text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"Why start at Death? Where is he? Death arrived
Is past; not come, or gone, he's never here.
Ere hope, sensation fails; black-boding man
Receives, not suffers, Death's tremendous blow.
The knell, the shroud, the mattock, and the grave;
The deep, damp vault, the darkness, and the worm:---
These are the bugbears of a winter's eve,
The terrors of the living, not the dead.
Imagination's fool, and Error's wretch,
Man makes a Death which Nature never made;
Then on the point of his own fancy falls,
And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one.
(ll. , p. 91 in CUP edition)",2013-06-06 15:12:23 UTC,"""Imagination's fool, and Error's wretch, / Man makes a Death which Nature never made; / Then on the point of his own fancy falls, / And feels a thousand deaths in fearing one.""",2013-06-06 15:12:23 UTC,Night the Fourth,"",,"","",Reading,20432,7402
"Though Nature's terrors thus may be repress'd,
Still frowns grim Death; guilt points the tyrant's spear.
And whence all human guilt? From Death forgot.
Ah me! too long I set at nought the swarm
Of friendly warnings which around me flew;
And smiled unsmitten. Small my cause to smile!
Death's admonitions, like shafts upwards shot,
More dreadful by delay,--the longer ere
They strike our hearts, the deeper is their wound.
O think how deep, Lorenzo! here it stings:
Who can appease its anguish? How it burns!
What hand the barb'd, envenom'd thought can draw?
What healing hand can pour the balm of peace,
And turn my sight undaunted on the tomb?
(ll. 152-165, p. 95 in CUP edition)",2013-06-06 15:19:22 UTC,"""Death's admonitions, like shafts upwards shot, / More dreadful by delay,--the longer ere / They strike our hearts, the deeper is their wound.""",2013-06-06 15:16:32 UTC,Night the Fourth,"",,"","",Reading,20434,7402
"Though Nature's terrors thus may be repress'd,
Still frowns grim Death; guilt points the tyrant's spear.
And whence all human guilt? From Death forgot.
Ah me! too long I set at nought the swarm
Of friendly warnings which around me flew;
And smiled unsmitten. Small my cause to smile!
Death's admonitions, like shafts upwards shot,
More dreadful by delay,--the longer ere
They strike our hearts, the deeper is their wound.
O think how deep, Lorenzo! here it stings:
Who can appease its anguish? How it burns!
What hand the barb'd, envenom'd thought can draw?
What healing hand can pour the balm of peace,
And turn my sight undaunted on the tomb?
(ll. 152-165, p. 95 in CUP edition)",2013-06-06 15:19:08 UTC,"""O think how deep, Lorenzo! here it stings: / Who can appease its anguish? How it burns! / What hand the barb'd, envenom'd thought can draw?""",2013-06-06 15:18:50 UTC,Night the Fourth,"",,"","NOT Necessarily an Animal metaphor? — Like a barbed, poisoned arrow?",Reading,20435,7402
"Fond as we are, and justly fond, of Faith,
Reason, we grant, demands our first regard;
The mother honour'd, as the daughter dear.
Reason the root, fair Faith is but the flower:
The fading flower shall die, but Reason lives
Immortal as her Father in the skies.
When Faith is virtue, Reason makes it so.
Wrong not the Christian: think not Reason yours;
'Tis Reason our great Master holds so dear;
'Tis Reason's injured rights His wrath resents;
'Tis Reason's voice obey'd His glories crown:
To give lost Reason life, He pour'd His own.
Believe, and show the reason of a man;
Believe, and taste the pleasure of a God;
Believe, and look with triumph on the tomb.
Through Reason's wounds alone thy Faith can die;
Which, dying, tenfold terror gives to Death,
And dips in venom his twice-mortal sting.
(ll. 748-765, p. 110 in CUP edition)",2013-06-06 15:30:56 UTC,"""'Tis Reason our great Master holds so dear; / 'Tis Reason's injured rights His wrath resents; / 'Tis Reason's voice obey'd His glories crown.""",2013-06-06 15:30:56 UTC,Night the Fourth,"",,"","",Reading,20446,7402
"What awful joy! what mental liberty!
