text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
" Three sprigs of Hecate in three districts born;
The Horse-guards, York, and Grub-street did adorn;
The first, in matchless mummery was clever,
And sold her mother, Common Sense, for ever.
The second beldam all the rest surpast,
In ease and arrogance--to mould the last;
As Nature's powers could no farther go,
To make a third, she join'd the other two;
Who calls mankind to marvel at her dealing,
And gets her pence by--literary stealing.
Such beldams as these ne'er encounter'd before,
And ne'er will again, until Time is no more;
They met in the World, and shook hands like Scotch cousins,
And were wedded by Fate, to get monsters by dozens.
These witches agreed,
In an hour of--need,
As the only means left them to fatten and feed,
To mount all at once, on Apollo's own steed;
And, by joining their stock, like three empyric doctors,
To gorge on men's vices, like bailiffs and proctors,
The first, a vile sybil, who seeks paupers huts,
To coax little spinsters with ginger-bread nuts:
Gave lies and salt-petre;
Some malice, some metre;
A few pointless strokes,
Old songs and stale jokes;
With witless bon mots from a vile memorandum;
Which the witch did essay,
Once to weave in a play,
But Pit, Box, or Gods could not stand 'em.
The second presented some well-temper'd fuel,
To kindle a flame in the World's busy ball,
As prejudice, pique, or occasion should call;
With ample decoctions of weak water-gruel;
Some cowslips half wither'd, and ill gather'd daisies,
An ounce of crampt wit, and a pound of strange phrases;
Which she stole on the side of the Parnassian mountain,
When she sipt the foul streams from the helicon fountain.
The third,
More absurd,
Than the iron-fed bird;
And whose brains lacked juice like an over-squeezed curd,
Had nothing of value to give but her--Word.
Except a small treatise 'gainst--running in debt;
And some tomes of the chaste Aretine,
With a few comic traits of the fair Antoinette,
When she wanders to see and be seen.",2012-06-27 18:55:07 UTC,"""The third, / More absurd, / Than the iron-fed bird; / And whose brains lacked juice like an over-squeezed curd, / Had nothing of value to give but her--Word.""",2012-06-27 18:54:42 UTC,"","",,"","",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),19802,7264
"""[...] Elf, we'll promote the cause of human weal,
To yon dissecting sage these truths reveal.
Show him what use the Renal Capsule serves,
The liquid Fire that floats along the nerves;
Give him the office of the Spleen to find,
And let him fee the Nidus of the mind.
-- I'll set my Sylph a task, come hither sprite,
Go seek from whence the Sun derives his light;
Then o'er one grain of sand perpetual sit,
Nor move till it is infinitely split.""
Thus raves the Genius, while they seek her lock,
Her incoherent flights the fairies mock [...]
(p. 112)",2013-05-16 22:25:18 UTC,"""Elf, we'll promote the cause of human weal, / To yon dissecting sage these truths reveal. / Show him what use the Renal Capsule serves, / The liquid Fire that floats along the nerves; / Give him the office of the Spleen to find, / And let him see the Nidus of the mind.""",2013-05-16 22:25:18 UTC,Part IV,"",,"","",Reading at the Folger,20201,7391
"Now in strong lines, with bolder tints design'd,
You sketch ideas, and portray the mind;
Teach how fine atoms of impinging light
To ceaseless change the visual sense excite;
While the bright lens collects the rays, that swerve,
And bends their focus on the moving nerve.
How thoughts to thoughts are link'd with viewless chains,
Tribes leading tribes, and trains pursuing trains;
With shadowy trident how Volition guides,
Surge after surge, his intellectual tides;
Or, Queen of Sleep, Imagination roves
With frantic Sorrows, or delirious Loves.
(p. viii)",2013-09-28 19:58:41 UTC,"""With shadowy trident how Volition guides, / Surge after surge, his intellectual tides; / Or, Queen of Sleep, Imagination roves / With frantic Sorrows, or delirious Loves.""",2013-09-28 19:58:41 UTC,"","",,Inhabitants,"",ECCO-TCP,22884,7695