work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
6213,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-28 00:00:00 UTC,"""And who was I? a slender youth and tall,
""In manner awkward, and with fortune small;
""With visage pale, my motions quick and slow,
""That fall and rising in the spirits show;
""For none could more by outward signs express
""What wise men lock within the mind's recess;
""Had I a mirror set before my view,
""I might have seen what such a form could do;
""Had I within the mirror truth beheld,
""I should have such presuming thoughts repell'd
""But awkward as I was, without the grace
""That gives new beauty to a form or face,
""Still I expected friends most true to prove,
""And grateful, tender, warm, assiduous love.",,16473,From Poetical Works (1838). Work out citation. REVISIT,"One may behold ""the mirror truth"" within","",2009-09-14 19:46:58 UTC,""
6215,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-10-23 00:00:00 UTC," He was yet bending thoughtful o'er the fountain,
Which nothing did but sparkle, play, and curl,
And in the mirror of his mind was counting
Each brilliant drop which fell like orient pearl,
Kissed by the sunbeams--when that prying girl,
Young Curiosìta rushing to the well,
Her blue and busy eyes fixt on the whirl
Of waters, bade him seize a chorded shell
At the fount's base, on which a mimic rainbow fell.",,16474,"","""He was yet bending thoughtful o'er the fountain, / Which nothing did but sparkle, play, and curl, / And in the mirror of his mind was counting / Each brilliant drop which fell like orient pearl""","",2009-09-14 19:46:59 UTC,""
6232,"","Reading Reisner, Thomas A. ""Tablua Rasa: Shelley's Metaphor of Mind."" Ariel IV.2 (197): 90-102. p. 98.",2006-10-03 00:00:00 UTC,"MAHMUD
The times do cast strange shadows
On those who watch and who must rule their course,
Lest they, being first in peril as in glory,
Be whelmed in the fierce ebb:--and these are of them.
Thrice has a gloomy vision hunted me
As thus from sleep into the troubled day;
It shakes me as the tempest shakes the sea,
Leaving no figure upon memory's glass.
Would that--no matter. Thou didst say thou knewest
A Jew, whose spirit is a chronicle
Of strange and secret and forgotten things.
I bade thee summon him:--'tis said his tribe
Dream, and are wise interpreters of dreams.
(ll. 124-136)",,16512,"•I've included thrice: Tempest, Sea, Glass","""Thrice has a gloomy vision hunted me / As thus from sleep into the troubled day; / It shakes me as the tempest shakes the sea, / Leaving no figure upon memory's glass""","",2009-09-14 19:47:07 UTC,""
6233,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-10-21 00:00:00 UTC,"Seen thus destitute,
What are the greatest? They must speak beyond
A thousand homilies. When Raphael went,
His heavenly face the mirror of his mind,
His mind a temple for all lovely things
To flock to and inhabit--when He went,
Wrapt in his sable cloak, the cloak he wore,
To sleep beneath the venerable Dome,
By those attended, who in life had loved,
Had worshipped, following in his steps to Fame,
('Twas on an April-day, when Nature smiles)
All Rome was there. But, ere the march began,
Ere to receive their charge the bearers came,
Who had not sought him? And when all beheld
Him, where he lay, how changed from yesterday,
Him in that hour cut off, and at his head
His last great work; when, entering in, they looked
Now on the dead, then on that master-piece,
Now on his face, lifeless and colourless,
Then on those forms divine that lived and breathed,
And would live on for ages--all were moved;
And sighs burst forth, and loudest lamentations.",,16516,•I've included twice: Mirror and Temple,"""When Raphael went, / His heavenly face the mirror of his mind, / His mind a temple for all lovely things / To flock to and inhabit""","",2009-09-14 19:47:08 UTC,""
6236,"","Searching ""thought"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-12-14 00:00:00 UTC,"'Tis true, you don't--but, pale and struck with terror,
Retire: but look into your past impression!
And you will find, though shuddering at the mirror
Of your own thoughts, in all their self confession,
The lurking bias, be it truth or error,
To the unknown; a secret prepossession,
To plunge with all your fears--but where? You know not,
And that's the reason why you do--or do not.",,16526,"","""Retire: but look into your past impression! / And you will find, though shuddering at the mirror / Of your own thoughts, in all their self confession, / The lurking bias, be it truth or error, / To the unknown.""","",2011-03-28 03:27:00 UTC,Canto XIV
6239,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-10-21 00:00:00 UTC,"Though such were in his spirit, as the fiends
Which wake and feed an everliving woe,--
What was this grief, which ne'er in other minds
A mirror found,--he knew not--none could know;
But on whoe'er might question him he turned
The light of his frank eyes, as if to show
He knew not of the grief within that burned,
But asked forbearance with a mournful look;
Or spoke in words from which none ever learned",,16534,"","""What was this grief, which ne'er in other minds / A mirror found""","",2009-09-14 19:47:12 UTC,""
6240,"","Searching ""soul""and ""mirror"" in HDIS (ec19 Poetry)",2005-12-14 00:00:00 UTC,"Alas! how time, and absence, and mankind,
Impart their colours, and corrupt the mind!
All dream that they are faithful, but how few
Are to their promise firm, their honour true;
Change not with Fortune's breath, and stand through years,
Beyond the range of fickleness and fears.
