work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
4106,"",HDIS,2004-02-25 00:00:00 UTC,"While Cupid smil'd, by kind Occasion bless'd,
And, with the Secret kept, the Love increas'd;
The am'rous Youth frequents the silent Groves;
And much He meditates; for much He loves.
He loves: 'tis true; and is belov'd again:
Great are his Joys: but will they long remain?
Emma with Smiles receives his present Flame;
But smiling, will She ever be the same?
Beautiful Looks are rul'd by fickle Minds;
And Summer Seas are turn'd by sudden Winds.
Another Love may gain her easie Youth:
Time changes Thought; and Flatt'ry conquers Truth.
(p. 283, ll. 155-66)",,10563,"•The Nut-brown Maid is an Oldmixon poem. Henry and Emma was extremely popular. Translations into French, German, and Latin. ","""Beautiful Looks are rul'd by fickle Minds; / And Summer Seas are turn'd by sudden Winds""","",2013-07-22 15:10:24 UTC,""
4151,"",HDIS (Poetry),2003-10-28 00:00:00 UTC,"Between Verse 25 and 26 were these lines:
Many are spoil'd by that pedantic throng,
Who with great pains teach youth to reason wrong.
Tutors, like Virtuoso's, oft inclin'd
By strange transfusion to improve the mind,
Draw off the sense we have, to pour in new;
Which yet with all their skill, they ne'er could do.",2011-10-20,10678,These lines originally appeared between verses 25 and 26.,"""Tutors, like Virtuoso's, oft inclin'd / By strange transfusion to improve the mind, / Draw off the sense we have, to pour in new; / Which yet with all their skill, they ne'er could do.""","",2011-10-20 14:39:38 UTC,Note to line 25
4151,"",HDIS,2003-11-03 00:00:00 UTC,"But if in noble minds some dregs remain,
Not yet purg'd off, of spleen and sour disdain;
Discharge that rage on more provoking crimes,
Nor fear a dearth in these flagitious times.
No pardon vile Obscenity should find,
Tho' wit and art conspire to move your mind;
But Dulness with obscenity must prove
As shameful sure as Impotence in love.
In the fat age of pleasure, wealth, and ease,
Sprung the rank weed, and thriv'd with large increase;
When Love was all an easy Monarch's care;
Seldom at council, never in a war:
Jilts rul'd the state, and statesmen Farces writ;
Nay wits had pensions, and young Lords had wit:
The Fair sate panting at a Courtier's play,
And not a Mask went unimprov'd away:
The modest fan was lifted up no more,
And Virgins smil'd at what they blush'd before.
The following licence of a Foreign reign
Did all the dregs of bold Socinus drain;
Then unbelieving Priests reform'd the nation,
And taught more pleasant methods of salvation;
Where heav'ns free subjects might their rights dispute,
Lest God himself should seem too Absolute:
Pulpits their sacred satire learn'd to spare,
And Vice admir'd to find a flatt'rer there!
Encourag'd thus, Wit's Titans brav'd the skies,
And the Press groan'd with licens'd blasphemies.
These monsters, Critics! with your darts engage,
Here point your thunder, and exhaust your rage!
Yet shun their fault, who, scandalously nice,
Will needs mistake an author into vice;
All seems infected that th'infected spy,
As all looks yellow to the jaundic'd eye.
(II, ll. 526-59)",,10685,"","""But if in noble minds some dregs remain, / Not yet purg'd off, of spleen and sour disdain; / Discharge that rage on more provoking crimes, / Nor fear a dearth in these flagitious times.""","",2009-09-14 19:35:11 UTC,Part II
4151,"","Reading. Found again in Joseph Warton's An Essay on the Writings and Genius of Pope (London: Printed for M. Cooper, 1756), 116. Also in James Beattie's Dissertations Moral and Critical (London: Strahan, 1783), 6. See also Ralph Cohen's ""Pope's Meanings and the Strategies of Interrelation,"" English Literature in the Age of Disguise, ed. Maximillian E. Novak, (Berkeley: U. of California Press, 1977), 111-12.",2005-07-22 00:00:00 UTC,"But you who seek to give and merit fame,
And justly bear a Critic's noble name,
Be sure yourself and your own reach to know,
How far your genius, taste, and learning go;
Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet,
And mark that point where sense and dulness meet.
Nature to all things fix'd the limits fit,
And wisely curb'd proud man's pretending wit.
As on the land while here the Ocean gains,
In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains;
Thus in the soul while memory prevails,
The solid pow'r of understanding fails;
Where beams of warm imagination play,
The memory's soft figures melt away.
One science only will one genius fit;
So vast is art, so narrow human wit:
Not only bounded to peculiar arts,
But oft' in those confin'd to single parts.
Like Kings we lose the conquests gain'd before,
By vain ambition still to make them more;
Each might his sev'ral province well command,
Would all but stoop to what they understand.
(I, ll. 52-67)",2011-10-20,10710,"•I've included twice: Optics and Liquid
•Cross-reference: appears in Johnson's Dictionary (1755), and in Beattie's Dissertations Moral and Critical (1783).
• Reviewed 2009-01-28.
• Found again in Cohen, Ralph L. ""Pope's Meanings and the Strategies of Interrelation."" English Literature in the Age of Disguise, ed. Maximillian E. Novak, Berkeley: U. of California Press, 1977), 111-12.
• Expanded the entry to take in the whole epic simile (had been focused on beams of imagination before).
