work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
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,""
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