text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"The Poets Soliloquy
Why do I droop, like flowers opprest with rain?
What cloud of sorrow doth my colour stain?
I like a Sparrow on the house alone
Do sit, and like a Dove I mourn and groan:
Doth discontent, or sad affliction bind,
And stop the freedom of my Nobler mind?
No, no, I know the cause; I do retire,
To quench old flames, and kindle better fire:
It is my comfort to escape the rude
And sluttish trouble of the multitude:
Flowers, rivers, woods, the pleasant air and wind,
With Sacred thoughts, do feed my serious mind:
My active soul doth not consume with rust,
I have been rub'd, and now are free from dust.
Let moderation rule my pensive way;
Students may leave their books, and sometimes play",2011-05-23 17:15:34 UTC,"""Flowers, rivers, woods, the pleasant air and wind, / With Sacred thoughts, do feed my serious mind.""",2004-03-11 00:00:00 UTC,I've included the whole poem,Soliloquy,2011-05-23,"",•Published in Flamma Sine Fumo (1662),HDIS (Poetry),9408,3621
"The Poets Soliloquy
Why do I droop, like flowers opprest with rain?
What cloud of sorrow doth my colour stain?
I like a Sparrow on the house alone
Do sit, and like a Dove I mourn and groan:
Doth discontent, or sad affliction bind,
And stop the freedom of my Nobler mind?
No, no, I know the cause; I do retire,
To quench old flames, and kindle better fire:
It is my comfort to escape the rude
And sluttish trouble of the multitude:
Flowers, rivers, woods, the pleasant air and wind,
With Sacred thoughts, do feed my serious mind:
My active soul doth not consume with rust,
I have been rub'd, and now are free from dust.
Let moderation rule my pensive way;
Students may leave their books, and sometimes play",2009-09-14 19:34:12 UTC,"The ""active soul doth not consume with rust""",2004-03-11 00:00:00 UTC,I've included the whole poem,Soliloquy,,Metal,•Published in Flamma Sine Fumo (1662)
•An anti-metaphor,HDIS,9409,3621
"Herring.
Tho' a World of dull Bullion your essence do's hold,
Scarce an Atom of Soul was cast into the Mould,
Room enough, and to spare lavish Nature allows,
But provides not a Tenant to suit with the House:
As for me, tho' she veils me with Flesh, and with Skin,
Yet my Form's little else but pure Spirit within:
And in vain you your Bulk for your Monarchy bring,
[1]For if the Ocean were Goth-land who but I should be King",2009-09-14 19:34:30 UTC,"Tho' a World of dull Bullion your essence do's hold, / Scarce an Atom of Soul was cast into the Mould, / Room enough, and to spare lavish Nature allows, / But provides not a Tenant to suit with the House",2005-08-29 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Inhabitant,"•Note explains, ""'Twas the custom among the Goths to chuse a little man for their Prince.""
•I've included four times: Atom, Mould, Tenant, House",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),9825,3816
"How many Jilts, Cracks, Prostitutes and Whores
Their Sexes scandal, Natures common Shores,
Are there in Town (sad Wretches as they are)
Who once were very vertuous, young and Fair?
And who had vertuous been this very Hour,
Had it not been for Gold's Almighty Power.
Gold first their Blindfold Reason led astray,
(For who its Mighty Power can disobey?
Gold to forbidden Paths First brought them in,
And Gold alone informd 'em how to Sin",2009-09-14 19:34:41 UTC,"""Gold first their Blindfold Reason led astray""",2005-06-01 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),10066,3890
"With those who are to your sage Sect inclin'd,
Beyond gross Sense and Reason too refin'd,
The surest way to see is to be blind;
That thus, their eyes subdu'd, and mortify'd,
They, with Tradition's broken Reed supply'd,
May grope about for some unerring Guide.
That Criminal must have a desperate Cause
Whose only Plea's t'object against the Laws:
The Statute's clear, but those it won't acquit
May well use all their skill to darken it.
Cast by plain Texts, you to your selves appeal,
By your own Votes declar'd infallible.
Reason and Scripture both alike cry down,
Since they defend not you, you them disown.
You urge not Reason, you, but its pretence,
Not Scripture, but false Glosses drawn from thence,
Reject--But is it not the same if you,
Must the sole Judges be of false and true?
Reason you plead, if you it seems t'acquit,
But if condemn'd, its Vote you won't admit.
