text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"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)",2013-11-17 17:14:56 UTC,"""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.""",2003-07-29 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Writing,•I've included all the stanzas but the first because of the density of metaphors (8 entries total).,Reading,14997,5612
"This is the sullen curse of surly souls,
To disbelieve the virtues which they feel not.
Ah, Stella! I'm a convert; thou hast tun'd
My rusting powers to the bright strain of joy:
My chill'd ideas quit their frozen pole
Of blank Despair, and, gently usher'd in
By grateful Rapture, meet thy genial warmth:
'Tis more than joy, or joy to an extreme;
Then teach my honest heart to feel more faint,
More moderate in her grateful change, or lend
Fair Elocution, who the Mimic aids,
To paint in brightest hues the unfelt joy.
",2009-09-14 19:42:39 UTC,"One's ""chill'd ideas [may] quit their frozen pole / Of blank Despair""",2005-03-07 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"",•Not easy to categorize.,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),15054,5628
"Ah! cruel state! where hope is rack'd with fear,
That seals our bondage, as it prompts our care.
While fancy, dreaming of some better fate,
Beguiles the labour of the present state,
The fluctuant mind, by various passions tost,
Now rides aloft, and now immerg'd, is lost:
Yet after all our reason to complain,
We hug the fraud that justifies the pain;
And Hope refresh'd, like wheels fresh oil'd, pursues
Her daily task, and daily vows renews.
",2009-09-14 19:42:40 UTC,"""The fluctuant mind, by various passions tost, / Now rides aloft, and now immerg'd, is lost""",2005-04-19 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"",•I've included twice: Ship and Ocean,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),15064,5634
"GABRIEL
Lord, mun, your worship need no' be so shy, like--You do know, you ha' promised me a plac. --an places that are no' bought one way--mun be bought another.
SIR FREDERIC
Well said, friend Gabriel.
GABRIEL
An, as for keeping o' family secrets, donno' you fear me; becase why, I do find they be a sarvant's best parkizites--For, an it wur na for family secrets, how should so many poor country Johns so very soon become gentlemen?
SIR FREDERIC [aside]
This fellow's thoughts run all in one channel; his ruling passion is money; the love of that sharpens his intellects, and opens his eyes and ears.--Well, Gabriel, you shall find me generous as a Prince, provided--Here's somebody coming--go into the next room; I'll speak with you presently.
GABRIEL
Ees.--But I do hope your honour's worship wunna forget the place, like?
SIR FREDERIC
Never fear.",2009-09-14 19:42:50 UTC,Thoughts may run all in one channel,2004-06-01 00:00:00 UTC,"Act II, scene v",Stream of Consciousness,,"",•Holcroft's translation of Choderlos de Laclos. First performed 12 March 1787; first published 31 March 1787.,"Searching HDIS for ""ruling passion""",15123,5661
"In scenes like these, which, daring to depart
From sober Truth, are still to Nature true,
And call forth fresh delights to Fancy's view,
The heroic Muse employed her Tasso's art!
How have I trembled when, at Tancred's stroke,
Its gushing blood the gaping cypress poured;
When each live plant with mortal accents spoke,
And the wild blast upheaved the vanished sword!
How have I sat, where piped the pensive wind,
To hear his harp by British Fairfax strung.
Prevailing poet, whose undoubting mind
Believed the magic wonders which he sung!
Hence at each sound imagination glows;
Hence his warm lay with softest sweetness flows;
Melting it flows, pure, numerous, strong and clear,
And fills the impassioned heart and lulls the harmonious ear.
(ll. 188-203, pp. 516-8)",2011-06-17 17:22:20 UTC,"""Hence at each sound imagination glows; / Hence his warm lay with softest sweetness flows; / Melting it flows, pure, numerous, strong and clear, / And fills the impassioned heart and lulls the harmonious ear.""",2003-11-21 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2011-06-17,"","•The imagination ""glows"" does this cause the melting?
",Searching keywords in HDIS (Poetry),15157,5682
"Shall I trust the thoughts that rise
And struggle in my panting breast,
Tinted with a thousand dyes,
Image quick on image prest?
Shall they dare, my trembling lays,
Lift their notes in feeble praise,
To sing a theme might well inspire
An Homer's force, a Pindar's fire?
Avaunt! avaunt! each coward fear;
I feel the swelling raptures roll
In surging tides upon my soul;
Celestial promptings strike my ear!
Reach then, reach my sounding lyre;
My panting soul is all on fire:
Swift the silver strings accord;
My eager hand,
Thy skill command;
A mighty strain be pour'd!
O! for a strain so potent to impart
The great sensations struggling in my heart!
Let but the high enthusiasms roll
Warm from my hand, as active in my soul;
Let the loud thunders of my voice declare
The vivid lightning's flashing there!
Then strong shall be the flood of rhyme,
And all be full, and all sublime.
Seize! seize! the glowing images that pass
Like transient shadows o'er the mimic glass!
Let not their fervors faint and die!
It is the hour of extacy.
All, all the Muse upon me breaks!
