id,comments,provenance,dictionary,created_at,reviewed_on,work_id,theme,context,updated_at,metaphor,text
9825,"•Note explains, ""'Twas the custom among the Goths to chuse a little man for their Prince.""
•I've included four times: Atom, Mould, Tenant, House",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),Inhabitant,2005-08-29 00:00:00 UTC,,3816,"","",2009-09-14 19:34:30 UTC,"Tho' a World of dull Bullion your essence do's hold, / Scarce an Atom of Soul was cast into the Mould, / Room enough, and to spare lavish Nature allows, / But provides not a Tenant to suit with the House","Herring.
Tho' a World of dull Bullion your essence do's hold,
Scarce an Atom of Soul was cast into the Mould,
Room enough, and to spare lavish Nature allows,
But provides not a Tenant to suit with the House:
As for me, tho' she veils me with Flesh, and with Skin,
Yet my Form's little else but pure Spirit within:
And in vain you your Bulk for your Monarchy bring,
[1]For if the Ocean were Goth-land who but I should be King"
10109,"","Searching ""thought"" and ""crowd"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Inhabitants,2006-03-07 00:00:00 UTC,2012-01-11,3901,"","",2012-01-12 03:45:05 UTC,"""Not far remov'd before, but a new Fear, / And crowding anxious Thoughts surpriz'd 'em here.""","With him agen, Sweet Muse, to Earth return,
Where his sad Death his Friends, mistaken, mourn;
His Death who cannot die, or if before,
He his Clay-house forsook, can die no more:
His Body now Spiritual and refin'd,
A fit Companion for so pure a Mind;
Active and agile, prest and ready 't stands,
As swift as Thought t'obey the Soul's commands;
Like that it moves, and in a moment flies,
From East to West, from Earth to Paradise.
This knew not they, who yet lamenting were,
And lost in stupid Sorrow and Despair;
Forgot the Promise of his sure return,
And, without either Faith or Hope they mourn;
Sad was the Feast to them, no cheerful Ray
It wore, as sad the Night that clos'd the Day:
With kinder Omens the third Morn appears,
The happy Morning doom'd to dry their Tears.
""Kind Phosphor bring the Day, why this Delay,
""Jesus is rising--Phosphor bring the Day!
Hast his dull Steeds, for if he longer stay,
Another Sun will rise, a Sun so bright,
The World no more will need his weaker Light.
Earlier than he fair Magdalena rose,
And to the Tomb with Spice and Ungeuents goes,
Him to embalm who no Corruption knew;
The same officious kindness thither drew
Her weeping Friends, who tho' their Fear was strong,
Their Love was more; sad Tales the Way prolong,
As cheerful shorten, tho' at last they come
To th' steep Ascent, the Garden and the Tomb,
Not far remov'd before, but a new Fear,
And crowding anxious Thoughts surpriz'd 'em here:
Not yet secure the doubtful Jews they heard,
As Guilt is still suspicious, plac'd a Guard
Around the Sepulchre, a Seal secur'd
The pond'rous Stone their mighty Foe immur'd;
Nor think yet safe or deep enough he lies,
For they too heard, he the third Day wou'd rise,
Whose pow'rful Word had others rais'd; nor yet,
Can they the wond'rous Lazarus forget,
Or Naim's twice-born Youth.--Their Fear not vain.
Nor longer Hades cou'd his Soul retain:
A Conqu'ror thence he rose, where late he fell,
And drags in Triumph after Death and Hell:
He did, he came--All Nature must obey
Its Sovereign Lord; he will'd the Stone away:
Tho' all around officious Angels stay'd,
For Pomp, not Service there, nor needs their Aid.
Jesus is risen, Triumphal Anthems sing:
Thus from dead Winter mounts the sprightly Spring;
Thus does the Sun from Night's black Shades return,
And thus the single Bird wings from th' Arabian Urn:
Jesus is risen; he'll the World restore,
Awake ye Dead! dull Sinners sleep no more!
In Pleasures soft Enchantments slumb'ring deep,
Or Sleep no more, or else for ever sleep!
But tho' himself he's gone, his tender care
Still left two bright Attendant Angels there;
Those early pious Pilgrims to console,
Who with mistaken Tears his Loss condole:
Their trembling Feet no sooner had they set
I'th' Garden Walks, but they new Wonders met;
The Earth too trembled where so late he lay,
And Nature's self-seem'd more affraid than they:
And lo! the beauteous bashful Clouds divide,
And rev'rently stand off on either side;
As at th' approach of Earthly Majesty,
A living Lane is made till all the Pomp go by:
And lo! a heavenly Youth does downward move,
The loveliest Form in all the Realms of Love;
From the Caves mouth he rolls the mighty Stone,
From whence before our conq'ring Lord was gone,
He rolls it, and triumphant sits thereon:
The Roman Guards, nor were they us'd to fear,
Their Stations held, till the bright Form was near;
Fain, impious! wou'd resistance make, and fain
They would have drawn their Swords, but strove in vain
Against th' unequal Foe, in vain they rear
Their useless Piles, suspended in the Air;
Their Hands, their Souls disarm'd they quickly found,
They fall, their Armour clanks against the Ground:
To the soft Sex more calmly did appear,
Dress'd in a milder and less warlike Air,
The heav'nly Youth--You have no need to fear:
We in your Cause engage with all our Pow'rs;
I know you seek your suffring Lord and ours;
Too late; alas! You seek him here, he said,
Him who for ever lives, among the Dead.
