work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
5397,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2004-01-02 00:00:00 UTC,"But soon, alas! this holy calm is broke;
My soul submits to wear her wonted yoke;
With shackled pinions strives to soar in vain,
And mingles with the dross of earth again.
But he, our gracious Master, kind as just,
Knowing our frame, remembers man is dust.
His spirit, ever brooding o'er our mind,
Sees the first wish to better hopes inclined;
Marks the young dawn of every virtuous aim,
And fans the smoking flax into a flame.
His ears are open to the softest cry,
His grace descends to meet the lifted eye;
He reads the language of a silent tear,
And sighs are incense from a heart sincere.
Such are the vows, the sacrifice I give;
Accept the vow, and bid the suppliant live:
From each terrestrial bondage set me free;
Still every wish that centres not in thee;
Bid my fond hopes, my vain disquiets cease,
And point my path to everlasting peace.
(ll. 21-40, pp. 42-3)",2009-07-31,14488,"•Is this a mixed metaphor? (Animals and Body?) I've included it twice.
•McCarthy and Kraft note that the poem ""became one of Barbauld's most famous and most reprinted poems"" (41). Wollstonecraft reprinted it her anthology, The Female Reader (1789).
I've included twice: Birds and Shackles","""But soon, alas! this holy calm is broke; / My soul submits to wear her wonted yoke; / With shackled pinions strives to soar in vain, / And mingles with the dross of earth again.""",Fetters,2011-05-26 21:01:58 UTC,""
5458,Ruling Passion,Reading,2003-07-23 00:00:00 UTC,"Love wildly rages like the foaming main.
With darts and flames some arm his feeble hands,
His infant brow with regal honours crown;
Whilst vanquished Reason, bound with silken bands,
Meanly submissive, falls below his throne.
Each fabling poet sure alike mistakes
The gentle power that reigns o'er tender hearts!
(pp. 147-8, ll. 31-38, p. 239 in Lonsdale)",2011-06-16,14589,"•Johnson quotes ""To Stella"" in his dictionary (under ""Quatrain"").
","""With darts and flames some arm his [Love's] feeble hands, / His infant brow with regal honours crown; / Whilst vanquished Reason, bound with silken bands, / Meanly submissive, falls below his throne.""",Fetters and Throne,2014-08-27 17:27:16 UTC,""
5601,"","Searching ""stamp"" and ""mind"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""passion""",2005-04-11 00:00:00 UTC,"The struggle past!--my peace!--my freedom given!
Thy anchor, Hope, on shoreless oceans driven!
What then to justice, or to love remained,
But to restore the heart, my vows had gained?
Wrench from Louisa's breast its cherished bane,
And nobly the last sacrifice sustain?
Renounce her pity, and inspire her hate,
In tenfold gloom though it involve my fate?
Teach her to think the villain-baseness mine,
That bows the venal heart at fortune's shrine?
So might the indignant sense of barter'd truth
Quench the disastrous passion of my youth;
Now doom'd to darken every hope, that cheers,
With shining promises, the rising years!
Had I the dread necessity explained,
That with resistless force my freedom chained;
Tore the sweet bands, by virtuous passion tied,
And stampt our constancy with parricide;
Then had Louisa fortified my soul,
And urged my ling'ring step to duty's goal;
Had given me back, with pity's softest brow,
Of love so ruinous, the ill-starred vow;
[end page 52]
A self-devoted exile fled my arms,
But sorrowing fled them, and resigned her charms
To fruitless constancy, and fond regret;
Ordained to mourn--unable to forget;
That pine in solitude the live-long day,
Feed on the heart, and steal the life away.
(pp. 52-3)",2005-08-17,14970,•I've included twice: Stamping and Fetters.,"""Had I the dread necessity explained, / That with resistless force my freedom chained; / Tore the sweet bands, by virtuous passion tied, / And stampt our constancy with parricide.""",Fetters,2011-05-27 14:08:27 UTC,""
6046,"",Searching HDIS (Poetry),2004-07-09 00:00:00 UTC,"Turn to the Nobles! there let Pity view
The many suff'ring for the guilty few!
Perish the wretch who, sanction'd by his birth,
Presumes to persecute the child of worth!
Perish the wretch who tarnishes descent
By the vile vaunting of a life ill spent!
