text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"But to proceed--how can my spirits hold?
I need Relief, my heart (alas) grows cold,
Whilst I with wonder look on what's behind,
Soul-melting pity overwhelms my mind.
Who can of such heart-breaking suff'rings hear,
And not dissolve each Eye into a Tear?
But, ah! methinks something doth intervene,
The thought of which puts me to as much pain,
As doth the sad, but useful Contemplation
Of his unhappy happy bloody passion.
Then let's retreat, and to the Garden go,
For in that place began his grievous woe:
Before he doth with th' King of Terrors fight,
Another King sets on him full of spight,
Whose powr's great, by cursed usurpation,
He domineers and rules o're every Nation;
He brings the Mighty down unto his feet,
And makes them all with rigour to submit:
The good, the bad, the wise, the old, the young,
The rich, the poor, the beautiful, and strong,
All that live, or e're liv'd, have worsted bin
By this proud lofty one, whose name is SIN.
A Bastard Devil of most monstrous Birth,
Begot in Hell, by Satan first brought forth;
Already you have of his Malice heard,
And how in wrath he never Mortal spar'd.
A crafty Foe, who oftner steers his course
In all his wars, by fraud than open force:
'Tis he that keeps the Soul in Iron Chains,
And robs her of all Sense; lest those great pains
She otherwise might feel, should make her cry
To be deliver'd from his slavery;
Unless our Jesus doth this Foe destroy,
The Soul he loves he never can enjoy.
He had with him before oft a hard Duel,
And worsted him, escaping all his cruel
Attaques, but rallying now with other Foes
He joyns, to lay on more impetuous blows.
Well may we dread here an amazing Fight,
For lo! with him confederate in our sight
The Wrath of God, most fearful to behold:
Both these sad Enemies, with courage bold,
Are making all the Head that e're they can
Against this blessed Prince, the Son of Man.
Oh! let our Souls be arm'd with courage bold,
Whilst we this furious Battel do behold.
Before the Fight begins, do you not hear
How he doth cry unto his Father dear;
O let this Cup from me, Lord, pass away,
If it be possible; Let it, I pray,
Pass from me, that of it I may not drink.
Until this time he never seem'd to shrink
From any pain, conflict, or suffering;
This Combat is, alas, a different thing,
From what before he ever met withal;
From hence he did unto his Father call
Once and again, repeating of his cry,
It'h sense of what was now approaching nigh.
Some may at this 'tis likely much admire,
That our dear Saviour should so loud desire
To be deliver'd from that bitter Cup,
Which was prepared for him to drink up.
It did not rise for his unwillingness;
But from the pain, the anguish, and distress
'Twould bring him to: this humane Nature's weak,
From thence he might such supplications make.
Ah! wrath Divine, what humane Soul can bear?
But of Divinity he hath his share,
Which doth again his fainting spirit chear.
And such support he needs--Cast but an Eye,
See how the Combatants with fury fly
Upon each other; What a Battel's here,
Enough to melt our Souls into a tear.
Lo! the first blow that Sin and Wrath doth give,
It is the worst he ever did receive.
Behold! how frightfully grim Wrath doth frown;
Nay, more, the Prince seems by their strength cast down.
Now Sin & Wrath upon him both do lie,
Which makes him groan, and bitterly to cry,
With panting breast, and half-expiring Breath,
My Soul is sorrowful, ev'n unto Death.",2012-01-11 21:52:38 UTC,"""'Tis he [Satan] that keeps the Soul in Iron Chains, / And robs her of all Sense; lest those great pains / She otherwise might feel, should make her cry / To be deliver'd from his slavery.""",2005-06-08 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Fetters,"","Searching ""iron"" and ""soul"" HDIS (Poetry); found again searching ""chains""",9638,3725
"This fetters all our Senses, pulleth down
Heav'ns Image, Reason, from her rightful Throne,
And in her room, by Fancies pow'rful Charm,
Sets up a feigned Ill to work our Harm.
