work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
4104,"",Reading,2003-12-15 00:00:00 UTC,"Jove view'd the Combate, whose Event foreseen,
He thus bespoke his Sister and Queen.
The Hour draws on; the Destinies ordain,
My God-like Son shall press the Phrygian Plain:
Already on the Verge of Death he stands,
His Life is ow'd to fierce Patroclus' Hands.
What Passions in a Parent's Breast debate!
Say, shall I snatch him from Impending Fate;
And send him safe to Lycia, distant far
From all the Dangers and Toils of War;
Or to his Doom my bravest Off-spring yield,
And fatten, with Celestial Blood, the Field?
(ll. 225-36, p. 66)",,10561,•First published in Tonson's Miscellanies in 1709.,"""What Passions in a Parent's Breast debate!""",Inhabitants,2009-09-14 19:35:05 UTC,""
4165,"",Reading,2003-12-05 00:00:00 UTC,"But when the Fury took her Stand on high,
Where vast Cythaeron's Top salutes theSky,
A Hiss form all the Snaky Tire went round;
The dreadful Signal all the Rocks rebound,
And thro' th' Achaian Cities send the Sound.
Oete, with high Parnassus, heard the Voice;
Eurota's Banks remurmur'd to the Noise;
Again Leucothoë shook at these Alarms,
And press'd Palaemon closer in her Arms.
Headlong from thence the glowing Fury springs,
And o'er the Theban Palace spreads her Wings,
Once more invades the guilty Dome, and shrouds
Its bright Pavilions in a Veil of Clouds.
Strait with the Rage of all their Race possest,
Stung to the Soul, the Brothers start from Rest,
And all the Furies wake within their Breast
Their tortur'd Minds repining Envy tears,
And Hate, engender'd by suspicious Fears;
And sacred Thirst of Sway; and all the Ties
Of Nature broke; and Royal Perjuries;
And impotent Desire to Reign alone,
That scorns the dull Reversion of a Throne;
Each wou'd the sweets of Sovereign Rule devour,
While Discord waits upon divided Pow'r.
(ll. 160-80, p. 41-2)",,10743,
,"""And all the Furies wake within their Breast.""",Inhabitants,2009-09-14 19:35:14 UTC,""
4165,"",Reading,2003-12-05 00:00:00 UTC,"Now wretched Oedipus, depriv'd of Sight,
Led a long Death in everlasting Night;
But while he dwells where not a chearful Ray
Can pierce the Darkness, and abhors the Day;
The clear, reflecting Mind, presents his Sin
In frightful Views, and makes it Day within;
Returning Thoughts in endless Circles roll,
And thousand Furies haunt his guilty Soul.
The Wretch then lifted to th'unpitying Skies
Those empty Orbs, from whence he tore his Eyes,
Whose Wounds yet fresh, with bloody Hands he strook,
While from his Breast these dreadful Accents broke.
(ll. 69-80, p. 39)",,10744,"•Note, ""Returning Thoughts in endless Circles roll"" seems related to the expressions of revolution, revolving thoughts, etc., but it doesn't qualify as a rich enough metaphor to be categorized. ","""Returning Thoughts in endless Circles roll, / And thousand Furies haunt his guilty Soul.""",Inhabitants,2009-09-14 19:35:14 UTC,""
4151,"",Reading,2009-01-28 00:00:00 UTC,"First follow Nature, and your judgment frame
By her just standard, which is still the same:
Unerring Nature, still divinely bright,
One clear, unchang'd, and universal light,
Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart,
At once the source, and end, and test of art.
Art from that fund each just supply provides,
Works without show, and without pomp presides:
In some fair body thus th'informing soul
With spirits feeds, with vigour fills the whole,
Each motion guides, and ev'ry nerve sustains;
Itself unseen, but in th'effects, remains.
There are whom heav'n has blest with store of wit,
Yet want as much again to manage it;
For wit and judgment ever are at strife,
Tho' meant each other's aid, like man and wife.
'Tis more to guide, than spur the Muse's steed;
Restrain his fury, than provoke his speed;
The winged courser, like a gen'rous horse,
Shows most true mettle when you check his course.
(I, ll. 68-87)",,17223,"","""There are whom heav'n has blest with store of wit, / Yet want as much again to manage it; / For wit and judgment ever are at strife, / Tho' meant each other's aid, like man and wife.""",Population,2009-09-14 19:49:28 UTC,Part I
4208,"",Reading,2009-12-28 04:27:59 UTC,"Some Nymphs there are, too conscious of their Face,
For Life predestin'd to the Gnomes' Embrace.
Who swell their Prospects and exalt their Pride,
When Offers are disdain'd, and Love deny'd.
Then gay Ideas crowd the vacant Brain,
While Peers and Dukes, and all their sweeping Train,
And Garters, Stars, and Coronets appear,
And in soft sounds, Your Grace salutes their Ear.
'Tis these that early taint the Female Soul,
Instruct the eyes of young Coquettes to roll,
Teach Infant Cheeks a bidden Blush to know,
And little Hearts to flutter at a Beau.
(p. 88, I, ll. 79-90)
",,17600,"","""Then gay Ideas crowd the vacant Brain, / While Peers and Dukes, and all their sweeping Train, / And Garters, Stars, and Coronets appear, / And in soft sounds, Your Grace salutes their Ear.""","",2009-12-28 04:27:59 UTC,Canto I
4208,"",Reading,2009-12-28 05:24:36 UTC,"But when to Mischief Mortals bend their Will,
How soon they find fit Instuments of Ill!
Just then, Clarissa drew with tempting Grace
A two-edg'd Weapon from her shining Case;
So Ladies in Romance assist their Knight,
Present the Spear, and arm him for the Fight.