Who sullies proud propinquity of blood,
Yet frowns indignant on the low-born Good!
Who shields his recreant bosom with a name;
And, first in Infamy, is last in Fame!
Yet let Reflection's eye discriminate
The difference 'twixt the mighty and the great!
Virtue is still illustrious, still sublime,
In ev'ry station, and in ev'ry clime!
Truth can derive no eminence from birth,
Rich in the proud supremacy of worth;
Its blest dominion vast and unconfin'd,
Its crown eternal, and its throne the mind!
Then Heav'n forbid that prejudice should scan
With jaundic'd eye the dignities of man!
That Persecution's agonizing rod
Should boldly smite the ""noblest work of God!""
That Rank should be a crime, and Genius hurl'd
A mournful wand'rer on the pitying world!
Yet Heav'n forbid that Ignorance should rise
On the dread basis where Religion dies!
That Liberty, immortal as the spheres,
Should steep her Laurel in a nation's tears!
Oh, falsely nam'd! Does Liberty require
The Child should perish for the guilty Sire?
Does Liberty inspire the Atheist's breast
To mock his God, and make his laws a jest?
Does Liberty with barbarous fetters bind
Her first-born hope, the freedom of the mind?
Hence, bold Usurper of that heav'n-taught pow'r,
Which wings with ecstacy man's transient hour!
Which bids the eye of Reason cloudless shine,
And gives Mortality a charm divine!
'Midst the wild winds, the lordly cedar tow'rs;
Progressive days invigorate its pow'rs;
The earlier branches, with'ring as they spread,
Round the firm root their coarsest foliage shed;
While the proud Tree its verdant head rears high,
Waves to the blast, and seems to pierce the sky;
Till the rich trunk, matur'd by length'ning years,
Through all their wondrous changes, braves the spheres;
Flings its rich fragrance on the gales that sweep
The humid forehead of the mountain's steep;
Mocks the fierce rage of elemental war,
The bolt's red sulphur, and the thunder's jar;
And, when around the shatter'd fragments lie,
The stricken victims of th' infuriate sky--
Amidst the wrecks of Nature seems to climb
Supremely grand, and awfully sublime!",2011-06-27,16034,"","""Does Liberty with barbarous fetters bind / Her first-born hope, the freedom of the mind?"" ",Fetters,2011-05-27 14:25:23 UTC,""
6977,"",Reading,2011-06-23 20:27:35 UTC,"Whate’er the tuneful Muse, or pensive Sage
To Fancy warbled, or to Reason show’d,
To treasur’d Stores of each enlighten’d Age
My studious Search to thy Direction ow’d.
Ne’er did thy Voice assume a Master’s Pow’r,
Nor force Assent to what thy Precepts taught;
But bid my independent Spirit soar,
In all the Freedom of unfett’red Thought.
Nor e’er by blind Constraint amd servile Awe,
Compell’d to act cold external Part;
But fixt my Duties by that sacred Law,
That rules the secret Movements of the Heart.
(pp. 62-3)",,18804,"","""Ne’er did thy Voice assume a Master’s Pow’r, / Nor force Assent to what thy Precepts taught; / But bid my independent Spirit soar, / In all the Freedom of unfett’red Thought""",Fetters,2011-06-23 20:28:04 UTC,""
6978,"",Reading,2011-06-23 20:36:58 UTC,"Oft when the phantoms of delusive good
With soft seduction round our senses play,
He bids Affliction lift her chast'ning rod,
And drive their unsubstantial forms away.
By mercy prompted his correcting hand
Inflicts the stroke of salutary pain,
To check tyrannic Passions’s wild demand,
And free our Reason from it’s slavish chain.
(p. 105)",,18805,"","""By mercy prompted his correcting hand / Inflicts the stroke of salutary pain, / To check tyrannic Passions's wild demand, / And free our Reason from it's slavish chain.""",Fetters,2011-06-23 20:37:37 UTC,""
7080,"",Reading,2011-09-02 19:29:43 UTC,"On Eloquence, prevailing art!
Whose force can chain the list'ning heart;
The throb of Sympathy inspire,
And kindle every great desire;
With magic energy controul
And reign the sov'reign of the soul!
