work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
7521,"",Reading,2013-07-10 21:20:32 UTC,"Some Sons, indeed, some very few, we see
Who keep themselves from this Infection free,
Whom Gracious Heaven for Nobler Ends design'd,
Their Looks erected, and their Clay refin'd.
The rest are all by bad Example led,
And in their Father's slimy Track they tread.
Is't not enough we should our selves undo,
But that our Children we must Ruin too?
Children, like tender Osiers, take the bow,
And as they first are Fashion'd, always grow.
By Nature, headlong to all Ills we run,
And Virtue, like some dreadful Monster, shun.
Survey the World, and where on Cato Shines,
Count a degenerate Herd of Catilines.
(pp. 277-8)",,21622,"OED: An osier is ""Any of several willows with tough pliant branches used in basketwork, esp. Salix viminalis; (also) a flexible branch of any of these willows. Also with distinguishing word.""
Note, the distich is cited as a commonplace in the eighteenth century. See for example, Edward Bysshe's Art of English Poetry (1718), ""Education""; Eliza Haywood's Female Spectator, book x; Samuel Whyte's The Shamrock (1772), p. 277n; Ignatius Sanchos's Letters (1782), vol. I, letter xxviii; and various other works. ","""Children, like tender Oziers, take the Bow, / And, as they first are fashion'd always grow.""","",2013-07-11 14:49:41 UTC,""
7533,"",Browsing in EEBO,2013-07-11 14:57:37 UTC,"Why have I Learn'd, say'st thou, if thus confin'd,
I choak the Noble Vigour of my Mind?
Know, my wild Fig-Tree, which in Rocks is bred,
Will split the Quarry, and shoot out the Head,
Fine Fruits of Learning! Old Ambitious Fool,
Dar'st thou apply that Adage of the School;
As if 'tis nothing worth that lies conceal'd·
And Science is not Science till Reveal'd?
Oh, but 'tis Brave to be Admir'd, to see
The Crowd, with pointing Fingers, cry That's he:
View document image [202] containing page
That's he, whose wondrous Poem is become
A Lecture for the Noble Youth of Rome!
Who, by their Fathers, is at Feasts Renown'd:
And often quoted, when the Bowls go round.
Full gorg'd and flush'd, they wantonly Rehearse:
And add to Wine the Luxury of Verse.
One, clad in Purple, not to lose his time,
Eats, and recites some lamentable Rhime:
Some Senceless Phyllis, in a broken Note;
Snuffling at Nose, or croaking in his Throat:
Then, Graciously, the mellow Audience Nod:
Is not th' Immortal Authour made a God?
Are not his Manes blest, such Praise to have?
Lies not the Turf more lightly on his Grave?
And Roses (while his lowd Applause they Sing,)
Stand ready from his Sepulcher to spring?
(pp. 7-8, ll. 55-80)",,21644,"","""Why have I Learn'd, say'st thou, if thus confin'd, / I choak the Noble Vigour of my Mind? / Know, my wild Fig-Tree, which in Rocks is bred, / Will split the Quarry, and shoot out the Head, / Fine Fruits of Learning!""","",2013-07-11 14:57:37 UTC,""
3322,"",Reading,2016-02-15 16:32:56 UTC,"Against the Tiber's mouth, but far away,
An ancient town was seated on the sea;
A Tyrian colony; the people made
Stout for the war, and studious of their trade:
Carthage the name; belov'd by Juno more
Than her own Argos, or the Samian shore.
Here stood her chariot; here, if Heav'n were kind,
The seat of awful empire she design'd.
Yet she had heard an ancient rumor fly,
(Long cited by the people of the sky,)
That times to come should see the Trojan race
Her Carthage ruin, and her tow'rs deface;
Nor thus confin'd, the yoke of sov'reign sway
Should on the necks of all the nations lay.
She ponder'd this, and fear'd it was in fate;
Nor could forget the war she wag'd of late
For conqu'ring Greece against the Trojan state.
Besides, long causes working in her mind,
And secret seeds of envy, lay behind;
Deep graven in her heart the doom remain'd
Of partial Paris, and her form disdain'd;
The grace bestow'd on ravish'd Ganymed,
Electra's glories, and her injur'd bed.
Each was a cause alone; and all combin'd
To kindle vengeance in her haughty mind.
For this, far distant from the Latian coast
She drove the remnants of the Trojan host;
And sev'n long years th' unhappy wand'ring train
Were toss'd by storms, and scatter'd thro' the main.
Such time, such toil, requir'd the Roman name,
Such length of labor for so vast a frame.
(Book I, ll. 19-49)",,24805,"","""Besides, long causes working in her mind, / And secret seeds of envy, lay behind; / Deep graven in her heart the doom remain'd / Of partial Paris, and her form disdain'd; / The grace bestow'd on ravish'd Ganymed, / Electra's glories, and her injur'd bed.""","",2016-02-15 16:32:56 UTC,""