id,comments,provenance,dictionary,created_at,reviewed_on,work_id,theme,context,updated_at,metaphor,text
9754,"•INTEREST. Great metaphors.
•I've included twice: Crowd and Clothing",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),Inhabitants,2005-04-19 00:00:00 UTC,2013-06-04,3790,"","",2013-06-04 15:34:10 UTC,"""My grateful Thoughts so throng to get abroad, / They over-run each other in the crowd: / To you with hasty flight they take their way, / And hardly for the dress of words will stay.""","As to that Poet (if so great a one, as he,
May suffer in comparison with me)
When heretofore in Scythian exile pent,
To which he to ungrateful Rome was sent.
If a kind Paper from his Country came,
And wore subscrib'd some known, and faithful Name;
That like a pow'rful Cordial, did infuse
New life into his speechless gasping Muse,
And strait his Genius, which before did seem
Bound up in Ice, and frozen as the Clime,
By its warm force, and friendly influence thaw'd,
Dissolv'd apace, and in soft numbers flow'd:
Such welcome here, dear Sir, your Letter had
With me shut up in close constraint as bad:
Not eager Lovers, held in long suspence,
With warmer Joy, and a more tender sense
Meet those kind Lines, which all their wishes bless,
And Sign, and Seal deliver'd Happiness:
My grateful Thoughts so throng to get abroad,
They over-run each other in the crowd:
To you with hasty flight they take their way,
And hardly for the dress of words will stay."
21031,"",C-H Lion,Inhabitants,2013-06-19 19:51:52 UTC,,3876,"","",2013-06-19 19:51:52 UTC,"""Since then Effluviums from all Objects break, / And thrô the Air their unseen Journeys take, / To every Sense in various Measures come; / How is it that the crowding Troops find room? / Numberless Numbers to each Sense repair, / That various Motions, Forms, and Garbs do wear; / Enough to stifle up the liquid Air.""","All Sense is made by Contact, You allow:
Contact from unseen Particles doth grow,
Which from all Objects to the Senses flow.
If they'r Material, whence do they arise?
What is't their Energy and Force supplies?
Whether they always in the Air do rove,
And wait Impulses, by whose Laws they move?
Or, when they'r wanted, by the Object made,
And thence with Message to the Sense convey'd?
If these their Subtlety to Motion owe,
Fragments, that from attrited Matter grow,
How happ's it, Time hath not worn all things so?
And why may not succeeding Ages fear,
That Length of Time the Universe should wear,
Till nothing Solid in the World appear?
The Senses various Particles employ;
What strikes the Ear, doth not affect the Eye;
And where the Ear is deaf, and Eye is blind,
The subtle Smell can a Sensation find.
The Atoms different, as the Organs are,
And various Forms, various Contextures wear
Besides the different Motions they dispence
From diverse Objects unto every Sense:
By which they to the Judging Soul do show,
Whether they Acceptable are or no.
The Eye doth Knowledge of each Colour take,
That various Motions doth i'th' Organ make;
In such Variety, such Cost and Dress,
Not all the Flowers of Rhetorick can express.
But whether What do these Impulses give
Their Power from Angulous Particles receive;
Or barely they This unto Motion owe;
A Secret lies we vainly wish to know.
Since then Effluviums from all Objects break,
And thrô the Air their unseen Journeys take,
To every Sense in various Measures come;
How is it that the crowding Troops find room?
Numberless Numbers to each Sense repair,
That various Motions, Forms, and Garbs do wear;
Enough to stifle up the liquid Air.
The justling Streams, always in Motions be,
To all around without Distinction fly.
And from all parts of Matter since they flow,
And heady Journeys in cross Paths do go:
Who in their Passage doth prescribe them Laws?
Or guards them, that they no Confusion cause?
Why do not Storms disperse the Rays of Light,
Why not obstruct their Journey to our sight?
Or those bright Rays, that in clear Days arise,
And from ten thousand Objects cheer our Eyes,
Hinder the Motion of progressive Noise?
In the same Moment from all parts they flow,
Contrary Courses in their Journeys go;
At the same time all Senses gratifie,
Yet we no Battle, nor Confusion spy.
'Tis true they'r Subtle; But they Numerous are:
They'r liquid: Yet the thwarting troops may jarr;
For waves meet waves, & streams with streams do war.
(ll. 76-133)"
22108,"",Reading,Inhabitants,2013-08-07 16:57:57 UTC,,4167,"",Book VII,2013-08-07 16:57:57 UTC,"""She [the mind] draws ten thousand Landschapes in the Brain, / Dresses of airy Forms an endless Train, / Which all her Intellectual Scenes prepare, / Enter by turns the Stage, and disappear.""","What high Perfections grace the human Mind,
In Flesh imprison'd, and to Earth confin'd!
What Vigour has she? What a piercing Sight?
Strong as the Winds, and sprightly as the Light?
She moves unweary'd, as the active Fire,
And, like the Flame, her Flights to Heav'n aspire.
By Day her Thoughts in never-ceasing Streams
Flow clear, by Night they strive in troubled Dreams.
She draws ten thousand Landschapes in the Brain,
Dresses of airy Forms an endless Train,
Which all her Intellectual Scenes prepare,
Enter by turns the Stage, and disappear.
To the remoter Regions of the Sky
Her swift-wing'd Thought can in a Moment fly;
Climb to the Heights of Heav'n, to be employ'd
In viewing thence th'Interminable Void.
Can look beyond the Stream of Time, to see
The stagnant Ocean of Eternity.
Thoughts in an Instant thro' the Zodiack run,
A Year's long Journey for the lab'ring Sun:
Then down they shoot, as swift as darting Light,
Nor can opposing Clouds retard their Flight:
Thro' Subterranean Vaults with Ease they sweep,
And search the hidden Wonders of the Deep.
(VII, ll. 204-227, pp. 323-4)"