I hear, I know her voice, and thus she speaks:--",2009-09-14 19:43:00 UTC,"""I feel the swelling raptures roll / In surging tides upon my soul""",2005-06-03 00:00:00 UTC,Stanza II.,"",,"","",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),15191,5698
"According to Mr. Locke, the soul is a mere rasa tabula, an empty recipient, a mechanical blank. According to Plato, she is an ever-written tablet, a plenitude of forms, a vital and intellectual energy. On the former system, she is on a level with the most degraded natures, the receptacle of material species, and the spectator of delusion and non-entity. Hence, her energies are nothing but somnolent perceptions, and encumbered cogitations; of all her knowledge terminated in sense, and her science in passion. Like a man between sleeping and waking, her visions are turbid and confused, and the phantoms of a material night, continually glide before her drowsy eye. But on the latter system, the soul is the connecting medium of an intelligible and sensible nature, the bright repository of all middle forms, and the vigilant eye of all cogitative reasons. Hence she is capable of rousing herself from the sleep of a corporeal life, and emerging from this dark Cimmerian land, into the regions of light and reality. At first, indeed, before she is excited by science, she is oppressed with lethargy, and clouded with oblivion; but in proportion as learning and enquiry stimulate her dormant powers, she wakens from the dreams of ignorance, and opens her eye to the irradiations of wis- [end page xxxi] dom. On Mr. Locke's system, the principles of science and sense are the same, for the energies of both originate from material forms, on which they are continually employed. Hence, science is subject to the flowing and perishable nature of particulars; and if body and its attributes were destroyed, would be nothing but a name. But on the system of Plato, they differ as much as delusions and reality; for here the vital, permanent, and lucid nature of ideas is the fountain of science; and the inert, unstable, and obscure nature of sensible objects, the source of sensation. On Mr. Locke's system, body may be modified into thought, and become an intelligent creature; it may be subtilized into life, and shrink, by its exility, into intellect. On that of Plato, body can never alter its nature by modification, however, it may be rarefied and refined, varied by the transposition of its part, or tortured by the hand of experiment. In short, the two systems may be aptly represented by the two sections of a line, in Plato's Republic. In the ancient, you have truth itself, and whatever participates of the brightest evidence and reality: in the modern, ignorance, and whatever belongs to obscurity and shadow. The former fills the soul with intelligible light, breaks her lethargic fetters, and elevates her to the principle of things; the latter clouds the intellectual eye of the soul, by increasing her oblivion, strengthens her corporeal bands, and hurries her downwards into the dark labyrinths of matter.
(pp. xxxi-xxxii)",2009-09-14 19:43:05 UTC,"""But on the system of Plato, they differ as much as delusions and reality; for here the vital, permanent, and lucid nature of ideas is the fountain of science; and the inert, unstable, and obscure nature of sensible objects, the source of sensation.""",2006-10-13 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"",•Taylor seems like quite a character. See ODNB.,Searching in ECCO,15225,5705
"Sonnet XXXV.
To Fortitude
Nymph of the rock! whose dauntless spirit braves
The beating storm, and bitter winds that howl
Round thy cold breast; and hear'st the bursting waves,
And the deep thunder with unshaken soul;
Oh come!--and shew how vain the cares that press
On my weak bosom--and how little worth
Is the false fleeting meteor, happiness,
That still misleads the wanderers of the earth!
Strengthen'd by thee, this heart shall cease to melt
O'er ills that poor humanity must bear;
Nor friends estrang'd, or ties dissolv'd be felt
To leave regret, and fruitless anguish there:
And when at length it heaves its latest sigh,
Thou and mild hope, shall teach me how to die!",2013-06-13 15:29:41 UTC,"""Strengthen'd by thee, this heart shall cease to melt / O'er ills that poor humanity must bear; / Nor friends estrang'd, or ties dissolv'd be felt / To leave regret, and fruitless anguish there.""",2013-06-13 15:29:41 UTC,"","",,"","",Reading,20614,7424
"Emmeline was yet quite unconscious of this: but Mrs. Stafford had seen it almost from the first moment of her seeing Godolphin. In their frequent conversation, she observed that the very name of Emmeline had the power of fascination; that he was never weary of hearing her praises; and that whenever he thought himself unobserved, his eyes were in pursuit of her; or fondly gazing on her face, he seemed to drink deep draughts of intoxicating passion.
(III, pp. 145-6)",2013-06-14 04:53:35 UTC,"""In their frequent conversation, she observed that the very name of Emmeline had the power of fascination; that he was never weary of hearing her praises; and that whenever he thought himself unobserved, his eyes were in pursuit of her; or fondly gazing on her face, he seemed to drink deep draughts of intoxicating passion.""",2013-06-14 04:53:35 UTC,"","",,"","",Searching in C-H Lion,20666,7439
"But in pouring her sorrows into the bosom of her friend she appeared to find great consolation. The tender pity of Emmeline was a balm to her wounded mind; and growing more composed, she began to discourse on the singular discovery Emmeline had made, and to enter with some interest into the affairs depending between her and the Marquis of Montreville; and by questions, aided by the natural frankness of Emmeline, at length became acquainted with the happy prospects, which tho' distant, opened to Godolphin.
(IV, p. 264)",2013-06-14 05:31:41 UTC,"""But in pouring her sorrows into the bosom of her friend she appeared to find great consolation.""",2013-06-14 05:31:41 UTC,"","",,"","",C-H Lion,20701,7439