• Warton calls the best metaphor on the warmth of fancy
","""As on the land while here the Ocean gains, / In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains; / Thus in the soul while memory prevails, / The solid pow'r of understanding fails; / Where beams of warm imagination play, / The memory's soft figures melt away.""",Optics and Writing,2017-03-09 18:39:20 UTC,Part I
7682,"",Reading,2013-09-18 14:31:26 UTC,"Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us,
And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us:
Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain,
And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign:
Wit-unconcoct is the Extream of Sloth,
And too much Sense is the Extream of both;
Abstracted-Wit 'Tis own'd is a Disease,
But Sense-abstracted has no Power to please:
For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense,
And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense:
Meer Sense is sullen; stiff, and unpolite,
Meer Wit is Apoplectick, thin, and light:
Wit is a King without a Parliament,
And Sense a Democratick Government:
Wit, like the French, wher'e'er it reigns destroys,
And Sense advanc'd is apt to Tyrannize:
Wit without Sense is like the Laughing-Evil,
And Sense unmix'd with Fancy is the D---l.
Wit is a Standing-Army Government,
And Sense a sullen stubborn P---t:
Wit by its haste anticipates its Fate,
And so does Sense by being obstinate:
Wit without Sense in Verse is all but Farce,
Sense without Wit in Verse is all mine A---.
Wit, like the French, performs before it thinks,
And thoughtful Sense without Performance sinks;
Sense without Wit is Flegmatick and pale,
And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail:
Wit without Sense is Cholerick and Red,
Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head.
Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one,
Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune:
Wit, like the Belly, if it be not fed,
Will starve the Members, and distract the Head.
Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive,
Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give:
Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth,
Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth.
United: Wit and Sense, makes Science thrive,
Divided: neither Wit nor Sense can live;
For while the Parties eagerly contend,
The Mortal Strife must in their mutual Ruin end.
(pp. 165-7, ll. 353-394)",,22791,"FOUND and FIXED TYPOS in C-H Lion transcription: ""rarisy'd"" and ""advant'd""","""Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us, / And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us.""","",2013-09-18 14:48:49 UTC,""
7682,"",Reading,2013-09-18 14:33:58 UTC,"Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us,
And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us:
Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain,
And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign:
Wit-unconcoct is the Extream of Sloth,
And too much Sense is the Extream of both;
Abstracted-Wit 'Tis own'd is a Disease,
But Sense-abstracted has no Power to please:
For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense,
And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense:
Meer Sense is sullen; stiff, and unpolite,
Meer Wit is Apoplectick, thin, and light:
Wit is a King without a Parliament,
And Sense a Democratick Government:
Wit, like the French, wher'e'er it reigns destroys,
And Sense advanc'd is apt to Tyrannize:
Wit without Sense is like the Laughing-Evil,
And Sense unmix'd with Fancy is the D---l.
Wit is a Standing-Army Government,
And Sense a sullen stubborn P---t:
Wit by its haste anticipates its Fate,
And so does Sense by being obstinate:
Wit without Sense in Verse is all but Farce,
Sense without Wit in Verse is all mine A---.
Wit, like the French, performs before it thinks,
And thoughtful Sense without Performance sinks;
Sense without Wit is Flegmatick and pale,
And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail:
Wit without Sense is Cholerick and Red,
Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head.
Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one,
Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune:
Wit, like the Belly, if it be not fed,
Will starve the Members, and distract the Head.
Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive,
Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give:
Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth,
Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth.
United: Wit and Sense, makes Science thrive,
Divided: neither Wit nor Sense can live;
For while the Parties eagerly contend,
The Mortal Strife must in their mutual Ruin end.
(pp. 165-7, ll. 353-394)",,22792,"OED: ""An abnormally copious flowing of blood, excrement, etc. from the bowels or other organs; a morbid or excessive discharge. spec. An early name for dysentery; also †red flux, †flux of blood, bloody flux (see main entry).""","""Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain, / And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign.""","",2013-09-18 14:49:18 UTC,""
7682,"",Reading,2013-09-18 14:37:46 UTC,"Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us,
And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us:
Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain,
And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign:
Wit-unconcoct is the Extream of Sloth,
And too much Sense is the Extream of both;
Abstracted-Wit 'Tis own'd is a Disease,
But Sense-abstracted has no Power to please:
For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense,
And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense:
Meer Sense is sullen; stiff, and unpolite,
Meer Wit is Apoplectick, thin, and light:
Wit is a King without a Parliament,
And Sense a Democratick Government:
Wit, like the French, wher'e'er it reigns destroys,
And Sense advant'd is apt to Tyrannize:
Wit without Sense is like the Laughing-Evil,
And Sense unmix'd with Fancy is the D---l.
Wit is a Standing-Army Government,
And Sense a sullen stubborn P---t:
Wit by its haste anticipates its Fate,
And so does Sense by being obstinate:
Wit without Sense in Verse is all but Farce,
Sense without Wit in Verse is all mine A---.
Wit, like the French, performs before it thinks,
And thoughtful Sense without Performance sinks;
Sense without Wit is Flegmatick and pale,
And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail:
Wit without Sense is Cholerick and Red,
Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head.
Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one,
Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune:
Wit, like the Belly, if it be not fed,
Will starve the Members, and distract the Head.
Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive,
Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give:
Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth,
Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth.
United: Wit and Sense, makes Science thrive,
Divided: neither Wit nor Sense can live;
For while the Parties eagerly contend,
The Mortal Strife must in their mutual Ruin end.
(pp. 165-7, ll. 353-394)",,22794,"FIXING TYPO in C-H Lion: ""rarisy'd""","""For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense, / And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense.""","",2013-09-18 14:40:28 UTC,""