id,comments,provenance,dictionary,created_at,reviewed_on,work_id,theme,context,updated_at,metaphor,text
9388,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""dross"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Metal,2005-07-19 00:00:00 UTC,2011-12-21,3615,Refinement,"",2011-12-21 17:31:34 UTC,"""Things that the least of drossy mixture hold, / Last longest; my Hearts flames Ætherial be, / More pure than seven times refined Gold / Than Cedar's flames: rays of a Deitie / They are.""","Things that the least of drossy mixture hold,
Last longest; my Hearts flames Ætherial be,
More pure than seven times refined Gold,
Than Cedar's flames: rays of a Deitie
They are. It is the purity of Love
Which best of all its constancy can prove."
9389,"","Searching ""guest"" and ""breast"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Inhabitants,2006-03-15 00:00:00 UTC,,3616,"","",2009-09-14 19:34:11 UTC,"""A silent night inhabits my sad breast, / And now no chearful thought will be my guest.""","Such is the melancholly Earth, when light
Flies thence, and leaves its room to sable night;
VVhen darkness, Cold and Shadows dwell upon
Her Surface; some pale glimerings of the Moon
Is all she can expect; a mourner then
She is 'till Phoebus brings his day agen:
Such is the matchless, mateless Turtle Dove,
Sighing its murmurs for its absent Love:
Such is the body when the Soul is fled:
Such Pyramus supposing Thisbe dead:
Such the male Palm the female broken down,
As I am now, my fairest Sylvia's gon.
My wither'd Head declines apace, my greem
And growing youth to sprout no more is seen.
My blood's grown cold, and frozen; every limb
As if it wanted heat, and life doth seem.
My hoarse complaints the very rocks do move,
VVho eccho the last accents of my Love.
A silent night inhabits my sad breast,
And now no chearful thought will be my guest.
Till her return, whose eyes will cause a day,
Thus must I in my own unquiet stay;
Wishing for the bright morning, which must rise
From th' Luminaries of fair Sylvia's eyes."
9392,•INTEREST. The metaphor is elaborated with another metaphor: Conquest and Light. The second metaphor is then tucked within the first? REVISIT and think about this strange case. A new paradigm? Not really a mixed metaphor... or is it?,"Searching ""conque"" and ""mind"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""conque"" and ""heart""","",2005-02-06 00:00:00 UTC,,3619,"","",2011-12-21 18:13:15 UTC,"""Peace brings him in, Olive his Temples binds, / And his great virtues conquer hearts and minds."""," 'Tis not by bloody Arms, or dreadful War
(Those helps to lesse beloved Monarchs ar')
That he must conquer and assume his right;
The splendor of his conquest shines more bright:
Peace brings him in, Olive his Temples binds,
And his great virtues conquer hearts and minds.
Thus Phæbus conquers with a gentle ray,
The foggy mists that overcloud the day:
"
9393,•REVISIT and Read this poem: Inner and Outer. ,"Searching ""soul"" and ""seal"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Impression,2005-04-19 00:00:00 UTC,,3620,"","",2009-09-14 19:34:11 UTC,"""Then is the Soul fit to be wrought upon, / And to receive Heav'ns seal's impression.""","Not far from thence his hasty steps did move
Under the shadow of a silent Grove:
The place was sacred to a Deity,
Who with still silence would adored be.
No babling Echo in that Grove did dwell:
No whistling Blackbird, no sweet Nightingal,
No Bird at all came near those sacred boughs;
The grasse, nor bleating Sheep, nor mowing Cows
Did feed; no living Creature did that blest
Place enter, to disturb its quiet rest.
No pibble, chiding-Brook ran murmering there,
No Wind to move those silent Leaves did dare:
About the middle of this silent place,
Pitch'd on a mossie Hill a Couch there was;
To this the Pilgrim went, and gently hurl'd
Himself on it; As if another World
He enter'd had, he found himself; a rest
Seiz'd on his working mind; both bad, and best
Thoughts banish'd were; disturbing fancy, or
Imagination did not there discur.
Asleep he was not, nor yet did he dream:
Alive he was, but yet he dead did seem.
His mind work'd not on this, nor that: but he
Rap'd was into a heav'nly Lethargy.