He takes the Gift with rev'rence, and extends
The little Engine on his Fingers' Ends;
This just behind Belinda's Neck he spread
As o'er the fragrant Steams she bends her Head:
Swift to the Lock a thousand Sprights repair,
A thousand Wings, by turns, blow back the Hair;
And thrice they twitch'd the Diamond in her Ear,
Thrice she look'd back, and thrice the Foe drew near.
Just in that instant, anxious Ariel sought
The close Recesses of the Virgin's thought;
As on the Nosegay in her Breast reclin'd,
He watch'd th' Ideas rising in her Mind,
Sudden he view'd, in spite of all her Art,
An Earthly Lover lurking at her Heart.
Amaz'd, confus'd, he found his Power expir'd,
Resign'd to Fate, and with a Sigh retir'd.
(pp. 230-1, III, ll. 125-46)",,17604,Rising like steam? (Coffee or tea?),"""As on the Nosegay in her Breast reclin'd, / He watch'd th' Ideas rising in her Mind, / Sudden he view'd, in spite of all her Art, / An Earthly Lover lurking at her Heart.""",Inhabitants,2009-12-28 05:53:22 UTC,Canto III
7522,"",C-H Lion,2013-07-11 04:29:49 UTC,"Vertue's a native Rectitude of Mind,
Vice the Degeneracy of Human Kind:
Vertue is Wisdom Solid and Divine,
Vice is all Fool without, and Knave within:
Vertue is Honour circumscrib'd by Grace,
Vice is made up of every thing that's base:
Vertue has secret Charms which all Men love,
And those that do not choose her, yet approve:
Vice like ill Pictures which offend the Eye,
Make those that made them their own Works deny:
Vertue 's the Health and Vigour of the Soul,
Vice is the foul Disease infects the whole:
Vertue 's the Friend of Life, and Soul of Health,
The Poor Man's Comfort, and the Rich Man's Wealth:
Vice is a Thief, a Traytor in the Mind,
Assassinates the Vitals of Mankind;
The Poison of his high Prosperity,
And only Misery of Poverty.
(Part II, pp. 363-4, ll. 451-468; pp. 45-6 in 1702 ed.)",,21623,"","""Vice is a Thief, a Traytor in the Mind, / Assassinates the Vitals of Mankind.""",Inhabitants,2014-08-20 16:28:18 UTC,""
7682,"",Reading,2013-09-18 15:08:07 UTC,"Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us,
And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us:
Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain,
And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign:
Wit-unconcoct is the Extream of Sloth,
And too much Sense is the Extream of both;
Abstracted-Wit 'Tis own'd is a Disease,
But Sense-abstracted has no Power to please:
For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense,
And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense:
Meer Sense is sullen; stiff, and unpolite,
Meer Wit is Apoplectick, thin, and light:
Wit is a King without a Parliament,
And Sense a Democratick Government:
Wit, like the French, wher'e'er it reigns destroys,
And Sense advanc'd is apt to Tyrannize:
Wit without Sense is like the Laughing-Evil,
And Sense unmix'd with Fancy is the D---l.
Wit is a Standing-Army Government,
And Sense a sullen stubborn P---t:
Wit by its haste anticipates its Fate,
And so does Sense by being obstinate:
Wit without Sense in Verse is all but Farce,
Sense without Wit in Verse is all mine A---.
Wit, like the French, performs before it thinks,
And thoughtful Sense without Performance sinks;
Sense without Wit is Flegmatick and pale,
And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail:
Wit without Sense is Cholerick and Red,
Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head.
Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one,
Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune:
Wit, like the Belly, if it be not fed,
Will starve the Members, and distract the Head.
Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive,
Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give:
Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth,
Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth.
United: Wit and Sense, makes Science thrive,
Divided: neither Wit nor Sense can live;
For while the Parties eagerly contend,
The Mortal Strife must in their mutual Ruin end.
(pp. 165-7, ll. 353-394)",,22801,"","""Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one, / Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune.""","",2013-09-18 15:08:07 UTC,""
7682,"",Reading,2013-09-18 15:09:49 UTC,"Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us,
And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us:
Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain,
And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign:
Wit-unconcoct is the Extream of Sloth,
And too much Sense is the Extream of both;
Abstracted-Wit 'Tis own'd is a Disease,
But Sense-abstracted has no Power to please:
For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense,
And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense:
Meer Sense is sullen; stiff, and unpolite,
Meer Wit is Apoplectick, thin, and light:
Wit is a King without a Parliament,
And Sense a Democratick Government:
Wit, like the French, wher'e'er it reigns destroys,
And Sense advanc'd is apt to Tyrannize:
Wit without Sense is like the Laughing-Evil,
And Sense unmix'd with Fancy is the D---l.
Wit is a Standing-Army Government,
And Sense a sullen stubborn P---t:
Wit by its haste anticipates its Fate,
And so does Sense by being obstinate:
Wit without Sense in Verse is all but Farce,
Sense without Wit in Verse is all mine A---.
Wit, like the French, performs before it thinks,
And thoughtful Sense without Performance sinks;
Sense without Wit is Flegmatick and pale,
And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail:
Wit without Sense is Cholerick and Red,
Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head.
Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one,
Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune:
Wit, like the Belly, if it be not fed,
Will starve the Members, and distract the Head.
Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive,
Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give:
Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth,
Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth.
United: Wit and Sense, makes Science thrive,
Divided: neither Wit nor Sense can live;
For while the Parties eagerly contend,
The Mortal Strife must in their mutual Ruin end.
(pp. 165-7, ll. 353-394)",,22803,"","""Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive, / Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give: / Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth, /
Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth.""",Inhabitants,2013-09-18 15:12:10 UTC,""