work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3899,Wandering,HDIS,2004-07-16 00:00:00 UTC,"When Reason with her Robes ascends the Throne,
And wisely all my scatter'd Thoughts calls home,
The Messenger is so divine,
Unto her Laws I must resign,
For should I let these Thoughts but rove
They'd fix upon Tyrannick Love;
They'd transcend all the Bounds of Air,
And like a blazing Comet wou'd inflame my Sphere.
",,10084,"","Thoughts may ""transcend all the Bounds of Air, / And like a blazing Comet ... inflame my Sphere.""","",2013-07-24 15:46:01 UTC,""
4153,Flights of Fancy,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-08-29 00:00:00 UTC,"Here proper Ferments animate the Blood,
And give just Vigour to the bounding Flood.
The vital Streams with due impulsive Force
Spring from the Heart, and triumph in their Course;
Rarely a dull unagitated Mass
Do's lazy linger in its circling Race:
Nor do's a flaming rapid Torrent fry
The winding Tubes, and leave the Muscles dry;
While the mild Dews, forc'd with too great a Fire,
Desert the Limbs, and thro' the Pores perspire.
The Purple Streams, warm to a just Degree,
From Dregs and unconcocted Juices free,
As they pervade the Channels of the Brain,
Their purer Parts thro' the fine Meshes strain.
These active Liquors, which Admission find
Thro' the strait Paths, and leave the coarse behind,
Swift to the inmost Rooms their Passage beat,
And crowd around the Soul's Imperial Seat;
Of subtile Matter form'd, refin'd and bright,
As Light'ning sprightly, and serene as Light,
Watching their Soveraign's Nod, they ready stand
Apt to perform the Mind's supream Command.
Such noble Vital Instruments are fit
For Reason's Works, and beauteous Turns of Wit.
With finer Strokes they move the tender Strings
Tun'd in the Brain, whence clear Perception springs.
When Fancy makes superior Flight her Aim,
Wing'd with this vig'rous, clear seraphick Flame,
She ranges Nature's universal Frame;
Bright Seeds of Thought from various Objects takes,
Whence her fair Scenes and Images she makes:
Spirits so swift, so fine, so bold, so strong,
Gave Milton Genius fit for Milton's Song.",2009-07-31,10720,•I had included twice: Birds and Seeds. — I've since decide this is not an Animal metaphor: REVISED (Uncategorized::Wing),"""When Fancy makes superior Flight her Aim, / Wing'd with this vig'rous, clear seraphick Flame, / She ranges Nature's universal Frame; / Bright Seeds of Thought from various Objects takes, / Whence her fair Scenes and Images she makes: / Spirits so swift, so fine, so bold, so strong, / Gave Milton Genius fit for Milton's Song.""","",2013-06-04 15:27:07 UTC,""
4433,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-06-29 00:00:00 UTC," Say, to what friendly Aid we owe
Those Gleams that in the Minds fair Mirrour play?
From what rich Fountain flow
Those ripening Beams of intellectual Day?
By whose fair Pencil is each Image wrought,
That teems to Birth, and burnishes to Thought?
How Fancy every Shape puts on?
How kindling Sparks her Form compose,
And whence the constant-shining Train,
That Mem'ry, or Experience shows?
How Reason's Lamp burns with incessant Toil,
To light the Judgment, and to guide the Will?",,11677,"•Note, this same poem appears in Travers' Miscellaneous Poems (1731) under the title ""Ode on Light""","Say, ""How Fancy every Shape puts on? / How kindling Sparks her Form compose, / And whence the constant-shining Train, / That Mem'ry, or Experience shows?""","",2010-07-01 20:41:03 UTC,Stanza II.
4474,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-06-28 00:00:00 UTC," Say to what friendly Aid we owe
Those Gleams that in the Mind's fair Mirror play,
From what rich Fountain flow
Those ripened Beams of intellectual Day;
By whose fair Pencil is each Image wrought
That teems to Birth, and glitters into Thought:
How Fancy ev'ry Shape puts on,
How kindling Sparks her Form compose,
And whence that ever shining Train
That Memory or Experience shows;
How constant Flames the Lamp of Reason fill
To light the Judgment and direct the Will.",,11770,"Poem appears twice, credited to two different authors: REVISIT.","Say ""How Fancy ev'ry Shape puts on, / How kindling Sparks her Form compose, / And whence that ever shining Train / That Memory or Experience shows.""","",2010-07-01 20:43:05 UTC,Stanza II.