That dreams while all its passions swell,
It shares the power it feels so well;
As visual objects seem possest
Of those clear hues by light imprest;
Oh, skill'd in every grace to charm,
To soften, to appal, to warm;
Fill with thy noblest rage the breast,
Bid on those lips thy spirit rest,
That shall, in BRITAIN's Senate, trace
The wrongs of AFRIC's Captive Race!--
But Fancy o'er the tale of woe
In vain one heighten'd tint would throw;
For ah, the Truth, is all we guess
Of anguish in its last excess:
Fancy may dress in deeper shade
The storm that hangs along the glade,
Spreads o'er the ruffled stream its wing,
And chills awhile the flowers of Spring:
But, where the wintry tempests sweep
In madness, o'er the darken'd deep;
Where the wild surge, the raging wave,
Point to the hopeless wretch a grave;
And Death surrounds the threat'ning shore--
Can Fancy add one horror more?
(pp. 21-3, ll. 321-350)",,19131,"","""On Eloquence, prevailing art! / Whose force can chain the list'ning heart; / The throb of Sympathy inspire, / And kindle every great desire; / With magic energy controul / And reign the sov'reign of the soul!""","",2011-09-02 19:29:43 UTC,""
5681,"",Reading,2012-08-14 13:32:28 UTC," Whene'er to Afric's shores I turn my eyes,
Horrors of deepest, deadliest guilt arise;
I see, by more than Fancy's mirror shewn,
The burning village, and the blazing town:
See the dire victim torn from social life,
The shrieking babe, the agonizing wife!
She, wretch forlorn! is dragg'd by hostile hands,
To distant tyrants sold, in distant lands!
Transmitted miseries, and successive chains,
The sole sad heritage her child obtains!
Ev'n this last wretched boon their foes deny,
To weep together, or together die.
By felon hands, by one relentless stroke,
See the fond links of feeling nature broke!
The fibres twisting round a parent's heart,
Torn from their grasp, and bleeding as they part.
(ll. 95-110, p. 104 in Wood)",,19913,"","""See the fond links of feeling nature broke! / The fibres twisting round a parent's heart, / Torn from their grasp, and bleeding as they part.""",Fetters,2012-08-14 13:32:28 UTC,""
5681,Meta-Metaphorical,Reading,2012-08-14 14:32:46 UTC,"When the fierce Sun darts vertical his beams,
And thirst and hunger mix their wild extremes;
When the sharp iron * wounds his inmost soul,
And his strain'd eyes in burning anguish roll;
Will the parch'd negro find, ere he expire,
No pain in hunger, and no heat in fire?
[...]
* This is not said figuratively. The writer of these lines has seen a complete set of chains, fitted to every separate limb of these unhappy, innocent men; together with instruments for wrenching open the jaws, contrived with such ingenious cruelty as would shock the humanity of an inquisitor.
(ll. 171-6, p. 13, p. 106 in Wood)",,19915,"CRAZY! USE IN ENTRY: ""This is not said figuratively.""","""When the sharp iron wounds his inmost soul, / And his strain'd eyes in burning anguish roll; / Will the parch'd negro find, ere he expire, / No pain in hunger, and no heat in fire?""",Fetters,2012-08-14 14:33:41 UTC,""
7429,"",Reading,2013-06-13 15:59:40 UTC,"Sonnet LVII.
To Dependence
Dependence! heavy, heavy are thy chains,
And happier they who from the dangerous sea,
Or the dark mine, procure with ceaseless pains
An hard-earn'd pittance--than who trust to thee!
More blest the hind, who from his bed of flock
Starts--when the birds of morn their summons give,
And waken'd by the lark--""the shepherd's clock,""
Lives but to labour--labouring but to live.
More noble than the sycophant, whose art
Must heap with taudry flowers thy hated shrine;
I envy not the meed thou canst impart
To crown his service--while, tho' Pride combine
With Fraud to crush me--my unfetter'd heart
Still to the Mountain Nymph may offer mine.",,20620,"","""More noble than the sycophant, whose art / Must heap with taudry flowers thy hated shrine; / I envy not the meed thou canst impart / To crown his service--while, tho' Pride combine / With Fraud to crush me--my unfetter'd heart / Still to the Mountain Nymph may offer mine.""",Fetters,2013-06-13 15:59:40 UTC,""