work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context 5192,"",ECCO-TCP,2013-08-18 17:51:58 UTC,"C. Ah! what, my Lord, hath private life to do
With things of public Nature? why to view
Would You thus cruelly those scenes unfold,
Which, without pain and horror to behold,
Must speak me something more, or less than man;
Which Friends may pardon, but I never can?
Look back! a Thought which borders on despair,
Which human Nature must, yet cannot bear.
'Tis not the babbling of a busy world,
Where Praise and Censure are at random hurl'd,
Which can the meanest of my thoughts controul,
Or shake one settled purpose of my Soul.
Free and at large might their wild curses roam,
If All, if All alas! were well at home.
No--'tis the tale which angry Conscience tells,
When She with more than tragic horror swells
Each circumstance of guilt; when stern, but true,
She brings bad actions forth into review;
And, like the dread hand-writing on the wall,
Bids late Remorse awake at Reason's call,
Arm'd at all points bids Scorpion Vengeance pass,
And to the mind holds up Reflexion's glass,
The mind, which starting, heaves the heart-felt groan,
And hates that form She knows to be her own.

(pp. 11-12)",,22381,"","""No--'tis the tale which angry Conscience tells, / When She with more than tragic horror swells / Each circumstance of guilt; when stern, but true, / She brings bad actions forth into review; / And, like the dread hand-writing on the wall, / Bids late Remorse awake at Reason's call, / Arm'd at all points bids Scorpion Vengeance pass, / And to the mind holds up Reflexion's glass, / The mind, which starting, heaves the heart-felt groan, / And hates that form She knows to be her own.""",Mirror,2013-08-22 16:53:21 UTC,""