id,comments,provenance,dictionary,created_at,reviewed_on,work_id,theme,context,updated_at,metaphor,text
9751,"•An ""as if"" metaphor.
","Searching ""stamp"" and ""mind"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""idea""","",2005-04-06 00:00:00 UTC,,3789,"",Stanza VI,2009-09-14 19:34:27 UTC,"""All in thy faithful Glass were so express'd, / As if they were Reflections of thy Breast, / As if they had been stamp'd on thy own mind""","Plain Humour, shewn with her whole various Face,
Not mask'd with any antick Dress,
Nor screw'd in forc'd, ridiculous Grimace
(The gaping Rabbles dull delight,
And more the Actor's than the Poet's Wit)
Such did she enter on thy Stage,
And such was represented to the wond'ring Age:
Well wast thou skill'd, and read in humane kind,
In every wild fantastick Passion of his mind,
Didst into all his hidden Inclinations dive,
What each from Nature does receive,
Or Age, or Sex, or Quality, or Country give;
What Custom too, that mighty Sorceress,
Whose pow'rful Witchcraft does transform
Enchanted Man to several monstrous Images,
Makes this an odd, and freakish Monky turn,
And that a grave and solemn Ass Appear,
And all a thousand beastly shapes of Folly wear:
Whate're Caprice or Whimsie leads awry
Perverted, and seduc'd Mortality,
Or does incline, and byass it
From what's Discreet, and Wise, and Right, and Good, and Fit;
All in thy faithful Glass were so express'd,
As if they were Reflections of thy Breast,
As if they had been stamp'd on thy own mind,
And thou the universal vast Idea of Mankind."
9763,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),"",2005-08-23 00:00:00 UTC,,3793,"","",2009-09-14 19:34:27 UTC,"""But Settle, and the Rest, that writ for Pence, / Whose whole Estate's an ounce, or two of Brains""","Here trading Scriblers for their Maintainance,
And Livelihood trust to a Lott'ry chance:
But who his Parts would in the Service spend,
Where all his hopes on Vulgar Breath depend?
Where every Sot, for paying half a Crown,
Has the Prerogative to cry him down?
Sidley indeed may be content with Fame,
Nor care should an ill-judging Audience damn:
But Settle, and the Rest, that writ for Pence,
Whose whole Estate's an ounce, or two of Brains,
Should a thin House on the third day appear,
Must starve, or live in Tatters all the year.
And what can we expect that's brave and great,
From a poor needy Wretch, that writes to eat?
Who the success of the next Play must wait
For Lodging, Food, and Cloaths, and whose chief care
Is how to spunge for the next Meal, and where?"
9871,"","Searching ""stamp"" and ""head"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",2005-04-11 00:00:00 UTC,,3832,"","",2009-09-14 19:34:32 UTC,"""Such Beings Philosophick heads relate / Of heavenly stamp""","Low her Design's, and yet from Heaven her Birth:
High Claim, and yet too near ally'd to Earth,
Once she in Heavens first Rank of Favour stood,
Pure as the Light, and as a Cherub good.
Heaven o're her head Indulgent blessings strow'd,
A Guard of Angels for her Aid allow'd,
But cursed Satan mixed with the Crowd.
They wing'd her Mind with high Æthereal Fires,
He sunk it with Terrestrial desires:
Too fatal are the Charms the World inspires.
Happy, thrice happy, had she never fell,
Or had been, what she vaunts, Infallible.
Ambition (if that name we may it call
Which doth from high to low Employments fall)
First sunk her down: desire of humane Power
Blemish'd the right she had Divine before,
And every weight of that still sunk her lower:
Loaded with Vanity, the Scale that rose
The other from its Empire did depose.
Adam more nobly fell, his lofty Mind
At great Acts and Divinity design'd,
She from sublime to sordid deeds declin'd.
Such Beings Philosophick heads relate
Of heavenly stamp; when weary of their state,
Tir'd with reiterated Joys they grow,
And long to prove untasted Bliss below.
