work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3978,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-08-16 00:00:00 UTC,"A Cave there is wherein those Nymphs reside
Who all the Realms of Sense and Fancy guide;
Nay some affirm that in the deepest Cell
Imperial Reason's self does not disdain to dwell:
With Living Reed 'tis thatch'd and guarded round,
Which mov'd by Winds emit a Silver Sound:
Two Crystal Fountains near its Entrance play,
Wide scatt'ring Golden Streams which ne'er decay,
Two Labyrinths behind harmonious Sounds convey:
Chiefly, within, the Room of State is fam'd
Of rich Mosaick Work divinely fram'd:
Of small Extent to view, 'twill all things hide,
Heav'n's Azure Arch it self not half so wide:
Here all the Arts their sacred Mansion chuse,
Here dwells the Mother of the Heav'n-born Muse:
With wond'rous mystic Figures round 'tis wrought
Inlaid with Fancy, and anneal'd with Thought:
With more than humane Skill depicted here
The various Images of Things appear;
What Was, or Is, or labours yet to Be
Within the Womb of Dark Futurity,
May Stowage in this wondrous Storehouse find,
Yet leave unnumber'd empty Cells behind:
But ah! as fast they come, they fly too fast,
Not Life or Happiness are more in haste:
Only the First Great Mind himself can stay
The Fugitives, and at one Glance survey;
But those whom he disdains not to befriend,
Uncommon Souls, who nearest Heav'n ascend
Far more, at once, than others comprehend:
Whate'er within this sacred Hall you find,
Whate'er will lodge in your capacious Mind
Let Judgment sort, and skilful Method bind;
And as from these you draw your antient Store
Daily supply the Magazine with more.
Furnish'd with such Materials he'll excel
Who when he works is sure to work 'em well;
This Art alone, as Nature that bestows,
And in Perfection both, th' accomplish'd Verser knows.
Knows to persuade, and how to speak, and when;
The Rules of Life, and Manners knows and Men:
Those narrow Lines which Good and Ill divide;
And by what Balance Just and Right are try'd:
How Kindred-Things with Things are closely join'd;
How Bodies act, and by what Laws confin'd,
Supported, mov'd and rul'd by th' Universal Mind.
When the moist Kids or burning Sirius rise;
Through what ambiguous Ways Hyperion flies,
And marks our Upper or the Nether Skies.
He knows those Strings to touch with artful Hand
Which rule Mankind, and all the World command:
What moves the Soul, and every secret Cell
Where Pity, Love, and all the Passions dwell.
The Music of his Verse can Anger raise,
Which with a softer Stroak he smooths and lays:
Can Emulation, Terror, all excite,
Compress the Soul with Grief, or swell with vast Delight.
If this you can, your Care you'll well bestow,
And some new Milton or a Spencer grow;
If not, a Poet ne'er expect to be,
Content to Rime, like D---y or like me.",,10321,•REREAD. Interesting passage. Confuses interior and exterior.,"""Whate'er within this sacred Hall you find, / Whate'er will lodge in your capacious Mind """,Inhabitant,2009-09-14 19:34:53 UTC,""
3978,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""cell"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""reason""",2005-08-29 00:00:00 UTC,"A Cave there is wherein those Nymphs reside
Who all the Realms of Sense and Fancy guide;
Nay some affirm that in the deepest Cell
Imperial Reason's self does not disdain to dwell:
With Living Reed 'tis thatch'd and guarded round,
Which mov'd by Winds emit a Silver Sound:
Two Crystal Fountains near its Entrance play,
Wide scatt'ring Golden Streams which ne'er decay,
Two Labyrinths behind harmonious Sounds convey:
Chiefly, within, the Room of State is fam'd
Of rich Mosaick Work divinely fram'd:
Of small Extent to view, 'twill all things hide,
Heav'n's Azure Arch it self not half so wide:
Here all the Arts their sacred Mansion chuse,
Here dwells the Mother of the Heav'n-born Muse:
With wond'rous mystic Figures round 'tis wrought
Inlaid with Fancy, and anneal'd with Thought:
With more than humane Skill depicted here
The various Images of Things appear;
What Was, or Is, or labours yet to Be
Within the Womb of Dark Futurity,
May Stowage in this wondrous Storehouse find,
Yet leave unnumber'd empty Cells behind:
But ah! as fast they come, they fly too fast,
Not Life or Happiness are more in haste:
Only the First Great Mind himself can stay
The Fugitives, and at one Glance survey;
But those whom he disdains not to befriend,
Uncommon Souls, who nearest Heav'n ascend
Far more, at once, than others comprehend:
Whate'er within this sacred Hall you find,
Whate'er will lodge in your capacious Mind
Let Judgment sort, and skilful Method bind;
And as from these you draw your antient Store
Daily supply the Magazine with more.
