work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context 5702,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2006-01-24 00:00:00 UTC,"Thus mouru'd the youth--'till sunk in pensive grief,
He woo'd his handkerchief for soft relief;
In either pocket, either hand he threw;
When lo! from each a precious tablet flew.
Thus--his sage patron's wond'rous speech on trade!
This--his own book of sarcasms, ready made!
Tremendous book!--thou motley magazine
Of stole severities, and pilter'd spleen!
Oh! rich in ill!--within thy leaves entwin'd,
What glittering adders lurk to sting the mind!
Satire's Museum--with Sir Ashton's lore,
The Naturalist of malice, eyes thy store;
Ranging with fell Virtu his poisonous tribes
Of embryo sneers, and animalcule gibes.
Here insect puns their feeble wings expand,
To speed, in little flights, their Lord's command;
There, in their paper chrysalis, he sees,
Specks of bon mots, and eggs of repartees.
In modern spirit ancient wit he steeps;
If not its gloss, the reptile's venom keeps:
Thy quaintness, Dunning;--but without thy sense,
And just enough of Bearcroft, for offence.",,15204,"","""What glittering adders lurk to sting the mind!""","",2009-09-14 19:43:01 UTC,""