updated_at,id,text,theme,metaphor,work_id,reviewed_on,provenance,created_at,comments,context,dictionary
2012-01-12 19:11:51 UTC,11568," What cannot active government perform,
New-moulding man? Wide-stretching from these shores,
A people savage from remotest time,
A huge neglected empire, one vast mind,
By Heaven inspired, from gothic darkness call'd.
Immortal Peter! first of monarchs! he
His stubborn country tamed, her rocks, her fens,
Her floods, her seas, her ill-submitting sons;
And while the fierce barbarian he subdued,
To more exalted soul he raised the man.
Ye shades of ancient heroes, ye who toil'd
Through long successive ages to build up
A labouring plan of state, behold at once
The wonder done! behold the matchless prince!
Who left his native throne, where reign'd till then
A mighty shadow of unreal power;
Who greatly spurn'd the slothful pomp of courts;
And roaming every land, in every port
His sceptre laid aside, with glorious hand
Unwearied plying the mechanic tool,
Gather'd the seeds of trade, of useful arts,
Of civil wisdom, and of martial skill.
Charged with the stores of Europe home he goes!
Then cities rise amid the illumined waste;
O'er joyless deserts smiles the rural reign;
Far distant flood to flood is social join'd;
The astonish'd Euxine hears the Baltic roar;
Proud navies ride on seas that never foam'd
With daring keel before; and armies stretch
Each way their dazzling files, repressing here
The frantic Alexander of the north,
And awing there stern Othman's shrinking sons.
Sloth flies the land, and Ignorance, and Vice,
Of old dishonour proud: it glows around,
Taught by the Royal Hand that roused the whole,
One scene of arts, of arms, of rising trade:
For what his wisdom plann'd, and power enforced,
More potent still, his great example show'd.","","""Wide-stretching from these shores, / A people savage from remotest time, / A huge neglected empire, one vast mind, / By Heaven inspired, from gothic darkness call'd.""",4387,2012-01-12,"Searching ""mind"" and ""empire"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2004-08-11 00:00:00 UTC,"","",Empire
2014-08-29 17:20:00 UTC,11581,"O Thou, whose wisdom, solid yet refined,
Whose patriot-virtues, and consummate skill
To touch the finer springs that move the world,
Join'd to whate'er the Graces can bestow,
And all Apollo's animating fire,
Give thee, with pleasing dignity, to shine
At once the guardian, ornament, and joy,
Of polish'd life; permit the Rural Muse,
O Chesterfield, to grace with thee her song!
Ere to the shades again she humbly flies,
Indulge her fond ambition, in thy train,
(For every Muse has in thy train a place)
To mark thy various full-accomplish'd mind:
To mark that spirit, which, with British scorn,
Rejects the allurements of corrupted power;
That elegant politeness, which excels,
E'en in the judgment of presumptuous France,
The boasted manners of her shining court;
That wit, the vivid energy of sense,
The truth of Nature, which with Attic point
And kind well temper'd satire, smoothly keen,
Steals through the soul, and without pain corrects.
Or rising thence with yet a brighter flame,
O let me hail thee on some glorious day,
When to the listening senate, ardent, crowd
Britannia's sons to hear her pleaded cause.
Then dress'd by thee, more amiably fair,
Truth the soft robe of mild persuasion wears:
Thou to assenting reason givest again
Her own enlighten'd thoughts; call'd from the heart,
The obedient passions on thy voice attend;
And e'en reluctant party feels a while
Thy gracious power: as through the varied maze
Of eloquence, now smooth, now quick, now strong,
Profound and clear, you roll the copious flood.
(ll. 656-90)","","""That with the vivid energy of sense, / The truth of Nature, which with Attic point / And kind well temper'd satire, smoothly keen, / Steals through the soul, and without pain corrects.""",4387,,Looking up words in the OED; found again reading; confirmed in ECCO in a 1744 printing.,2005-09-29 00:00:00 UTC,"Works (1830) in C-H has ""That with the vivid energy of sense..."" !? (Not in Sambrook: corrected and checked against 1744 and 1746.","",""
2013-06-20 20:10:58 UTC,21066,"Thus pass the temperate Hours; but when the Sun
Shades from his Noon-day Throne the scattering clouds,
Even shooting listless Langour through the Deeps;
Then seek the bank where flowering Elders croud,
Where scatter'd wild the Lily of the Vale
Its balmy Essence breathes, where Cowslips hang
The dewy Head, where purple Violets lurk,
With all the lowly Children of the Shade:
Or lie reclin'd beneath yon spreading Ash,
Hung o'er the Steep; whence, borne on liquid Wing,
The sounding Culver shoots; or where the Hawk,
High, in the beetling Cliff, his Airy builds.