By which we oft-times to our selves create,
And find more trouble in the fond Coneit
Of Things, than in the Things themselves can er'e
Be found, if strictly they examin'd were.",2011-05-26 23:50:30 UTC,"""This [sadness] fetters all our Senses, pulleth down / Heav'ns Image, Reason from her rightful Throne / And in her room, by Fancies pow'rful Charm, / Sets up a feigned Ill to work our Harm."" ",2004-07-15 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2011-05-26,Fetters,"•""This"" is ""Sadness, the black'st of Passions.""
•I've included thrice: Fetters, Throne, and Image",HDIS (Poetry),9666,3744
"O! that some usual Labour were injoyn'd,
And not the Tyrant Vice enslav'd my mind!
No weight of Chains cou'd grieve my captive Hands,
Like the loath'd Drudg'ry of its base Commands;
By this a double mis'ry I contract,
Ev'n I condemn the hated Ills I act.
Yet of my Chains I'm not so weary grown,
But that I still am putting others on.
For Sin has always this attending Curse,
To back the first Transgression with a worse:
This to my sorrow, I too often find!
Yet no Experience warns my heedless mind.
Thus Vice and Virtue do my Soul divide,
Like a Ship tost between the Wind and Tide.
Pleasure, the Bawd to Vice, here draws me in,
There, Grief, its Follow'r, pulls me back from Sin:
Yet Pleasure oft comes Conqueror from the Field,
Whilst I to Vice, inglorious Homage yield.
Tho' Grief does still with Vice in triumph ride,
Plac'd like a Slave by that great Conqu'ror's side.
Thus Vice and Virtue have alternate sway,
While I, with endless labour, Both obey:
And to increase my pains, as if too small,
Thy heavy hand comes in the rear of all,
And with deep piercing strokes corrects me more,
For what was punish'd in it self before.
Thus guilty Souls in Hell are scourg'd for Sin;
Their never-ending Pains thus still begin.",2011-06-29 03:04:57 UTC,"""O! that some usual Labour were injoyn'd, / And not the Tyrant Vice enslav'd my mind! / No weight of Chains cou'd grieve my captive Hands, / Like the loath'd Drudg'ry of its base Commands.""",2011-06-29 03:04:34 UTC,"","",,Fetters,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""chain"" in HDIS (Poetry)",18840,4169
"DIEGO
We may constrain our selves not to believe great presumptions. But not to credit such convincing proofs is impossible. Therefore keep back the heart you come to restore, mine from this hour shakes off your bonds, and that you may not again enslave it, this day I will put it under the protection of one who is at least as fair as you. But questionless will not be so perfidious.
(IV.i)",2012-01-06 19:26:28 UTC,"""Therefore keep back the heart you come to restore, mine from this hour shakes off your bonds, and that you may not again enslave it, this day I will put it under the protection of one who is at least as fair as you.""",2012-01-06 19:26:28 UTC,"Act IV, Scene i","",,Fetters,"","Searching ""bond"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Drama)",19383,7142
"With a Courage more stout than Achilles slew Hector,
I swore, that no Passion shou'd be my Director;
Disdaining those Bonds that the Predicants wear,
My Soul is a Monarch as free as the Air.
When such puling Passions my Fancy discovers,
Like Physitians, I gain by the Sickness of others.
(p. 72)",2012-01-06 21:34:56 UTC,"""Disdaining those Bonds that the Predicants wear, / My Soul is a Monarch as free as the Air.""",2012-01-06 21:33:29 UTC,"","",,Fetters,"OED: ""A preacher; spec. a Dominican friar (now hist.). Also in extended use: a moralizer, demagogue, etc."" This verse is cited.","Searching ""bond"" and ""soul"" in HDIS (Poetry)",19394,7145
"How far will Love his Conqu'ring Wings extend!
O must my Mortal suff'rings never end?
They cannot, no; each sigh Love's flight sustains,
O'er my own Heart in my own Breast he Reigns,
And holds too strong, my strugling Soul in Chains.
Thy growing Beauties yield him fresh supplies,
His Darts are pointed by Amasia's Eyes.
Thy soft Commands are by this Cheif obey'd,
'Tis you, who teach Love warfare, Charming Maid!
And on his Standards is thy form display'd.
I yield, I yeild, thus Prostrate low, I fall,
Love's Goddess thou! thou Conquerour of my all!
You all my Thoughts, you all my Speech employ,
Thou giv'st me pain, and thou can'st give me Joy.