This is the Silent passive state in which
God with his Finger Souls doth often touch:
This is the sleep of Jacob, this the Trance
Of Paul, when he did to the Heav'ns advance:
This is the state, in which the Soul's blest tye
Sees God (beyond Thoughts) Intellectually.
This is the state in which SOPHIA will
Souls (emptied thus) with her blest Spirit fill.
Then is the Soul made fit for to receive
Those Bounties, which Heav'ns blessed Hand doth give.
For whilst thoughts do her empty vessels fill,
Receive she cann't Heav'ns higher Bounties well.
A Cup fill'd to the brim can hold no more:
Nor stomachs meat desire, if full before.
Then is the Soul fit to be wrought upon,
And to receive Heav'ns seal's impression.
What in this state she doth or hear, or see,
Must needs be true; she cann't deceived be.
Unutterable were those Sweets, which here
Our Pilgrim felt; before his eyes appear
The Beauties of the inner Worlds, and on
His Soul divine irradiation
Is pour'd: and now his soul with Constant eye
Beholds true glances of Æternity.
Pens are too weak for to expresse the Blisse
Which in this silent state enjoyed is.
Thunders, and Whirlwinds are not Heav'ns choyce;
He softly whispers in a silent Voyce.
The Souls eares then are eyes; what Heav'n then shows
The Soul both hears, sees, feels, and truly knows.
Deep is the sight when that no thoughts controul,
For Heav'n then gives eyes to the passive Soul,
Past reach of Reason then she flyes, and there
With a new Light sees demonstration clear."
9396,•REVISIT and Read this poem: Inner and Outer. ,"Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Metal,2005-06-09 00:00:00 UTC,,3620,"","",2011-12-21 18:15:39 UTC,"""GRACE though she could have with one single dart / The stubborn Will pierc'd th'row her Steely heart.""","A tender Infant's Cry ne'r Mother call'd
With more maternal speed (that what it ail'd
She might know; doubting each Stone in the Way
It's tender legs might to a fall betray)
Then GRACE new summon'd by the Pilgrims Cry,
Hasted down from her Throne of Majesty.
Her Beauty made his adversaries start,
The Will shrunk back and shew'd a fainter heart.
GRACE though she could have with one single dart
The stubborn Will pierc'd th'row her Steely heart.
Laid by her threatning Weapons, and did shew
The suavity she ever us'd to do:
And smiling, thus unto the Will she spake,
What is the reason that you would forsake
The Pilgrim to his Blisse? Shall pleasures? sence?
And Passions strong conspiracy from thence
Detain you? 'tis the World and Sathan that
Hath circumvented you into this Plot.
All what they promise are meer shaddows, know
That all things be so that are here below.
Why fear this Gate? This will indeed conduct
You to a higher Sphear; your Way obstruct
Back to the Dunghill Earth: what then? if here
You pleasures find, much more in that bright Sphear
You shall unto Eternity enjoy;
And there where is an everlasting Day
You shall reside, inthron'd in Blisse shall be
One with that Will which first created thee.
Shall Earth to Heav'n be prefer'd? below
How full of uglinesse do all things show
To eyes which heav'n's Beauties see; dung ne're
Did unto Jewels half so vile appear.
Wilt thou not then forsake this world, and passe
Thorow this Gate unto this blessed place?
Let my entreats of Love prevail so far,
When for your happinesse they spoken are:
Be not a Captive to the world, but be
One unto Heav'n, and that is to be free."
9397,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),"",2005-08-29 00:00:00 UTC,2009-12-02,3620,"","",2009-12-02 19:07:25 UTC,"""The Microcosm, little world, or Man, / Containeth all the outward great world can.""","The Microcosm, little world, or Man,
Containeth all the outward great world can;
Is it not strange, and wonderfull that such
A little thing as Man, should hold so much?
Man is a wonder, and Gods image divine,
(If truly Man) within his breast doth shine.
It is not head, arms, body, members fair,
That maketh Man; he rather may compare
Himself unto some beast in painted dress,
Except the inward do him Man express.
What difference is there 'twixt a man and beast,
(None sure at all, or little to be guest)
If't wan't for Reason, and an immortal spark,
Which hides it self within his hollow Ark?
This makes him Man, and like a man to act,
Which gon, he's like a beast in shew and fact.