Furnish'd with such Materials he'll excel
Who when he works is sure to work 'em well;
This Art alone, as Nature that bestows,
And in Perfection both, th' accomplish'd Verser knows.
Knows to persuade, and how to speak, and when;
The Rules of Life, and Manners knows and Men:
Those narrow Lines which Good and Ill divide;
And by what Balance Just and Right are try'd:
How Kindred-Things with Things are closely join'd;
How Bodies act, and by what Laws confin'd,
Supported, mov'd and rul'd by th' Universal Mind.
When the moist Kids or burning Sirius rise;
Through what ambiguous Ways Hyperion flies,
And marks our Upper or the Nether Skies.
He knows those Strings to touch with artful Hand
Which rule Mankind, and all the World command:
What moves the Soul, and every secret Cell
Where Pity, Love, and all the Passions dwell.
The Music of his Verse can Anger raise,
Which with a softer Stroak he smooths and lays:
Can Emulation, Terror, all excite,
Compress the Soul with Grief, or swell with vast Delight.
If this you can, your Care you'll well bestow,
And some new Milton or a Spencer grow;
If not, a Poet ne'er expect to be,
Content to Rime, like D---y or like me.",,10322,•REREAD. Interesting passage. Confuses interior and exterior.
•I've included twice: Cell and Dwelling,"""He knows those Strings to touch with artful Hand / Which rule Mankind, and all the World command: / What moves the Soul, and every secret Cell / Where Pity, Love, and all the Passions dwell.""",Rooms,2009-09-14 19:34:53 UTC,""
3963,"","Searching ""breast"" and ""guest"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-03-15 00:00:00 UTC,"Thus into Nature's Secrets Men descend,
And may to Knowledge in her Works pretend;
But who can Heav'n's deep Counsels comprehend?
Who can inform th' Enquirer, who can tell
Where Skill Divine, and Heav'nly Wisdom dwell?
For sensless Man its value does not know,
'Tis never found midst Mortals here below.
The Land exclaims aloud, I am not blest
To be th' abode of this Celestial Guest.
The Sea and all its noisy Waves, declare,
In vain you seek the sacred Stranger here.
Th' Infernal Deep cries with a hollow Sound,
Here's no Apartment for her under ground.
Th' unvaluable Blessing can't be bought,
With all the golden Wealth from Ophir brought.
He that has Wisdom Rubies will despise,
And Pearl, if tender'd as an equal Price.
Saphires and Diamonds, with vast labour sought,
The Topaz fetch'd from Countries far remote;
Which worn by mighty Kings, attract regard,
Are worthless Toys, with this bright Gem compar'd.
Who can instruct us then whence Wisdom flows?
And who the place of Understanding knows:
Since after strict enquiry we despair
To find it in the Land, the Sea, or Air?
Death and Destruction cry, midst all our Slaves
We ne'r saw Wisdom; to our secret Caves
We the Celestial Stranger ne'er convey'd,
Nor hid her in our solitary Shade.
We only are acquainted with her Name,
Have only heard of her Immortal Fame.
Only the Great All-penetrating God
Knows his own Offspring, Wisdom's blest abode.
For he surveys from Heav'n's bright Crystal brow,
The vast expanded Universe below;
The spacious liquid Vales of Sky and Air,
And all his Worlds, that hang in order there.
The Bounds of Nature, Chaos, and old Night,
Limit the Sun's, but not its Maker's Sight:
He has in Prospect this Terrestrial Isle,
And sees th' extreamest Bound'rys of its Soil.
He forms the various Meteors which appear
Thro' the low Regions of the Atmosphere.
He deals out to the Winds their proper weight,
Gives them their Wings, and then directs their Flight.
He measures out the drops with wondrous Skill,
Which the black Clouds his floating Bottles fill.
When he decreed the manner of the Rain,
And did the Lightning's crooked Path ordain;
When he appointed Nature's course and way,
And gave command that thence she should not stray;
Then Wisdom he beheld, he search'd with care
His own All-seeing Mind, and found it there.
He oft reflected on the sacred Guest,
Which had her fixt abode within his Breast,
And in his Works her God-like Form exprest.
But then to Man, to whom he had deny'd
The perfect Knowledge of his Ways, he cry'd,
The Fear of God is Wisdom, to depart
From Evil, this is Science, this is Art.
Attempt to know no more than God reveals,
Search not the Secrets which his Breast conceals.