He was not what he had been--nor was she--
At least within his soul so reckon'd he;
She had not now that place within his mind,
Whose holy bounds from worldly dross refined,
Was purified to loveliness, and made
A light to which the sunshine was like shade:
She seem'd not now, as she had been of yore,
A form to which the earth no likeness bore;
She was not now the soul of his delight,
His earliest thought at morn, his last at night;
The spell, whose name, when utter'd, could impart
The thrill of rapture to his conscious heart:--
In his soul's mirror Ellen had grown dim,
And yet she was unchanged--though not for him!--
Like one who gazes with profound delight
Upon the landscape on a lovely night,
A thousand beauties blended, as the beam
Plays on the hill, the forest, and the stream,
How beautiful! then upward turns his eye
To the moon that cloudless traverses the sky--
Lo! the sight dazzles, and the scenes below
Have lost their lustre, and forget to glow!",,16535,"","""In his soul's mirror Ellen had grown dim, / And yet she was unchanged--though not for him!""","",2009-09-14 19:47:12 UTC,""
6241,"","Searching ""thought"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-12-14 00:00:00 UTC,"""If prayers, my Lord;"" said Bertha: ""if the glow
""Of heart devote and grateful can bestow
""Security, my Sovereign is secure!
""Long as his virtuous wishes, shall endure
""The happiness he merits: but beware!
""My Sovereign, O beware: with piercing eye
""The secrets of thine Odo's bosom try:
""Virtue, that never asks the test to spare,
""The mirror to its inmost thoughts can claim;
""And come forth purer from the searching flame!""",,16536,"","""'My Sovereign, O beware: with piercing eye/ 'The secrets of thine Odo's bosom try: / 'Virtue, that never asks the test to spare, / 'The mirror to its inmost thoughts can claim; / 'And come forth purer from the searching flame!'""","",2009-09-14 19:47:12 UTC,""
7120,"",Reading,2011-10-25 20:51:41 UTC,"As to imitation, poetry is a mimetic art. It creates, but it creates by combination and representation. Poetical abstractions are beautiful and new, not because the portions of which they are composed had no previous existence in the mind of man or in Nature, but because the whole produced by their combination has some intelligible and beautiful analogy with those sources of emotion and thought and with the contemporary condition of them. One great poet is a masterpiece of Nature which another not only ought to study but must study. He might as wisely and as easily determine that his mind should no longer be the mirror of all that is lovely in the visible universe as exclude from his contemplation the beautiful which exists in the writings of a great contemporary. The pretence of doing it would be a presumption in any but the greatest; the effect, even in him, would be strained, unnatural and ineffectual. A poet is the combined product of such internal powers as modify the nature of others, and of such external influences as excite and sustain these powers; he is not one, but both. Every man's mind is, in this respect, modified by all the objects of Nature and art; by every word and every suggestion which he ever admitted to act upon his consciousness; it is the mirror upon which all forms are reflected and in which they compose one form. Poets, not otherwise than philosophers, painters, sculptors and musicians, are, in one sense, the creators, and, in another, the creations, of their age. From this subjection the loftiest do not escape. There is a similarity between Homer and Hesiod, between Æschylus and Euripides, between Virgil and Horace, between Dante and Petrarch, between Shakespeare and Fletcher, between Dryden and Pope; each has a generic resemblance under which their specific distinctions are arranged. If this similarity be the result of imitation, I am willing to confess that I have imitated.
(xii-xiii)
",,19284,"","""He might as wisely and as easily determine that his mind should no longer be the mirror of all that is lovely in the visible universe as exclude from his contemplation the beautiful which exists in the writings of a great contemporary.""","",2011-10-25 20:51:41 UTC,Preface
7120,"",Reading,2011-10-25 20:52:50 UTC,"As to imitation, poetry is a mimetic art. It creates, but it creates by combination and representation. Poetical abstractions are beautiful and new, not because the portions of which they are composed had no previous existence in the mind of man or in Nature, but because the whole produced by their combination has some intelligible and beautiful analogy with those sources of emotion and thought and with the contemporary condition of them. One great poet is a masterpiece of Nature which another not only ought to study but must study. He might as wisely and as easily determine that his mind should no longer be the mirror of all that is lovely in the visible universe as exclude from his contemplation the beautiful which exists in the writings of a great contemporary. The pretence of doing it would be a presumption in any but the greatest; the effect, even in him, would be strained, unnatural and ineffectual. A poet is the combined product of such internal powers as modify the nature of others, and of such external influences as excite and sustain these powers; he is not one, but both. Every man's mind is, in this respect, modified by all the objects of Nature and art; by every word and every suggestion which he ever admitted to act upon his consciousness; it is the mirror upon which all forms are reflected and in which they compose one form. Poets, not otherwise than philosophers, painters, sculptors and musicians, are, in one sense, the creators, and, in another, the creations, of their age. From this subjection the loftiest do not escape. There is a similarity between Homer and Hesiod, between Æschylus and Euripides, between Virgil and Horace, between Dante and Petrarch, between Shakespeare and Fletcher, between Dryden and Pope; each has a generic resemblance under which their specific distinctions are arranged. If this similarity be the result of imitation, I am willing to confess that I have imitated.
(xii-xiii)",,19285,"","""Every man's mind is, in this respect, modified by all the objects of Nature and art; by every word and every suggestion which he ever admitted to act upon his consciousness; it is the mirror upon which all forms are reflected and in which they compose one form.""","",2011-10-25 20:52:50 UTC,Preface