Dry your vain Tears, nor longer him deplore,
Your mighty Saviour lives to die no more!
'Tis the third Day, he promis'd then to rise,
Nor cou'd deceive--Look in and trust your Eyes!
See where he by your selves was laid, see there
The Linnen, and the empty Sepulchre:
Be you the first Apostles, quickly go,
And to th' Eleven the happy Tidings show."
10321,•REREAD. Interesting passage. Confuses interior and exterior.,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),Inhabitant,2005-08-16 00:00:00 UTC,,3978,"","",2009-09-14 19:34:53 UTC,"""Whate'er within this sacred Hall you find, / Whate'er will lodge in your capacious Mind ""","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,"Searching ""soul"" and ""cell"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""reason""",Rooms,2005-08-29 00:00:00 UTC,,3978,"","",2009-09-14 19:34:53 UTC,"""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.""","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."
10602,•I've included twice: Tuning and Inhabitants,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),"",2006-04-14 00:00:00 UTC,,4131,"","",2011-05-25 21:07:40 UTC,"""So fell Great Britains Orpheus in his Rage, / When Furies in his Breast began to howl, / And Cares that wait on Life's uncertain Stage, / Had quite untun'd his Soul.""","Tell how his nimble Fingers mov'd
Upon the yielding Keys,
Whilst Men and Angels equally approv'd,
His melting Strains, which could no less than please,
Those pious Souls who lov'd,
Such Musick that inspir'd the Mind with Peace,
But now no more shall we be blest,
With the soft Touches of that pow'rfull Hand,
Which senthi s Soul to rest;
Who did all Harmony Command,
That could beneath the Heavens be exprest,
To raise Devotion in his Native Land.
Yet jarring Discord made him court his Death,
And put a fatal stop to his harmonious Breath.
So the old Romans Wise and Brave,
By their Example taught,
'Twas easier to embrace the Grave,
Than bear the stabbing Force of anxious Thought.
The Disappointments of the Field,
Where Lawrels grow, with Blood manur'd.
Are worse than being kill'd,
To the undaunted Breast innur'd,
To the destructive Sword,
And the defensive Shield.
So the great Soul harmoniously compos'd,
Only made fit to entertain
Sweet Musick's Art by Heaven disclos'd,
To elevate the Thoughts of Men;
If once with Worldly Cares opprest,
It Labours to expire,
And Courts the trembling Hand to give it rest,
That when its unconfin'd
From Flesh and Blood to which 'tis join'd,
It then may mount in search of the Celestial Quire.
So fell Great Britains Orpheus in his Rage,
When Furies in his Breast began to howl,
And Cares that wait on Life's uncertain Stage,
Had quite untun'd his Soul;
Who hating Discord, could not bear
The Troubles of a tortur'd Mind,
Skill'd only in harmonious Air,
And quite avers'd to Care,
That oft afflicts the best of Humane Kind;
But when he found his strugling Breast
With insupportable Remorse opprest,
Such that could only have its Rise
From wanton Love or stubborn Vice,
He clapp'd Death's fatal Engine to his Head,
And hoping for eternal Rest.
Conquer'd those Vipers in his Conscience bred,
And with himself, shot all the stinging Fantoms dead."
10646,"",HDIS (Poetry),Empire,2004-07-27 00:00:00 UTC,,4141,"","",2013-06-26 17:16:56 UTC,"""The Senses stand around; the Spirits roam / To seize and bring the fleeting Objects home: / Thro' every Nerve and every Pore they pass.""","The Mind no nobler Wisdom can attain,
Than to inspect and study all the Man:
His awful Looks confess the Race Divine;
In him the Beauties of the Godhead shine:
With Majesty he fills great Reason's Throne,
The Subject World their rightful Monarch own:
His ranging Soul in narrow Bounds contains
All Nature's Works, o'er which in Peace he reigns;
His Head resembles Jove's Eternal Seat,
In which Inthron'd, he sways the Heav'nly State,
And with assembled Gods, consults of Fate:
The feather'd Envoys, all in shining Crowds;
Attend his Throne, and watch his awful Nods:
Catch his Commands, and thro' the Liquid Air
To the low World the Sacred Errand bear:
Just so the Head of Man contains within
The Intellect, with Rays and Light Divine:
The Senses stand around; the Spirits roam
To seize and bring the fleeting Objects home:
Thro' every Nerve and every Pore they pass,
And fill with chearful Light the gloomy Space;
The Heart, the Center of the manly Breast,
Just like the Sun, in lovely Purple drest,
Diffuses all the Liquid Crimson round,
Whence Life, and Vigour, Heat and Strength abound:
And as great Phoebus sometimes rages high,
And scorches with his Beams the sultry Sky:
So when the Heart with Rage, or flaming Ire,
Grows warm, or burns with Love's consuming Fire:
The catching Virals spread the Flames afar.
