text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"Sprite of Segowen
speaks.
Deceiving gold was once my only toy,
With it my soul within the coffer lay,
It did the mastery of my life employ,
By night my mistress, and my jub by day.
Once, as I dozing in the witch-hour lay,
Thinking how best to filch the orphan's bread,
And from the helpless take their goods away,
I from the skyën heard a voice, which said:
""Thou sleepest; but lo! Satan is awake,
Some deed that's holy do, or he thy soul will take.""",2009-09-14 19:33:40 UTC,"""Deceiving gold was once my only toy, / With it my soul within the coffer lay""",2005-05-31 00:00:00 UTC,Stanza XXV,"",,Metal,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),8607,3336
"Mrs. WEBB.
Like a lusty old Sybil, who rambles elate,
With a raven-ton'd voice, to anticipate Fate;
Mark Webb, like a whale, bear her fatness before her,
As the sprats of the Drama for mercy implore her;
Her high-garnish'd phiz give young Pleasantries birth,
And her well-fed abdomen's a mountain of mirth:
See the coarse-hewn old Dowager's mix'd with the rest,
Like a piece of brown dowlas near lace from Trieste;
And darts her huge beak for the prizes and pickings,
As an overgrown hen amidst delicate chickens:
Impertinent Doubts run to measure her size,
While Temperance looks at her frame with surprise.
Her airs are as harsh as a Brighthelmstone dipper,
And loosely assum'd like a pantaloon's slipper;
Tho' base without force, like the oath of a harlot,
Or the impudent grin of a shoulder-deck'd varlet.--
This mould of the fair sex is true female stuff,
And warm at the heart, tho' her--manners are rough:
Like Queen Bess she disdains the resistance of man,
And knocks down a peer with the end of her fan;
Old Care knits his brows to coerce and impale her,
And eyes her with hatred, but dare not assail her.
For social contumely cares not a fig,
For if none call her great, all the world swears she's big.
She's a beef-lin'd adherent to thundering Rage,
And a prop of vast import to Wit and the stage;
But Bards have too potently season'd her song,
Which like garlic in soup makes the pottage too strong:
For by playing old furies so apt and so often,
No human device can the habitude soften;
Thus an exotic sapling we frequently see,
When engrafted by Art, become part of the tree.--
So poignant a mind in a vulgariz'd shell,
Resembles a bucket of gold in a well;
'Tis like Ceylon's best spice in a rude-fashion'd jar,
Or Comedy coop'd in a Dutch man of war.",2011-06-20 16:33:37 UTC,"""So poignant a mind in a vulgariz'd shell,/ Resembles a bucket of gold in a well; / 'Tis like Ceylon's best spice in a rude-fashion'd jar, / Or Comedy coop'd in a Dutch man of war.""",2005-05-27 00:00:00 UTC,"",Dualism,2011-06-20,Metal,"•I've included twice: Metal and Uncategorized
• Reviewed 2009-03-05
• I've nowconsolidated 3 entries in one.
","Searching ""mind"" and ""gold"" in HDIS (Poetry)",15114,5658
"Contrive me, Artisan, a Bowl
Of Silver ample as my Soul;
And in the bright Compartments bring
The sweet Profusion of the Spring;
Let that fair Season, rich in Flowers,
Shed Roses in ambrosial Showers;
Yet simply plain be thy Design,
A festive Banqueting of Wine;
No Hieroglyphics let it have,
No foreign Mysteries engrave:
Let no blood-thirsty Heroes wield
Rough Armour in the silver Field;
But draw me Jove's delightful Boy,
Paschus the God of Wine and Joy:
Let Venus with light Step advance,
And with gay Hymen lead the Dance.
Beneath the Leaf-embellish'd Vine,
Full of young Grapes that promise Wine,
Let Love, without his Armour meet
The meek-ey'd Graces laughing sweet.