6718,"",Reading,2010-06-08 21:34:49 UTC,"If your mistakes their ill opinion gain,
No merit can their favour reobtain:
And if they're not vindictive in their fury,
'Tis their unconstant temper does secure ye;
Their brain's so cool, their passion seldom burns;
For all's condens'd before the flame returns;
The fermentation's of so weak a matter,
The humid damps the fume, and runs it all to water.
So, tho the inclination may be strong,
They're pleas'd by fits, and never angry long.
(Part II, p. 41, ll. 558-67)",,17875,"","""Their brain's so cool, their passion seldom burns; / For all's condens'd before the flame returns; The fermentation's of so weak a matter, / The humid damps the fume, and runs it all to water.""","",2010-06-08 21:34:49 UTC,Part II
3876,"",C-H Lion,2013-06-19 19:37:48 UTC,"Learning lies deep, and short is Reason's Line,
And weakly do we guess at things Divine!
When those near hand our strict Discovery fly,
What Hopes to dive into Infinity?
The Soul's a Particle of Heavenly fire,
And boldly doth to every thing aspire:
But yet how low Her lofty Flights do fall;
When She attempts the Wonders of this Ball!
Our Apprehension Angels do exceed,
Like Thought, they can to distant Regions speed,
Nor helps They for Progressive Motion need.
Yet Mysteries, deep hid, they cannot find,
Such as Exceed th' Intelligences Mind,
And render all created Beings Blind.
(ll. 1-14)",,21028,"","The Soul's a Particle of Heavenly fire, / And boldly doth to every thing aspire: / But yet how low Her lofty Flights do fall; / When She attempts the Wonders of this Ball!""","",2013-06-19 19:37:48 UTC,""
3938,"",C-H Lion,2013-07-02 19:00:32 UTC,"These are next you, of all my Joys the chief,
But if you die will give me no Relief,
But minding me of you, revive my Grief.
When on them I shall look theyll but invite
New floods of Tears, and fresh Complaints excite.
Can't these endearing Pledges of our Love
Dissolve your Heart, and your Compassion move?
Can you these sweet Delights chuse to forsake,
And from the helpless Babes their Father take?
Think how their Lives they must in Sorrow spend,
Who will you leave your Orphans to defend?
You know your Foes will labour to Oppress
Your helpless Widow, and your Fatherless.
Can such a Father e'er Unnatural prove,
Cease to be tender, and forget to Love?
Can you lay by th'Indulgent Parent's care,
And leave these Babes abandon'd to despair?
At such Reflections do's not Nature start,
And try at every Spring to touch your Heart?
Do's not soft Pity's fire begin to burn,
Do not your yearning Bowels in you turn?
In such a case Breasts arm'd with temper'd Steel
And Hearts of Marble, should impression feel.
Then on her bended Knees she fell, and fast,
All drown'd in Tears, his Fetter'd Limbs embrac'd.
And thus she cry'd, here ever will I stay,
Here will I lie, here beg, and weep, and pray,
And strive in Sighs to breath my Life away;
Till Clovis shall our heavy Doom retrieve,
And say he do's at last consent to Live.
(Bk VIII, p. 223, ll. 569-598)",,21432,"","""At such Reflections do's not Nature start, / And try at every Spring to touch your Heart? / Do's not soft Pity's fire begin to burn, / Do not your yearning Bowels in you turn? / In such a case Breasts arm'd with temper'd Steel / And Hearts of Marble, should impression feel.""","",2013-07-02 19:00:32 UTC,Book VIII
3938,"",C-H Lion,2013-07-02 19:14:29 UTC,"Around his Bed dire Apparitions walk'd,
And Stygian Terrours thro' the Apartment stalk'd.
Then starting up and leaping from his Bed,
Thus to himself the restless Monarch said.
What Tragic Scenes before my eyes appear,
What inward Whips my tortur'd Bowels tear?
Fierce Vipers twist their Spires about my Heart,
And Bite, and Sting, and Wound with deadly smart.
With more than Atlas weight my Soul's opprest,
And raging Tempests beat along my breast:
Corroding Flames eat thro' my burning veins,
And all within I feel Infernal Pains.
As oft as Arthur has my Troops assail'd,
His Arms by Heav'n assisted have prevail'd.
The Victor of our Out-works is possest,
He next Lutetia from our hands will wrest
Must Gallia 's Empire fall by Arthur 's Sword,
And Clotar 's house obey a British Lord?
