work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
6003,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-05-18 00:00:00 UTC,"But give the tone of brain, the nerves which bear
Faithful impressions strong; give the mild sun
Of opportunity to dart its rays;
Give leisure, curious search, the strenuous thought
Aiming at worth superlative, give time
Which solely perfects wisdom; and the form
Of Genius will arise, on eagle wing
To soar to heaven, or with a lynx's eye
To penetrate the abyss, to associate all
The charms of beauty, grasp the true sublime,
Add novel tints to fancy's rainbow dress;
Or separate the clouds by error spread,
Till all the gloom is vanquish'd, and the light
Of intellectual day wide-blazing streams.",,15949,•I've included twive: Clouds and Sun,"Genius may ""separate the clouds by error spread, / Till all the gloom is vanquish'd, and the light / Of intellectual day wide-blazing streams""","",2009-09-14 19:45:13 UTC,""
6002,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""impression"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""fancy""",2005-05-17 00:00:00 UTC,"I mark thy muse; her gothic lyre
Well suits the legendary lay;
While darting from her eyes of sire
She beams a visionary day:
Bright as the magic torch she early gave
To light thy ven'trous way, through fancy's secret cave.",2011-06-05,15958,"","The muse ""beams a visionary day: / Bright as the magic torch she early gave / To light thy ven'trous way, through fancy's secret cave.""",Impressions,2011-06-06 03:31:47 UTC,""
6018,"","Searching ""reason"" and ""lamp"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-01-20 00:00:00 UTC,"Thro' Error's maze, thro' Folly's night,
The lamp of Reason lends me light.
When stern Affliction waves her rod,
My heart confides in thee, my God!
When Nature shrinks, oppress'd with woes,
E'en then she finds in thee repose.
To thee my humble voice I raise;
Forgive, while I presume to praise.",,15989,"","""Thro' Error's maze, thro' Folly's night, / The lamp of Reason lends me light""","",2009-09-14 19:45:21 UTC,""
6031,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-06-03 00:00:00 UTC,"And Thou, Minerva, pr'ythee say,
Why with so bright a mental ray,
And all that marks the blue-ey'd Maid,
Hast thou this favour'd Boy array'd?
With ready Thought, Expression fit,
And sterling Sense, and playful Wit!
If these rare Pow'rs are giv'n the Youth
But to disguise immortal Truth,
And Falsehood thus belie the God,
Would he were duller than a Clod!",2011-07-19,16012,"","""And Thou, Minerva, pr'ythee say, / Why with so bright a mental ray, / And all that marks the blue-ey'd Maid, / Hast thou this favour'd Boy array'd?""","",2011-07-19 18:51:16 UTC,""
6064,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""iron"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-07 00:00:00 UTC,"When Churchill enter'd on the critic war,
With thunder clothing his loud-crushing car;
Tho' party-zeal inflam'd his iron heart,
And prejudice sharp pointed ev'ry dart;
With glowing thoughts, his mind profusely teem'd;
And, on his burnish'd armour, Genius beam'd:
Meanwhile, th' illumin'd spirit, from her throne
Beheld his course, and ""mark'd him for her own.""",,16062,"","""Tho' party-zeal inflam'd his iron heart, / And prejudice sharp pointed ev'ry dart; / With glowing thoughts, his mind profusely teem'd.""",Metal,2013-10-12 03:43:24 UTC,""
6058,"","Searching ""reason"" and ""lamp"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-01-20 00:00:00 UTC,"Where summer smiles, clad in the golden garb
Of sunny splendours! where the tangled vine,
Bending with purple clusters, richly glows!
Where the brown olive clothes the Sabine hills
In tawny veil, repelling the hot breeze,
The lab'ring throngs advance. In ev'ry eye,
The living ray of waken'd intellect
Marks reason's lamp divine! on ev'ry cheek
A stranger smile is seen, deep'ning the tint
Which southern climes diffuse, with ruddy flush
Of conscious ecstacy! The voice, unchain'd,
Breathes the pure eloquence of nature's tongue,
Mocking the fine-wrought sophistry of schools,
The pomp of learning, and the vaunted lore
Of metaphysic art. The untaught race,
Grown to maturity, yet newly born,
Above pedantic lessons, feel the glow
Of nature's own philosophy. O! change
Transcendent and sublime! Blest as the day
That, after a long night of gloom opake,
A night of months, which blotting the broad sun,
From Scandinavia's deserts, smiling comes,
And peering o'er some frozen mountain's top,
Illumes the ebon world. On ev'ry plain
Where Italy unfolds her treasur'd store
Of summer gifts luxurious, tepid dews,
And gales impregnated with spicy breath
Of buds ambrosial, greet the daring hosts
Of conquering France. The brazen cannon's roar
Echoing to heav'n's high concave, steals away
In sullen, long vibration; while around,
O'er ev'ry hill, green copse, and woodland glade,
From troublous Tiber to th' Etrurian meads,
That skirt the vale where Arno's limpid tide
Flashes the silver wave, in dulcet sounds,
The music of the tinkling mandolin
Calls forth the rustic throng, to feast, and sing,
And mingle, wildly gay, in mazy dance.
