theme,metaphor,work_id,dictionary,provenance,id,created_at,updated_at,reviewed_on,comments,text,context
"","""That with the vivid energy of sense, / The truth of Nature, which with Attic point / And kind well temper'd satire, smoothly keen, / Steals through the soul, and without pain corrects.""",4387,"",Looking up words in the OED; found again reading; confirmed in ECCO in a 1744 printing.,11581,2005-09-29 00:00:00 UTC,2014-08-29 17:20:00 UTC,,"Works (1830) in C-H has ""That with the vivid energy of sense..."" !? (Not in Sambrook: corrected and checked against 1744 and 1746.","O Thou, whose wisdom, solid yet refined,
Whose patriot-virtues, and consummate skill
To touch the finer springs that move the world,
Join'd to whate'er the Graces can bestow,
And all Apollo's animating fire,
Give thee, with pleasing dignity, to shine
At once the guardian, ornament, and joy,
Of polish'd life; permit the Rural Muse,
O Chesterfield, to grace with thee her song!
Ere to the shades again she humbly flies,
Indulge her fond ambition, in thy train,
(For every Muse has in thy train a place)
To mark thy various full-accomplish'd mind:
To mark that spirit, which, with British scorn,
Rejects the allurements of corrupted power;
That elegant politeness, which excels,
E'en in the judgment of presumptuous France,
The boasted manners of her shining court;
That wit, the vivid energy of sense,
The truth of Nature, which with Attic point
And kind well temper'd satire, smoothly keen,
Steals through the soul, and without pain corrects.
Or rising thence with yet a brighter flame,
O let me hail thee on some glorious day,
When to the listening senate, ardent, crowd
Britannia's sons to hear her pleaded cause.
Then dress'd by thee, more amiably fair,
Truth the soft robe of mild persuasion wears:
Thou to assenting reason givest again
Her own enlighten'd thoughts; call'd from the heart,
The obedient passions on thy voice attend;
And e'en reluctant party feels a while
Thy gracious power: as through the varied maze
Of eloquence, now smooth, now quick, now strong,
Profound and clear, you roll the copious flood.
(ll. 656-90)",""
"","""My fluttering Soul was all on Wing to find Thee, / My Love! my Sigismunda!""",7490,Animals,C-H Lion,21241,2013-06-28 14:33:49 UTC,2013-06-28 14:33:49 UTC,,"","TANCRED.
My fluttering Soul was all on Wing to find Thee,
My Love! my Sigismunda!
(I.vi) ",""
"","""But This, my Friend, these stormy Gusts of Pride / Are foreign to my Love--Till Sigismunda / Be disabus'd, my Breast is Tumult all, / And can obey no settled Course of Reason. / I see Her still, I feel her powerful Image!""",7490,"",C-H Lion,21247,2013-06-28 14:43:26 UTC,2013-06-28 14:43:26 UTC,,"","TANCRED.
Heavens! Submission!
Could I descend to bear it, even in Thought,
Despise me, you, the World, and Sigismunda!
Submission!--No!--To-morrow's glorious Light
Shall flash Discovery on this Scene of Baseness.
Whatever be the Risque, by Heavens! To-morrow,
I will o'erturn the dirty Lye-built Schemes
Of these old Men, and shew my faithful Senate,
That Manfred's Son knows to assert and wear,
With undiminish'd Dignity, that Crown
This unexpected Day has plac'd upon him.
But This, my Friend, these stormy Gusts of Pride
Are foreign to my Love--Till Sigismunda
Be disabus'd, my Breast is Tumult all,
And can obey no settled Course of Reason.
I see Her still, I feel her powerful Image!
That Look, where with Reproach Complaint was mix'd,
Big with soft Woe and gentle Indignation,
Which seem'd at once to pity and to scorn me--
O let me find Her! I too long have left
My Sigismunda to converse with Tears,
A Prey to Thoughts that picture me a Villain.
But ah! how, clogg'd with this accursed State,
A tedious World, shall I now find Access?