But still, if private Reason you pretend
Must be the Judge, Disputes will never end:
Were this suppos'd, you cou'd but thence infer
That men must still be men, and still may err.
Nor shall they that, if they with Minds prepar'd
A higher Guide than Reason's self regard,
Attending, free from Prejudice and Sin
The Word without, th' unfailing Spirit within.
Still you complain the Scriptures are not clear,
And you the Spirits must try before you hear:
Your meaning is, you fairly both reject,
For both Tradition and the Church erect:
But what can easier be to understand
Than Gods own Word, his own express Command?
Or what's more plain than that on no pretence
[1]You ought must add, or ought diminish thence?
That his blest Law all perfect is, and pure,
[2]Nor can Tradition's base Alloy endure.
Perfect as well as clear, approv'd and try'd,
In every part of Life a Rule and Guide.
In Faith and Life the Scriptures both avail,
Nor can you give one Instance where they fail.
The justest Notions they, of God, impart,
And teach to serve him with a humble heart,
Describe the terms of Happiness, and more
That wond'rous Prince who shall the World restore,
That Christ, that true Messia we adore:
By whom, if ought from Ages past conceal'd,
The Fathers Will's entirely now reveal'd.
If then some Books are lost, (which if they are,
Where's the High Priests and Elders boasted Care?)
This not affects the rest, since still we find
A clear and perfect Rule is left behind.
Much of the Cabala, so highly priz'd
Are Trifles by the Learned World despis'd;
Your Sephiroth are Truths i'th' Scriptures plain,
But darken'd whilst you them unfold in vain.
Ezra and the great Synagogue you boast,
Whose Doctrine both and Piety you've lost:
Much younger those Traditions you embrace
Beside the Word; for them in vain you'd trace
One step beyond the Hasmonæan race.
Fallacious all those Arguments you use,
And for Infallibility produce:
Tho' manag'd they with all your Art and Care
They still against plain Fact expresly bear;
For tho' High Priest and Sanhedrim you say
Can without Error shew to Heav'n the way,
'Tis plain to Sense, you this unjustly boast,
Themselves in Error oft, or Vices lost,
Sometimes th' High Priests, as you must own, embrace
Th' abhorr'd Opinions of curst Sadoc's Race;
The Elders too, as sacred Writ averrs
Have Israel's God deny'd, and turn'd Idolaters:
And can two crooked Lines compose one right?
Two Finites ever make an Infinite?",2009-09-14 19:34:42 UTC,"""Reason you plead, if you it seems t'acquit, / But if condemn'd, its Vote you won't admit. / But still, if private Reason you pretend / Must be the Judge, Disputes will never end.""",2004-09-01 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2009-04-14,Court,"","Searching ""reason"" and ""judge"" in HDIS (Poetry)",10087,3901
"These, more than Friendly Salutations paid,
With old Elizabeth a while we staid,
Till thrice we saw the Silver Cynthia's wane,
And thrice she fill'd her various Orb again;
When the good Matrons welcom pains begun,
Who in her Arms soon held a wond'rous Son:
Her kindred much admiring round her sate,[2]
And her so rare a Bliss congratulate:
And when they saw the eighth blest Sun arise,[3]
Prepare the wond'rous Child to circumcise:
His Father's Name they gave, with kind presage,[4]
As Hope and Staff of his declining Age:
And add their Prayers, that he as well might be
Heir of his Virtues, as his Family.
Well pleas'd Eliza bow'd, and wish'd the same,
With thanks, to all agreeing, but the Name,
All wond'ring, thus did she inspir'd proceed,
It must be John, for so high Heav'n decreed:
His Father askt, with speaking Eyes and Hands
Of those around Tablet and Style demands;
And when i'th' ductile Wax he'd stampt his mind,
The Name his Mother gave, surpriz'd we find:
Yet more, his Lips unloos'd when Hymns he sung,
And all the House with Hallelujahs rung:
Trembling we ask, on his reply intent,
What his strange Speech, and stranger Silence meant!
He thus--",2011-06-29 03:51:14 UTC,"""[I]'th' ductile Wax he'd stampt his mind / The Name his Mother gave, surpriz'd we find.""",2005-03-27 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Impressions,•Literal but not? One writes his mind out. Most metaphors like this I don't include.
•,"Searching ""mind"" and ""wax"" in HDIS (Poetry); Found again searching ""stamp"" and ""mind""",10090,3901
"Mistaken men! He cries, who still complain,
Still search for happiness, but search in vain,
For when you dream you've found it, false as fair
It cheats your clasping arms with empty air.