And thou, fair city, rising from the wave,
Girt with a lucid zone, thy Parian tow'rs,
Proud sea-marks, glitt'ring while the sunny beam
Glows o'er the Adriatic; thou, emerg'd
From gloomy superstition, far more dread
Than ocean's vast and liquid battlements
Rock'd by tempestuous winds, when all around
The equinoctial blast howls fierce and strong,
Braving its tyrant orb; thou, 'mid the deep,
Standst like a lofty temple, whose firm base
The green main guards triumphant; thy proud sons
Hymn the loud song of liberty, new-born;
While the white sails of welcome treasuries
(From worshipp'd Ganges, or Peruvian hills;
From odour-breathing Persia's pearly sands,
Wash'd by the Caspian wave,) to greet thy mart,
Thronging the pale horizon each new morn,
Now swell with gales propitious. Now no more
Slaughter steals hoodwink'd thro' the gloomy haunts
Of thy wave-circl'd citadel. No lord,
From the dark gondola, beholds his slave,
Whose trade is murder, deal the deadly wound
On his unwary foe; while, by the ray
Of holy lamp, the keen stilleto glares,
And the pale victim sinking, groans and dies.
Time was, and mem'ry sickens to retrace
The tablet fraught with wrongs, when seasons roll'd
O'er the small hut of lowly industry
In dim succession of eternal gloom;
Tho' rosy morn upon the eastern cliff
Burst wide her silver gates, and scatter'd round
A bright ethereal show'r! When nature's breast
Unveil'd its fragrance, and its bloomy tints,
Spangled by twilight's tears, to weary eyes,
Unbless'd with sweet repose! Poor, toil-worn race!
The hardy blossoms of a fervid soil;--
What was their hapless lot? To sigh, to pant,
To scorch and faint, while from the cloudless sky
The noon-tide beam shot downward. By their hands
The burning ploughshare thro' the Tuscan glebe
Pursued its sultry way: the smoking plains,
Refresh'd by tepid show'rs, receiv'd the pledge
Of future luxury. The tangling vine,
Nurs'd by their toil, grew fibrous: the brown rind,
Dried by the parching gale, wove close and firm,
Guarded the rich and nec'trous distillation.
The tendrils twin'd, to ev'ry point minute
The od'rous bev'rage stole, till the swoln fruit,
Empurpled by the sun, the labourers prest
To yield its luscious burthen. Yet, for them
Did summer gild the plain? Did autumn glow?
Did austral breezes fan the tepid show'r,
Scarce whisp'ring as it fell? Did the day's toil
Ensure the night's repose?--sweet recompence,
That well befits the peasant's guiltless soul!",,16078,"","""In ev'ry eye, / The living ray of waken'd intellect / Marks reason's lamp divine!""",Optics,2012-01-09 18:26:43 UTC,""
6058,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2012-01-09 18:37:46 UTC,"Superstition! more destructive still
Than plague or famine, tyranny or war!
Thou palsying mischief, thou benumbing foe
To all the proudest energies of man!
Whence springs thy subtle desolating charm,
From pompous pageantry and bigot pride,
From mitred canopies, and shrines of gold,
And bones of mould'ring monks? Can freezing nights,
In cells where cold inanity presides,
Cloath'd in religion's meek and sainted guise,
Or long-drawn pageantry of empty show,
Conceal the trembling soul, from that dread pow'r
Which marks th' All-seeing! On Italia's shores,
On every plain, on ev'ry mountain top,
The voice of nature speaks, in mighty sounds,
To bid thee tremble! Then, O! nature, say--
Shall rich Italia's bow'rs, her citron shades,
Her vales prolific, mountains golden clad,
And rivers fring'd with nectar-teeming groves,
Re-echo with the mighty song of praise
To empyrean space, while shackled still
The man of colour dies? Shall torrid suns
Shoot downward their hot beams on mis'ry's race,
And call forth luxuries to pamper pride,
Steep'd in the Ethiop's tears, the Ethiop's blood!
Shall the caprice of nature, the deep tint
Of sultry climes, the feature varying,
Or the uncultur'd mind, endure the scourge
Of sordid tyranny, or heap the stores
Of his fair fellow man, whose ruddy cheek
Knows not the tear of pity; whose white breast
Conceals a heart, than adamant more hard,
More cruel than the tiger's! Bend thy gaze
O! happy offspring of a temper'd clime,
On whom the partial hand of nature set
The stamp of bloomy tints, proportions fine,
Unmixing with the goodly outside shew
The mind appropriate; bend thy pitying gaze
To Zembla's frozen sphere; where in his hut,
Roof'd by the rocky steep, the savage smiles,
In conscious freedom smiles, and mocks the storm
That howls along the sky. Th' unshackled limb,
Cloth'd in the shaggy hide of uncouth bear,
Or the fleet mountain elk, bounds o'er the cliff
The free-born tenant of the desert wild.
