updated_at,reviewed_on,context,comments,theme,id,text,provenance,created_at,work_id,metaphor,dictionary
2011-05-27 14:12:38 UTC,2011-06-26,"","","",15264,"Shorn of her beams and fetter'd by her thought,
The fallen nymph the caves of Sadness sought;
Pre-damn'd in sentiment, to Anguish given,
She hid her visage from offended Heaven:
The sisterhood of Peace, who once she led,
Mov'd as she mov'd, and, as she follow'd, fled!",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2006-01-18 00:00:00 UTC,5724,"""Shorn of her beams and fetter'd by her thought, / The fallen nymph the caves of Sadness sought.""",Fetters
2011-07-20 16:41:57 UTC,,"","","",18937,"Miss GEORGE.
See George in the sweet paths of Melody tread,
By dull, frigid Insensibility led:
Tho' careless to please, her meek essays delight,
For she charms the rude throng, e'en in Dullness' despite.--
Had her gentle strains join'd the Syrens' fell band,
Ulysses had row'd to their dangerous land;
His Prudence had fled, and, his Wisdom had slept,
And Juno had rav'd, and Minerva had wept:
Then his name had not shone in the immortal story,
And Ithaca's matron had sigh'd for his glory.
Its anodyne powers the sick'ning make cheery,
And tears off the chain from the mind of the weary;
By her soft, blissful sonnets, all bosoms inspiring,
Even Spleen grows diseas'd--and, Despair lies expiring.
As the lark chaunts at sun-rise his diurnal pray'r,
All her loud liquid notes charge the babbling air;
The sounds were not sweeter when Thebes' famous wall
Obey'd the soft magic of Harmony's call;
For spells may be said to exist in that tone,
Whose graces can conquer all hearts--but her own.
Cecilia thus warbled the heaven-fraught line,
For her song was ador'd ere the nymph was divine.","Searching ""mind"" and ""chains"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2011-07-20 16:41:57 UTC,5658,"""Its anodyne powers [Miss George's singing] the sick'ning make cheery, / And tears off the chain from the mind of the weary.""",Fetters
2011-07-20 17:21:30 UTC,,"","","",18939,"Can arbitrary influence e'er controul
The in-born bias of Man's soaring Soul?
Can Mammon's votaries vainly hope to bind,
In shining shackles, his immortal Mind?
Put on some tinkling bells, and tinsel chains,
And hope he'll trudge with joy, 'mid griefs and pains?
Hope, tho' degraded to Man's meanest shape,
'Mid scoff and ridicule he'll act the ape?
That prison'd Minds will cease to pine, and mope,
'Tis Fools' absurd philosophism to hope.
Not bulls from Popes, or warrants back'd by Kings,
The Martyr's burning piles, or Miscreants' strings,
Can faithful Souls by fear, or force, subdue,
Who know their crimes are cross'd, and Heav'n is true--
For tho' imperious Popes, or Kings, may kill,
No earthly pow'r can bind the free-born Will:
'Tis like the thwarting elements at strife,
Or adverse interests torturing Man and Wife--
'Tis oil with water join'd, or fire with phlegm,
What Dolt would ever dream of mixing them?
Sooner might foolish Coachman hope to force,
The kind esteem of beaten, batter'd, horse--
Or pert Postilion, mad with megrims, think,
By whips and wales to make the creature drink:
I may by dint of discipline, compel
The fear-struck animal to travel well,
But never can by any force, or fright,
Produce pure love, or prompt an appetite.","Searching ""mind"" and ""chain"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2011-07-20 17:21:30 UTC,7024,"""Can Mammon's votaries vainly hope to bind, / In shining shackles, his immortal Mind?""",Fetters
2014-07-14 21:55:24 UTC,,"","","",24176,"In every cry of every Man.
In every Infants cry of fear.
In every voice; in every ban.
The mind-forg'd manacles I hear
How the Chimney-sweepers cry
Every blacknng Church appalls.
And the hapless Soldiers sigh
Runs in blood down Palace walls
",Reading,2014-07-14 21:55:10 UTC,7969,"""In every cry of every Man / In every Infants cry of fear / In every voice; in every ban / The mind-forg'd manacles I hear.""",Fetters