work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
4442,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2003-12-01 00:00:00 UTC,"He's not the happy man, to whom is given
A plenteous fortune by indulgent Heaven;
Whose gilded roofs on shining columns rise,
And painted walls enchant the gazer's eyes:
Whose table flows with hospitable cheer,
And all the various bounty of the year;
Whose valleys smile, whose gardens breathe the spring,
Whose carved mountains bleat, and forests sing?
For whom the cooling shade in summer twines,
While his full cellars give their generous wines;
From whose wide fields unbounded autumn pours
A golden tide into his swelling stores:
Whose winter laughs; for whom the liberal gales
Stretch the big sheet, and toiling commerce sails;
When yielding crowds attend, and pleasure serves;
While youth, and health, and vigour string his nerves.
E'en not all these, in one rich lot combined,
Can make the happy man, without the mind;
Where judgment sits clear-sighted, and surveys
The chain of reason with unerring gaze;
Where fancy lives, and to the brightening eyes,
His fairer scenes, and bolder figures rise;
Where social love exerts her soft command,
And plays the passions with a tender hand,
Whence every virtue flows, in rival strife,
And all the moral harmony of life.
Nor canst thou, D--D----N, this truth decline,
Thine is the fortune, and the mind is thine.
(ll. 1-28, pp. 284-5)",,11696,"•CORRECTING C-H: I've restored HDIS ""lays"" to 1729 ""plays""","""E'en not all these, in one rich lot combined, / Can make the happy man, without the mind; / Where judgment sits clear-sighted, and surveys / The chain of reason with unerring gaze; / Where fancy lives, and to the brightening eyes, / His fairer scenes, and bolder figures rise; / Where social love exerts her soft command, / And plays the passions with a tender hand, / Whence every virtue flows, in rival strife, / And all the moral harmony of life.""",Court and Fetters,2013-06-20 20:25:11 UTC,I've included the complete poem
4486,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-02-14 00:00:00 UTC," Strange is the Force of modulated Sound,
That, like a Torrent, sweeps o'er ev'ry Mound!
It tunes the Heart, at ev'ry Turn;
With ev'ry Moment gives new Passions Birth;
Sometimes we take delight to Mourn;
Sometimes enchance our Mirth.
It sooths deep Sorrow in the Breast;
It lulls our waking Cares to Rest,
Fate's clouded Brow serenes with Ease,
And makes ev'n Madness please.
As much as Man can meaner Arts controul,
It manages his master'd Soul,
The most invet'rate Spleen disarms,
And, like Aurelia, Charms:
Aurelia! dear, distinguish'd Fair!
In whom the Graces center'd are!
Whose Beauty, Musick in Disguise!
Attracts the gazing Eyes,
Thrills thro' the Soul, like sad[1] Louisa's Lines,
And, as it certain Conquest makes, the Savage Soul refines.",,11786,"","""The Force of Modulated Sound, .... tunes the Heart at ev'ry Turn""","",2009-09-14 19:36:15 UTC,Stanza IX
4584,"",HDIS,2003-12-01 00:00:00 UTC,"Still let me view him in the pleasing light
Of private life, where pomp forgets to glare,
And where the plain unguarded soul is seen.
There, with that truest greatness he appear'd,
Which thinks not of appearing; kindly veil'd
In the soft graces of the friendly scene,
Inspiring social confidence and ease.
As free the converse of the wise and good,
As joyous, disentangling every power,
And breathing mix'd improvement with delight,
As when amid the various-blossom'd spring,
Or gentle beaming autumn's pensive shade,
The philosophic mind with nature talks.
Say ye, his sons, his dear remains, with whom
The father laid superfluous state aside,
Yet raised your filial duty thence the more,
With friendship raised it, with esteem, with love,
Beyond the ties of love, oh! speak the joy,
The pure serene, the cheerful wisdom mild,
The virtuous spirit, which his vacant hours,
In semblance of amusement, through the breast
Infused. And thou, O Rundle! lend thy strain,
Thou darling friend! thou brother of his soul!
In whom the head and heart their stores unite:
Whatever fancy paints, invention pours,
Judgment digests, the well tuned bosom feels,
Truth natural, moral, or divine, has taught,
The virtues dictate, or the Muses sing.
