id,comments,provenance,dictionary,created_at,reviewed_on,work_id,theme,context,updated_at,metaphor,text
10143,•I've included twice Stamping and Coin,"Searching ""stamp"" and ""soul"" in HDIS (Poetry); Found again ""coin""; found again ""gold""",Impression,2005-04-08 00:00:00 UTC,,3915,"","",2014-04-16 17:11:39 UTC,"""Thy mighty Soul, stamp'd of Heav'n's noblest Coin, / More Pure than Gold, more Precious and Divine, / Does in thy Everlasting Vertues shine.""","V.
But say, What shall I worthy Thee rehearse?
Too high my Subject, and too mean my Verse.
Say in what Lays, in what immortal Strain,
In what bright Numbers wilt thou live again?
For tho' thy Body mingled in the Dust does lie,
Thy Soul, which never is to die;
Thy mighty Soul, stamp'd of Heav'n's noblest Coin,
More Pure than Gold, more Precious and Divine,
Does in thy Everlasting Vertues shine:
Thy Everlasting Vertues did I say?
Yes, sure, they will remain;
Yes, sure they will for ever last, and reign,
Beyond the Last and Everlasting Day.
Nor art Thou gone, whilst there is left behind
The best and truest Image of Thy Mind.
Vertue does Thy resemblance show,
And still Thou breathest in th' Example which Thou gav'st below.
As when the God of Light descends to rest
In the deep Ocean of the sultry West,
Some steps of Phoebus we may still behold,
He fringes all the Clouds with Silver and with Gold.
(p. 6)"
19673,INTEREST. Mixed metaphor of gardening and coinage...,Reading in Google Books,Coinage and Metal,2012-04-10 15:13:59 UTC,,7211,"","",2012-04-10 15:13:59 UTC,"""Like Twigs, entrusted to the Planter's Pains, / Who prunes, engrafts, indulges, or restrains, / Till in the Garden Ornament they yield, / And Fruit, which else had cumber'd up the Field: / Or that rich Ore we from the Indies bring, / Which bears, refin'd, the Image of the King; / But mix'd for-ever with ignobler Mold, / Would lie conceal'd, had we no Taste for Gold: / Thus human Soul, neglected, will not shine; / But, cultur'd well, approaches to divine!""","Like Twigs, entrusted to the Planter's Pains,
Who prunes, engrafts, indulges, or restrains,
Till in the Garden Ornament they yield,
And Fruit, which else had cumber'd up the Field:
Or that rich Ore we from the Indies bring,
Which bears, refin'd, the Image of the King;
But mix'd for-ever with ignobler Mold,
Would lie conceal'd, had we no Taste for Gold:
Thus human Soul, neglected, will not shine;
But, cultur'd well, approaches to divine!
(ll. 47-56, p. 45)"