work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
4754,"",HDIS (Poetry),2004-08-09 00:00:00 UTC,"Wealth to acquire is most Men's sov'reign Care,
And then a Wife to bring that Wealth an Heir.
In Tracts of Waste th'improving Plowshare's seen,
And barren Heaths in fruitful Tilth are green.
Who's satisfy'd, however small his Store,
Should scorn to throw away a Wish for more.
No stately Equipage, no splendid Plate,
No sumptuous House, no Rent-roll of Estate,
E'er gave the fever'd Blood a Moment's Rest,
Or pluck'd one Thorn from out its Master's Breast.
Who thinks to know the use of Joy and Wealth,
Must first be well in Mind, and strong in Health.
Who lives in Fear, or longs with much for more,
Has just such Pleasure from his useless Store,
As Age-dim Eyes from Painting can receive,
Or Musick's Strains to Ears impostum'd give.
The tainted Cask sours all it does contain;
Shun Pleasures, ever bought too dear with Pain.
The Wretch that covets, always lives in Want,
Stint your Desire, Heav'n has no more to grant.
The envious fall to others Joy a Prey,
And as their Neighbours thrive, they pine away;
The Breasts that's Envy's Slave with Pains is prick'd
Beyond what fell Inquisitors inflict.
He who his rising Anger can't controul,
Shall rue the Sallies of his heated Soul,
Shall wish, in Agony of Heart, undone
What Passion will'd in absent Reason's Throne.
Anger's a short-liv'd Madness, and with Sway,
Rules Sovereign if not tutor'd to obey.
Keep strongly in the hot rebellious Mind,
Be it with Bits restrain'd, and Curbs confin'd.
The docile Horse in prime of Years is broke
To bear the Rein, or stretch beneath the Yoke.
The Whelp that hunts the Deer Skin round the Court,
Staunch loves the Field, nor ever quits the Sport.
Drink early then, my Friend, at Reason's Bowl,
And fill with wholesome Draughts thy youthful Soul.
If Wine or Gall the Recent Vessel stains,
Each Scent alike the faithful Cask retains.
(pp. 123, 125, 127)",2013-06-10,12584,"","""Drink early then, my Friend, at Reason's Bowl, / And fill with wholesome Draughts thy youthful Soul. / If Wine or Gall the Recent Vessel stains, / Each Scent alike the faithful Cask retains.""","",2013-06-11 02:13:23 UTC,""
5225,"","Searching ""brain"" and ""stamp"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-04-11 00:00:00 UTC,"Thou God with vengeance arm'd, appear;
Thou God with vengeance arm'd, whose fear
The Earth (for Thee her Judge she knows,)
Submissive owns, thy pow'r disclose,
And instant from thy seat arise,
Each proud transgressor to chastise.
How long shall impious Crouds, how long,
With haughtiest insult arm their tongue?
How long in bitt'rest gall each word
Infuse, and boast their conqu'ring sword?
Thy Flock, great God, their fury own;
Beneath their stroke thy People groan:
Their hands, remorseless, to the tomb
The Widow and the Stranger doom;
Nor innocence nor tend'rest age
Can shield the Orphan from their rage.
""Ne'er shall our deeds in Heav'n be known,
""Or reach (they cry,) the distant Throne
""Of Israel's Lord.""--Ye fools and blind!
Return, and seek a better mind.
Say, when shall Wisdom's light serene
Your souls from error's childhood wean?
Who knew to plant the ear, shall He
Not hear? Who form'd the eye, not see?