Lend me the plaint, which, to the lonely main,
With memory conversing, you will pour,
As on the pebbled shore you, pensive, stray,
Where Derry's mountains a bleak crescent form,
And mid their ample round receive the waves,
That from the frozen pole, resounding, rush,
Impetuous. Though from native sunshine driven,
Driven from your friends, the sunshine of the soul,
By slanderous zeal, and politics infirm,
Jealous of worth; yet will you bless your lot,
Yet will you triumph in your glorious fate,
Whence Talbot's friendship glows to future times,
Intrepid, warm; of kindred tempers born;
Nursed, by experience, into slow esteem,
Calm confidence unbounded, love not blind,
And the sweet light from mingled minds disclosed,
From mingled chymic oils as bursts the fire.
(ll. 208-53, pp. 155-6)",2007-05-16,12063,"•A shortened version of the poem appeared in Thomson's Works prepared by Lyttleton in 1750. Patrick Murdoch restores the text but introduces new variants in 1762. The 1762 text is followed in most subsequent editions (Sambrook, pp. 148-9). I've only incompletely checked the HDIS version against the 1737 version. ","""Whatever fancy paints, invention pours, / Judgment digests, the well tuned bosom feels, / Truth natural, moral, or divine, has taught, / The virtues dictate, or the Muses sing.""","",2009-09-14 19:36:33 UTC,""
7479,"",Reading,2013-06-20 15:50:11 UTC,"But see who yonder comes! in sober state,
Fair, mild, and strong, as is a vernal sun:
'Tis Phoebus self, or else the Mantuan swain!
Great Homer too appears, of daring wing,
Parent of song! and equal by his side,
The British muse; join'd hand in hand they walk,
Darkling, full up the middle steep to fame.
Nor absent are those tuneful shades, I ween,
Taught by the Graces, whose inchanting touch
Shakes every passion from the various string;
Not those, who solemnize the moral scene.
(ll. 544-554)",,21046,"","""Nor absent are those tuneful shades, I ween, / Taught by the Graces, whose inchanting touch / Shakes every passion from the various string; / Not those, who solemnize the moral scene.""","",2013-06-20 15:50:11 UTC,""
4393,"",Reading,2013-06-20 17:06:48 UTC,"BUT now what-e'er these gaudy Fables meant,
And the white Minutes that they shadow'd out,
Are found no more amid these Iron Times,
These Dregs of Life! in which the Human Mind
Has lost that Harmony ineffable,
Which forms the Soul of Happiness; and all
Is off the Poise within; the Passions all
Have burst their Bounds; and Reason half extinct,
Or impotent, or else approving, sees
The foul Disorder. Anger storms at large,
Without an equal Cause; and fell Revenge
Supports the falling Rage. Close Envy bites
With venom'd Tooth; while weak, unmanly Fear,
Full of frail Fancies, loosens every Power.
Even Love itself is Bitterness of Soul,
A pleasing Anguish pining at the Heart.
Hope sickens with Extravagance; and Grief,
Of Life impatient, into Madness swells,
Or in dead Silence wastes the weeping Hours.
These, and a thousand new Emotions more,
That from their Mixture spring, distract the Mind
With endless Tumult. Whence resulting rise
The selfish Thought, a listless Inconcern,
Cold, and averting from our Neighbour's Good;
Then dark Disgust, and Malice, winding Wiles,
Sneaking Deceit, and Coward Villany:
At last unruly Hatred, lewd Reproach,
Convulsive Wrath, and thoughtless Fury quick
To every evil Deed. Even Nature's self
Is deem'd vindictive, to have chang'd her Course.",,21052,"","""BUT now what-e'er these gaudy Fables meant, / And the white Minutes that they shadow'd out, / Are found no more amid these Iron Times, / These Dregs of Life! in which the Human Mind / Has lost that Harmony ineffable, / Which forms the Soul of Happiness; and all / Is off the Poise within; the Passions all / Have burst their Bounds; and Reason half extinct, / Or impotent, or else approving, sees / The foul Disorder.""","",2013-06-20 17:06:48 UTC,""
4393,"","",2013-06-20 17:58:40 UTC,"'Tis Harmony, that World-embracing Power,
By which all Beings are adjusted, each
To all around, impelling and impell'd
In endless Circulation, that inspires
This universal Smile. Thus the glad Skies,
The wide-rejoycing Earth, the Woods, the Streams,
With every Life they hold, down to the Flower
That paints the lowly Vale, or Insect-Wing
Wav'd o'er the Shepherd's Slumber, touch the Mind
To Nature tun'd, with a light-flying Hand,
Invisible, quick-urging, thro' the Nerves,
The glittering Spirits, in a Flood of Day.