The nearer their low Course to Earth doth lead,
Farther they from their Pristine glory do recede,
Baser and baser grow th' Ignoble Minds,
Till they degenerate into other kinds."
10028,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""stamp"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Impressions,2005-04-07 00:00:00 UTC,,3872,"","",2013-06-19 19:23:26 UTC,"""So the bold Artist, that of You would speak / Should Patterns from Celestial Natures take; / And stamp his Soul in an Angelick Mold; Er'e he Your Vertues should attempt to' unfold.""","The Cautious Heathens, er'e they would admit
Their Poets of their Deities to treat,
First at their Altars made them Homage pay,
And purge their Dross and looser Strains away:
That the Exalted Purified mind
Might Notions fit for Heavenly Beings find.
So the bold Artist, that of You would speak,
Should Patterns from Celestial Natures take;
And stamp his Soul in an Angelick Mold;
Er'e he Your Vertues should attempt to' unfold.
In highest Sciences we words do want;
Expressions, that may give our Notions vent:
Thus Rhet'rick dumb at Your Perfections grows;
Our Language then, that 'tis defective, shows.
And thô those Flowers, which other Tongues refine,
She doth unto her Treasures wisely join;
All's yet too low for Subjects so Divine.
Homer the Language of the Heavens could tell,
Mysterious Secrets of the Gods reveal:
He that, how Good, or Great You are, would show,
Had need the Depth of Heavenly wisdom know:
For all we deal with here doth flag too low.
Angels the Mighty work should undertake,
And shew what Words they for such Merits make."
10047,"","Searching ""breast"" and ""cave"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",2006-01-18 00:00:00 UTC,,3878,"","",2009-09-14 19:34:40 UTC,"""Wisest of Beings! What we do design, / And in dark Caverns of our Breast confine""","Wisest of Beings! What we do design,
And in dark Caverns of our Breast confine;
Ev'n where no Thought comes, where no Eye can peep,
But all's lap'd up in misty Clouds of sleep,
What Princes wish, or Cabinet Councils plot,
The Births, that are from their Conjunction got,
Subtlest Interpreter, thou dost reveal;
Thô Oaths and Sanctions do the secret Seal.
Even what Just Heaven before the World decreed,
What can from nothing, but his Hand proceed:
What shall to Peasants happen, what to Kings,
What to the Lofty, what to Humbler things:
What swallows up Man's bold and daring Mind,
And where even Angels can no footsteps find:
What doth surpass th' Intelligences sight,
Or hath, or shall by Thee be brought to Light."
10049,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),"",2006-02-22 00:00:00 UTC,,3880,"","",2010-03-24 00:00:53 UTC,"""Strange frightfull Spectres o're my Mind were spread.""","(H.)
Welcome dear Friend! Thou dost my Griefs dispell,
No Sorrow long can wound, when Thou art well.
Ill-boding Dreams o're my sad Fancy rowl'd,
And the approach of some black Fate foretold:
Strange frightfull Spectres o're my Mind were spread;
I saw the Vertues and the Graces bleed,
As thô the Soul o'th' Universe was dead.
Avert the Omen Heaven!"
19841,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),Inhabitants,2012-07-03 02:41:29 UTC,,7284,"","",2012-07-03 02:41:29 UTC,"""No pining Thoughts do sowre the Joys, they tast, / No preying Passion doth their Body wast; / While Ours by the Souls Motion's worn so thin; / 'Twill scarce keep Life, and Breath, Life's Tenant, in.""","Thoughts are our Plagues; the Beasts, that none do know,
Are Free from trouble and resentment too.
As Nature bids, they every thing receive,
And take it, as her Bounteous Hand doth give.
No pining Thoughts do sowre the Joys, they tast,
No preying Passion doth their Body wast;
While Ours by the Souls Motion's worn so thin;
'Twill scarce keep Life, and Breath, Life's Tenant, in.
