id,comments,provenance,dictionary,created_at,reviewed_on,work_id,theme,context,updated_at,metaphor,text
20404,"",Reading,Animals and Fetters and Rooms,2013-06-05 21:06:51 UTC,,7400,"",Night the Second,2013-06-05 21:06:51 UTC,"""Our freedom chain'd; quite wingless our desire; / In sense dark-prison'd all that ought to soar / Prone to the centre; crawling in the dust; / Dismounted every great and glorious aim; / Embruted every faculty divine; / Heart-buried in the rubbish of the world.""","Where shall I find him? Angels! tell me where.
You know him: he is near you: point him out:
Shall I see glories beaming from his brow,
Or trace his footsteps by the rising flowers?
Your golden wings, now hovering o'er him, shed
Protection; now are waving in applause
To that blest Son of Foresight! Lord of Fate!
That awful Independent on To-morrow!
Whose work is done; who triumphs in the past;
Whose yesterdays look backward with a smile;
Nor, like the Parthian, wound him as they fly;
That common, but opprobrious lot! Past hours,
If not by guilt, yet wound us by their flight,
If folly bounds our prospect by the grave,
All feeling of futurity benumb'd;
All god-like passion for eternals quench'd;
All relish of realities expired;
Renounced all correspondence with the skies;
Our freedom chain'd; quite wingless our desire;
In sense dark-prison'd all that ought to soar;
Prone to the centre; crawling in the dust;
Dismounted every great and glorious aim;
Embruted every faculty divine;
Heart-buried in the rubbish of the world:
The world, that gulf of souls, immortal souls,
Souls elevate, angelic, wing'd with fire
To reach the distant skies, and triumph there
On thrones, which shall not mourn their masters changed;
Though we from earth, ethereal they that fell.
Such veneration due, O man, to man.
(ll. 325-354, pp. 59-60 in CUP edition)"
20418,"",Reading,Inhabitants and Rooms,2013-06-05 21:34:11 UTC,,7400,"",Night the Second,2013-06-05 21:34:11 UTC,"""Celestial Happiness, whene'er she stoops / To visit earth, one shrine the goddess finds, / And one alone, to make her sweet amends / For absent heaven,--the bosom of a friend; / Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft, / Each other's pillow to repose divine.""","Celestial Happiness, whene'er she stoops
To visit earth, one shrine the goddess finds,
And one alone, to make her sweet amends
For absent heaven,--the bosom of a friend;
Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft,
Each other's pillow to repose divine.
Beware the counterfeit: in Passion's flame
Hearts melt; but melt like ice, soon harder froze.
True love strikes root in Reason, Passion's foe:
Virtue alone entenders us for life;
I wrong her much--entenders us for ever:
Of Friendship's fairest fruits, the fruit most fair
Is Virtue kindling at a rival fire,
And emulously rapid in her race.
O the soft enmity! endearing strife!
This carries friendship to her noon-tide point,
And gives the rivet of eternity.
(ll. 516-532, pp. 64-5 in CUP edition)"
20516,"",Reading,Fetters and Rooms,2013-06-11 16:09:18 UTC,,7408,"",Night the Sixth,2013-06-11 16:09:18 UTC,"""By toys entangled, or in guilt bemired, / [Ambition] turns a curse; it is our chain and scourge / In this dark dungeon, where confined we lie, / Close-grated by the sordid bars of sense; / All prospect of eternity shut out; / And, but for execution, ne'er set free.""","Ambition! powerful source of good and ill!
Thy strength in man, like length of wing in birds,
When disengaged from earth, with greater ease
And swifter flight, transports us to the skies:
By toys entangled, or in guilt bemired,
It turns a curse; it is our chain and scourge
In this dark dungeon, where confined we lie,
Close-grated by the sordid bars of sense;
All prospect of eternity shut out;
And, but for execution, ne'er set free.
(ll. 399-408, p. 159 in CUP edition)"
22640,"",Reading,Metal,2013-09-02 03:20:49 UTC,,7665,"",Night the Eighth,2013-09-02 03:20:49 UTC,"""Imagination is the Paphian shop, / Where feeble Happiness, like Vulcan, lame, / Bids foul Ideas, in their dark recess, / And hot as hell, (which kindled the black fires,) / With wanton art, those fatal arrows form / Which murder all thy time, health, wealth, and fame.""","Imagination is the Paphian shop,
Where feeble Happiness, like Vulcan, lame,
Bids foul Ideas, in their dark recess,
And hot as hell, (which kindled the black fires,)
With wanton art, those fatal arrows form
Which murder all thy time, health, wealth, and fame.
Wouldst thou receive them, other Thoughts there are,
On angel-wing, descending from above,
Which these, with art Divine, would counterwork,
And form celestial armour for thy peace.
(p. 175, ll. 994-1003)"