 00:00:00 UTC,"Yes! 'tis a passion o'er which taste hath breath'd
Her cool soft tints; such as a STRAFFORD's air
Of plaintive eloquence might haply move,
If aided by his injur'd worth alone;
Nor borrowing ought of adventitious help
From what thy fashionable audience deems
But artificial trick. The feeling scene,
Where stood his little offspring rang'd around--
Lifting their pleading eyes--had yet impell'd
Our senatorial fathers to forgive,
(Ere fashion chas'd pure instinct from the heart)
Had not a persecuting spirit steel'd
Their breasts to momentary pardon prone.
Who could despise his unaffected strain
So arm'd by truth and goodness? Who, the pause,
The tear, the look of pity sweetly-thrown
On his dear artless innocents; the sigh
Light-rising, of a soul resign'd to heaven?",,15454,"","""Had not a persecuting spirit steel'd / Their breasts to momentary pardon prone.""",Metal,2009-09-14 19:43:41 UTC,""