A man hath sense, he eats, he drinks, he sleeps,
Wallows in pleasure, seldome measure keeps,
Subject to hunger, thirst, to heat, and cold,
Sicknesse, Diseases, and converts to th' Mould
Of which he's fram'd; and like to other creatures,
There perisheth his beauteous forms, and features:
All this the Beast doth; then we thus may say
The fairest Beast is made upright of clay.
Men that we see within the great Creation,
Lie wallowing in all abomination,
In filthy Lusts, contagious pleasures foul,
As if they never, never had a soul,
Are not such Beasts? yea perfect Beasts, or worse,
For Beasts (most commonly) follow natures course,
Their beastial actions, acting in sobriety,
When men fulfil their Lusts in all Impiety,
Acting most beastly in all foul inormity,
And worser then the brutes, in their deformity:
That were it not for this their outward case
In PLUTO'S Court they would usurp a place;
For when the outward body doth consume,
In Hell such take their Hell-prepared room,
Their souls there having some such shape, or hue
Of beasts, whose actions they inclined to,
Assuming there some hideous form, or feature,
Rarely resembling their deformed Nature.
Thus may you see within this outward place,
We're either Men, or Beasts: when here our race
Is run, we shall to the Tartarean den
Go if we beasts are, but to Heav'n if Men.
Man was a Man created, and a King,
And Lord, and Ruler over every thing,
But now that state h'as lost, for which he groans,
Having gain'd dunghils,, for his Crowns, and Thrones.
Now of a King he is a servant made,
Who once immortal, now to Death betray'd:
Therefore behold him pourtrai'd to thine eye,
See where himself, his Crown and Scepter lye,
The Lamb the Type of Innocency too,
(Which LUCIFER with ADAM overthrew)
Under the great and massy Globe of Earth,
As if deprived both of Life, and breath.
This is the fallen state of Man, who must
His Crown not unregarded in the Dust
Permit to lye, but, what some e'r it cost,
Strive for to gain the Scepter that he lost;
And tho he now lyes slain depriv'd of all,
Crush'd with the weight of this terrestrial ball;
Yet shall this fallen Man at last arise,
And o're his now lost Kingdoms Regalize.
O man with joy expect this blisseful day,
Rouze up thy self, enquicken'd with the ray
Of life divine: Shake off this clogging Earth,
And strongly presse after another birth:
For that attained once, thou shalt be then,
As once thou wast, a Lord, and King agen."
9398,•I've included twice: Spark and Ark,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),"",2005-08-29 00:00:00 UTC,,3620,"","",2009-09-14 19:34:11 UTC,"""What difference is there 'twixt a man and beast, / (None sure at all, or little to be guest) / If't wan't for Reason, and an immortal spark, / Which hides it self within his hollow Ark?""","The Microcosm, little world, or Man,
Containeth all the outward great world can;
Is it not strange, and wonderfull that such
A little thing as Man, should hold so much?
Man is a wonder, and Gods image divine,
(If truly Man) within his breast doth shine.
It is not head, arms, body, members fair,
That maketh Man; he rather may compare
Himself unto some beast in painted dress,
Except the inward do him Man express.
What difference is there 'twixt a man and beast,
(None sure at all, or little to be guest)
If't wan't for Reason, and an immortal spark,
Which hides it self within his hollow Ark?
This makes him Man, and like a man to act,
Which gon, he's like a beast in shew and fact.
A man hath sense, he eats, he drinks, he sleeps,
Wallows in pleasure, seldome measure keeps,
Subject to hunger, thirst, to heat, and cold,
Sicknesse, Diseases, and converts to th' Mould
Of which he's fram'd; and like to other creatures,
There perisheth his beauteous forms, and features:
All this the Beast doth; then we thus may say
The fairest Beast is made upright of clay.
Men that we see within the great Creation,
Lie wallowing in all abomination,
In filthy Lusts, contagious pleasures foul,
As if they never, never had a soul,
Are not such Beasts? yea perfect Beasts, or worse,
For Beasts (most commonly) follow natures course,
Their beastial actions, acting in sobriety,
When men fulfil their Lusts in all Impiety,
Acting most beastly in all foul inormity,
And worser then the brutes, in their deformity:
That were it not for this their outward case
In PLUTO'S Court they would usurp a place;
For when the outward body doth consume,
In Hell such take their Hell-prepared room,
Their souls there having some such shape, or hue
Of beasts, whose actions they inclined to,
Assuming there some hideous form, or feature,
Rarely resembling their deformed Nature.