Whate'er you please to do, I pleas'd, approve,
Hate, where you hate, and where you fancy, Love.
Sun of my Days! and Phantom of my Nights!
Source of my Woes! and Spring of my Delights!
Fond of my Life, should you make kind returns,
Yet now I slight it, since Amasia scorns.
Just as you make me, either Curst or blest,
Form'd to your will, my Soul is rais'd, or prest,
And swells and falls, like thy own Charming Breast.
Ill with thy Breast do I my Soul compare,
Thy Breast--the Seat of all that's Sweet and fair,
Thy Breast--O Scene of Pleasures! ever blooming there.
Whilst in my Soul Despair her Court maintains,
And with deep Pomp in solid Darkness Reigns.
Thy Breast!--O never let me lose the Theam,
There, as entranc'd, let my lull'd fancy Dream.
O could I gently melt the Lovely Snow,
Thence, thence the Poet's Helicon would flow,
And I should need no other Muse than you.
If now with Frozen coldness you inspire,
O could you burn, how fierce would mount the Fire,
Flaming with Joy, and sparkling with desire.
To heights sublime would soaring fancy drive,
Amasia's Name should at the Stars arrive,
Amasia long, long Ages should her self survive.
No sad decay should to thy Beauties come,
As in thy Face, when mould'ring in the Tomb,
They should for ever in my Numbers bloom.
More lasting far than polish'd Marble made,
While Men could read, thy glories should not fade.
Thy Lovely Image thro' the World should go,
The World should thee it's greatest Charmer know,
Thy Charms, which seem Immortal, should be so.
Round thro' the Universe thy Fame should flee,
My Verse ador'd should live, by giving Life to thee.
Sound, Fame, thy Trumpet, to the Skies Proclaim,
Amasia lives, for ever lives in Fame.
Sound too her Sylvius lives; Love Life insures,
Known, while the Sun, the God of Verse endures,
Known for my Constant Love, Amasia, ever Yours.
",2013-06-04 15:40:09 UTC,"""They cannot, no; each sigh Love's flight sustains, / O'er my own Heart in my own Breast he Reigns, / And holds too strong, my strugling Soul in Chains.""",2012-01-11 21:48:00 UTC,"","",2013-06-04,Fetters,"","Searching ""chain"" and ""soul"" in HDIS (Poetry)",19444,3962
"He found 'twas she, and her Companion: Love made him curious to listen if their discourse related to him; and concealing himself, he heard the Lady, that was with her say, When, Madam, will these Destructive Griefs leave your disconsolate hours. You shun the fond Indearments of your Uncle, that you may take your fill alone of heart-breaking sorrow: Your Eyes have lost their wonted Vigour; and your lovely Cheeks, like gather'd Roses, Fade; and in their prime, forsake their Native Lustre. You promis'd, when the Prince obeyed his Father, and instead of burning Love, embrac'd cool Friendship: You wou'd mourn no more. His Letter assures you this is done; yet I behold no alteration. Still the days are tedious, and the Nights are worse. When (I beg to know!) will your Woes have End? 'With my Life (answer'd that Sighing Afflicted Fair.) Though, witness ye Powers (said she, looking up;) who, with ease can view the inmost Recesses of my Soul; and plainly see what's Acted there: Witness, I say, if I not rejoice, that Prince Emilius to Duty, and to Reason yields; quitting the Weight, the Burthen insupportable of Blind impetuous Passion; that sinks Lovisa down to Ruine. Mutual Love creates a pleasing Habitude of Joy; wherein the Mind transcendently is Blest: and which Time, that with Oblivion buries all things, can scarce blot out. 