There let the classic Page thy fancy lead
Thro rural Scenes; such as the Mantuan Swain
Paints in the matchless Harmony of Song.
Or catch thyself the Landskip, gliding swift
Athwart Imagination's vivid Eye:
Or by the vocal Woods and Waters lull'd,
And lost in lonely Musing, in the Dream,
Confus'd, of careless Solitude, where mix
Ten thousand wandering Images of Things;
Soothe every Gust of Passion into Peace;
All but the Swellings of the soften'd Heart,
That waken, not disturb, the tranquil Mind.
(p. 22, ll. 441-464)","","""There let the classic Page thy fancy lead / Thro rural Scenes; such as the Mantuan Swain / Paints in the matchless Harmony of Song. / Or catch thyself the Landskip, gliding swift / Athwart Imagination's vivid Eye.""",7480,,Reading,2013-06-20 20:10:58 UTC,"","",Eye
2013-06-20 20:12:12 UTC,21067,"Thus pass the temperate Hours; but when the Sun
Shades from his Noon-day Throne the scattering clouds,
Even shooting listless Langour through the Deeps;
Then seek the bank where flowering Elders croud,
Where scatter'd wild the Lily of the Vale
Its balmy Essence breathes, where Cowslips hang
The dewy Head, where purple Violets lurk,
With all the lowly Children of the Shade:
Or lie reclin'd beneath yon spreading Ash,
Hung o'er the Steep; whence, borne on liquid Wing,
The sounding Culver shoots; or where the Hawk,
High, in the beetling Cliff, his Airy builds.
There let the classic Page thy fancy lead
Thro rural Scenes; such as the Mantuan Swain
Paints in the matchless Harmony of Song.
Or catch thyself the Landskip, gliding swift
Athwart Imagination's vivid Eye:
Or by the vocal Woods and Waters lull'd,
And lost in lonely Musing, in the Dream,
Confus'd, of careless Solitude, where mix
Ten thousand wandering Images of Things;
Soothe every Gust of Passion into Peace;
All but the Swellings of the soften'd Heart,
That waken, not disturb, the tranquil Mind.
(p. 22, ll. 441-464)","","""Or by the vocal Woods and Waters lull'd, / And lost in lonely Musing, in the Dream, / Confus'd, of careless Solitude, where mix / Ten thousand wandering Images of Things; / Soothe every Gust of Passion into Peace; / All but the Swellings of the soften'd Heart, / That waken, not disturb, the tranquil Mind.""",7480,,Reading,2013-06-20 20:12:12 UTC,"","",""
2013-06-20 20:13:26 UTC,21068,"Yet, though successless, will the Toil delight.
Come then, ye Virgins and ye Youths, whose Hearts
Have felt the Raptures of refining Love;
And thou, AMANDA, come, Pride of my Song!
Form'd by the Graces, Loveliness itself!
Come with those downcast Eyes, sedate and sweet,
Those Looks demure, that deeply pierce the Soul;
Where, with the Light of thoughtful Reason mix'd,
Shines lively Fancy and the feeling Heart:
Oh come! and while the rosy-footed May
Steals blushing on, together let us tread
The Morning-Dews, and gather in their Prime
Fresh-blooming Flowers, to grace thy braided Hair,
And thy lov'd Bosom that improves their sweets.
(ll. 477-90)","","""Come with those downcast Eyes, sedate and sweet, / Those Looks demure, that deeply pierce the Soul; / Where, with the Light of thoughtful Reason mix'd, / Shines lively Fancy and the feeling Heart.""",7480,,Reading,2013-06-20 20:13:06 UTC,"","",""
2013-06-20 20:14:49 UTC,21069,"These are the sacred feelings of thy heart,
Thy heart inform'd by reason's purer ray,
O Lyttelton, the friend! thy passions thus
And meditations vary, as at large,
Courting the Muse, through Hagley Park thou stray'st;
The British Tempé! there along the dale,
With woods o'erhung, and shagg'd with mossy rocks,
Whence on each hand the gushing waters play,
And down the rough cascade white-dashing fall,
Or gleam in lengthened vista through the trees,
You silent steal; or sit beneath the shade
Of solemn oaks, that tuft the swelling mounts
Thrown graceful round by Nature's careless hand,
And pensive listen to the various voice
Of rural peace: the herds, the flocks, the birds,
The hollow-whispering breeze, the plaint of rills,
That, purling down amid the twisted roots
Which creep around, their dewy murmurs shake
On the soothed ear. From these abstracted oft,
You wander through the philosophic world;
Where in bright train continual wonders rise,
Or to the curious or the pious eye.
