work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3489,"",Reading Bamborough's The Little World of Man (15),2004-07-15 00:00:00 UTC,"Man is a lump, where all beasts kneaded be,
Wisdom makes him an ark where all agree;
The fool, in whom these beasts do live at jar,
Is sport to others and a theatre,
Nor 'scapes he so, but is himself their prey;
All which was man in him is eat away,
And now his beasts on one another feed,
Yet couple in anger, and new monsters breed;
How happy is he, which hath due place assigned
To his beasts, and disafforested his mind!
Empaled himself to keep them out, not in;
Can sow, and dares trust corn, where they have been;
Can use his horse, goat, wolf, and every beast,
And is not ass himself to all the rest.
Else, man not only is the herd of swine,
But he's those devils too, which did incline
Them to a headlong rage, and made them worse:
For man can add weight to heaven's heaviest curse.
As souls (they say) by our first touch, take in
The poisonous tincture of original sin,
So to the punishments which God doth fling,
Our apprehension contributes the sting.
To us, as to his chickens, he doth cast
Hemlock, and we as men, his hemlock taste.
We do infuse to what he meant for meat,
Corrosiveness, or intense cold or heat.
For, God no such specific poision hath
As kills we know not how; his fiercest wrath
Hath no antipathy, but may be good
At least for physic, if not for our food.
Thus man, that might be his pleasure, is his rod,
And is his devil, that might be his God.
Since then our business is, to rectify
Nature, to what she was, we are led awry
By them, who man to us in little show,
Greater than due, no form we can bestow
On him; for man into himself can draw
All, all his faith can swallow, or reason chaw,
All that is filled, and all that which doth fill,
All the round world, to man is but a pill;
In all it works not, but it is in all
Poisonous, or purgative, or cordial,
For, knowledge kindles calentures in some,
And is to others icy opium.
As brave as true, is that profession then
Which you do use to make; that you know man.
This makes it credible, you have dwelt upon
All worthy books, and now are such a one.
Actions are authors, and of those in you
Your friends find every day a mart of new.
(pp. 200-1)",,8947,"","Man may keep himself ""empaled"" to keep animals out","",2009-09-14 19:33:52 UTC,I've included the entire poem
3636,"",HDIS,2003-08-20 00:00:00 UTC,"See Father, what first-fruits on earth are sprung
From thy implanted grace in Man; these sighs
And prayers, which in this golden censer mixed
With incense, I thy priest before thee bring;
Fruits of more pleasing savour, from thy seed
Sown with contrition in his heart, than those
Which, his own hand manuring, all the trees
Of Paradise could have produced, ere fallen
From innocence. Now therefore, bend thine ear
To supplication; hear his sighs, though mute;
Unskilful with what words to pray, let me
Interpret for him; me, his advocate
And propitiation; all his works on me,
Good, or not good, ingraft; my merit those
Shall perfect, and for these my death shall pay.
Accept me; and, in me, from these receive
The smell of peace toward mankind: let him live
Before thee reconciled, at least his days
Numbered, though sad; till death, his doom, (which I
To mitigate thus plead, not to reverse,)
To better life shall yield him: where with me
All my redeemed may dwell in joy and bliss;
Made one with me, as I with thee am one.
(Bk. XI, ll. 22-44)",,9443,"•After Adam and Eve repent and pray the Son intercedes with God the Father
•The ""sweet savour"" of acceptable offerings is biblical commonplace, reports the Longman edition. ","""Fruits of more pleasing savour, from thy seed / Sown with contrition in his heart, than those / Which, his own hand manuring, all the trees / Paradise could have produced.""","",2010-01-06 04:51:23 UTC,Book XI
3787,"",Searching HDIS (Poetry),2006-03-15 00:00:00 UTC,"Nor were these Fruits in a rough Soil bestown
As Gemms are thick'st in rugged Quarries sown.
Good Nature and good parts so shar'd thy mind,
A Muse and Grace were so combin'd,
'Twas hard to guess which with most Lustre shin'd.
