text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"My Foes, like Bulls of Bashan, lye
Around me ev'ry Way;
On me with open Mouths they fly,
Like Lyons on their Prey.
Like Water spilt my Force is spent,
My Bones asunder go,
My Heart do's like soft Wax relent,
And midst my Bowels flow",2009-09-14 19:35:43 UTC,"""My Heart do's like soft Wax relent, / And midst my Bowels flow""",2005-03-27 00:00:00 UTC,"",Psalm 22,,"",•REVISIT. Is this supposed to be Psalm XXII?,"Searching ""heart"" and ""wax"" in HDIS (Poetry)",11247,4312
"[1]Tell me, some God, whence does this Change arise;
Why gentle Sleep forsakes my weary Eyes?
Why, turning often, all the tedious Night
In Pain I lie, and watch the springing Light?--
What cruel Dæmon haunts my tortur'd Mind?
Sure, if 'twere Love, I shou'd th'Invader find;
Unless disguis'd he lurks, the crafty Boy,
With silent Arts Ingenious to destroy.
Alas! 'tis so--'tis fix'd the secret Dart;
I feel the Tyrant ravaging my Heart.
Then, shall I yield; or th'Infant Flame oppose?
I yield!--Resistance wou'd increase my Woes:
For struggling Slaves a sharper Doom sustain,
Than such as stoop Obedient to the Chain.
I own thy Pow'r, Almighty Love! I'm thine;
With pinion'd Hands behold me here resign!
Let this Submission then my Life obtain;
Small Praise 'twill be, if thus unarm'd I'm slain.
Go, join thy Mother's Doves; with Myrtle braid thy Hair;
The God of War Himself a Chariot shall prepare;
Then Thou Triumphant thro' the Shouting Throng
Shalt ride, and move with Art the willing Birds along;
While Captive Youths and Maids, in solemn State
Adorn the Scene, and on thy Triumph wait.
There I, a later Conquest of thy Bow,
In Chains will follow too; and as I go,
To pitying Eyes the new-made Wound will show.
Next, all that dare Love's Sov'reign Pow'r defy,
In Fetters bound inglorious shall pass by:
All shall submit to thee--Th'applauding Crowd
Shall lift their Hands, and sing thy Praise aloud.
Soft Looks shall in thy Equipage appear,
With am'rous Play, Mistake, and jealous Fear.
Be this thy Guard, Great Love!--be this thy Train;
Since these extend o'er Men and Gods thy Reign;
But robb'd of these, thy Pow'r is weak and vain.
From Heav'n thy Mother shall the Pomp survey,
And smiling, scatter fragrant Show'rs of Roses in thy way;
Whilst Thou, array'd in thy unrivall'd Pride,
On Golden Wheels, all Gold thy Self, shalt ride:
Thy spreading Wings shall richest Di'monds wear,
And Gems shall sparkle in thy lovely Hair.
Thus passing by, thy Arm shall hurl around
Ten Thousand Fires, Ten Thousand Hearts shall wound.
This is thy Practice, Love, and this thy Gain;
From this thou canst not, if thou wou'dst, refrain;
Since e'en thy Presence, with prolifick Heat,
Does reach the Heart, and active Flames create.
From Conquer'd India, so the[2] Jovial God,
Drawn o'er the Plains by harness'd Tigers, rode.
Then since, Great Love, I take a willing Place
Amidst thy Spoils, the Sacred Show to grace;
O cease to wound, and let thy fatal Store
Of piercing Shafts be spent on me no more.
No more, too pow'rful in my Charmer's Eyes,
Torment a Slave, that for her Beauty dies;
Or look in Smiles from thence, and I shall be
A Slave no longer, but a God, like Thee!",2009-09-14 19:36:27 UTC,""" What cruel Dæmon haunts my tortur'd Mind? / Sure, if 'twere Love, I shou'd th'Invader find;""",2005-05-04 00:00:00 UTC,I've included the entire poem,"",,"","•Note 1 gives, ""In Imitation of OVID, Amorum Lib. I. Eleg. 2."" Note 2: ""BACCHUS""
•I've included twice: Haunting and Demon",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),11971,4555
"Wealth to acquire is most Men's sov'reign Care,
And then a Wife to bring that Wealth an Heir.
In Tracts of Waste th'improving Plowshare's seen,
And barren Heaths in fruitful Tilth are green.
Who's satisfy'd, however small his Store,
Should scorn to throw away a Wish for more.