And oft, conducted by historic truth,
You tread the long extent of backward time:
Planning, with warm benevolence of mind,
And honest zeal unwarp'd by party-rage,
Britannia's weal; how from the venal gulf
To raise her virtue, and her arts revive.
Or, turning thence thy view, these graver thougths
The Muses charm: while, with sure taste refined,
You draw the inspiring breath of ancient song;
Till nobly rises, emulous, thy own.
Perhaps thy loved Lucinda shares thy walk,
With soul to thine attuned. Then Nature all
Wears to the lover's eye a look of love;
And all the tumult of a guilty world,
Tost by ungenerous passions, sinks away.
The tender heart is animated peace;
And as it pours its copious treasures forth,
In varied converse, softening every theme,
You, frequent-pausing, turn, and from her eyes,
Where meeken'd sense, and amiable grace,
And lively sweetness dwell, enraptured, drink
That nameless spirit of ethereal joy,
Unutterable happiness! which love,
Alone, bestows, and on a favour'd few.
Meantime you gain the height, from whose fair brow
The bursting prospect spreads immense around:
And snatch'd o'er hill and dale, and wood and lawn,
And verdant field, and darkening heath between,
And villages embosom'd soft in trees,
And spiry towns by surging columns mark'd
Of household smoke, your eye excursive roams:
Wide-stretching from the hall, in whose kind haunt
The Hospitable Genius lingers still,
To where the broken landscape, by degrees,
Ascending, roughens into rigid hills;
O'er which the Cambrian mountains, like far clouds
That skirt the blue horizon, dusky rise.
(pp. 39-41, ll. 900-58)","","""These are the sacred feelings of thy heart, / Thy heart inform'd by reason's purer ray, / O Lyttelton, the friend!""",7480,,Reading,2013-06-20 20:14:11 UTC,"","",""
2013-07-07 15:33:01 UTC,21470,"'Tis raging noon; and, vertical, the sun
Darts on the head direct his forceful rays.
O'er heaven and earth, far as the ranging eye
Can sweep, a dazzling deluge reigns; and all
From pole to pole is undistinguish'd blaze.
In vain the sight, dejected, to the ground
Stoops for relief; thence hot-ascending steams
And keen reflection pain. Deep to the root
Of vegetation parch'd, the cleaving fields
And slippery lawn an arid hue disclose,
Blast Fancy's bloom, and wither e'en the soul.
Echo no more returns the cheerful sound
Of sharpening scythe: the mower sinking heaps
O'er him the humid hay, with flowers perfumed;
And scarce a chirping grasshopper is heard
Through the dumb mead. Distressful Nature pants.
The very streams look languid from afar;
Or, through the unshelter'd glade, impatient, seem
To hurl into the covert of the grove.
(p. 49 in Sambrook ed.)","","""Deep to the root / Of vegetation parch'd, the cleaving fields / And slippery lawn an arid hue disclose, / Blast Fancy's bloom, and wither e'en the soul.""",7504,,Reading; text from C-H Lion,2013-07-07 15:33:01 UTC,"Similar text in 1744. Earlier editions read ""Burnt to the Heart / Are the refreshless Fields; their arid Hue / Adds a new Fever to the sickening Soul""","",""
2013-07-07 16:21:04 UTC,21475,"Now, while I taste the Sweetness of the Shade,
While Nature lies around deep-lull'd in Noon,
Now come, bold Fancy, spread a daring Flight,
And view the Wonders of the torrid Zone:
Climes unrelenting! with whose Rage compared,
Yon Blaze is feeble, and yon Skies are cool.
(p. 54 in Sambrook)","","""Now, while I taste the Sweetness of the Shade, / While Nature lies around deep-lull'd in Noon, / Now come, bold Fancy, spread a daring Flight, / And view the Wonders of the torrid Zone.""",7504,,Reading,2013-07-07 16:20:42 UTC,First appears in 1744. Corrected text to match 1746. Passage follows description of an eagle's flight.,"",Animals
2013-07-07 16:53:27 UTC,21478,"Close in the covert of a hazel copse,
Where, winded into pleasing solitudes,
Runs out the rambling dale, young Damon sat,
Pensive, and pierced with love's delightful pangs.