I am not pent in darkness: rather say,
(If not too bold,) in darkness I'm embower'd.
Delightful gloom! the clustering thoughts around
Spontaneous rise, and blossom in the shade;
But droop by day, and sicken in the sun.
Thought borrows light elsewhere; from that first fire,
Fountain of animation, whence descends
Urania, my celestial guest! who deigns
Nightly to visit me, so mean; and now,
Conscious how needful discipline to man,
From pleasing dalliance with the charms of Night,
My wandering thought recalls, to what excites
Far other beat of heart,--Narcissa's tomb!
(ll. 202-215, p. 122 in CUP edition)",2013-06-10 19:40:10 UTC,"""What awful joy! what mental liberty!""",2013-06-10 19:40:10 UTC,Night the Fifth,"",,"","",Reading,20482,7407
"What grave prescribes the best? A friend's; and yet
From a friend's grave how soon we disengage!
E'en to the dearest, as his marble, cold.
Why are friends ravish'd from us? 'Tis to bind,
By soft Affection's ties, on human hearts,
The thought of death, which Reason, too supine,
Or misemploy'd, so rarely fastens there.
Nor Reason, nor Affection, no, nor both
Combined, can break the witchcrafts of the world.
Behold the' inexorable hour at hand!
Behold the' inexorable hour forgot!
And to forget it the chief aim of life,
Though well to ponder it is life's chief end.
(ll. 371-383, p. 126 in CUP edition)",2013-06-10 20:05:43 UTC,"""Why are friends ravish'd from us? 'Tis to bind, / By soft Affection's ties, on human hearts, / The thought of death, which Reason, too supine, / Or misemploy'd, so rarely fastens there.""",2013-06-10 20:05:43 UTC,Night the Fifth,"",,Inhabitants,"",Reading,20495,7407
"Such, Britons! is the cause, to you unknown,
Or worse, o'erlook'd; o'erlook'd by magistrates,
Thus criminals themselves. I grant the deed
Is madness; but the madness of the heart.
And what is that? Our utmost bound of guilt.
A sensual, unreflecting life is big
With monstrous births, and Suicide, to crown
The black infernal brood. The bold to break
Heaven's law supreme, and desperately rush
Through sacred Nature's murder on their own,
Because they never think of death, they die.
'Tis equally man's duty, glory, gain,
At once to shun and meditate his end.
When by the bed of languishment we sit,
(The seat of wisdom! if our choice, not fate,)
Or o'er our dying friends in anguish hang,
Wipe the cold dew, or stay the sinking head,
Number their moments, and in every clock
Start at the voice of an eternity;
See the dim lamp of life just feebly lift
An agonizing beam, at us to gaze,
Then sink again, and quiver into death,
That most pathetic herald of our own:---
How read we such sad scenes? as sent to man
In perfect vengeance? No; in pity sent,
To melt him down, like wax, and then impress,
Indelible, Death's image on his heart;
Bleeding for others, trembling for himself.
We bleed, we tremble; we forget, we smile:
The mind turns fool before the cheek is dry.
Our quick-returning folly cancels all;
As the tide rushing rases what is writ
In yielding sands, and smooths the letter'd shore.
(ll. 483-515, pp. 129-130 in CUP edition)",2013-06-10 20:10:44 UTC,"""No; in pity sent, / To melt him down, like wax, and then impress, / Indelible, Death's image on his heart; / Bleeding for others, trembling for himself.""",2013-06-10 20:10:44 UTC,Night the Fifth,"",,Impressions,"",Reading,20498,7407
"Some weep in earnest, and yet weep in vain;
As deep in indiscretion as in woe.
Passion, blind Passion, impotently pours
Tears that deserve more tears, while Reason sleeps,
Or gazes, like an idiot, unconcern'd,
Nor comprehends the meaning of the storm;
Knows not it speaks to her, and her alone.
