text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"Blest Pilgrim, and Sophia's servant, thou
Must not rest here, but farther still must go:
These are but streams, and Rivulets of Blisse,
Sophia she the only Fountain is.
Here thou mayst bath thy self, but canst not swim
Untill thou comest to the Fountains brim:
There are vast Oceans, there thou mayst remain,
These are but easements for your griefs, and pain:
These are but objects at a distance, these
Are but refreshments, and to give you ease,
To make thy Way the sweeter, till thou art
Hid in the Closet of Sophia's Heart.
Take not thou then too much complacency
In these, which only but the Conducts be
To greater happinesse; and do but shew
The tythe of Blisse, which thou art going to.
Presse on therefore; 'count every thing but pelf
To the enjoyment of Sophia's self.
Rous'd by his Angel thus, the Pilgrim hies,
And t'wards the perfect mark he faster flies.",2009-09-14 19:34:11 UTC,"""These are but objects at a distance, these / Are but refreshments, and to give you ease, / To make thy Way the sweeter, till thou art / Hid in the Closet of Sophia's Heart.""",2005-09-06 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Rooms,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""closet"" in HDIS (Poetry)",9401,3620
"I dare not venture here for to depaint,
The Beauties of that Face; the World's too scant
To yield materials, and I words should want,
How can her all-surpassing Form be penn'd,
When her Idea none can comprehend?
The soul that sees her, feels her, and her worth
Is better felt than can be spoken forth.
The fulvid Gold which is esteem'd so rare,
But the reflection of her golden Hair
Is; All the Silver did its brightnesse get,
And silveriz'd was when it touch'd her feet.
The Chrystal Rivers were like Ink, she gave
Them clearnesse when she did her finger lave
In their dark streams: A drop fell from her Hand,
Which being gave to the clear Crystals; and
Th' oriental Pearls. She look'd upon the Sun
And ever since she with that splendor shon.
She glanc'd her eye upon the Night's fair Queen,
She caught that glance, e'r since she fair hath been.
A spark flew from her Heavn'ly eye, it seems
Tellus snatch't that which essence gave to Gemms.
The ayr permitted was to kisse her Hand,
Who ever since its sweetnesse has retain'd.
Over the Globe stood black triumphing Death,
Till she but tasted of her sacred breath,
Prolific strait she was, and from her womb
Oceans of Heards, of Trees, of Herbs did come.
By it still all things live: The Pink, the Rose
And each sweet Flower that on Tellus grows,
Receive from her their odoriferous Fumes,
Which emanation from her Body comes.
Some of her Beauty down she flung below
Which all things caught that now do Beauty show.
Roses and Rubies which do rarely shine,
Are but umbrella's to her lips divine:
Those Seas of Claret in the azure Skies
Seen, when bright Sol down in the Ocean lies,
Or Tyrian blushes, if you them compare
To what buds in her cheeks meer deadnesse are:
As far below the Beauty and the Blisse
Seen there, as Earth to th' highest Heav'n is.
How can a Pen, or Pencil then depaint
Her; without whom all things do beauty want!
Her own hand 'twas that thus her self did limn,
And by APOCALYPSIS sent it him.
On this attracting Face our Pilgrim throws
His eyes, his Soul thorow those windows goes,
With so much joy that all her faculties
Intentively assembled in his eyes,
All other parts left destitute; in this
Capital City Oculipolis
The Soul and all her train are seated; by
That Beauty drawn into an Extasie.",2009-09-14 19:34:12 UTC,"""On this attracting Face our Pilgrim throws / His eyes, his Soul thorow those windows goes""",2006-01-25 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Rooms,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""window"" in HDIS (Poetry)",9404,3620
"Dares afraid his reasons house
(Though he had scarce so much as goose)
About his batter'd ears should tumble,
Was half ith'mind in manner humble.
To crave in time a Letter of Licence.
He lik't not banging sans defeizance.
While t'other labors all he can
To make a window to his brain .
Dares was in condition sad,
His face was swell'd big as his head,
His head was swell'd as big as his hat,
And he himself just falling flat
Upon his bloody bruised nose;
When all in hast Æneas throws
Himself between the blowes so thick:
Good faith 'twas well he came ith'nick.
For had he had but one more thwack
Upon his head or his Sto--mack
Dares had given the Crows a pudding;
And Death had come before his Wedding.
For now Entellus Clawes were up,
And falling just was fatal swop.
But just in time Æneas spruce,
And brave Acestes cry'd, Kings scruce.
With coaxing words Æneas mellows
The bloudy heart of vex'd Entellus.
Good Sir quo, he your wrath forbear,
Man stout at Cuffs as ere stole Deere,
Next time shall Dares learn more manners
Then let his wits be his Trappanners,
Thus to provoke a man whose wrists
Can powder Rocks of Amethists;
With nailes like fleas crack Adamants;
And puff down Armed Elephants.