Shall aught of guilt his search evade,
Who bids the Nations he has made,
Inform'd by his paternal care,
The gifts of various Science share,
Who Reason in the bosom pours,
Its growth improves, its fruit matures,
Each counsel of the human brain
Weighs in his scale, and stamps it vain?",,14056,"•Psalm XCIV
•DNB notes Psalms is a popular work. ""Merrick was evidently aiming to capture a different audience from the nonconformists who were singing Isaac Watts's The Psalms of David of 1719: he seems to have been attempting a version which would be an alternative to Watts for the Church of England, and which would also 'answer the purposes of private devotion' (preface). He used a number of metres; the majority were couplets in octosyllabics or of seven syllables. The popularity of the book is shown by its frequent reprinting, and by an edition 'divided into stanzas and adapted for devotion' by W. D. Tattersall (1794). Before that, twenty-one of Merrick's psalms had appeared in J. Ash and C. Evans's A Collection of Hymns Adapted to Public Worship (1781), over the signature 'M'; they were set to music by William Hayes (1775) for use in Magdalen College chapel, Oxford. Further editions with musical settings followed, including settings by Haydn. According to Julian's Dictionary of Hymnology, Merrick's psalm versions were popular in the early nineteenth century, but had by 1892 'fallen very much into disuse' (p. 725, col. 2). It is not difficult to see why: although they were commended by Robert Lowth (who of course had a hand in them, and who described Merrick as 'one of the best of men, and most eminent of scholars'), they were described by a contemporary critic as tame and diffuse, and James Montgomery has some sharp comments on their verbosity. They are now forgotten. They were greatly admired, however, in Merrick's own time: Thomas Warton said that they evidenced 'a flow of poetical language, and a richness of imagery, which give dignity to the subject, without departing from the sense of the inspired writer' (Coates, 439).""","""Reason in the bosom pours, / Its growth improves, its fruit matures, / Each counsel of the human brain / Weighs in his scale, and stamps it vain?""",Impression,2013-11-11 04:40:28 UTC,I've included the entire poem
5461,"",HDIS (Poetry),2003-11-10 00:00:00 UTC,"In vain to me the smiling mornings shine,
And reddening Phoebus lifts his golden fire:
The birds in vain their amorous descant join,
Or cheerful fields resume their green attire:
These ears, alas! for other notes repine,
A different object do these eyes require.
My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine;
And in my breast the imperfect joys expire.
Yet morning smiles the busy race to cheer,
And new-born pleasure brings to happier men:
The fields to all their wonted tribute bear;
To warm their little loves the birds complain.
I fruitless mourn to him that cannot hear,
And weep the more because I weep in vain.
(ll. 1-14, p. 67-8)",,14617,"","""My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; / And in my breast the imperfect joys expire.""","",2011-05-31 03:58:12 UTC,""
5612,"",Reading,2003-07-29 00:00:00 UTC,"O, Montagu! forgive me, if I sing
Thy wisdom tempered with the milder ray
Of soft humanity, and kindness bland:
So wide its influence, that the bright beams
Reach the low vale where mists of ignorance lodge,
Strike on the innate spark which lay immersed,
Thick-clogged, and almost quenched in total night--
On me it fell, and cheered my joyless heart.
Unwelcome is the first bright dawn of light
To the dark soul; impatient, she rejects,
And fain would push the heavenly stranger back;
She loathes the cranny which admits the day;
Confused, afraid of the intruding guest;
Disturbed, unwilling to receive the beam,
Which to herself her native darkness shows.
The effort rude to quench the cheering flame
Was mine, and e'en on Stella could I gaze
With sullen envy, and admiring pride,
Till, doubly roused by Montagu, the pair
Conspire to clear my dull, imprisoned sense,
And chase the mists which dimmed my visual beam.
Oft as I trod my native wilds alone,
Strong gusts of thought would rise, but rise to die;
The portals of the swelling soul ne'er oped
By liberal converse, rude ideas strove
Awhile for vent, but found it not, and died.
Thus rust the Mind's best powers. Yon starry orbs,
Majestic ocean, flowery vales, gay groves,
Eye-wasting lawns, and heaven-attempting hills
Which bound th' horizon, and which curb the view;
All those, with beauteous imagery, awaked
My ravished soul to ecstasy untaught,
To all the transport the rapt sense can bear;
But all expired, for want of powers to speak;
All perished in the mind as soon as born,
Erased more quick than cyphers on the shore,
O'er which cruel waves, unheedful roll.