There are who think their Bliss fast lockt they hold,
If their strong Chests are fill'd with Ophirs gold:[1]
Base vulgar drossie minds, with more alloy
Then is that captive wealth they might enjoy;
Which Thieves may steal, which Rust or Fire destroy;
True happiness is always in our pow'r,
Beyond the reach of one unlucky hour
To rend away, 'tis for its self desir'd,
While Riches are for something else admir'd,
Pleasure or Ease, nor therefore can they be
The solid Basis of Felicity.
Woe, woe, eternal woe and pain are near[2]
To those who only place their Treasure here.
Sooner may happiness be found with them
Whom for their Poverty the World contemn;
Who, when my Honour and their Conscience call
With generous unconcern'dness part with all:
If Providence a larger stock affords,
Its Gifts enjoy as Stewards, not as Lords:
These, rich in Faith, to Heav'n directly tend,
Heirs of a Kingdom that shall never end.",2014-07-13 21:07:37 UTC,"""Base vulgar drossie minds, with more alloy / Then is that captive wealth they might enjoy; / Which Thieves may steal, which Rust or Fire destroy.""",2005-04-14 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Metal,•I've included twice: Alloy and Dross,"Searching ""mind"" and ""alloy"" in HDIS (Poetry)",10092,3901
"In vain I all his Wonders wou'd relate,
How many rescu'd from the brink of Fate:
How with a Touch he Simon's Mother rais'd:
How him the joyful Paralytic prais'd:
How, Jairus! thy Daughter he restor'd;
Tho' dead she heard, tho' dead obey'd his Word.
What Virtues e'en his sacred Robes diffus'd;
How by th' ungrateful Nazarites abus'd
He vanish'd thro' the crowd, they beat the Air,
Nor ever since his Presence blest 'em there.
What wond'rous Truths he did the Woman tell
In curst Samaria's Fields by Jacob's Well:
How many long of their dear sight bereav'd,
Earthly and Heav'nly Light at once receiv'd:
This all Bethsaida's wond'ring confines know,
And this thy Gates, delightful Jericho!
E'en yet old Bartimeus lives, who there[5]
Did many a doleful year in darkness wear;
To which yet still a heavier plague was joyn'd,
He's miserably poor, e'en worse than blind:
His head with reverend baldness doubly bare,
Expos'd to all th' Inclemencies oth' Air,
To heat and cold--Methinks I see him there!
Or in the Gate I see him begging lie,
Or at the lovely Balsom-Gardens nigh:
Once as it chanc'd our Master passing by
Vast multitudes attending, he admir'd
The Cause, and earnest what it meant enquir'd,
For he their noise and trampling feet cou'd hear,
And well he knew some mighty Concourse near:
Nor sooner to the Blind was Jesus nam'd
But he with Faith and holy Hope enflam'd,
(For oft he heard what Miracles he'd done)
Exclaims--O mercy! mercy! David's Son!
Some bid be still! some cry to take him thence,
Nor let him with his loud Impertinence
Disturb our Lord, nor will he yet give o'er,
But cries more loud and earnest than before,
Great Son of David! let me mercy find!
O shew thy wonted pity on the Blind!
--None e'er deny'd or sad from Jesus part,
His earnest Pray'rs soon reach'd his ears and heart,
And till he's call'd he wou'd no further go;
Soon did th' old man the joyful Tidings know
From those about him, soon he cheerful rose,
Away his Staff and ragged Garment throws;
His Garment lest it might impeach his speed,
His Staff, which he shou'd now no longer need:
Away he runs, nor for a guide wou'd stay,
Following the Voice, oft stumbling in the way,
Of whom when near arriv'd, our Lord inquir'd
What Boon with such loud outcries he desir'd?
Lord! thou canst do't, he with large Tears replies,
And thou alone, restore me my dear eyes!
--'Tis thy victorious Faith directs thee right,
Well pleas'd our Lord rejoyns,--Receive thy sight!