These gentle words made Gaffer Thwacksides
Most patiently lay by his Ox-hides.
Such credit had Æneas there,
Quo he, your will be done Menheire.
Then Sir Æneas, turning face
To him that was in doubtful case;
So bruis'd and batter'd, and so swel'd,
(He scarce could stand unless upheld)
Made him to the best of my memory,
This pithy speech consolatory.",2009-09-14 19:34:21 UTC,"""Dares afraid his reasons house / (Though he had scarce so much as goose) / About his batter'd ears should tumble""",2006-01-25 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),9616,3722
"Dares afraid his reasons house
(Though he had scarce so much as goose)
About his batter'd ears should tumble,
Was half ith'mind in manner humble.
To crave in time a Letter of Licence.
He lik't not banging sans defeizance.
While t'other labors all he can
To make a window to his brain .
Dares was in condition sad,
His face was swell'd big as his head,
His head was swell'd as big as his hat,
And he himself just falling flat
Upon his bloody bruised nose;
When all in hast Æneas throws
Himself between the blowes so thick:
Good faith 'twas well he came ith'nick.
For had he had but one more thwack
Upon his head or his Sto--mack
Dares had given the Crows a pudding;
And Death had come before his Wedding.
For now Entellus Clawes were up,
And falling just was fatal swop.
But just in time Æneas spruce,
And brave Acestes cry'd, Kings scruce.
With coaxing words Æneas mellows
The bloudy heart of vex'd Entellus.
Good Sir quo, he your wrath forbear,
Man stout at Cuffs as ere stole Deere,
Next time shall Dares learn more manners
Then let his wits be his Trappanners,
Thus to provoke a man whose wrists
Can powder Rocks of Amethists;
With nailes like fleas crack Adamants;
And puff down Armed Elephants.
These gentle words made Gaffer Thwacksides
Most patiently lay by his Ox-hides.
Such credit had Æneas there,
Quo he, your will be done Menheire.
Then Sir Æneas, turning face
To him that was in doubtful case;
So bruis'd and batter'd, and so swel'd,
(He scarce could stand unless upheld)
Made him to the best of my memory,
This pithy speech consolatory.",2009-09-14 19:34:21 UTC,"""He lik't not banging sans defeizance. / While t'other labors all he can / To make a window to his brain.""",2006-01-25 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Rooms,"","Searching ""brain"" and ""window"" in HDIS (Poetry)",9617,3722
"Soul.
O who shall, from this Dungeon, raise
A Soul inslav'd so many wayes?
With bolts of Bones, that fetter'd stands
In Feet; and manacled in Hands.
Here blinded with an Eye; and there
Deaf with the drumming of an Ear.
A Soul hung up, as 'twere, in Chains
Of Nerves, and Arteries, and Veins.
Tortur'd, besides each other part,
In a vain Head, and double Heart.
Body.
O who shall me deliver whole,
From bonds of this Tyrannic Soul?
Which, stretcht upright, impales me so,
That mine own Precipice I go;
And warms and moves this needless Frame:
(A Fever could but do the same.)
And, wanting where its spight to try,
Has made me live to let me dye.
A Body that could never rest,
Since this ill Spirit it possest.
Soul.
What Magick could me thus confine
Within anothers Grief to pine?
Where whatsoever it complain,
I feel, that cannot feel, the pain.
And all my Care its self employes,
That to preserve, which me destroys:
Constrain'd not only to indure
Diseases, but, whats worse, the Cure:
And ready oft the Port to gain,
Am Shipwrackt into Health again.
Body.
But Physick yet could never reach
The Maladies Thou me dost teach;
Whom first the Cramp of Hope does Tear:
And then the Palsie Shakes of Fear.
The Pestilence of Love does heat:
Or Hatred's hidden Ulcer eat.
Joy's chearful Madness does perplex:
Or Sorrow's other Madness vex.
Which Knowledge forces me to know;
And Memory will not foregoe.
What but a Soul could have the wit
To build me up for Sin so fit?
So Architects do square and hew,
Green Trees that in the Forest grew.
",2009-09-14 19:34:24 UTC,"""O who shall, from this Dungeon, raise / A Soul inslav'd so many wayes?""",2003-12-03 00:00:00 UTC,I've included the whole poem,"",,Prison,REVISIT and fill in information,Reading (after conversation with Nick at UCB),9683,3753
"Chast Cynthia bids me love, but hope no more,
Ne'er wish Enjoyment, which I still have strove
T'obey, and ev'ry looser Thought reprove;
Without desiring her, I her adore.
What Humane Passion does with Tears implore,
The Intellect Enjoys, when 'tis in Love
With the Eternal Soul, which here does move
In Mortal Closet, where 'tis kept in Store.
