id,comments,provenance,dictionary,created_at,reviewed_on,work_id,theme,context,updated_at,metaphor,text
15114,"•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)",Metal,2005-05-27 00:00:00 UTC,2011-06-20,5658,Dualism,"",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.""","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."
15118,"","Posted to C18-L Listserv by Nora Nachumi under Subject: ""ungender'd abortions""","",2005-06-22 00:00:00 UTC,,5658,"","",2009-09-14 19:42:49 UTC,"A mind may be like ""clear amber, conden'd by stagnation,"" it may exhibit ""the dirt it imbib'd in formation""","her mind like clear amber, conden'd by stagnation,
Exhibits the dirt it imbib'd in formation:
Like ungender'd abortions, her plays have annoy'd;
Which are born, see the light, and, when seen, are destroy'd."
15121,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""cave"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",2006-01-18 00:00:00 UTC,,5658,"","",2009-09-14 19:42:49 UTC,"""The Muses, tho' coy to the rest of mankind, / Ran jocund to light the vast caves of [Shakespeare's] mind""","E'en that august Bard must my senses resign,
Imperial Shakespeare, supreme and divine.
As the clay of his frame lay benumb'd in a dream,
On the violet-clad bank of smooth Avon's clear stream,
The Genius of Albion defended his slumbers,
Lest Guilt should obtrude, and disjoint his sweet numbers:
The Muses, tho' coy to the rest of mankind,
Ran jocund to light the vast caves of his mind;
Bore his harp to Minerva, who marshall'd its sound,
And hung Fancy's elegant symbols around;
As the sacred minstrel imbib'd in his thought,
All that Destiny will'd, or that Heaven had wrought;
With his keen mental eye Nature's source to discern,
Pass'd o'er the dread fence of Mortality's bourn;
Presum'd thro' the mists of Tartarean gloom,
And hail'd the lean Fates at their ominous loom;
Dash'd the horrors he saw with his spell working pen,
Then awoke with the scroll to raise wonder mid men.--
But should I lament in prophetic despair,
Should my song be replete with the axioms of care;
When a Star in the East, all resplendently rises,
Which Phoebus illumines, and Excellence prizes?
Its appearance proclaims that Offence is suppress'd,
That Candour shall govern, and Talents be bless'd:
So in Bethlem the light 'midst the peasantry shone,
And gave to Hope's bosom sweet transports unknown;
Its radiant beam waken'd Raptures within,
And promis'd Redemption from Sadness and Sin.--
--May no mean narrow maxims oppose its progression,
May no sinister tyrants enchain the profession;
May its influence be broad as the realms of the day,
Where Wit, without insult, may offer his lay;
May its members be brilliant in wish and in action,
May theit deeds give the lie to the page of detraction;
May the lovely Pierides temper their fire,
And point out those chords on the Orphean lyre,
By which the young Thracian subdu'd the wild throng,
And forc'd savage Nature to melt at his song.
May its base by the wealthy and wise be supported,
May its firmest adherents be cherish'd and courted;
May the smiles of Morality shield its good name,
And the pen of bright Genius consign it to Fame!"
15235,•Great anti-metaphor poem. INTEREST.
•Included twice: once in Government and once in Uncategorized.,"Searching ""ruling passion"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",2004-05-20 00:00:00 UTC,,5709,Ruling Passion,Middle Stanzas,2011-02-05 19:38:00 UTC,"""Human Nature's his show-box--your friend, would you know him? / Pull the string, Ruling Passion--the picture will show him.""","Good Lord, what is Man! For as simple he looks,
Do but try to develop his hooks and his crooks!
With his depths and his shallows, his good and his evil,
All in all he's a problem must puzzle the Devil.
On his one ruling passion Sir Pope hugely labors,
That, like th'old Hebrew walking-switch, eats up its neighbours.
Human Nature's his show-box--your friend, would you know him?
Pull the string, Ruling Passion--the picture will show him.
What pity, in rearing so beauteous a system,
One trifling particular--Truth--should have miss'd him!
For, spite of his fine theoretic positions,
Mankind is a science defies definitions.
Some sort all our qualities each to its tribe,
And think Human Nature they truly describe:
Have you found this, or t'other? There's more in the wind,
As by one drunken fellow his comrades you'll find.