Such timid rapture as young Edwin seized,
When his lone footsteps on the Sage obtrude,
Whose noble precept charmed his wondering
Such rapture filled Lactilla's vacant soul,
When the bright Moralist, in softness dressed,
Opes all the glories of the mental world,
Deigns to direct the infant thought, to prune
The budding sentiment, uprear the stalk
Of feeble fancy, bid idea live,
Woo the abstracted spirit form its cares,
And gently guide her to scenes of peace.
Mine was than balm, and mine the grateful heart,
Which breathes its thanks in rough, but timid strains.
(ll. 30-79, pp. 395-6)",,14997,•I've included all the stanzas but the first because of the density of metaphors (8 entries total).,"""Yon starry orbs, / Majestic ocean, flowery vales, gay groves, / Eye-wasting lawns, and heaven-attempting hills / Which bound th' horizon, and which curb the view; / All those, with beauteous imagery, awaked / My ravished soul to ecstasy untaught, / To all the transport the rapt sense can bear; / But all expired, for want of powers to speak; / All perished in the mind as soon as born, / Erased more quick than cyphers on the shore, / O'er which cruel waves, unheedful roll.""",Writing,2013-11-17 17:14:56 UTC,""
7080,"",Reading,2011-09-02 19:05:38 UTC,"Who, from his far-divided shore,
The half-expiring Captive bore?
Those, whom the traffic of their race
Has robb'd of every human grace;
Whose harden'd souls no more retain
Impressions Nature stamp'd in vain;
All that distinguishes their kind,
For ever blotted from their mind;
As streams, that once the landscape gave
Reflected on the trembling wave,
Their substance change, when lock'd in frost,
And rest, in dead contraction lost;--
Who view unmov'd, the look, that tells
The pang that in the bosom dwells;
Heed not the nerves that terror shakes,
The heart convulsive anguish breaks;
The shriek that would their crimes upbraid,
But deem despair a part of trade.--
Such only, for detested gain,
The barb'rous commerce would maintain.
The gen'rous sailor, he, who dares
All forms of danger, while he bears
The BRITISH Flag o'er untrack'd seas,
And spreads it on the polar breeze;
He, who in Glory's high career,
Finds agony, and death are dear;
To whose protecting arm we owe
Each blessing that the happy know;
Whatever charms the soften'd heart,
Each cultur'd grace, each finer art,
E'en thine, most lovely of the train!
Sweet Poetry! thy heav'n-taught strain--
His breast, where nobler passions burn,
In honest poverty, would spurn
That wealth, Oppression can bestow,
And scorn to wound a fetter'd foe.
True courage in the unconquer'd soul
Yields to Compassion's mild controul;
As, the resisting frame of steel
The magnet's secret force can feel.
(pp. 13-6, ll. 209-247)",,19125,"","There are those ""whom the traffic of their race / Has robb'd of every human grace; / Whose harden'd souls no more retain / Impressions Nature stamp'd in vain; / All that distinguishes their kind, / For ever blotted from their mind; / As streams, that once the landscape gave / Reflected on the trembling wave, / Their substance change, when lock'd in frost, / And rest, in dead contraction lost.""",Impressions,2011-09-02 19:07:30 UTC,""
7399,"",Reading,2013-06-05 19:54:37 UTC,"And why? Because he thinks himself immortal.
All men think all men mortal but themselves;
Themselves, when some alarming shock of Fate
Strikes through their wounded hearts the sudden dread.
But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air,
Soon close; where pass'd the shaft, no trace is found.
As from the wing no scar the sky retains,
The parted wave no furrow from the keel,
So dies in human hearts the thought of death.
E'en with the tender tear which Nature sheds
O'er those we love, we drop it in their grave.