The glow of liberty, thro' ev'ry vein
Bids sensate streams revolve; the dusky path
Of midnight solitudes no terror brings,
Because he fears no lord. The prowling wolf,
Whose eye-balls redden 'midst the world of gloom,
Yells fierce defiance, form'd by nature's law
To share the desert's freedom. O'er the sky
The despot darkness reigns, in sullen pride,
Half the devoted year. His ebon wing
O'ershadows the blank space: his chilling breath
Benumbs the breast of nature; on his brow,
Myriads of stars with lucid lustre gem
His boundless diadem! The savage cheek
Smiles at the potent spoiler; braves his frown;
And while the partial gloom is most opake,
Still vaunts the mind unfetter'd! If for these
Indulgent nature breaks the bonds of woe,
Gilding the deepest solitudes of night
With the pure flame of liberty sublime;
If for the untaught sons of gelid climes,
Health cheers the darkest hour with vig'rous age,
Shall the poor African, the passive slave,
Born in the bland effulgence of broad day,
Cherish'd by torrid splendours, while around
The plains prolific teem with honey'd stores
Of Afric's burning soil; shall such a wretch
Sink prematurely to a grave obscure,
No tear to grace his ashes? Or suspire,
To wear submission's long and goading chain,
To drink the tear, that down his swarthy cheek
Flows fast, to moisten his toil-fever'd lip,
Parch'd by the noontide blaze? Shall he endure
The frequent lash, the agonizing scourge,
The day of labour, and the night of pain;
Expose his naked limbs to burning gales;
Faint in the sun, and wither in the storm;
Traverse hot sands, imbibe the morbid breeze,
Wing'd with contagion, while his blister'd feet,
Scorch'd by the vertical and raging beam,
Pour the swift life-stream? Shall his frenzied eyes,
Oh! worst of mortal miseries! behold
The darling of his soul, his sable love,
Selected from the trembling, timid throng
By the wan tyrant, whose licentious touch
Seals the dark fiat of the slave's despair!
Humanity! from thee the suppliant claims
The meed of retribution! Thy pure flame
Would light the sense opake, and warm the spring
Of boundless ecstacy; while nature's laws
So violated, plead, immortal-tongu'd,
For her dark-fated children; lead them forth
From bondage infamous! Bid reason own
The dignities of man, whate'er his clime,
Estate, or colour. And, O! sacred truth!
Tell the proud lords of traffic, that the breast
Thrice ebon-tinted, bears a crimson tide,
As pure, as clear as Europe's sons can boast.
Then, liberty, extend thy thund'ring voice
To Afric's scorching climes, o'er seas that bound
To bear the blissful tidings, while all earth
Shall hail humanity! the child of heav'n!",,19425,"Lots of fetters and bondage in this stanza, but not fetter metaphor of mind!","""Thy pure flame / Would light the sense opake, and warm the spring / Of boundless ecstacy; while nature's laws / So violated, plead, immortal-tongu'd, / For her dark-fated children; lead them forth / From bondage infamous!""","",2012-01-09 18:38:53 UTC,""
7639,"",Reading at RPO,2013-08-20 16:37:39 UTC,"O Lady! we receive but what we give,
And in our life alone does Nature live:
Ours is her wedding garment, ours her shroud!
And would we aught behold, of higher worth,
Than that inanimate cold world allowed
To the poor loveless ever-anxious crowd,
Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth
A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud
Enveloping the Earth--
And from the soul itself must there be sent
A sweet and potent voice, of its own birth,
Of all sweet sounds the life and element!
(ll. 47-58)",,22512,"","""Ah! from the soul itself must issue forth / A light, a glory, a fair luminous cloud / Enveloping the Earth--""","",2013-08-20 16:37:39 UTC,""
7666,"",Reading,2013-09-02 14:34:23 UTC,"One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands 17
Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands
Or if protected from on high
Does that whole Nation sell & buy
He who mocks the Infants Faith
Shall be mock'd in Age & Death
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall neer get out
He who respects the Infants faith
Triumphs over Hell & Death
The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons
The Questioner who sits so sly
Shall never know how to Reply
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge outbr>
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesars Laurel Crown
Nought can deform the Human Race
Like to the Armours iron brace
When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow
A Riddle or the Crickets Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply
The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile",,22654,"","""The Questioner who sits so sly / Shall never know how to Reply / He who replies to words of Doubt / Doth put the Light of Knowledge out""","",2013-09-02 14:34:23 UTC,""
7666,"",Reading,2013-09-02 14:43:10 UTC,"He who Doubts from what he sees
Will neer Believe do what you Please
If the Sun & Moon should Doubt
Theyd immediately Go out
To be in a Passion you Good may Do
But no Good if a Passion is in you
The Whore & Gambler by the State
Licencd build that Nations Fate
The Harlots cry from Street to Street
Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet
The Winners Shout the Losers Curse
Dance before dead Englands Hearse
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born
Every Morn & every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to sweet delight
Some are Born to Endless Night
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see With not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day",,22655,"","""We are led to Believe a Lie / When we see not Thro the Eye / Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night / When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light / God Appears & God is Light / To those poor Souls who dwell in Night / But does a Human Form Display / To those who Dwell in Realms of day""","",2013-09-02 14:43:10 UTC,""