Irrationals all sorrow are beneath,
That noble gift, that privilege of man!
From Sorrow's pang, the birth of endless joy.
But these are barren of that birth Divine:
They weep impetuous as the summer storm,
And full as short! The cruel grief soon tamed,
They make a pastime of the stingless tale;
Far as the deep-resounding knell, they spread
The dreadful news, and hardly feel it more:
No grain of wisdom pays them for their woe.
(ll. 551-567, p. 131 in CUP edition)",2013-06-10 20:40:44 UTC,"""Passion, blind Passion, impotently pours / Tears that deserve more tears, while Reason sleeps, / Or gazes, like an idiot, unconcern'd, / Nor comprehends the meaning of the storm.""",2013-06-10 20:40:44 UTC,Night the Fifth,"",,Inhabitants,"",Reading,20502,7407
"Tell me, some god! my guardian angel, tell,
What thus infatuates? what enchantment plants
The phantom of an age 'twixt us and Death
Already at the door? He knocks; we hear him,
And yet we will not hear. What mail defends
Our untouch'd hearts? What miracle turns off
The pointed thought, which from a thousand quivers
Is daily darted, and is daily shunn'd?
We stand, as in a battle, throngs on throngs
Around us falling; wounded oft ourselves;
Though bleeding with our wounds, immortal still!
We see Time's furrows on another's brow,
And Death, intrench'd, preparing his assault:
How few themselves in that just mirror see!
Or, seeing, draw their inference as strong!
There Death is certain; doubtful here: he must,
And soon--we may, within an age--expire.
Though grey our heads, our thoughts and aims are green;
Like damaged clocks, whose hand and bell dissent;
Folly sings six, while Nature points at twelve.
(ll. 616-635, pp. 132-3 in CUP edition)",2014-08-18 19:49:43 UTC,"""Though grey our heads, our thoughts and aims are green; / Like damaged clocks, whose hand and bell dissent; / Folly sings six, while Nature points at twelve.""",2013-06-10 20:42:13 UTC,Night the Fifth,"",,"",FIXED: This duplicates (under correct WORK) a previous entry. (was work entry 4726),"Reading; found again searching HDIS (Drama). Lines cited by Samuel Jackson Pratt in the Front Matter of Fire and Frost.
",20503,7407
"But you are learn'd; in volumes deep you sit,
In wisdom shallow. Pompous ignorance!
Would you be still more learned than the learn'd?
Learn well to know how much need not be known,
And what that knowledge which impairs your sense.
Our needful knowledge, like our needful food,
Unhedged, lies open in life's common field,
And bids all welcome to the vital feast.
You scorn what lies before you in the page
Of Nature and Experience,--moral truth,
Of indispensable, eternal fruit;
Fruit on which mortals, feeding, turn to gods,--
And dive in science for distinguish'd names,
Dishonest fomentation of your pride,
Sinking in virtue as you rise in fame.
Your learning, like the lunar beam, affords
Light, but not heat; it leaves you undevout,
Frozen at heart, while speculation shines.
Awake, ye curious indagators, fond
Of knowing all, but what avails you known.
If you would learn Death's character, attend.
All casts of conduct, all degrees of health,
All dies of fortune, and all dates of age,
Together shook in his impartial urn,
Come forth at random; or, if choice is made,
The choice is quite sarcastic, and insults
All bold conjecture and fond hopes of man.
What countless multitudes not only leave
But deeply disappoint us by their deaths!
Though great our sorrow, greater our surprise.
(ll. 735-764, pp. 135-6 in CUP edition)",2013-06-10 20:45:28 UTC,"""Your learning, like the lunar beam, affords / Light, but not heat; it leaves you undevout, / Frozen at heart, while speculation shines.""",2013-06-10 20:45:28 UTC,Night the Fifth,"",,"","",Reading,20506,7407