Thus may you see within this outward place,
We're either Men, or Beasts: when here our race
Is run, we shall to the Tartarean den
Go if we beasts are, but to Heav'n if Men.
Man was a Man created, and a King,
And Lord, and Ruler over every thing,
But now that state h'as lost, for which he groans,
Having gain'd dunghils,, for his Crowns, and Thrones.
Now of a King he is a servant made,
Who once immortal, now to Death betray'd:
Therefore behold him pourtrai'd to thine eye,
See where himself, his Crown and Scepter lye,
The Lamb the Type of Innocency too,
(Which LUCIFER with ADAM overthrew)
Under the great and massy Globe of Earth,
As if deprived both of Life, and breath.
This is the fallen state of Man, who must
His Crown not unregarded in the Dust
Permit to lye, but, what some e'r it cost,
Strive for to gain the Scepter that he lost;
And tho he now lyes slain depriv'd of all,
Crush'd with the weight of this terrestrial ball;
Yet shall this fallen Man at last arise,
And o're his now lost Kingdoms Regalize.
O man with joy expect this blisseful day,
Rouze up thy self, enquicken'd with the ray
Of life divine: Shake off this clogging Earth,
And strongly presse after another birth:
For that attained once, thou shalt be then,
As once thou wast, a Lord, and King agen."
9400,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),"",2005-08-29 00:00:00 UTC,,3620,"","",2009-09-14 19:34:11 UTC,"""For when the outward body doth consume, / In Hell such take their Hell-prepared room, / Their souls there having some such shape, or hue / Of beasts, whose actions they inclined to""","The Microcosm, little world, or Man,
Containeth all the outward great world can;
Is it not strange, and wonderfull that such
A little thing as Man, should hold so much?
Man is a wonder, and Gods image divine,
(If truly Man) within his breast doth shine.
It is not head, arms, body, members fair,
That maketh Man; he rather may compare
Himself unto some beast in painted dress,
Except the inward do him Man express.
What difference is there 'twixt a man and beast,
(None sure at all, or little to be guest)
If't wan't for Reason, and an immortal spark,
Which hides it self within his hollow Ark?
This makes him Man, and like a man to act,
Which gon, he's like a beast in shew and fact.
A man hath sense, he eats, he drinks, he sleeps,
Wallows in pleasure, seldome measure keeps,
Subject to hunger, thirst, to heat, and cold,
Sicknesse, Diseases, and converts to th' Mould
Of which he's fram'd; and like to other creatures,
There perisheth his beauteous forms, and features:
All this the Beast doth; then we thus may say
The fairest Beast is made upright of clay.
Men that we see within the great Creation,
Lie wallowing in all abomination,
In filthy Lusts, contagious pleasures foul,
As if they never, never had a soul,
Are not such Beasts? yea perfect Beasts, or worse,
For Beasts (most commonly) follow natures course,
Their beastial actions, acting in sobriety,
When men fulfil their Lusts in all Impiety,
Acting most beastly in all foul inormity,
And worser then the brutes, in their deformity:
That were it not for this their outward case
In PLUTO'S Court they would usurp a place;
For when the outward body doth consume,
In Hell such take their Hell-prepared room,
Their souls there having some such shape, or hue
Of beasts, whose actions they inclined to,
Assuming there some hideous form, or feature,
Rarely resembling their deformed Nature.
Thus may you see within this outward place,
We're either Men, or Beasts: when here our race
Is run, we shall to the Tartarean den
Go if we beasts are, but to Heav'n if Men.
Man was a Man created, and a King,
And Lord, and Ruler over every thing,
But now that state h'as lost, for which he groans,
Having gain'd dunghils,, for his Crowns, and Thrones.
Now of a King he is a servant made,
Who once immortal, now to Death betray'd:
Therefore behold him pourtrai'd to thine eye,
See where himself, his Crown and Scepter lye,
The Lamb the Type of Innocency too,
(Which LUCIFER with ADAM overthrew)
Under the great and massy Globe of Earth,
As if deprived both of Life, and breath.