'Tis said, 'tis done, a thick and churlish skin
Which stop'd the windows of his Soul within,
Flew off, nor did he ought that's painful find,
Like Cobwebs loose, unravel'd with the Wind,
He saw, his Saviour with loud Thanks did meet,
Embrac'd his knees, and prostrate kiss'd his feet.",2011-06-29 03:57:38 UTC,"""Receive thy sight! / 'Tis said, 'tis done, a thick and churlish skin / Which stop'd the windows of his Soul within, / Flew off.""",2006-01-25 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2011-06-28,Rooms,"","Found again searching ""soul"" and ""window"" in HDIS (Poetry)",10107,3901
"With him agen, Sweet Muse, to Earth return,
Where his sad Death his Friends, mistaken, mourn;
His Death who cannot die, or if before,
He his Clay-house forsook, can die no more:
His Body now Spiritual and refin'd,
A fit Companion for so pure a Mind;
Active and agile, prest and ready 't stands,
As swift as Thought t'obey the Soul's commands;
Like that it moves, and in a moment flies,
From East to West, from Earth to Paradise.
This knew not they, who yet lamenting were,
And lost in stupid Sorrow and Despair;
Forgot the Promise of his sure return,
And, without either Faith or Hope they mourn;
Sad was the Feast to them, no cheerful Ray
It wore, as sad the Night that clos'd the Day:
With kinder Omens the third Morn appears,
The happy Morning doom'd to dry their Tears.
""Kind Phosphor bring the Day, why this Delay,
""Jesus is rising--Phosphor bring the Day!
Hast his dull Steeds, for if he longer stay,
Another Sun will rise, a Sun so bright,
The World no more will need his weaker Light.
Earlier than he fair Magdalena rose,
And to the Tomb with Spice and Ungeuents goes,
Him to embalm who no Corruption knew;
The same officious kindness thither drew
Her weeping Friends, who tho' their Fear was strong,
Their Love was more; sad Tales the Way prolong,
As cheerful shorten, tho' at last they come
To th' steep Ascent, the Garden and the Tomb,
Not far remov'd before, but a new Fear,
And crowding anxious Thoughts surpriz'd 'em here:
Not yet secure the doubtful Jews they heard,
As Guilt is still suspicious, plac'd a Guard
Around the Sepulchre, a Seal secur'd
The pond'rous Stone their mighty Foe immur'd;
Nor think yet safe or deep enough he lies,
For they too heard, he the third Day wou'd rise,
Whose pow'rful Word had others rais'd; nor yet,
Can they the wond'rous Lazarus forget,
Or Naim's twice-born Youth.--Their Fear not vain.
Nor longer Hades cou'd his Soul retain:
A Conqu'ror thence he rose, where late he fell,
And drags in Triumph after Death and Hell:
He did, he came--All Nature must obey
Its Sovereign Lord; he will'd the Stone away:
Tho' all around officious Angels stay'd,
For Pomp, not Service there, nor needs their Aid.
Jesus is risen, Triumphal Anthems sing:
Thus from dead Winter mounts the sprightly Spring;
Thus does the Sun from Night's black Shades return,
And thus the single Bird wings from th' Arabian Urn:
Jesus is risen; he'll the World restore,
Awake ye Dead! dull Sinners sleep no more!
In Pleasures soft Enchantments slumb'ring deep,
Or Sleep no more, or else for ever sleep!
But tho' himself he's gone, his tender care
Still left two bright Attendant Angels there;
Those early pious Pilgrims to console,
Who with mistaken Tears his Loss condole:
Their trembling Feet no sooner had they set
I'th' Garden Walks, but they new Wonders met;
The Earth too trembled where so late he lay,
And Nature's self-seem'd more affraid than they:
And lo! the beauteous bashful Clouds divide,
And rev'rently stand off on either side;
As at th' approach of Earthly Majesty,
A living Lane is made till all the Pomp go by:
And lo! a heavenly Youth does downward move,
The loveliest Form in all the Realms of Love;
From the Caves mouth he rolls the mighty Stone,
From whence before our conq'ring Lord was gone,
He rolls it, and triumphant sits thereon:
The Roman Guards, nor were they us'd to fear,
Their Stations held, till the bright Form was near;
Fain, impious! wou'd resistance make, and fain
They would have drawn their Swords, but strove in vain
Against th' unequal Foe, in vain they rear
Their useless Piles, suspended in the Air;
Their Hands, their Souls disarm'd they quickly found,
They fall, their Armour clanks against the Ground:
To the soft Sex more calmly did appear,
Dress'd in a milder and less warlike Air,
The heav'nly Youth--You have no need to fear:
We in your Cause engage with all our Pow'rs;
I know you seek your suffring Lord and ours;
Too late; alas! You seek him here, he said,
Him who for ever lives, among the Dead.