There to the stream that down the distant rocks
Hoarse-murmuring fell, and plaintive breeze that play'd
Among the bending willows, falsely he
Of Musidora's cruelty complain'd.
She felt his flame; but deep within her breast
In bashful coyness, or in maiden pride,
The soft return conceal'd; save when it stole
In sidelong glances from her downcast eye,
Or from her swelling soul in stifled sighs.
Touch'd by the scene, no stranger to his vows,
He framed a melting lay, to try her heart;
And, if an infant passion struggled there,
To call that passion forth. Thrice happy swain!
A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate
Of mighty monarchs, then decided thine.
For lo! conducted by the laughing Loves,
This cool retreat his Musidora sought:
Warm in her cheek the sultry season glow'd;
And, robed in loose array, she came to bathe
Her fervent limbs in the refreshing stream.
What shall he do? In sweet confusion lost,
And dubious flutterings, he a while remain'd:
A pure ingenuous elegance of soul,
A delicate refinement, known to few,
Perplex'd his breast, and urged him to retire [...]
(pp. 72 in Sambrook ed., p. 104 in original)","","""He framed a melting lay, to try her heart; /
And, if an infant passion struggled there, / To call that passion forth.""",7504,,Reading; text from C-H Lion,2013-07-07 16:53:27 UTC,Passage first appears in 1730 but is shorter. This metaphor doesn't appear.,"",Inhabitants
2013-07-07 17:36:15 UTC,21479,"The sun has lost his rage: his downward orb
Shoots nothing now but animating warmth
And vital lustre; that with various ray
Lights up the clouds, those beauteous robes of Heaven,
Incessant roll'd into romantic shapes,
The dream of waking fancy! broad below,
Cover'd with ripening fruits, and swelling fast
Into the perfect year, the pregnant earth
And all her tribes rejoice. Now the soft hour
Of walking comes: for him who lonely loves
To seek the distant hills, and there converse
With Nature; there to harmonize his heart,
And in pathetic song to breathe around
The harmony to others. Social friends,
Attuned to happy unison of soul;
To whose exalting eye a fairer world,
Of which the vulgar never had a glimpse,
Displays its charms; whose minds are richly fraught
With philosophic stores, superior light;
And in whose breast, enthusiastic, burns
Virtue, the sons of interest deem romance;
Now call'd abroad enjoy the falling day:
Now to the verdant Portico of woods,
To Nature's vast Lyceum forth they walk;
By that kind School where no proud master reigns,
The full free converse of the friendly heart,
Improving and improved. Now from the world,
Sacred to sweet retirement, lovers steal,
And pour their souls in transport, which the Sire
Of love approving hears, and calls it good.
Which way, Amanda, shall we bend our course?
The choice perplexes. Wherefore should we choose?
All is the same with thee. Say, shall we wind
Along the streams? or walk the smiling mead?
Or court the forest glades? or wander wild
Among the waving harvests? or ascend,
While radiant Summer opens all its pride,
Thy hill, delightful Shene? Here let us sweep
The boundless landscape: now the raptured eye,
Exulting swift, to huge Augusta send,
Now to the Sister-Hills that skirt her plain,
To lofty Harrow now, and now to where
Majestic Windsor lifts his princely brow.
In lovely constrast to this glorious view
Calmly magnificent, then will we turn
To where the silver Thames first rural grows.
There let the feasted eye unwearied stray:
Luxurious, there, rove through the pendent woods
That nodding hang o'er Harrington's retreat;
And, stooping thence to Ham's embowering walks,
Beneath whose shades, in spotless peace retired,
With Her the pleasing partner of his heart,
The worthy Queensberry yet laments his Gay,
And polish'd Cornbury woos the willing Muse,
Slow let us trace the matchless vale of Thames;
Fair winding up to where the Muses haunt
In Twit'nam's bowers, and for their Pope implore
The healing God; to royal Hampton's pile,
To Clermont's terraced height, and Esher's groves,
Where in the sweetest solitude, embraced
By the soft windings of the silent Mole,
From courts and senates Pelham finds repose. [...]
(pp. 74-6 in Sambrook edition, pp. 108-110 in original) ","","""Social friends, / Attuned to happy unison of soul; / To whose exalting eye a fairer world, / Of which the vulgar never had a glimpse, / Displays its charms; whose minds are richly fraught / With philosophic stores, superior light; / And in whose breast, enthusiastic, burns / Virtue, the sons of interest deem romance; / Now call'd abroad enjoy the falling day.""",7504,,Reading; text from C-H Lion,2013-07-07 17:36:15 UTC,"","",""