Her Father too--Ten Thousand Horrors croud
Into the wild fantastic Eye of Love--
Who knows what he may do? Come then, my Friend,
And by thy Sister's Hand O let me steal
A Letter to her Bosom--I no longer
Can bear her Absence, by the just Contempt
She now must brand me with, inflam'd to Madness,
Fly, my Rodolpho, fly! engage thy Sister
To aid my Letter, and this very Evening
Secure an Interview--I would not bear
This Rack another Day not for my Kingdom!
Till then deep-plung'd in Solitude and Shades,
I will not see the hated Face of Man.
Thought drives on Thought, on Passions Passions roll;
Her Smiles alone can calm my raging Soul.
(II.ix)","Act II, scene ix"
"","""Thought drives on Thought, on Passions Passions roll; / Her Smiles alone can calm my raging Soul.""",7490,"",C-H Lion,21248,2013-06-28 14:44:56 UTC,2013-06-28 14:44:56 UTC,,"An ocean is figured here, no? ","TANCRED.
Heavens! Submission!
Could I descend to bear it, even in Thought,
Despise me, you, the World, and Sigismunda!
Submission!--No!--To-morrow's glorious Light
Shall flash Discovery on this Scene of Baseness.
Whatever be the Risque, by Heavens! To-morrow,
I will o'erturn the dirty Lye-built Schemes
Of these old Men, and shew my faithful Senate,
That Manfred's Son knows to assert and wear,
With undiminish'd Dignity, that Crown
This unexpected Day has plac'd upon him.
But This, my Friend, these stormy Gusts of Pride
Are foreign to my Love--Till Sigismunda
Be disabus'd, my Breast is Tumult all,
And can obey no settled Course of Reason.
I see Her still, I feel her powerful Image!
That Look, where with Reproach Complaint was mix'd,
Big with soft Woe and gentle Indignation,
Which seem'd at once to pity and to scorn me--
O let me find Her! I too long have left
My Sigismunda to converse with Tears,
A Prey to Thoughts that picture me a Villain.
But ah! how, clogg'd with this accursed State,
A tedious World, shall I now find Access?
Her Father too--Ten Thousand Horrors croud
Into the wild fantastic Eye of Love--
Who knows what he may do? Come then, my Friend,
And by thy Sister's Hand O let me steal
A Letter to her Bosom--I no longer
Can bear her Absence, by the just Contempt
She now must brand me with, inflam'd to Madness,
Fly, my Rodolpho, fly! engage thy Sister
To aid my Letter, and this very Evening
Secure an Interview--I would not bear
This Rack another Day not for my Kingdom!
Till then deep-plung'd in Solitude and Shades,
I will not see the hated Face of Man.
Thought drives on Thought, on Passions Passions roll;
Her Smiles alone can calm my raging Soul.
(II.ix)","Act II, scene ix"
"","""Wild as Winds, / And fighting Seas, he raves. His Passions mix, / With ceaseless Rage, all in each giddy Moment.""",7490,"",C-H Lion,21252,2013-06-28 14:50:59 UTC,2013-06-28 14:50:59 UTC,,"","LAURA.
He paints him out distress'd beyond Expression,
Even on the Point of Madness. Wild as Winds,
And fighting Seas, he raves. His Passions mix,
With ceaseless Rage, all in each giddy Moment.
He dies to see you and to clear his Faith.
(IV.i)","Act IV, scene i"
"","""Now, while I taste the Sweetness of the Shade, / While Nature lies around deep-lull'd in Noon, / Now come, bold Fancy, spread a daring Flight, / And view the Wonders of the torrid Zone.""",7504,Animals,Reading,21475,2013-07-07 16:20:42 UTC,2013-07-07 16:21:04 UTC,,First appears in 1744. Corrected text to match 1746. Passage follows description of an eagle's flight.,"Now, while I taste the Sweetness of the Shade,
While Nature lies around deep-lull'd in Noon,
Now come, bold Fancy, spread a daring Flight,
And view the Wonders of the torrid Zone:
Climes unrelenting! with whose Rage compared,
Yon Blaze is feeble, and yon Skies are cool.
