id,comments,provenance,dictionary,created_at,reviewed_on,work_id,theme,context,updated_at,metaphor,text
8607,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),Metal,2005-05-31 00:00:00 UTC,,3336,"",Stanza XXV,2009-09-14 19:33:40 UTC,"""Deceiving gold was once my only toy, / With it my soul within the coffer lay""","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."""
14984,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry); found again reading,"",2004-07-09 00:00:00 UTC,2011-10-06,5609,"","",2013-06-13 15:35:56 UTC,"""But what gay blossoms of luxuriant Spring, / With rose, mimosa, amaranth entwin'd, / Shall fabled Sylphs and fairy people bring, / As a just emblem of the lovely mind?""","Sonnet XXXVII.
Sent to the Honorable Mrs. O'Neill, with Painted Flowers
The poet's fancy takes from Flora's realm
Her buds and leaves to dress fictitious powers,
With the green olive shades Minerva's helm,
And gives to Beauty's Queen, the Queen of flowers.
But what gay blossoms of luxuriant Spring,
With rose, mimosa, amaranth entwin'd,
Shall fabled Sylphs, and fairy people bring,
As a just emblem of the lovely mind?
In vain the mimic pencil tries to blend
The glowing dyes that dress the flowery race,
Scented and colour'd by an hand divine!
Ah! not less vainly would the Muse pretend
On her weak lyre, to sing the native grace
And native goodness of a soul like thine! "
15111,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""throne"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Throne,2004-07-12 00:00:00 UTC,2011-07-20,5658,"","First Part, Mrs. Siddons",2013-11-19 02:22:49 UTC,"""And the mind's poor infirmities dash'd from their throne, / Forgetting the weakness that lives in their own.""","But hapless is he, who, to Folly a minion,
Will yield up his senses to take her opinion:
'Tis fretting the mind her caprice to obey,
When the merit of yesterday's doubted to-day;
For those men whom our sires have lauded, with pride
Their sons have assail'd, and defil'd, and decry'd:
And the mind's poor infirmities dash'd from their throne,
Forgetting the weakness that lives in their own.
--E'en Hayley weaves verse in Antipathy's loom,
To murder the guardians of Warburton's Tomb!
He wounds, unabash'd, the repose of the dead,
And the laurel, once sacred, demands from the head;
As Prejudice, like a vile gypsy sits jaded,
Untwisting that texture which Honor had braided.
(First Part, Mrs. Siddons, p. 31, ll. 251-258)"
15112,"","Searching ""conque"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",2005-02-14 00:00:00 UTC,2011-07-20,5658,"","",2011-07-20 16:35:45 UTC,"""She can conquer a heart--that she wants sense to keep.""","No wonder that wit she can forcibly feel,
Who's liv'd with Thalia long since en famille;
Pray Fate that she long may be sportive on earth,
The prop of burlettas, and, mistress of mirth;
Of female comedians an excellent sample;
Of Abigail singers the first great example!
But, bid her beware of too great an indulgence
Of tricks, that but mar her dramatic refulgence;
Or, if prais'd by the million, grow sick of the cause
That led her to fame, and matur'd their applause;
Lest she find, like some brides who such errors must weep,
She can conquer a heart--that she wants sense to keep,
Those airs which to practise in Lucy she's just in,
If seen in all parts, will make all parts disgusting:
Bid her temper that strong constitutional pertness,
And call upon Reason to bound her alertness.
"
15113,"","Searching ""conque"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",2005-02-14 00:00:00 UTC,2011-07-20,5658,"","",2011-07-20 16:36:39 UTC,"""For spells may be said to exist in that tone, / Whose graces can conquer all hearts--but her own.""","Its anodyne powers the sick'ning make cheery,
And tears off the chain from the mind of the weary;
By her soft, blissful sonnets, all bosoms inspiring,
Even Spleen grows diseas'd--and, Despair lies expiring.
As the lark chaunts at sun-rise his diurnal pray'r,
All her loud liquid notes charge the babbling air;
The sounds were not sweeter when Thebes' famous wall
Obey'd the soft magic of Harmony's call;
For spells may be said to exist in that tone,
Whose graces can conquer all hearts--but her own.
Cecilia thus warbled the heaven-fraught line,
For her song was ador'd ere the nymph was divine."
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."
15119,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""barrister"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Court,2005-08-24 00:00:00 UTC,,5658,"","",2009-09-14 19:42:49 UTC,"""Like a beggar at law, whom no barrister blesses, / His mind lacks an agent to plead its distresses; / All his muscles rebel 'gainst judicious controul""","Tho' his strong understanding is blest with profundity,
His face mars its force by a stupid rotundity;
It was form'd to accomplish less amiable uses,
And wine, by a smile, every maid--but the Muses;
Too fastuous for exquisite passion's digression,
Too fair for a hero, too round for expression;
Like a beggar at law, whom no barrister blesses,
His mind lacks an agent to plead its distresses;
All his muscles rebel 'gainst judicious controul,
And his face gives the lie to a sensible soul.
His fears to do less than enough, never quit him,
His cloaths in the gentleman ne'er seem to fit him:
With rant he too often disgusts the beholders,
And offends by continually writhing his shoulders.
But his faults like the stones of the pavement decay,
When quick dropping springs wear the surface away.
"
15120,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",2005-11-21 00:00:00 UTC,,5658,"","",2009-09-14 19:42:49 UTC,"""Oh! I'm sick to the soul, to see Music alone, / Stretch her negligent length on the Drama's gay throne; / Where Muses more honor'd by Wisdom should sit, / To adorn the heart's mirror, and fashion our wit""","In opposing the follies and vice of the stage,
I must stand as a mark for the arrows of Rage;
Proscrib'd from those douceurs enjoy'd by that crowd,
Who are mean without merit, and servile tho' loud;
If I fall by Resentment, effecting my plan,
I hope when I'm martyr'd, to fall--like a man.--
Oh! I'm sick to the soul, to see Music alone,
Stretch her negligent length on the Drama's gay throne;
Where Muses more honor'd by Wisdom should sit,
To adorn the heart's mirror, and fashion our wit.
Let the Wench have her place, as a Wench worth respecting,
But to wound her old sisters, is base and affecting:
As all the high orders of Science deplore,
That their use is neglected, and influence is o'er.--
Tho' obedient Shields charms the ear by his skill,
He exalts his meek name, by resigning his will.
And Linley pens canzonets Pleasure holds dear,
Tho' Pensiveness dims every note with a tear;
But Arnold steps forward with colossal stride,
To command in the van, and diminish their pride;
Unabash'd he disports with the Orphean lyre,
As Judgment and Harmony temper his fire;
While the spirit of Handel, with rapture imprest,
Thinks the doomsday is o'er, and it flits mid the bless'd."
24176,"",Reading,Fetters,2014-07-14 21:55:10 UTC,,7969,"","",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.""","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
"