(pp. 46-7)",,21056,"","""Thus the glad Skies, / The wide-rejoycing Earth, the Woods, the Streams, / With every Life they hold, down to the Flower / That paints the lowly Vale, or Insect-Wing / Wav'd o'er the Shepherd's Slumber, touch the Mind / To Nature tun'd, with a light-flying Hand, / Invisible, quick-urging, thro' the Nerves, / The glittering Spirits, in a Flood of Day.""","",2013-06-20 17:59:06 UTC,Reading
4393,"",Reading,2013-06-20 20:00:52 UTC,"BUT happy They! the Happiest of their Kind!
Whom gentler Stars unite, and in one Fate
Their Hearts, their Fortunes, and their Beings blend.
'Tis not the courser Tie of human Laws,
Unnatural oft, and foreign to the Mind,
Which binds their Peace, but Harmony itself,
Attuning all their Passions into Love;
Where Friendship full-exerts his softest Power,
Perfect Esteem enliven'd by Desire
Ineffable, and Sympathy of Soul,
Thought meeting Thought, and Will preventing Will,
With boundless Confidence; for nought but Love
Can answer Love, and render Bliss secure.
Let Him, ungenerous, who, alone intent
To bless himself, from sordid Parents buys
The loathing Virgin, in eternal Care,
Well-merited, consume his Nights and Days.
Let barbarous Nations, whose inhuman Love
Is wild Desire fierce as the Suns they feel,
Let Eastern Tyrants from the Light of Heaven
Seclude their Bosom-slaves, meanly possest
Of a meer, lifeless, violated Form:
While those whom Love cements, in holy Faith,
And equal Transport, free as Nature, live,
Disdaining Fear; for what's the World to them,
It's Pomp, it's Pleasure, and it's Nonsense all!
Who in each other clasp whatever fair
High Fancy forms, and lavish Hearts can wish,
Something than Beauty dearer, should they look
Or on the Mind, or Mind-illumin'd Face,
Truth, Goodness, Honour, Harmony and Love,
The richest Bounty of indulgent Heaven.
Mean-time a smiling Offspring rises round,
And mingles both their Graces. By degrees,
The human Blossom blows; and every Day,
Soft as it rolls along, shows some new Charm,
The Father's Lustre, and the Mother's Bloom.
Then infant Reason grows apace, and calls
For the kind Hand of an assiduous Care:
Delightful Task! to rear the tender Thought,
To teach the young Idea how to shoot,
To pour the fresh Instruction o'er the Mind,
To breathe th' inspiring Spirit, and to plant
The generous Purpose in the glowing Breast.
Oh speak the Joy! You, whom the sudden Tear
Surprizes often, while you look around,
And nothing strikes your Eye but Sights of Bliss,
All various Nature pressing on the Heart,
Obedient Fortune, and approving Heaven.
These are the Blessings of diviner Love;
And thus their Moments fly; the Seasons thus,
As ceaseless round a jarring World they roll,
Still find Them happy; and consenting SPRING
Sheds her own rosy Garland on their Head:
Till Evening comes at last, cool, gentle, calm;
When after the long vernal Day of Life,
Enamour'd more, as Soul approaches Soul,
Together, down They sink in social Sleep.",,21065,"","""'Tis not the courser Tie of human Laws, / Unnatural oft, and foreign to the Mind, / Which binds their Peace, but Harmony itself, / Attuning all their Passions into Love.""","",2013-06-20 20:00:52 UTC,""
7481,"",Reading; text from C-H Lion,2013-07-07 15:37:53 UTC,"All-conquering Heat, oh intermit thy wrath!
And on my throbbing temples potent thus
Beam not so fierce! incessant still you flow,
And still another fervent flood succeeds,
Pour'd on the head profuse. In vain I sigh,
And restless turn, and look around for night;
Night is far off; and hotter hours approach.
Thrice happy he! who on the sunless side
Of a romantic mountain, forest-crown'd,
Beneath the whole collected shade reclines:
Or in the gelid caverns, woodbine-wrought,
And fresh bedew'd with ever-spouting streams,
Sits coolly calm; while all the world without,
Unsatisfied, and sick, tosses in noon.
