theme,metaphor,work_id,dictionary,provenance,id,created_at,updated_at,reviewed_on,comments,text,context
"","""Have I well weigh'd the great, the noble part / I'm now to play? have I explored my heart, / That labyrinth of fraud, that deep, dark cell, / Where, unsuspected, e'en by me, may dwell / Ten thousand follies?""",5202,Inhabitants,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),14013,2005-08-16 00:00:00 UTC,2012-01-12 20:30:43 UTC,2012-01-12,•I've included twice: Cell and Dwelling,"But, for the day of trial is at hand,
And the whole fortunes of a mighty land
Are staked on me, and all their weal or woe
Must from my good or evil conduct flow,
Will I, or can I, on a fair review,
As I assume that name, deserve it too?
Have I well weigh'd the great, the noble part
I'm now to play? have I explored my heart,
That labyrinth of fraud, that deep, dark cell,
Where, unsuspected, e'en by me, may dwell
Ten thousand follies? have I found out there
What I am fit to do, and what to bear?
Have I traced every passion to its rise,
Nor spared one lurking seed of treach'rous vice?
Have I familiar with my nature grown?
And am I fairly to myself made known?",""
"","""[I]n his breast, / Crowded with follies, Honour found no room""",5202,Inhabitants,"Searching ""breast"" and ""crowd"" in HDIS (Poetry)",14020,2006-03-08 00:00:00 UTC,2009-09-14 19:39:45 UTC,,"","Ne'er could he feel how truly man is blest
In blessing those around him; in his breast,
Crowded with follies, Honour found no room;
Mark'd for a coward in his mother's womb,
He was too proud without affronts to live,
Too timorous to punish or forgive.",""
"","""O God, to what a pitch are wrought / The councils of omniscient thought.""",5213,Inhabitants,"HDIS (Poetry): searching internal ""councils""",14028,2004-03-30 00:00:00 UTC,2011-06-20 18:45:39 UTC,2011-06-20,""," O God, to what a pitch are wrought
The councils of omniscient thought,
How dear unto my soul,
To what an infinite of sums
Their meanest estimation comes,
What worlds on worlds the whole!",""
"","""Her teeming Thoughts with bright Conceptions glow, / Ideas crowd, and Lines spontaneous flow.""",5553,Inhabitants,"Searching ""thought"" and ""crowd"" in HDIS (Poetry)",14838,2006-03-07 00:00:00 UTC,2011-07-15 15:03:10 UTC,2011-07-15,"","When Themes of Joy the willing Muse invite,
All Fancy's Regions open to her Sight,
Sportive and unconstrain'd she glides along,
And meditates at Ease her cheerful Song;
Her teeming Thoughts with bright Conceptions glow,
Ideas crowd, and Lines spontaneous flow.--
Not so, when Sorrow bids her take the Lyre!
The Pow'rs of Fiction then no more inspire;
The sad Reality that wrings her Heart
O'erclouds her Spirit, and impedes her Art;
Sighs check the Verse she would to Friendship pay,
And Tears bedew her tributary Lay.
(vol. II, pp. 266-7)",""
"","""And what a crowd of wild ideas press / Distracting on the soul!""",5807,Inhabitants,"Searching ""idea"" and ""crowd"" in HDIS (Poetry)",15545,2006-03-07 00:00:00 UTC,2011-05-27 14:16:23 UTC,2011-06-26,"•Footnote gives, ""This also alludes to a miserable catastrophe, which happened here on the morning of a late execution. The poor young woman who came to visit her husband, had lain-in but seven days. As soon as the husband's fetters were knocked off, he stepped aside, and cut his throat in a dismal manner; but not quite sufficiently to finish his existence:--And in that shocking state--paid his debt--at the destined place.""","But, that shriek--
Thrilling with dread--whence is it? 'Tis the voice
Of female misery, bursting thro' the crowd
To the lone dungeon: view that lovely form[1]
Deck'd in the neatest white,--yet not so white
And wan as her wild visage: ""Keep me not,""
Raving she cries, ""Keep me not, cruel, from him.
""He dies this morn; I know it: he's condemn'd;
""The dreadful judge has done it! He must die,
""My husband! and I'm come, clad in my best,
""To go and suffer with him! I have brought
""Sweet flowers to cheer him, and to strew his corse,
""Pale, pale, and speechless lies it!--Husband, come!
""The little infant, fruit of our glad loves,
""Smil'd on me, as with parting breath I blest,
""And kiss'd the dear babe for thee! 'Tis but young;
""'Tis tender yet;--seven days is young in life:
""Angels will guard my little innocent:
""They'll feed it, tho' thou could'st not find it food,
""And its poor mother too!--And so thou dy'st!
