text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"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)",2013-09-18 15:04:13 UTC,"""Wit is a Standing-Army Government, / And Sense a sullen stubborn P---t.""",2013-09-18 15:04:13 UTC,"","",,"","",Reading,22798,7682
"For thus old Saws foretel, and Helenus
Anchises drooping Son enliven'd thus;
When Ilium now was in a sinking State;
And he was doubtful of his future Fate:
O Goddess born, with thy hard Fortune strive,
Troy never can be lost, and thou alive.
Thy Passage thou shalt free through Fire and Sword,
And Troy in Foreign Lands shall be restor'd.
In happier Fields a rising Town I see,
Greater than what e'er was, or is, or e'er shall be:
And Heav'n yet owes the: World a Race deriv'd from Thee.
Sages, and Chiefs of other Lineage born
The City shall extend, extended shall adorn:
But from Julus he must draw his Breath,
By whom thy Rome shall rule the conquer'd Earth:
Whom Heav'n will lend Mankind on Earth to reign,
And late require the precious Pledge again.
This Helenus to great AEneas told,
Which I retain, e'er since in other Mould:
My Soul was cloath'd; and now rejoice to view
My Country Walls rebuilt, and Troy reviv'd anew,
Rais'd by the fall: Decreed by Loss to Gain;
Enslav'd but to be free, and conquer'd but to reign.
(pp. 527-8; cf. pp. 831-2 in OUP)",2014-05-26 20:23:27 UTC,"""This Helenus to great AEneas told, / Which I retain, e'er since in other Mould: / My Soul was cloath'd; and now rejoice to view / My Country Walls rebuilt, and Troy reviv'd anew, / Rais'd by the fall: Decreed by Loss to Gain; / Enslav'd but to be free, and conquer'd but to reign.""",2014-05-26 20:23:16 UTC,"","",,"","",Reading ,23863,7163