A Genius did thy whole Comportment act,
Whose charming Complaisance did so attract,
As every Heart attack'd.
Such a soft Air thy well-tun'd Sweetness sway'd,
As told thy Soul of Harmony was made;
All rude Affections that Disturbers be,
That mar or disunite Society,
Were Foreiners to thee.
Love only in their stead took up its Rest;
Nature made that thy constant Guest,
And seem'd to form no other Passion for thy Breast.",,9771,"•I've included four times: Fruit, Gem, Soil, and Quarry","""Nor were these Fruits in a rough Soil bestown / As Gemms are thick'st in rugged Quarries sown.""","",2009-09-14 19:34:28 UTC,Stanza VIII
3834,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""empire"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2004-08-10 00:00:00 UTC,"This Heart of mine, now wreck'd upon despair,
Was once as free and careless as the Air;
In th' early Morning of my tender years,
E're I was sensible of Hopes and Fears,
It floated in a Sea of Mirth and Ease,
And thought the World was only made to please;
No adverse Wind had ever stopp'd its Course,
Nor had it felt great Love's tempestuous Force,
(That Storm that swells the Tydes of Human Care,
And makes black Waves come rolling from afar,)
'Till too much Freedom made it grow secure,
As if the Sunshine always would endure;
And I, with haughty and disdainful Pride,
Mock'd the blind God, and all his Force defy'd.
At this enrag'd, the injur'd Deity
Chose out the best of his Artillery,
And in a blooming Virgin's Dove-like Eyes
He planted his Victorious Batteries;
(Phillis her Name, the best of Woman-kind,
Could Love have gain'd the Empire of her Mind)
These shot so furiously against my Heart,
That Nature's strength, tho' much improv'd by Art,
With Groans gave way to each resistless stroak,
As when the Thunder rends some sturdy Oak.
The wing'd Battalions from her lovely face
Flew to the Breach, and, rushing in apace,
Did quickly make her Mistress of the place.
",,9865,"","""At this enrag'd, the injur'd Deity / Chose out the best of his Artillery, / And in a blooming Virgin's Dove-like Eyes / He planted his Victorious Batteries; / (Phillis her Name, the best of Woman-kind, / Could Love have gain'd the Empire of her Mind) / These shot so furiously against my Heart, / That Nature's strength, tho' much improv'd by Art, / With Groans gave way to each resistless stroak, / As when the Thunder rends some sturdy Oak.""","",2018-06-18 15:36:31 UTC,""
6379,"",HDIS,2004-01-05 00:00:00 UTC,"'Tis true, I think not an impartial dole
Of Sense distributed to every Soul;
So that no Two, but can exactly say,
Each had his Measure, tho a diff'rent way:
Yet potent Nature frankly has bestow'd
Such various gifts amongst the mingl'd Crowd,
That I believe, the dullest of the kind,
Wou'd he but Husband and Manure his Mind,
Might find some Exce'llence there, which well-improv'd
At home might make him Pleas'd, in public Lov'd.
(ll. 16-25, pp. 57-8)",,16858,"First published in Dialogues of the Dead and Other Works in Prose and Verse. Ed. A. R. Waller. Cambridge: CUP, 1907. Prior sent the poem to Lord Dorset. Most likely written in summer of 1687.","""Yet potent Nature frankly has bestow'd / Such various gifts amongst the mingl'd Crowd, / That I believe, the dullest of the kind, / Wou'd he but Husband and Manure his Mind, / Might find some Exce'llence there, which well-improv'd / At home might make him Pleas'd, in public Lov'd.""","",2013-07-22 14:58:33 UTC,""
6408,"",Contributed by Corby Kelly,2005-10-11 00:00:00 UTC,"But, Venus, my devoted heart is ever at your service.
Have mercy. Why in rancour burn the harvest that is yours?
at mihi parce, Venus: semper tibi dedita seruit
mens mea: quid messes uris acerba tuas?