""For me and it thou dy'st! But not alone,
""Thou shalt not go alone; I will die with thee:
""Sweet mercy be upon us! Hence, hence, hence!""
Impetuous then, her white arms round his neck
She threw; and, with deep groans would pierce a rock,
Sunk fainting. Oh the husband's, father's pangs,
Stopping all utterance! Up to Heaven he roll'd
His frantic eyes; and staring wildly round
In desperation's madness, to his heart
Drove the destructive steel!--Fell death,
Would'st thou a fuller triumph?--Oh my wife,
How dismal to our ears the shrieks, the groans!--
And what a crowd of wild ideas press
Distracting on the soul! ""Merciful Heaven,
""In pity spare us! Say, It is enough,
""And bid the avenging angel stay his hand!""",""
"","""For these, if I forget my patron's praise, / While bright ideas dance upon my mind, / Ne'er may these eyes behold auspicious days, / May friends prove faithless, and the Muse unkind.""",7171,Inhabitants,"Searching ""dance"" and ""idea"" in HDIS (Poetry)",19462,2012-01-19 17:37:10 UTC,2014-03-09 15:00:44 UTC,,CITED in ENTRY,"Thanks to the generous hand that plac'd me here,
Fast by the fountains of the silver Cray,
Who leading to the Thames his tribute clear,
Through the still valley winds his secret way.
Yet from his lowly bed with transport sees
In fair exposure noblest villas rise,
Hamlets embosom'd deep in antient trees,
And spires that point with reverence to the skies.
O lovely dale! luxuriant with delight!
O woodland hills! that gently rising swell;
O streams! whose murmurs soft repose invite;
Where peace and joy and rich abundance dwell.
How shall my slender reed your praise resound
In numbers worthy of the polish'd ear?
What powers of strong expression can be found
To thank the generous hand that plac'd me here:
That gave each requisite of blissful life;
Sweet leisure in sequester'd shades of Kent,
The softening virtues of a faithful wife,
And competence well sorted with content.
For these, if I forget my patron's praise,
While bright ideas dance upon my mind,
Ne'er may these eyes behold auspicious days,
May friends prove faithless, and the Muse unkind.
(pp. 70-1)",""
"","""(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen, / When I say wit, I wisdom mean) / Where, (such the practice of the court, / Which legal precedents support) / Not one idea is allow'd / To pass unquestion'd in the crowd, / But ere it can obtain the grace / Of holding in the brain a place, / Before the chief in congregation / Must stand a strict examination.""",5175,Court and Inhabitants,Reading,19786,2012-05-29 14:09:21 UTC,2012-05-29 14:09:21 UTC,,"","
With these grave fops, who (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Ensured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not, Heaven forbid it! waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why,--
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding objects force;
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen,
When I say wit, I wisdom mean)
Where, (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.",Book IV
"","""No--'tis the tale which angry Conscience tells, / When She with more than tragic horror swells / Each circumstance of guilt; when stern, but true, / She brings bad actions forth into review; / And, like the dread hand-writing on the wall, / Bids late Remorse awake at Reason's call, / Arm'd at all points bids Scorpion Vengeance pass, / And to the mind holds up Reflexion's glass, / The mind, which starting, heaves the heart-felt groan, / And hates that form She knows to be her own.""",5192,Mirror,ECCO-TCP,22381,2013-08-18 17:51:58 UTC,2013-08-22 16:53:21 UTC,,"","C. Ah! what, my Lord, hath private life to do
With things of public Nature? why to view
Would You thus cruelly those scenes unfold,
Which, without pain and horror to behold,
Must speak me something more, or less than man;
Which Friends may pardon, but I never can?
Look back! a Thought which borders on despair,
Which human Nature must, yet cannot bear.
'Tis not the babbling of a busy world,
Where Praise and Censure are at random hurl'd,
Which can the meanest of my thoughts controul,
Or shake one settled purpose of my Soul.
Free and at large might their wild curses roam,
If All, if All alas! were well at home.
No--'tis the tale which angry Conscience tells,
When She with more than tragic horror swells
Each circumstance of guilt; when stern, but true,
She brings bad actions forth into review;
And, like the dread hand-writing on the wall,
Bids late Remorse awake at Reason's call,
Arm'd at all points bids Scorpion Vengeance pass,
And to the mind holds up Reflexion's glass,
The mind, which starting, heaves the heart-felt groan,
And hates that form She knows to be her own.
(pp. 11-12)",""