text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"What should we fear? This glorious Prospect brings
No dreadful Phantom to the frighted Eye,
No Terror to the Soul; 'tis Transport all!
Here Fancy roves, in sweet Variety
For ever lost; her native Bliss. For her,
The blue ethereal Arch expands; her Table
Spread out with all the Dainties of the Sky,
Imagination's rich Regale. For her
The Clouds absorb the Ev'ning Ray; and drink
The liquid Gold, which stains their fleecy Sides
With all the Tincts of Heav'n, transmitted through
A thousand diff'rent Strainers to the Eye,
And thence upon the ravish'd Soul diffus'd.
The blushing Beauties of the infant Morn,
Aurora's Saffron Beam; the splendid Bow,
Whose copious Arch was bent by Hands divine,
An Emblem form'd of half Eternity,
By Angels robe'd in all the Aggregate,
Th' unblended Aggregate, of various Day,
Of Heav'n's own Day; and from its Sun-beams drawn,
In all its Tinges dipt, its Glories dress'd.
For her, the smiling Earth puts on her Mantle;
Her Mantle green, with purple mix'd, with Gold,
With all the Liv'ries of the youthful Spring,
To wake new Raptures in the Heart of Man;
And fill his Soul with Gratitude immense.
All these are Reason's Treasures, Stores of Thought;
Reflection's unexhausted Funds, replete
With Matter for her own delightful Task.
Here Wisdom works at large; here smiling builds,
For sweet Content, a homely Shed; where Joy,
Where Gladness, visit oft her temp'rate Guests,
And make their willing Stay: here, undisturb'd,
They reign, they revel, take their Fill of all
That Nature (ever bounteous Mother) yields,
For Use or Pleasure: but Excess avoid;
That Fiend accurs'd, whose bloated Visage wan,
And troubled Eye, betray her inward Pang,
Which shakes severe her paralytic Nerve,
Her tott'ring Frame; e'er Death, by Nature taught,
And Time, in Season due, with gentle Hand
Can cut the wasted Thread: Excess usurps
With Force th' abortive Task, and vindicates
Her Prey--Come all, ye Family of Joy;
Ye Children of the chearful Hour, begot
By Wisdom on the virtuous Mind; O, come!
Come Innocence, in conscious Strength secure;
Come Courage, foremost in the manly Train;
Come all; and in the honest Heart abide,
Your native Residence, your Fortress still,
From real or from fancy'd Evils free:
O, come; indignant, drive out, far beyond
The utmost Precincts of the human Breast,
Beyond the Springs of Hope, the Cells of Joy,
And ev'ry Mansion where a Virtue lives;
O drive far off, for ever drive that Bane,
That hideous Pest, engender'd deep in Hell,
Where Stygian Glooms condens'd dimension'd Darkness,
Contains, within its dire Embrace, that Monster
Horrid to Sight, and by the frighted Furies
In their dread Pannic Superstition nam'd!",2013-06-11 18:27:47 UTC,"""All these are Reason's Treasures, Stores of Thought; / Reflection's unexhausted Funds, replete / With Matter for her own delightful Task.""",2005-08-29 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Coinage,•Cross-reference: A response to Night Thoughts!,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),13300,4939
"The merchant venturous in his search of gain,
Who ploughs the winter of the boist'rous main,
From various climes collects a various store,
And lands the treasure on his native shore.
Our merchant yet imports no golden prize,
What wretches covet, and what you despise!
A different store his richer freight imparts--
The gem of virtue, and the gold of hearts;
The social sense, the feelings of mankind,
And the large treasure of a godlike mind!",2013-06-11 18:52:38 UTC,"""A different store his richer freight imparts-- / The gem of virtue, and the gold of hearts; / The social sense, the feelings of mankind, / And the large treasure of a godlike mind!""",2005-05-27 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Coinage and Metal,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),15447,5791
"I Have read in some of Mr. Milton's Writings a very beautiful Simile, whereby he represents the Books of the Fathers, as they are called in the Christian Church. Whatsoever, saith he, old Time with his huge Drag-Net, has convey'd down to us along the Stream of Ages, whether it be Shells or Shell-Fish, Jewels or Pebbles, Sticks or Straws, Sea-Weeds or Mud, these are the Ancients, these are the Fathers. The Case is much the same with the memorial Possessions of the greatest Part of Mankind. A few useful Things perhaps, mixed and confounded with many Trifles and all manner of Rubbish fill up their Memories, and compose their intellectual Possessions. 'Tis a great Happiness therefore to distinguish things aright, and to lay up nothing in the Memory but what has some just Value in it, and is worthy to be number'd as a Part of our Treasure.
(p. 252)",2014-02-05 22:16:55 UTC,"""A few useful Things perhaps, mixed and confounded with many Trifles and all manner of Rubbish fill up their Memories, and compose their intellectual Possessions. 'Tis a great Happiness therefore to distinguish things aright, and to lay up nothing in the Memory but what has some just Value in it, and is worthy to be number'd as a Part of our Treasure.""",2014-02-05 22:16:55 UTC,"","",,Coinage,"",Searching and Reading in Google Books,23377,4702