No stately Equipage, no splendid Plate,
No sumptuous House, no Rent-roll of Estate,
E'er gave the fever'd Blood a Moment's Rest,
Or pluck'd one Thorn from out its Master's Breast.
Who thinks to know the use of Joy and Wealth,
Must first be well in Mind, and strong in Health.
Who lives in Fear, or longs with much for more,
Has just such Pleasure from his useless Store,
As Age-dim Eyes from Painting can receive,
Or Musick's Strains to Ears impostum'd give.
The tainted Cask sours all it does contain;
Shun Pleasures, ever bought too dear with Pain.
The Wretch that covets, always lives in Want,
Stint your Desire, Heav'n has no more to grant.
The envious fall to others Joy a Prey,
And as their Neighbours thrive, they pine away;
The Breasts that's Envy's Slave with Pains is prick'd
Beyond what fell Inquisitors inflict.
He who his rising Anger can't controul,
Shall rue the Sallies of his heated Soul,
Shall wish, in Agony of Heart, undone
What Passion will'd in absent Reason's Throne.
Anger's a short-liv'd Madness, and with Sway,
Rules Sovereign if not tutor'd to obey.
Keep strongly in the hot rebellious Mind,
Be it with Bits restrain'd, and Curbs confin'd.
The docile Horse in prime of Years is broke
To bear the Rein, or stretch beneath the Yoke.
The Whelp that hunts the Deer Skin round the Court,
Staunch loves the Field, nor ever quits the Sport.
Drink early then, my Friend, at Reason's Bowl,
And fill with wholesome Draughts thy youthful Soul.
If Wine or Gall the Recent Vessel stains,
Each Scent alike the faithful Cask retains.
(pp. 123, 125, 127)",2013-06-11 02:13:23 UTC,"""Drink early then, my Friend, at Reason's Bowl, / And fill with wholesome Draughts thy youthful Soul. / If Wine or Gall the Recent Vessel stains, / Each Scent alike the faithful Cask retains.""",2004-08-09 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2013-06-10,"","",HDIS (Poetry),12584,4754
"My recollection portrays all the past,
The bliss was sure too exquisite to last:
When Henry's supplication fill'd my days,
And every echo warbled Gabrielle's praise;
Train'd from my reason's dawn in noble deeds,
I sung of Virtue, and I sought her meeds:
My pliant fancy yielded to embrace
Those laws of honor, which upheld my race:
Oh! hesitate, ye generous nymphs, I pray,
Ere ye condemn the tenor of my lay.
Knew ye the sorcery that freights his tale,
Alas, you'd marvel not that men prevail!
A king, a hero, brilliant, wise and great,
Who seems the favor'd delegate of fate;
When such assail the melting virgin's breast,
Love is all-governing, and fear a jest.
With soft solicitude, with matchless charms,
He came, he woo'd, he won me to his arms!
So regal Jove his tender wishes told,
When the high ruler found Alcmena cold--
He swore his love should with his being last,
But scarce was sworn before that love was past:
Such vows, like poppies, mid the golden grain,
Tho' gay, are worthless, tho' alluring, vain:
When Passion's tides thro' mans' strong art'ries roar,
His heart resists them like a flinty shore;
But our frail frames, like mould'ring banks, give way,
Our mind's unhelm'd, our attributes decay--
His bright, his keen, his fascinating eyes,
Like wond'rous basilisks seduce their prize.
Go not, ye nymphs, you'll perish if you gaze,
For necromancy warms their weakest blaze!
If in the vortex of his arts you're found,
Your agency will die, your sense run round.
There Ruin's baneful circles never cease,
Till central potency ingulphs your peace!
(cf. pp. 24-5 in 1788 printing)",2014-02-26 22:01:47 UTC,"""Our mind's unhelm'd, our attributes decay--""",2005-05-31 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","",Searching in HDIS (Poetry); confirmed in ECCO,15262,5726
"Bless God, who did not give our Soul
To their sharp Teeth a Prey.
Our Soul, as from a broken Snare
A Bird escapes, is fled;
Our Help is from th' Almighty's Care,
Who Earth and Heav'n has spread.",2012-04-27 18:05:52 UTC,"""Our Soul, as from a broken Snare / A Bird escapes, is fled.""",2012-04-27 18:04:26 UTC,Psalm 124:6-8,"",,Animals,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""bird"" in HDIS (Poetry)",19726,7231