But such is the flaw, or the depth of the plan
In the make of that wonderful creature called Man,
No two virtues, whatever relation they claim,
Nor even two different shades of the same,
Though like as was ever twin brother to brother,
Possessing the one shall imply you've the other.
"
15257,
,"","",2004-07-12 00:00:00 UTC,,5724,"","",2009-09-14 19:43:10 UTC,""" 'Tis thine to sprinkle manna o'er the mind""","Is there no eminent revenge above,
For violated oaths and perjur'd love?
Shall ruthless man our miseries begin,
Yet wanton irresponsive to the sin?
The brilliant reptile marshall'd every art,
To brave the prejudice and seize my heart.
False as Amphissian waves his accents flow'd,
Which hide Destruction 'neath the liquid road:
With cruel skill he bent the servile knee,
And stood, like Ruin, 'twixt my good and me.
His toils, like furies in th' Æolian wind,
Bestorm'd the placid current of my mind;
And made th' ideal billows, raging, rise,
Till their rude vehemence had brav'd the skies:
So quick th' Enormities ingulph'd me in,
I look'd a Demon ere I knew the sin.
Once Hope, in garish raiments, cheer'd my eye,
Renerv'd my wish, and check'd the unborn sigh:
Ah, sweet Seducer! whither art thou flown?
While social Demons seize thy silver throne;
'Tis thine to sprinkle manna o'er the mind,
'Tis thine to temper the ferocious wind,
'Tis thine to renovate the fancy's springs,
Raise the worn maid, and glad despairing kings.
"
15258,
,Found again searching HDIS (Poetry),"",2004-07-12 00:00:00 UTC,,5724,"","",2009-09-14 19:43:10 UTC,""" 'Tis thine to renovate the fancy's springs""","Is there no eminent revenge above,
For violated oaths and perjur'd love?
Shall ruthless man our miseries begin,
Yet wanton irresponsive to the sin?
The brilliant reptile marshall'd every art,
To brave the prejudice and seize my heart.
False as Amphissian waves his accents flow'd,
Which hide Destruction 'neath the liquid road:
With cruel skill he bent the servile knee,
And stood, like Ruin, 'twixt my good and me.
His toils, like furies in th' Æolian wind,
Bestorm'd the placid current of my mind;
And made th' ideal billows, raging, rise,
Till their rude vehemence had brav'd the skies:
So quick th' Enormities ingulph'd me in,
I look'd a Demon ere I knew the sin.
Once Hope, in garish raiments, cheer'd my eye,
Renerv'd my wish, and check'd the unborn sigh:
Ah, sweet Seducer! whither art thou flown?
While social Demons seize thy silver throne;
'Tis thine to sprinkle manna o'er the mind,
'Tis thine to temper the ferocious wind,
'Tis thine to renovate the fancy's springs,
Raise the worn maid, and glad despairing kings.
"
15447,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),Coinage and Metal,2005-05-27 00:00:00 UTC,,5791,"","",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!""","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!"
19154,Crazy simile! INTEREST,"Searching ""ball"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Introduction,2011-09-13 19:49:23 UTC,,5658,"","Third Part, Mrs. Pope",2014-03-14 14:50:16 UTC,"""Like a snow-ball, the mind, fraught with peace in its prime, / Moves swiftly adown the steep shelvings of Time; / Accumulates filth from Society's sons, / And strengthens and hardens its coat as it runs; / Till habit on habit is negligent laid, / And the object appears motley, vile, and ill-made; / At last, when its indirect wanderings are o'er, / And the sated despoiler can gather no more, / The form lies repos'd at the base of the hill, / A globular concrete of good and of ill; / As its worth has been mix'd with the radix of woe, / And the dirt of the valley has sullied the snow.""","But, alas! who can hope to be wise as they ought,
When the evils of life taint the progress of thought?
Like a snow-ball, the mind, fraught with peace in its prime,
Moves swiftly adown the steep shelvings of Time;
Accumulates filth from Society's sons,
And strengthens and hardens its coat as it runs;
Till habit on habit is negligent laid,
And the object appears motley, vile, and ill-made;
At last, when its indirect wanderings are o'er,
And the sated despoiler can gather no more,
The form lies repos'd at the base of the hill,
A globular concrete of good and of ill;
As its worth has been mix'd with the radix of woe,
And the dirt of the valley has sullied the snow.