At Things above Ambition makes us Soar,
And grasp at what is plac'd beyond our Power:
Our feeble Strength we ne'r consult: And then
No wonder, We are tumbled back again.
A chain of Sorrows hangs upon our State:
We for Impossibilities do wait,
Anxiously seek for what will never come,
And yet are angry, when We meet our Doom.
The fault doth not in outward Causes ly,
But in our Judgment, that is warp'd awry.
Our Power's confin'd, and we should Happy be,
If We the Limits of our Power could see.
If We could fix our wandring Thoughts at home,
Nor let beyond our Sphear our Wishes roam,
All things, We see, are Passive here below,
Nor from themselves their Power-to-act doth flow,
They'r dead, unless some greater Essence give
Influx of being, that may make them Live.
'Tis only Heaven doth purely act, and can,
Crumble in Dust the vast Designs of Man:
His Will must stand, whatever We Design,
Nothing can stop the course of things Divine.
All Aids are useless; what is Infinite,
Doth need no Help, nor doth Increase admit."
21027,COMPARE Locke's metaphor,"","",2013-06-19 19:36:05 UTC,,3876,"","",2013-06-19 19:36:05 UTC,"""Learning lies deep, and short is Reason's Line, / And weakly do we guess at things Divine!""","Learning lies deep, and short is Reason's Line,
And weakly do we guess at things Divine!
When those near hand our strict Discovery fly,
What Hopes to dive into Infinity?
The Soul's a Particle of Heavenly fire,
And boldly doth to every thing aspire:
But yet how low Her lofty Flights do fall;
When She attempts the Wonders of this Ball!
Our Apprehension Angels do exceed,
Like Thought, they can to distant Regions speed,
Nor helps They for Progressive Motion need.
Yet Mysteries, deep hid, they cannot find,
Such as Exceed th' Intelligences Mind,
And render all created Beings Blind.
(ll. 1-14)"
21028,"",C-H Lion,"",2013-06-19 19:37:48 UTC,,3876,"","",2013-06-19 19:37:48 UTC,"The Soul's a Particle of Heavenly fire, / And boldly doth to every thing aspire: / But yet how low Her lofty Flights do fall; / When She attempts the Wonders of this Ball!""","Learning lies deep, and short is Reason's Line,
And weakly do we guess at things Divine!
When those near hand our strict Discovery fly,
What Hopes to dive into Infinity?
The Soul's a Particle of Heavenly fire,
And boldly doth to every thing aspire:
But yet how low Her lofty Flights do fall;
When She attempts the Wonders of this Ball!
Our Apprehension Angels do exceed,
Like Thought, they can to distant Regions speed,
Nor helps They for Progressive Motion need.
Yet Mysteries, deep hid, they cannot find,
Such as Exceed th' Intelligences Mind,
And render all created Beings Blind.
(ll. 1-14)"
21030,"",C-H Lion,"",2013-06-19 19:43:56 UTC,,3876,"","",2013-06-19 19:43:56 UTC,"""If then the Medium's false [i.e., the senses], thrô which Arts go, / How can we hope the genuine Truth to know? / The Water pure and clear i'th' Fountain flows; / But with ill Mixtures doth its Nature lose; / And tasts of every Soil, thrô which it goes.""","Our Knowledge by the Sence's help we find,
'Tis those deceitfull Guides inform our Mind.
If then the Medium's false, thrô which Arts go,
How can we hope the genuine Truth to know?
The Water pure and clear i'th' Fountain flows;
But with ill Mixtures doth its Nature lose;
And tasts of every Soil, thrô which it goes.
We from our Sences upon trust Receive,
And Them, althô they oft delude, believe.
But Truth and Skill must Disputable grow;
If no account we of our Sences know.
If hidden Secrets in their Nature lie,
That all our diligent Enquiries flie,
If we their Nature strive to search in vain,
What then's the Learning, that by them we gain?
(ll. 53-67)"