Emblem instructive of the virtuous man,
Who keeps his temper'd mind serene and pure,
And every passion aptly harmonized,
Amid a jarring world with vice inflamed.
(pp. 49-50 in Sambrook ed., pp. 32-4 in original)",,21471,"","""Emblem instructive of the virtuous man, / Who keeps his temper'd mind serene and pure, / And every passion aptly harmonized, / Amid a jarring world with vice inflamed.""","",2013-07-07 15:37:53 UTC,""
7481,"",Reading; text from C-H Lion,2013-07-07 15:44:46 UTC,"Shook sudden from the bosom of the sky,
A thousand shapes or glide athwart the dusk,
Or stalk majestic on. Deep-roused, I feel
A sacred terror, a severe delight,
Creep through my mortal frame; and thus, me-thinks,
A voice than human more, the abstracted ear
Of fancy strikes:---""Be not of us afraid,
Poor kindred man! thy fellow-creatures, we
From the same Parent-Power our beings drew,
The same our Lord, and laws, and great pursuit.
Once some of us, like thee, through stormy life,
Toil'd, tempest-beaten, ere we could attain
This holy calm, this harmony of mind,
Where purity and peace immingle charms.
Then fear not us; but with responsive song,
Amid these dim recesses, undisturb'd
By noisy folly and discordant vice,
Of Nature sing with us, and Nature's God.
Here frequent, at the visionary hour,
When musing midnight reigns or silent noon,
Angelic harps are in full concert heard,
And voices chanting from the wood-crown'd hill,
The deepening dale, or inmost sylvan glade:
A privilege bestow'd by us, alone,
On Contemplation, or the hallow'd ear
Of poet, swelling to seraphic strain.""
(pp. 51-2 in Sambrook, pp. 39-40 in original)",,21473,"","""Once some of us, like thee, through stormy life, / Toil'd, tempest-beaten, ere we could attain / This holy calm, this harmony of mind, / Where purity and peace immingle charms.""","",2013-07-07 15:44:46 UTC,""
7698,"",Reading,2013-10-03 02:29:28 UTC,"Poor Man! how happy once in thy first State!
When yet but warm from thy great Maker's Hand,
He stamp'd thee with his Image, and well pleas'd
Smil'd on his last fair Work. Then all was well.
Sound was the Body, and the Soul serene;
Like two sweet Instruments ne'er out of Tune,
That play their several Parts. Nor Head, nor Heart,
Offer'd to ache: Nor was there Cause they should;
For all was pure within: No fell Remorse,
Nor anxious Castings up of what might be,
Alarm'd his peaceful Bosom: Summer Seas
Shew not more smooth, when kiss'd by Southern Winds
Just ready to expire. Scarce importun'd
The generous Soil with a luxuriant Hand
Offer'd the various Produce of the Year,
And every Thing most perfect in its Kind.
Blessed! thrice blessed Days! But Ah, how short!
Bless'd as the pleasing Dreams of Holy Men;
But fugitive like those, and quickly gone.
Oh! slipp'ry State of Things! What sudden Turns?
What strange Vicissitudes, in the first Leaf
Of Man's sad History? To-day most Happy,
And 'ere To morrow's Sun has set, most Abject!
How scant the Space between these vast Extremes!
Thus far'd it with our Sire: Not long he' enjoy'd
His Paradise! Scarce had the happy Tenant
Of the fair Spot due Time to prove its Sweets,
Or sum them up; when strait he must be gone
Ne'er to return again. And must he go?
Can nought compound for the first dire Offence
Of erring Man? Like one that is condemn'd
Fain would he trifle Time with idle Talk,
And parley with his Fate. But 'tis in vain.
Not all the lavish Odours of the Place
Offer'd in Incense can procure his Pardon,
Or mitigate his Doom. A mighty Angel
With flaming Sword forbids his longer Stay,
And drives the Loit'rer forth; nor must he take
One last and farewel Round. At once he lost
His Glory and his God. If mortal now,
And sorely maim'd, No Wonder! Man has sinn'd.
Sick of his Bliss, and bent on new Adventures,
Evil he wou'd needs try: Nor try'd in vain.
(Dreadful Experiment! Destructive Measure!
Where the worst Thing could happen, is Success.)
(pp. 33-4, ll. 541-585)",,22916,"","""Sound was the Body, and the Soul serene; / Like two sweet Instruments ne'er out of Tune, / That play their several Parts.""","",2013-10-03 02:29:28 UTC,""