And all the Limbs the hot Contagion share,
As solid Shores contain the liquid Seas,
Just so the Stomach, a soft watry Mass,
Stagnates beneath and fills the lower Space:
Here, Winds, and Rains, and humid Vapours lie,
And these exhal'd with Heat, all upwards fly:
As mantling Clouds conceal the fickly Sun,
Dissolve in Dew and drive the Tempest down:
So when thick Humours from the Stomach rise,
They damp the Soul, and sprightly Faculties:
Then Night and Death their gloomy Shades display,
Till the bright Spark within, the heav'nly Ray,
Dispels the Darkness, and restores the Day.
"
10831,"","Reading. Found again reading Neil Saccamano's ""The Sublime Force of Words in Addison's 'Pleasures,'"" ELH 58:1 (1991): 83-106. p. 102.",Inhabitants,2006-06-01 00:00:00 UTC,2011-02-05,4175,"","",2013-05-02 15:03:29 UTC,"""When the Brain is hurt by Accident, or the mind disordered by Dreams or Sickness, the Fancy is over-run with wild dismal Ideas, and terrified with a thousand hideous Monsters of its own framing.""","We have now discovered the several Originals of those Pleasures that gratifie the Fancy; and here, perhaps, it would not be very difficult to cast upon proper Heads those contrary Objects, which are apt to fill it with Distaste and Terrour; for the Imagination is as liable to Pain as Pleasure. When the Brain is hurt by Accident, or the mind disordered by Dreams or Sickness, the Fancy is over-run with wild dismal Ideas, and terrified with a thousand hideous Monsters of its own framing.
(p. 416)"
20008,"","Searching ""mind"" in Project Gutenberg e-text.",Rooms,2013-03-22 17:04:35 UTC,,7354,"","",2013-03-22 17:04:35 UTC,"""They tell us, that every Passion which has been contracted by the Soul during her Residence in the Body, remains with her in a separate State; and that the Soul in the Body or out of the Body, differs no more than the Man does from himself when he is in his House, or in open Air.""","There is not, in my Opinion, a Consideration more effectual to extinguish inordinate Desires in the Soul of Man, than the Notions of Plato and his Followers upon that Subject. They tell us, that every Passion which has been contracted by the Soul during her Residence in the Body, remains with her in a separate State; and that the Soul in the Body or out of the Body, differs no more than the Man does from himself when he is in his House, or in open Air. When therefore the obscene Passions in particular have once taken Root and spread themselves in the Soul, they cleave to her inseparably, and remain in her for ever, after the Body is cast off and thrown aside. As an Argument to confirm this their Doctrine they observe, that a lewd Youth who goes on in a continued Course of Voluptuousness, advances by Degrees into a libidinous old Man; and that the Passion survives in the Mind when it is altogether dead in the Body; nay, that the Desire grows more violent, and (like all other Habits) gathers Strength by Age, at the same time that it has no Power of executing its own Purposes. If, say they, the Soul is the most subject to these Passions at a time when it has the least Instigations from the Body, we may well suppose she will still retain them when she is entirely divested of it. The very Substance of the Soul is festered with them, the Gangrene is gone too far to be ever cured; the Inflammation will rage to all Eternity.
(I, 380-1)"
20543,"INTEREST: a ""visionary"" battle, literalized in the brain.",Searching in Google Books,Impressions and Inhabitants,2013-06-12 13:48:22 UTC,,7410,"","Act III, Scene i",2013-06-12 13:48:41 UTC,"""See, see, he smiles amidst his Trance, / And shakes a visionary Lance, / His Brain is fill'd with loud Alarms, / Shouting Armies, clashing Arms, / The softer Prints of Love deface; / And Trumpets sound in ev'ry Trace.""","I Ang. See, see, he smiles amidst his Trance,
And shakes a visionary Lance,
His Brain is fill'd with loud Alarms,
Shouting Armies, clashing Arms,
The softer Prints of Love deface;
And Trumpets sound in ev'ry Trace.
Both. Glory Strives,
The Field is won,
Fame revives
And Love is Gone.