id,comments,provenance,dictionary,created_at,reviewed_on,work_id,theme,context,updated_at,metaphor,text 10403,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),"",2005-06-13 00:00:00 UTC,,4011,Ruling Passion,"",2009-09-14 19:34:57 UTC,"In Ovid ""Methinks, I see those Passions well exprest, / Which play the Tyrant in the Mortal Breast""","When by soft moving Ovid I am told,
Of those strange Changes which were wrought of old,
When Gods in Brutal Shapes did Mortals court,
And unbecoming Actions made their Sport,
When helpless Wretches fled from impious Pow'rs,
And hid themselves in Birds, Beasts, Trees, and Flow'rs:
When none from Outrage cou'd securely dwell,
But felt the Rage of Heav'n, of Earth, and Hell:
Methinks, I see those Passions well exprest,
Which play the Tyrant in the Mortal Breast
:
They to Ten thousand Miseries expose,
And are our only, and our deadly Foes:
They like the Vultur on our Entrails prey,
And in our Path the Golden Apple lay,
But from us snatch our dear Euridices away.
Up the steep Hill the pond'rous Torment roll,
And cheat with empty Shews the famish'd Soul:
Those who are still submitted to their Sway,
Must in the gloomy Realms of Pluto stay,
And never more re-visit cheerful Day:
But those who're from their earthly Dross calcin'd,
Who tast the Pleasures of a virtuous Mind,
Who'd rather chuse to die, than once their Conscience stain,
Who midst Temptations Innocence retain,
And o'er themselves an undisputed Empire gain:
In th' Elysian Fields shall be for ever blest,
And with the Happy, there enjoy the Sweets of Rest."