(Third Part, Mrs. Pope, pp. 202-3, ll. 423-436) "
19736,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""bird"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Beasts,2012-04-29 18:47:54 UTC,,7238,"","",2012-04-29 18:47:54 UTC,"""While Vanity unveils her whiffling flags, / Her glittering trinkets, and her tawdry rags-- / Spreads spangled nets, and fills her philter'd bowl, / To fix each Sense, and fascinate the Soul-- / Her birdlime twigs contrived with such sly Art, / That while they tangle thoughts, they trap the heart, / Thus to impair her strength, and spoil her wings, / No more to mount o'er temporary things, / But, drunk with spurious Pleasure--cag'd in State-- / Forego true Freedom, and forget her Fate!""","What can such treasonable crimes atone,
Usurping, thus, their heavenly Sovereign's throne?
'Tis sacrilege; and Heav'n resents the wrongs,
When Creatures challenge what to Christ belongs!
'Tis Image-worship when a Mortal's shewn
The honours that pertain to God alone!
And are not such offences ever found,
In graceless Grandeur's fashionable round?
For is not all its glitter--all its gold--
Form'd into Images with Fancy's mould?
And tho' the Idol be a Knave or Fool,
When finish'd nice with Fashion's graving tool,
The reverence paid looks more or less divine,
In due proportion to the shew and shine.
All's calculated by the glow, and glare--
Frail, short-liv'd things their full affection share--
While Vanity unveils her whiffling flags,
Her glittering trinkets, and her tawdry rags--
Spreads spangled nets, and fills her philter'd bowl,
To fix each Sense, and fascinate the Soul--
Her birdlime twigs contrived with such sly Art,
That while they tangle thoughts, they trap the heart,
Thus to impair her strength, and spoil her wings,
No more to mount o'er temporary things,
But, drunk with spurious Pleasure--cag'd in State--
Forego true Freedom, and forget her Fate!"
19802,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),"",2012-06-27 18:54:42 UTC,,7264,"","",2012-06-27 18:55:07 UTC,"""The third, / More absurd, / Than the iron-fed bird; / And whose brains lacked juice like an over-squeezed curd, / Had nothing of value to give but her--Word."""," Three sprigs of Hecate in three districts born;
The Horse-guards, York, and Grub-street did adorn;
The first, in matchless mummery was clever,
And sold her mother, Common Sense, for ever.
The second beldam all the rest surpast,
In ease and arrogance--to mould the last;
As Nature's powers could no farther go,
To make a third, she join'd the other two;
Who calls mankind to marvel at her dealing,
And gets her pence by--literary stealing.
Such beldams as these ne'er encounter'd before,
And ne'er will again, until Time is no more;
They met in the World, and shook hands like Scotch cousins,
And were wedded by Fate, to get monsters by dozens.
These witches agreed,
In an hour of--need,
As the only means left them to fatten and feed,
To mount all at once, on Apollo's own steed;
And, by joining their stock, like three empyric doctors,
To gorge on men's vices, like bailiffs and proctors,
The first, a vile sybil, who seeks paupers huts,
To coax little spinsters with ginger-bread nuts:
Gave lies and salt-petre;
Some malice, some metre;
A few pointless strokes,
Old songs and stale jokes;
With witless bon mots from a vile memorandum;
Which the witch did essay,
Once to weave in a play,
But Pit, Box, or Gods could not stand 'em.
The second presented some well-temper'd fuel,
To kindle a flame in the World's busy ball,
As prejudice, pique, or occasion should call;
With ample decoctions of weak water-gruel;
Some cowslips half wither'd, and ill gather'd daisies,
An ounce of crampt wit, and a pound of strange phrases;
Which she stole on the side of the Parnassian mountain,
When she sipt the foul streams from the helicon fountain.
The third,
More absurd,
Than the iron-fed bird;
And whose brains lacked juice like an over-squeezed curd,
Had nothing of value to give but her--Word.
Except a small treatise 'gainst--running in debt;
And some tomes of the chaste Aretine,
With a few comic traits of the fair Antoinette,
When she wanders to see and be seen."