This is the fallen state of Man, who must
His Crown not unregarded in the Dust
Permit to lye, but, what some e'r it cost,
Strive for to gain the Scepter that he lost;
And tho he now lyes slain depriv'd of all,
Crush'd with the weight of this terrestrial ball;
Yet shall this fallen Man at last arise,
And o're his now lost Kingdoms Regalize.
O man with joy expect this blisseful day,
Rouze up thy self, enquicken'd with the ray
Of life divine: Shake off this clogging Earth,
And strongly presse after another birth:
For that attained once, thou shalt be then,
As once thou wast, a Lord, and King agen."
9401,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""closet"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Rooms,2005-09-06 00:00:00 UTC,,3620,"","",2009-09-14 19:34:11 UTC,"""These are but objects at a distance, these / Are but refreshments, and to give you ease, / To make thy Way the sweeter, till thou art / Hid in the Closet of Sophia's Heart.""","Blest Pilgrim, and Sophia's servant, thou
Must not rest here, but farther still must go:
These are but streams, and Rivulets of Blisse,
Sophia she the only Fountain is.
Here thou mayst bath thy self, but canst not swim
Untill thou comest to the Fountains brim:
There are vast Oceans, there thou mayst remain,
These are but easements for your griefs, and pain:
These are but objects at a distance, these
Are but refreshments, and to give you ease,
To make thy Way the sweeter, till thou art
Hid in the Closet of Sophia's Heart.
Take not thou then too much complacency
In these, which only but the Conducts be
To greater happinesse; and do but shew
The tythe of Blisse, which thou art going to.
Presse on therefore; 'count every thing but pelf
To the enjoyment of Sophia's self.
Rous'd by his Angel thus, the Pilgrim hies,
And t'wards the perfect mark he faster flies."
9404,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""window"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Rooms,2006-01-25 00:00:00 UTC,,3620,"","",2009-09-14 19:34:12 UTC,"""On this attracting Face our Pilgrim throws / His eyes, his Soul thorow those windows goes""","I dare not venture here for to depaint,
The Beauties of that Face; the World's too scant
To yield materials, and I words should want,
How can her all-surpassing Form be penn'd,
When her Idea none can comprehend?
The soul that sees her, feels her, and her worth
Is better felt than can be spoken forth.
The fulvid Gold which is esteem'd so rare,
But the reflection of her golden Hair
Is; All the Silver did its brightnesse get,
And silveriz'd was when it touch'd her feet.
The Chrystal Rivers were like Ink, she gave
Them clearnesse when she did her finger lave
In their dark streams: A drop fell from her Hand,
Which being gave to the clear Crystals; and
Th' oriental Pearls. She look'd upon the Sun
And ever since she with that splendor shon.
She glanc'd her eye upon the Night's fair Queen,
She caught that glance, e'r since she fair hath been.
A spark flew from her Heavn'ly eye, it seems
Tellus snatch't that which essence gave to Gemms.
The ayr permitted was to kisse her Hand,
Who ever since its sweetnesse has retain'd.
Over the Globe stood black triumphing Death,
Till she but tasted of her sacred breath,
Prolific strait she was, and from her womb
Oceans of Heards, of Trees, of Herbs did come.
By it still all things live: The Pink, the Rose
And each sweet Flower that on Tellus grows,
Receive from her their odoriferous Fumes,
Which emanation from her Body comes.
Some of her Beauty down she flung below
Which all things caught that now do Beauty show.
Roses and Rubies which do rarely shine,
Are but umbrella's to her lips divine:
Those Seas of Claret in the azure Skies
Seen, when bright Sol down in the Ocean lies,
Or Tyrian blushes, if you them compare
To what buds in her cheeks meer deadnesse are:
As far below the Beauty and the Blisse
Seen there, as Earth to th' highest Heav'n is.
How can a Pen, or Pencil then depaint
Her; without whom all things do beauty want!
Her own hand 'twas that thus her self did limn,
And by APOCALYPSIS sent it him.
On this attracting Face our Pilgrim throws
His eyes, his Soul thorow those windows goes,
With so much joy that all her faculties
Intentively assembled in his eyes,
All other parts left destitute; in this
Capital City Oculipolis
The Soul and all her train are seated; by
That Beauty drawn into an Extasie."