work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
7407,"",Reading,2013-06-10 20:10:44 UTC,"Such, Britons! is the cause, to you unknown,
Or worse, o'erlook'd; o'erlook'd by magistrates,
Thus criminals themselves. I grant the deed
Is madness; but the madness of the heart.
And what is that? Our utmost bound of guilt.
A sensual, unreflecting life is big
With monstrous births, and Suicide, to crown
The black infernal brood. The bold to break
Heaven's law supreme, and desperately rush
Through sacred Nature's murder on their own,
Because they never think of death, they die.
'Tis equally man's duty, glory, gain,
At once to shun and meditate his end.
When by the bed of languishment we sit,
(The seat of wisdom! if our choice, not fate,)
Or o'er our dying friends in anguish hang,
Wipe the cold dew, or stay the sinking head,
Number their moments, and in every clock
Start at the voice of an eternity;
See the dim lamp of life just feebly lift
An agonizing beam, at us to gaze,
Then sink again, and quiver into death,
That most pathetic herald of our own:---
How read we such sad scenes? as sent to man
In perfect vengeance? No; in pity sent,
To melt him down, like wax, and then impress,
Indelible, Death's image on his heart;
Bleeding for others, trembling for himself.
We bleed, we tremble; we forget, we smile:
The mind turns fool before the cheek is dry.
Our quick-returning folly cancels all;
As the tide rushing rases what is writ
In yielding sands, and smooths the letter'd shore.
(ll. 483-515, pp. 129-130 in CUP edition)",,20498,"","""No; in pity sent, / To melt him down, like wax, and then impress, / Indelible, Death's image on his heart; / Bleeding for others, trembling for himself.""",Impressions,2013-06-10 20:10:44 UTC,Night the Fifth
7411,"",Reading,2013-06-12 15:34:18 UTC,"In man, the more we dive, the more we see
Heaven's signet stamping an immortal make.
Dive to the bottom of his soul, the base
Sustaining all, what find we? Knowledge, love.
As light and heat essential to the sun,
These to the soul. And why, if souls expire?
How little lovely here! How little known!
Small knowledge we dig up with endless toil;
And love unfeign'd may purchase perfect hate.
Why starved, on earth, our angel-appetites,
While brutal are indulged their fulsome fill?
Were then capacities Divine conferr'd,
As a mock diadem, in savage sport,
Rank insult of our pompous poverty,
Which reaps but pain from seeming claims so fair?
In future age lies no redress? and shuts
Eternity the door on our complaint?
If so, for what strange ends were mortals made!
The worst to wallow, and the best to weep;
The man who merits most, must most complain.
Can we conceive a disregard in Heaven,
What the worst perpetrate, or best endure?
(ll 253-174, pp. 185-6)",,20552,"","""In man, the more we dive, the more we see / Heaven's signet stamping an immortal make.""",Impressions,2013-06-12 15:34:18 UTC,Night the Seventh
7411,"",Reading,2013-06-12 19:36:38 UTC,"With insolence and impotence of thought,
Instead of racking fancy to refute,
Reform thy manners, and the truth enjoy.--
But shall I dare confess the dire result?
Can thy proud reason brook so black a brand?
From purer manners, to sublimer faith,
Is Nature's unavoidable ascent:
An honest deist, where the gospel shines,
Matured to nobler, in the Christian ends.
When that bless'd change arrives, e'en cast aside
This song superfluous: life immortal strikes
Conviction, in a flood of light Divine.
A Christian dwells, like Uriel, in the sun.
Meridian Evidence puts Doubt to flight;
And ardent Hope anticipates the skies.
Of that bright sun, Lorenzo! scale the sphere:
'Tis easy; it invites thee; it descends
From heaven to woo, and waft thee whence it came:
Read and revere the sacred page; a page
Where triumphs Immortality; a page
Which not the whole creation could produce;
Which not the conflagration shall destroy;
In Nature's ruins not one letter lost:
'Tis printed in the minds of gods for ever.
(ll. 1342-1365, p. 213 in CUP edition)",,20591,"","""Read and revere the sacred page; a page / Where triumphs Immortality; a page / Which not the whole creation could produce; / Which not the conflagration shall destroy; / In Nature's ruins not one letter lost: / 'Tis printed in the minds of gods for ever.""",Impressions and Writing,2013-06-12 19:36:38 UTC,Night the Seventh
7665,"",Reading,2013-09-02 03:03:04 UTC,"These claims to joy (if mortals joy might claim)
Will cost him many a sigh, till time, and pains,
From the slow mistress of this school, Experience,
And her assistant, pausing, pale Distrust,
Purchase a dear-bought clue to lead his youth
Through serpentine obliquities of life,
And the dark labyrinth of human hearts.
And happy if the clue shall come so cheap!
For while we learn to fence with public guilt,
Full oft we feel its foul contagion too,
If less than heavenly Virtue is our guard.
Thus, a strange kind of cursed necessity
Brings down the sterling temper of his soul,
By base alloy, to bear the current stamp,
Below call'd Wisdom; sinks him into safety;
And brands him into credit with the world;
Where specious titles dignify disgrace,
And Nature's injuries are arts of life;
Where brighter Reason prompts to bolder crimes,
And heavenly talents make infernal hearts,--
That unsurmountable extreme of guilt!
(p. 159, ll. 308-328)",,22624,"","""Thus, a strange kind of cursed necessity / Brings down the sterling temper of his soul, / By base alloy, to bear the current stamp, / Below call'd Wisdom; sinks him into safety; / And brands him into credit with the world; / Where specious titles dignify disgrace, / And Nature's injuries are arts of life; / Where brighter Reason prompts to bolder crimes, / And heavenly talents make infernal hearts,-- / That unsurmountable extreme of guilt!""",Metal,2013-09-02 03:03:04 UTC,Night the Eighth