Can I forget Philander? That were strange.
O my full heart!--But should I give it vent,
The longest night, though longer far, would fail,
And the lark listen to my midnight song.
(ll. 423-437, pp. 47-8 in CUP edition)",,20396,"","""But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, / Soon close; where pass'd the shaft, no trace is found. / As from the wing no scar the sky retains, / The parted wave no furrow from the keel, / So dies in human hearts the thought of death.""",Animals,2013-06-11 14:45:55 UTC,Night the First
7400,"",Reading,2013-06-05 21:26:43 UTC,"Know'st thou, Lorenzo, what a friend contains?
As bees mix'd nectar draw from fragrant flowers,
So men, from FRIENDSHIP, wisdom and delight;
Twins tied by Nature, if they part, they die.
Hast thou no friend to set thy mind abroach?
Good sense will stagnate. Thoughts shut up want air,
And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun.
Had thought been all, sweet speech had been denied;
Speech, thought's canal! speech, thought's criterion too!
Thought in the mine may come forth gold or dross;
When coin'd in word, we know its real worth.
If sterling, store it for thy future use;
'Twill buy thee benefit; perhaps, renown.
Thought, too, deliver'd, is the more possess'd:
Teaching we learn; and giving we retain
The births of intellect; when dumb, forgot.
Speech ventilates our intellectual fire;
Speech burnishes our mental magazine,
Brightens for ornament, and whets for use.
What numbers, sheath'd in erudition, lie,
Plunged to the hilts in venerable tomes,
And rusted in; who might have borne an edge,
And play'd a sprightly beam, if born to speech;
If born blest heirs of half their mother's tongue!
'Tis thought's exchange which, like the' alternate push
Of waves conflicting, breaks the learned scum,
And defecates the student's standing pool.
(ll. 461-487, p. 63 in CUP edition)",,20414,"","""'Tis thought's exchange which, like the' alternate push / Of waves conflicting, breaks the learned scum, / And defecates the student's standing pool.""","",2013-06-05 21:26:43 UTC,Night the Second
7665,"",Reading,2013-09-02 03:29:03 UTC,"He follows nature, (not like thee!) and shows us
An uninverted system of a man.
His appetite wears Reason's golden chain,
And finds in due restraint its luxury.
His passion, like an eagle well reclaim'd,
Is taught to fly at nought but infinite.
Patient his hope, unanxious is his care,
His caution fearless, and his grief (if grief
The gods ordain) a stranger to despair.
And why?--Because affection, more than meet,
His wisdom leaves not disengaged from Heaven.
Those secondary goods that smile on earth,
He, loving in proportion, loves in peace.
They most the world enjoy, who least admire.
His understanding 'scapes the common cloud
Of fumes arising from a boiling breast.
His head is clear, because his heart is cool,
By worldly competitions uninflamed.
The moderate movements of his soul admit
Distinct ideas, and matured debate,
An eye impartial, and an even scale:
Whence judgment sound, and unrepenting choice.
Thus, in a double sense, the good are wise;
On its own dunghill, wiser than the world.
What then the world? It must be doubly weak;
Strange truth! as soon would they believe the Creed.
(p. 179, ll. 1160-85)",,22646,"","""His understanding 'scapes the common cloud / Of fumes arising from a boiling breast.""","",2013-09-02 03:29:03 UTC,Night the Eighth
6736,"",Reading,2013-10-27 21:35:20 UTC," And better in th' untimely grave to rot,
The world and it's all its cruelties forgot,
Than, dragg'd once more beyond the Western main,
To groan beneath some dastard planter's chain,
Where my poor countrymen in bondage wait,
The slow enfranchisement of ling'ring fate.
Oh! my heart sinks, my dying eyes o'erflow,
When mem'ry paints the picture of their woe!