And on the polish'd Plain display
A Group of beauteous Boys at Play;
But no Apollo, God of Day,",2009-09-14 19:43:08 UTC,"""Contrive me, Artisan, a Bowl / Of Silver ample as my Soul""",2005-06-03 00:00:00 UTC,The Odes of Anacreon,"",,Metal,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""silver"" in HDIS (Poetry)",15243,5714
"There northern Kametzchatka's dreary strand,
And frozen Isles, your daring toils demand:
Again your British hearts of steel, for see
The surly race in savage chivalry
Brandish the pond'rous club, and peal alarms,
So save their desart clime from British arms.
Their scaly cinctures cast, they raging fling
The pond'rous mass, and launch the whistling sling.",2009-09-14 19:43:08 UTC,"""There northern Kametzchatka's dreary strand, / And frozen Isles, your daring toils demand: / Again your British hearts of steel""",2005-06-09 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Metal,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",15245,5716
"""These"" said the Muse, ""are subjects for thy song!
""Let themes like these thy manly strain prolong.
--""Does pining Merit in Oppression live?
""Give that protection which the Muse can give.
--""Does Patriot Virtue strive, but strive in vain,
""Its Country's dear-bought Freedom to maintain?
""Dare to support that long-deserted cause,
""And give, tho' Crowns oppose thee, give applause!
--""Is there a Man, who, from his earliest youth,
""Ne'er felt a sense of Honour or of Truth;
""Whose heart ne'er struggled with a wish for Fame,
""Whose cheek ne'er bore the blush of honest Shame;
""Vice his sole good, Himself his only end,
""The lurking Foe, the hypocritic Friend?
""If such an one there be, his bosom bare,--
""Show his black heart, and guide the Vultures there.
--""Should the vile Priest, for Lucre's filthy gain,
""Give up his Flock to join the courtly Train;
""Should he forsake the path his Saviour trod,
""And proudly turn his Back upon his God;
""Tho' Mitres crown him, break his golden Rest,
""And 'wake a troubled Conscience in his breast.
--""Does Beauty, swerving from its Maker's plan
""To be the Solace and the Joy of Man,
""Spurning at Fame and Honour's mild decree,
""Drink, with delight, the dregs of Infamy?
--""Does Man, so made to cherish, first betray,
""Then leave the Victim to the World a Prey?
""Let not thy Verse its angry scourge forbear,
""Nor veil the shameless Wanton's last despair.
--""Should frolic Youth, by mast'ring Passions led,
""In Folly's fair but treach'rous mazes tread,
""With cunning skill, and well-imagin'd care,
""Full in his view expose the lurking snare;
""And strive, by just degrees and friendly art,
""To 'wake the Virtue slumb'ring in his Heart.
--""Is there a Man, who, wealthy to no end,
""Ne'er knew the common wish to be a Friend,
""Whose callous Heart's to all Compassion steel'd?--
""Scourge him!--nor fear the wit of Chesterfield.
--""Do hireling Statesmen, in Corruption bold,
""Sell their poor Country as themselves are sold?
""With noble courage let thy Patriot Song
""Inflame a Nation to revenge its wrong.
--""Is there a Monarch, by mad Folly led,
""And under something worse than Folly bred;--
""Who would his People's sacred Rights betray,
""And longs to rule them with tyrannic Sway?--
""Exalt thy Strain, nor be the silly Thing
""That fears to speak of Justice to a King;--
""Deep in his Bosom plant the conscious Groan,--
""Nor spare a Vice,--tho' seated on a Throne.""--",2009-09-14 19:43:08 UTC,"""'Is there a Man, who, wealthy to no end, / 'Ne'er knew the common wish to be a Friend, / 'Whose callous Heart's to all Compassion steel'd?""",2005-06-09 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Metal,•I've included twive: Callous and Steel,"Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",15246,5717
"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
"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
",2014-07-14 21:55:24 UTC,"""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.""",2014-07-14 21:55:10 UTC,"","",,Fetters,"",Reading,24176,7969