'Twas not with ease the Usurper got Possession here (went she on; pointing to her Heart) nor will he be with ease dislodg'd. All the Sighs and Tears it cost Emilius to gain this Virgin Heart, to bind it in the Inchanting Chains of Tyrannick Love; I must, with Interest, pay back, e'er I can set the Throbbing Prisoner free. Perhaps i' th' Conflict too the Rebel, ingag'd too far, may break. I have also a part of Falshood to Act: Think'st thou (continu'd she, looking on her Companion;) I design never to see Emilius more? No, no: spight of the Promises, wherewith I've flatter'd him; soon as he is happy in the Arms of Isabella; the Cloyster, to which I've only seem'd averse, hides me for ever.' The Prince, who cou'd no longer bear his Mistress shou'd think him guilty of breaking Vows, he left a Crown to keep, met her at the end of the walk, and falling at her Feet, he Embrac'd her Knees, and said, 'If Lovisa never became a Recluse, till Emilius is happy in the Arms of Isabella, the Church will lose its Fairest Votary.' Who can express the surprize of Lovisa and the other Lady! The Voice was the Prince's, but the Face, the Habit, contradicted that thought. 'Heavens! (cry'd Lovisa, in raising him) it cannot be Prince Emilius ! Why shou'd my Life (said he; looking passionately on her) wonder at the Metamorphosis? Was this the hardest Task my cruel Love injoin'd; My Fate revers'd, I shou'd only talk of Joys and Blessings. Ah! Prince, (said Lovisa in a moving tone and air) was this well done? Didst thou fear I shou'd too soon forget thee. Cruel Man, thus to interrupt the Peace I am striving for! Go to the Royal Nuptials, thy Fate prepares; and leave me! Leave me Emilius, to my Belov'd, and chosen Solitude. I do design to leave thee, (reply'd the Prince,) Thou Dear, thou only Charmer! Excellent Woman! The First, the Last, that e'er possest Emilius's Heart! I'm for ever going; push me not from thee, with precipitated haste; Let me but gaze a moment, grasp thy lov'd hand, and bear it to my trembling Lips; print my last Kisses there: I'll then pursue what, sure as Death and Fate, I have resolv'd. What, dear Bewitching Talker, (returns Lovisa, her Eyes swimming in Love and Tears) What hast thou resolv'd?
(pp. 187-90)",2013-07-01 14:48:52 UTC,"""'Twas not with ease the Usurper got Possession here (went she on; pointing to her Heart) nor will he be with ease dislodg'd. All the Sighs and Tears it cost Emilius to gain this Virgin Heart, to bind it in the Inchanting Chains of Tyrannick Love; I must, with Interest, pay back, e'er I can set the Throbbing Prisoner free. Perhaps i' th' Conflict too the Rebel, ingag'd too far, may break.""",2013-07-01 14:48:52 UTC,"","",,Fetters and Inhabitants,"",C-H Lion,21349,7497
"Soul.
O who shall, from this Dungeon, raise
A Soul inslav'd so many wayes?
With bolts of Bones, that fetter'd stands
In Feet; and manacled in Hands.
Here blinded with an Eye; and there
Deaf with the drumming of an Ear.
A Soul hung up, as 'twere, in Chains
Of Nerves, and Arteries, and Veins.
Tortur'd, besides each other part,
In a vain Head, and double Heart.
Body.
O who shall me deliver whole,
From bonds of this Tyrannic Soul?
Which, stretcht upright, impales me so,
That mine own Precipice I go;
And warms and moves this needless Frame:
(A Fever could but do the same.)
And, wanting where its spight to try,
Has made me live to let me dye.
A Body that could never rest,
Since this ill Spirit it possest.
Soul.
What Magick could me thus confine
Within anothers Grief to pine?
Where whatsoever it complain,
I feel, that cannot feel, the pain.
And all my Care its self employes,
That to preserve, which me destroys:
Constrain'd not only to indure
Diseases, but, whats worse, the Cure:
And ready oft the Port to gain,
Am Shipwrackt into Health again.
Body.
But Physick yet could never reach
The Maladies Thou me dost teach;
Whom first the Cramp of Hope does Tear:
And then the Palsie Shakes of Fear.
The Pestilence of Love does heat:
Or Hatred's hidden Ulcer eat.
Joy's chearful Madness does perplex:
Or Sorrow's other Madness vex.
Which Knowledge forces me to know;
And Memory will not foregoe.
What but a Soul could have the wit
To build me up for Sin so fit?
So Architects do square and hew,
Green Trees that in the Forest grew.",2013-10-28 15:23:43 UTC,"""O who shall me deliver whole, / From bonds of this Tyrannic Soul?""",2013-10-28 15:20:49 UTC,"","",,Fetters,"",Reading,23091,3753