Must Tributary Gallia be condemn'd
To serve a Prince which I so much contemn'd?
Forbid it all ye Gods, that such a Fate
Should e'er befall the high Lutetian State.
If Heav'n will not assist, I'll try if Hell,
Will from these Gates the British King repel.
(Bk XII, p. 316, ll. 24-47)",,21439,"","""What inward Whips my tortur'd Bowels tear? / Fierce Vipers twist their Spires about my Heart, / And Bite, and Sting, and Wound with deadly smart. / With more than Atlas weight my Soul's opprest, / And raging Tempests beat along my breast: / Corroding Flames eat thro' my burning veins, / And all within I feel Infernal Pains.""",Animals,2013-07-02 19:14:29 UTC,Book XII
5494,"",LION,2013-08-16 21:57:05 UTC,"CLEORA.
How I disdain thee!--yes, I scorn thee!--hate thee!
Thou, who cou'dst stoop to expose a woman's weakness!
To taint her fame, and blast her to the world!--
All my fierce passions rise with that reflection,
Inward they rage--a winding train takes fire,
The flashy blaze runs swift thro' ev'ry vein,
And my brain splits with agony!
(III.i, p. 154)",,22246,"","""All my fierce passions rise with that reflection, / Inward they rage--a winding train takes fire, / The flashy blaze runs swift thro' ev'ry vein, / And my brain splits with agony!""","",2013-08-16 21:57:05 UTC,"Act III, scene i"
7957,"",Searching in ECCO-TCP,2014-07-02 15:40:18 UTC,"Away the Skilful Doctor comes
Of Recipes and Med'cines full,
To check the giddy Whirl of Nature's Fires,
If so th' unruly Case requires;
Or with his Cobweb-cleansing Brooms
To sweep and clear the over-crouded Scull,
If settl'd Spirits flag, and make the Patient dull.
But asking what the Symptoms were,
That made 'em think he was so bad?
The Man indeed, they cry'd, is wond'rous Mad
You, at this Distance, may behold him there
Beneath that Tree in open Air,
Surrounded with the Engines of his Fate,
The Gimcracks of a broken Pate.
Those Hoops a Sphere he calls,
That Ball the Earth;
And when into his raving Fit he falls,
'Twou'd move at once your Pity, and your Mirth,
To hear him, as you will do soon,
Declaring, there's a Kingdom in the Moon;
And that each Star, for ought he knows,
May some Inhabitants enclose:
Philosophers, he says, may there abound,
Such Jugglers as himself be in them found;
Which if there be, the World may well turn round;
At least to those, whose Whimsies are so strange,
That, whilst they're fixt to one peculiar Place,
Pretend to measure far extended Space,
And 'mongst the Planets range.
Behold him now contemplating that Head,
From which long-since both Flesh, and Brains are fled;
Questioning, if that empty, hollow Bowl
Did not ere while contain the Human Soul:
Then starts a Doubt, if 'twere not to the Heart
That Nature rather did that Gift impart.
Good Sir, employ the utmost of your Skill,
To make him Wiser, tho' against his Will;
Who thinks, that he already All exceeds,
And laughs at our most solemn Words and Deeds:
Tho' once amongst us he wou'd try a Cause,
And Bus'ness of the Town discuss,
Knowing, as well as one of us,
The Price of Corn, and standing Market-Laws;
Wou'd bear an Office in his Turn,
For which good Purposes all Men were born;
Not to be making Circles in the Sand,
And scaling Heav'n, till they have sold their Land.
Or, when unstock'd below their Pasture lies,
To find out Bulls and Rams, amidst the Skies.
From these Mistakes his Madness we conclude;
And hearing, you was with much Skill endu'd,
Your Aid we sought. Hippocrates amaz'd,
Now on the Sage, now on the Rabble gaz'd;
And whilst he needless finds his artful Rules,
Pities a Man of Sense, judg'd by a Croud of Fools
Then how can we with their Opinions join,
Who, to promote some Int'rest, wou'd define
The Peoples Voice to be the Voice Divine?
(pp. 286-8)",,24130,"","""Away the Skilful Doctor comes / Of Recipes and Med'cines full, / To check the giddy Whirl of Nature's Fires, / If so th' unruly Case requires; / Or with his Cobweb-cleansing Brooms / To sweep and clear the over-crouded Scull, / If settl'd Spirits flag, and make the Patient dull.""",Rooms,2014-07-02 15:40:42 UTC,""