For I have seen them, ere the dawn of day,
Rouz'd by the lash, go forth their chearless way,
And while their souls with shame and anguish burn,
Salute with groans unwelcome morn's return,
And, chiding every hour the slow-pac'd sun
Pursue their toils, till all his race was run,
Without one hope—to mitigate their pain—
One distant hope, their freedom to regain;
Then like the dull unpitied brutes repair
To stalls more wretched, and to coarser fare,
Thank Heav'n one day of misery was o'er,
And sink to sleep, and wish to wake no more.
Sleep on! dear, lost companions in despair,
Whose suff'rings still my latest tears shall share!
Sleep, and enjoy the only boon of Heav'n
To you in common with your tyrants giv'n.
O while soft slumber from their couches flies,
Still may it's balmy blessing steep your eyes;
Awhile in sweet oblivion lull your woes,
And brightest visions gladden the repose!
Let fancy then, unconscious of the change,
Thro' our own climes, and native forests range,
Still waft ye to each well-known stream and grove,
And visit every long-lost scene ye love!
—I sleep no more —nor in the midnight shade,
Invoke ideal phantoms to my aid,
Nor wake again, abandon'd and forlorn,
To find each dear delusion fled at morn;
Swift round the globe, by earth nor heav'n controul'd,
Fly proud oppression and dire lust of gold.
Wheree'er the thirsty hell-hounds take their way,
Still nature bleeds, and man becomes their prey.
In the wild wastes of Afric's sandy plain,
Where roars the lion through his drear domain,
To curb the savage monarch in the chace,
There too Heav'n planted man's majestic race;
Bade reason's sons with nobler titles rise,
Lift high their brow sublime, and scan the skies.
What tho the sun in his meridian blaze
On their scorch'd bodies dart his fiercest rays?
What tho' no rosy tints adorn their face,
No silken ringlets shine with flowing grace?
Yet of etherial temper are their souls,
And in their veins the tide of honour rolls;
And valour kindles there the hero's flame,
Contempt of death, and thirst of martial flame.
And pity melts the sympathizing breast,
Ah! fatal virtue!—for the brave distrest.
(6-8)",,23084,"","""Yet of etherial temper are their souls, / And in their veins the tide of honour rolls; / And valour kindles there the hero's flame, / Contempt of death, and thirst of martial flame. / And pity melts the sympathizing breast, / Ah! fatal virtue!—for the brave distrest.""","",2013-10-27 21:35:20 UTC,""
7750,"",Searching in ECCO-TCP,2013-11-10 04:16:01 UTC,"Tell him, it is not the fantastick Boy,
Elate with pow'r and swell'd with frantick joy,
'Tis not a slavish Senate, fawning, base,
Can stamp with honest fame a worthless race;
Tho' the false Coin proclaim him great and wise,
The tyrant's life shall tell that Coin, it lyes.
But when your early Care shall have design'd
To plan the Soul and mould the waxen Mind;
When you shall pour upon his tender Breast
Ideas that must stand an Age's Test,
Oh! there imprint with strongest deepest dye
The lovely form of Goddess LIBERTY!
For her in Senates be he train'd to plead,
For her in Battles be he taught to bleed.
Lead him where Dover's rugged cliff resounds
With dashing seas, fair Freedom's honest Bounds,
Point to yon azure Carr bedrop'd with gold,
Whose weight the necks of Gallia's Sons uphold;
Where proudly sits an iron-scepter'd Queen,
And fondly triumphs o'er the prostrate scene,
Cry, that is Empire! shun her baleful path,
Her Words are Slavery, and her Touch is Death!
Thro' wounds and blood the Fury drives her way,
And murthers half, to make the rest her prey.
(pp. 73-4)",,23146,"","""But when your early Care shall have design'd / To plan the Soul and mould the waxen Mind; / When you shall pour upon his tender Breast / Ideas that must stand an Age's Test, / Oh! there imprint with strongest deepest dye / The lovely form of Goddess LIBERTY!""",Impressions,2013-11-10 04:16:27 UTC,""