In this Abyss trust not thy vent'rous Oar,
Wouldst thou be safe, then keep upon the Shore,
And from afar this awful Deep adore.
Thy Happiness in being Righteous lies,
Be Good, and in Perfection thou art wise.
Justly thou mayst despise the boastful Schools,
And learned Cant of grave, disputing Fools.",,10327,•I've included twice: Guest and Abode,"""He oft reflected on the sacred Guest, / Which had her fixt abode within his Breast, / And in his Works her God-like Form exprest.""",Inhabitants,2009-09-14 19:34:53 UTC,""
7682,"",Reading,2013-09-18 15:08:07 UTC,"Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us,
And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us:
Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain,
And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign:
Wit-unconcoct is the Extream of Sloth,
And too much Sense is the Extream of both;
Abstracted-Wit 'Tis own'd is a Disease,
But Sense-abstracted has no Power to please:
For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense,
And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense:
Meer Sense is sullen; stiff, and unpolite,
Meer Wit is Apoplectick, thin, and light:
Wit is a King without a Parliament,
And Sense a Democratick Government:
Wit, like the French, wher'e'er it reigns destroys,
And Sense advanc'd is apt to Tyrannize:
Wit without Sense is like the Laughing-Evil,
And Sense unmix'd with Fancy is the D---l.
Wit is a Standing-Army Government,
And Sense a sullen stubborn P---t:
Wit by its haste anticipates its Fate,
And so does Sense by being obstinate:
Wit without Sense in Verse is all but Farce,
Sense without Wit in Verse is all mine A---.
Wit, like the French, performs before it thinks,
And thoughtful Sense without Performance sinks;
Sense without Wit is Flegmatick and pale,
And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail:
Wit without Sense is Cholerick and Red,
Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head.
Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one,
Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune:
Wit, like the Belly, if it be not fed,
Will starve the Members, and distract the Head.
Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive,
Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give:
Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth,
Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth.
United: Wit and Sense, makes Science thrive,
Divided: neither Wit nor Sense can live;
For while the Parties eagerly contend,
The Mortal Strife must in their mutual Ruin end.
(pp. 165-7, ll. 353-394)",,22801,"","""Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one, / Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune.""","",2013-09-18 15:08:07 UTC,""
7682,"",Reading,2013-09-18 15:09:49 UTC,"Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us,
And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us:
Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain,
And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign:
Wit-unconcoct is the Extream of Sloth,
And too much Sense is the Extream of both;
Abstracted-Wit 'Tis own'd is a Disease,
But Sense-abstracted has no Power to please:
For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense,
And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense:
Meer Sense is sullen; stiff, and unpolite,
Meer Wit is Apoplectick, thin, and light:
Wit is a King without a Parliament,
And Sense a Democratick Government:
Wit, like the French, wher'e'er it reigns destroys,
And Sense advanc'd is apt to Tyrannize:
Wit without Sense is like the Laughing-Evil,
And Sense unmix'd with Fancy is the D---l.
Wit is a Standing-Army Government,
And Sense a sullen stubborn P---t:
Wit by its haste anticipates its Fate,
And so does Sense by being obstinate:
Wit without Sense in Verse is all but Farce,
Sense without Wit in Verse is all mine A---.
Wit, like the French, performs before it thinks,
And thoughtful Sense without Performance sinks;
Sense without Wit is Flegmatick and pale,
And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail:
Wit without Sense is Cholerick and Red,
Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head.
Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one,
Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune:
Wit, like the Belly, if it be not fed,
Will starve the Members, and distract the Head.
Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive,
Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give:
Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth,
Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth.
United: Wit and Sense, makes Science thrive,
Divided: neither Wit nor Sense can live;
For while the Parties eagerly contend,
The Mortal Strife must in their mutual Ruin end.
(pp. 165-7, ll. 353-394)",,22803,"","""Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive, / Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give: / Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth, /
Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth.""",Inhabitants,2013-09-18 15:12:10 UTC,""
7163,"",Reading,2014-05-26 20:21:03 UTC,"Then let not Piety be put to flight,
To please the tast of Glutton-Appetite;
But suffer inmate Souls secure to dwell,
Lest from their Seats your Parents you expel;
With rabid Hunger feed upon your kind,
Or from a Beast dislodge a Brother's Mind.
(p. 512, cf. p. 822 in OUP)",,23862,"","""Then let not Piety be put to flight, / To please the tast of Glutton-Appetite; / But suffer inmate Souls secure to dwell, / Lest from their Seats your Parents you expel; / With rabid Hunger feed upon your kind, / Or from a Beast dislodge a Brother's Mind.""",Inhabitants,2014-05-26 20:21:03 UTC,""