Dry your vain Tears, nor longer him deplore,
Your mighty Saviour lives to die no more!
'Tis the third Day, he promis'd then to rise,
Nor cou'd deceive--Look in and trust your Eyes!
See where he by your selves was laid, see there
The Linnen, and the empty Sepulchre:
Be you the first Apostles, quickly go,
And to th' Eleven the happy Tidings show.",2012-01-12 03:45:05 UTC,"""Not far remov'd before, but a new Fear, / And crowding anxious Thoughts surpriz'd 'em here.""",2006-03-07 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2012-01-11,Inhabitants,"","Searching ""thought"" and ""crowd"" in HDIS (Poetry)",10109,3901
"An active Principle inform'd their Breast,
The Love of Jesus would not let e'm rest.
Let Thirst of Glory meaner Souls inspire,
And haunt their Dreams! these, nobler Things desire;
Nor envy such as Bodies only bind,
While they in Truth's soft Chains secure the Mind.
Thus when their Hymns were o'r, and they came down
From Olivet to view the Sacred Town,
(Nor would their Master always private dwell,
Or rob the World t'enrich a lonely Cell,)
Like him, the only business they design'd,
Was th' universal Good of all Mankind:
Their Charity no narrow limits pent,
Open and free, as Light or Element;
And as their Lord himself did not disdain
The Sinner and the humble Publican,
So would their Conversation often be
With worse than both, the haughty Pharisee,
Vain, Supercilious, damning all beside,
Yet oft as full of ignorance as pride,
Oft did his Saint-like Face fowl lewdness hide:
But, as some Tares mix with the purest Grain,
Their Heaps of Dross some Sparks of Gold contain:
Such as not obstinately clos'd their Eyes,
When the bright Sun of Righteousness did rise;
Some glimm'rings in their Souls, some whispers there
Would Jesus the Messias oft declare;
Or, if their Infant-Faith but dawning be,
They wish'd tho' they could scarce believe, 'twas He.
Weak Nicodemus, not his Saviour's sight
Could make his bashful Faith endure the Light:
Yet him a Teacher sent from God confess'd,
And gladly from his Lips wou'd learn the rest.
Gamaliel in the Sacred Pandects read,
By which a Life unblamable he led;
Severely wise, and would known Truths receive,
But Truths well weigh'd, before he'd them believe:
Both in the Sanhedrim of Name and Note;
Both us'd to sway the Senate's weighty Vote:
To these was Joseph joyn'd--
Joseph, for Wisdom and for Counsel fam'd,
Of his fair Birth-place, antient Rama, nam'd:
Rama of old, but Time which changes all,
The Place does now Arimathæa call,
Who near the Town had a convenient Seat,
Still and retir'd, 'twas pleasant all and neat,
Tho' not with pompous Statues proudly great:
Nor poorly mean, but proper to supply
The wants of Nature, not of Luxury:
There borrow'd Streams from Siloam's neighb'ring Well,
In artificial Showers rose and fell;
With unknown Spring still bless'd the happy Ground,
And spread eternal Verdure all around.
There antient Gilead's odoriferous Balm,
(Mixt with tall Cedar and triumphant Palm)
Rich Balm, Judæas's Native, frequent grows,
And with big fragrant Tears inestimably flows.
A few choice Friends, with modest Mirth and Wine,
From Gaza's or Sarepta's noble Vine,
Here would he sometimes meet, and wear away
In no unactive Ease the scorching day:
Nor Vices sly Intrusion could they fear;
Intemp'rance could not hope to enter here;
For, as the wise Egyptians at their Feasts,
Serv'd up a Skull before their chearful Guests,
Around 'em they the same grave Objects see:
The Garden's on the side of Calvary,
Won from the Wast of Death, and wisely there
Good Joseph built himself a Sepulcher.
Who e'r like him is virtuous, wise and brave,
Dares to be chearful, tho' he sees his Grave:
Who sees his Grave, all Thoughts must needs disdain,
Unworthy, Eternity to entertain.
",2011-06-29 04:02:10 UTC,"""Let Thirst of Glory meaner Souls inspire, / And haunt their Dreams! these, nobler Things desire; / Nor envy such as Bodies only bind, / While they in Truth's soft Chains secure the Mind.""",2011-06-29 04:01:25 UTC,"","",,Fetters,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""chain"" in HDIS (Poetry)",18843,3901