Our Souls are in one mutual Knot combin'd,
Not Common Passion, Dull and Unrefin'd;
Our Flame ascends, That smothers here below:
The Body made of Earth, turns to the same,
As Soul t'Eternity, from whence it came;
My Love's Immortal then, and Mistress too.",2009-09-14 19:34:32 UTC,"""What Humane Passion does with Tears implore, / The Intellect Enjoys, when 'tis in Love / With the Eternal Soul, which here does move / In Mortal Closet, where 'tis kept in Store""",2005-09-06 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Rooms,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""closet"" in HDIS (Poetry)",9878,3841
"I shall expect so great an interest
For such a Gift, as t'have that Gemam possest,
Not of your Cabinet, but of your Breast.",2009-09-14 19:34:34 UTC,"""For such a Gift, as t'have that Gemam possest, / Not of your Cabinet, but of your Breast.""",2005-09-07 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Rooms,"","Searching ""breast"" and ""cabinet"" in HDIS (Poetry)",9912,3860
"Now her brown Wings the silent Night displays,
Light sprinkled o'er with Cynthia's silver Rays.
Silence and Darkness all to Rest invite,
And sleep's soft Chains make fast the Gates of Light.
Prince Arthur sleeps, by Summons from on high,
From trembling Joynts, his active Spirits fly
To the round Palace of th' Immortal Soul,
And thro' the Rooms and dark Apartments roll.
The busie Crowd fills all the labouring Brain,
Bright Fancy's Work-house, where close Cells contain
Of Forms and Images an endless Train,
Which thither thro' the waking Senses glide,
And in fair Mem'ry's Magazine abide.
Compos'd of these, light Scenes and Shows appear,
Which still employ the restless Theater.
Divinely mov'd, the Airy Figures take
Their several Ranks, and this bright Vision make.
Prince Arthur, on a verdant Eminence
Conversing with King Uter stood, from whence,
He views with wondring Eyes, great Lords and States,
Crown'd Heads, Victorious Princes, Potentates,
Heroes and Heroines, a glorious Train,
which in long Order fill'd the subject Plain.
Prince Arthur on the Royal Scene intent,
Demands what this August Assembly meant:
For what end thither come, and who they were
That at th' Illustrious Congress did appear.",2013-07-02 17:40:22 UTC,"Active spirits fly ""To the round Palace of th' Immortal Soul, / And thro' the Rooms and dark Apartments roll.""",2005-08-28 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Rooms,"I've included thrice: Rooms, Apartment, Palace",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),10166,3916
"Now her brown Wings the silent Night displays,
Light sprinkled o'er with Cynthia's silver Rays.
Silence and Darkness all to Rest invite,
And sleep's soft Chains make fast the Gates of Light.
Prince Arthur sleeps, by Summons from on high,
From trembling Joynts, his active Spirits fly
To the round Palace of th' Immortal Soul,
And thro' the Rooms and dark Apartments roll.
The busie Crowd fills all the labouring Brain,
Bright Fancy's Work-house, where close Cells contain
Of Forms and Images an endless Train,
Which thither thro' the waking Senses glide,
And in fair Mem'ry's Magazine abide.
Compos'd of these, light Scenes and Shows appear,
Which still employ the restless Theater.
Divinely mov'd, the Airy Figures take
Their several Ranks, and this bright Vision make.
Prince Arthur, on a verdant Eminence
Conversing with King Uter stood, from whence,
He views with wondring Eyes, great Lords and States,
Crown'd Heads, Victorious Princes, Potentates,
Heroes and Heroines, a glorious Train,
which in long Order fill'd the subject Plain.
Prince Arthur on the Royal Scene intent,
Demands what this August Assembly meant:
For what end thither come, and who they were
That at th' Illustrious Congress did appear.",2013-07-02 17:19:59 UTC,"""The busie Crowd fills all the labouring Brain, / Bright Fancy's Work-house, where close Cells contain / Of Forms and Images an endless Train, / Which thither thro' the waking Senses glide, / And in fair Mem'ry's Magazine abide.""",2005-08-28 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Inhabitants,"•I've included four times: Crowd, Work-House, Train, Magazine","Searching in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""fancy"" and ""crowd""",10167,3916
"Clora come view my Soul, and tell
Whether I have contriv'd it well.
Now all its several lodgings lye
Compos'd into one Gallery;
And the great Arras-hangings, made
Of various Faces, by are laid;
That, for all furniture, you'l find
Only your Picture in my Mind.
(ll. 1-8)",2009-09-14 19:49:05 UTC,"All the ""lodgings"" of the mind may be ""Compos'd into one Gallery.""",2007-12-23 00:00:00 UTC,Opening Stanza,"",2007-12-23,Rooms,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""furniture"" in HDIS (Poetry)",17115,6447