(p. 54 in Sambrook)",""
"","""He framed a melting lay, to try her heart; /
And, if an infant passion struggled there, / To call that passion forth.""",7504,Inhabitants,Reading; text from C-H Lion,21478,2013-07-07 16:53:27 UTC,2013-07-07 16:53:27 UTC,,Passage first appears in 1730 but is shorter. This metaphor doesn't appear.,"Close in the covert of a hazel copse,
Where, winded into pleasing solitudes,
Runs out the rambling dale, young Damon sat,
Pensive, and pierced with love's delightful pangs.
There to the stream that down the distant rocks
Hoarse-murmuring fell, and plaintive breeze that play'd
Among the bending willows, falsely he
Of Musidora's cruelty complain'd.
She felt his flame; but deep within her breast
In bashful coyness, or in maiden pride,
The soft return conceal'd; save when it stole
In sidelong glances from her downcast eye,
Or from her swelling soul in stifled sighs.
Touch'd by the scene, no stranger to his vows,
He framed a melting lay, to try her heart;
And, if an infant passion struggled there,
To call that passion forth. Thrice happy swain!
A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate
Of mighty monarchs, then decided thine.
For lo! conducted by the laughing Loves,
This cool retreat his Musidora sought:
Warm in her cheek the sultry season glow'd;
And, robed in loose array, she came to bathe
Her fervent limbs in the refreshing stream.
What shall he do? In sweet confusion lost,
And dubious flutterings, he a while remain'd:
A pure ingenuous elegance of soul,
A delicate refinement, known to few,
Perplex'd his breast, and urged him to retire [...]
(pp. 72 in Sambrook ed., p. 104 in original)",""
"","""While there with thee the enchanted round I walk, / The regulated wild, gay Fancy then / Will tread in thought the groves of attic land; / Will from thy standard taste refine her own, / Correct her pencil to the purest truth / Of Nature, or, the unimpassion'd shades / Forsaking, raise it to the human mind.""",7505,"",Reading; text from C-H Lion,21491,2013-07-07 19:40:49 UTC,2013-07-07 19:44:18 UTC,,"","Or is this gloom too much? Then lead, ye powers,
That o'er the garden and the rural seat
Preside, which shining through the cheerful hand
In countless numbers blest Britannia sees;
O lead me to the wide extended walks,
The fair majestic paradise of Stowe!
Not Persian Cyrus on Ionia's shore
E'er saw such sylvan scenes; such various art
By genius fired, such ardent genius tamed
By cool judicious art; that, in the strife,
All beauteous Nature fears to be outdone.
And there, O Pitt, thy country's early boast,
There let me sit beneath the shelter'd slopes,
Or in that Temple where, in future times,
Thou well shalt merit a distinguish'd name;
And, with thy converse blest, catch the last smiles
Of Autumn beaming o'er the yellow woods.
While there with thee the enchanted round I walk,
The regulated wild, gay Fancy then
Will tread in thought the groves of attic land;
Will from thy standard taste refine her own,
Correct her pencil to the purest truth
Of Nature, or, the unimpassion'd shades
Forsaking, raise it to the human mind.
Or if hereafter she, with juster hand,
Shall draw the tragic scene, instruct her, thou,
To mark the varied movements of the heart,
What every decent character requires,
And every passion speaks: O through her strain
Breathe thy pathetic eloquence! that moulds
The attentive senate, charms, persuades, exalts,
Of honest Zeal the indignant lightning throws,
And shakes Corruption on her venal throne.
While thus we talk, and through Elysian vales
Delighted rove, perhaps a sigh escapes:
What pity, Cobham, thou thy verdant files
Of order'd trees shouldst here inglorious range,
Instead of squadrons flaming o'er the field,
And long embattled hosts! when the proud foe,
The faithless vain disturber of mankind,
Insulting Gaul, has roused the world to war;
When keen, once more, within their bounds to press
Those polish'd robbers, those ambitious slaves,
The British youth would hail thy wise command,
Thy temper'd ardour and thy veteran skill.
(pp. 116-7 in Sambrook ed.)",""