id,comments,provenance,dictionary,created_at,reviewed_on,work_id,theme,context,updated_at,metaphor,text
15265,"•Conrad is about to meet the ghost of Edward. Note that this is all soliloquy or reported thought.
•I will eventually have to admit ""breast"" (and perhaps) ""head"" as two metonymic words to which my entries will be keyed, along with heart and mind.",Reading,"",2003-07-29 00:00:00 UTC,,5727,"","",2013-06-05 17:06:27 UTC,"""There is a midnight in the breast / No morn shall ever cheer.""","'Methinks you angry warrior's head
Doth in its casement frown,
And darts a look, as if it said,
""Where hast thou laid my son?""
'But will these fancies never cease?
O would the night were run!
My troubled soul can find no peace
But with the morning sun.
'Vain hope! the guilty never rest:
Dismay is always near;
There is a midnight in the breast
No morn shall ever cheer.
(ll. 17-28 p. 435)"
15266,"•Baillie constructs an interesting relationship between the muses and the weather (mental or otherwise). There are blurred lines here: Do the muses cuases internal storms, is weather inspirational, are the muses the weather?
•I should read the whole poem. REVISIT.",Reading,"",2003-07-29 00:00:00 UTC,,5728,"",Excerpted in Lonsdale,2009-09-14 19:43:11 UTC,"The mind holds ""each parted form,"" ""like the after-echoing"" of a storm","YE are the spirits who preside
In earth and air and ocean wide;
In hissing flood and crackling fire;
In horror dread and tumult dire;
In stilly calm and stormy wind,
And rule the answering changes in the human mind.
High on the tempest-beaten hill,
Your misty shapes ye shift at will;
The wild fantastic clouds yet form;
Your voice is in the midnight storm,
Whilst in the dark and lonely hour,
Oft starts the boldest heart, and owns your secret power.
From you, when growling storms are past,
And lighting ceases on the waste,
And when the scene of blood is o'er,
And groans of death are heard no more,
Still holds the mind each parted form,
Like the after-echoing of th' o'erpassed storm.
When closing glooms o'erspread the day,
And what we love has passed away,
Ye kindly bid each pleasing scene
Within the bosom to remain,
Like moons who do their watches run
With the reflected brightness of the parted sun.
(ll. 1- 24, p. 440)"
15267,"•Baillie constructs an interesting relationship between the muses and the weather (mental or otherwise). There are blurred lines here: Do the muses cuases internal storms, is weather inspirational, are the muses the weather?
•I should read the whole poem. REVISIT.
•Moons, suns, days and nights. These deserve a separate category. They don't really belong in Optics (as I've defined it).",Reading,"",2003-07-29 00:00:00 UTC,,5728,"",Excerpted in Lonsdale,2009-09-14 19:43:12 UTC,"Pleasing scenes may remain in the bosom, like ""moons who do their watches run with the reflected brightness of the sun""","YE are the spirits who preside
In earth and air and ocean wide;
In hissing flood and crackling fire;
In horror dread and tumult dire;
In stilly calm and stormy wind,
And rule the answering changes in the human mind.
High on the tempest-beaten hill,
Your misty shapes ye shift at will;
The wild fantastic clouds yet form;
Your voice is in the midnight storm,
Whilst in the dark and lonely hour,
Oft starts the boldest heart, and owns your secret power.
From you, when growling storms are past,
And lighting ceases on the waste,
And when the scene of blood is o'er,
And groans of death are heard no more,
Still holds the mind each parted form,
Like the after-echoing of th' o'erpassed storm.
When closing glooms o'erspread the day,
And what we love has passed away,
Ye kindly bid each pleasing scene
Within the bosom to remain,
Like moons who do their watches run
With the reflected brightness of the parted sun.
(ll. 1- 24, p. 440)"
15946,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""impression"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""fancy""",Impressions,2005-05-17 00:00:00 UTC,2011-06-05,6002,"","",2011-06-06 03:30:05 UTC,"""WHEN the awaken'd soul receives / The first impression fancy gives / Temper'd by soft affection's reign, / Sweet are the days of pleasing pain.""","WHEN the awaken'd soul receives
The first impression fancy gives,
Temper'd by soft affection's reign,
Sweet are the days of pleasing pain.
But, ah! they fly, fly never to return,
And leave the aching heart their transient charms to mourn."
15958,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""impression"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""fancy""",Impressions,2005-05-17 00:00:00 UTC,2011-06-05,6002,"","",2011-06-06 03:31:47 UTC,"The muse ""beams a visionary day: / Bright as the magic torch she early gave / To light thy ven'trous way, through fancy's secret cave.""","I mark thy muse; her gothic lyre
Well suits the legendary lay;
While darting from her eyes of sire
She beams a visionary day:
Bright as the magic torch she early gave
To light thy ven'trous way, through fancy's secret cave."
16105,•INTEREST. Grant seems to renovate the metaphor of female tyranny.,"Searching ""heart"" and ""empire"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",2004-08-22 00:00:00 UTC,,6085,"","",2011-07-14 20:10:12 UTC,"A woman may stretch ""her blameless empire o'er the heart.""","Now many a happy year had slid away,
Since Hymen smil'd upon their bridal day.
Alike, as mother, mistress, friend, or wife,
Fair Flora shone the grace of private life:
With latent wisdom and endearing art,
She stretch'd her blameless empire o'er the heart;
Her happy household rul'd with gentle sway,
And made it their first pleasure to obey.
Belov'd and reverenc'd in his native place,
Obey'd and honour'd by a duteous race,
Blest in his Flora, by his neighbours blest,
The worthiest of his generous tribe confest,--
Her consort long in peaceful plenty dwelt,
And oft to want his liberal bounty dealt."
16108,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),"",2005-04-20 00:00:00 UTC,,6085,"","",2009-09-14 19:45:46 UTC,"""She'd touch the callous mind, unus'd to feel, / With savage virtue, and the lawless zeal""","Forgive, ye valiant dead! ye kindred shades!
That glide with heroes through Elysian glades,
The muse whose trembling hands entwine the wreath,
Whose mournful eyes retrace the paths of death:
So fast ye crowd upon her dazzled view,
Like sun-beams on a cypress wet with dew:
She sinks, o'ercome, unequal to relate
Your loyal zeal, or your disastrous fate.
Yet ere oblivion's leaden gates be clos'd
On humble worth, in life's low vale repos'd,
She'd touch the callous mind, unus'd to feel,
With savage virtue, and the lawless zeal
Of the bold Brothers in their darksome grove,
Whose steps licentious wont at ease to rove;
Who live like Nature's commoners at large,
Obey no master, and attend no charge,
But wander through the grassy glens at will,
Nor ask what owner rear'd the beeves they kill,
Then drag their prey home to their ample cave,
O'er whose dark entrance trembling aspins wave;
And in whose deep recess to soothe repose,
A weeping rill, with tinkling murmur flows:
Returning from the chase or prosp'rous spoil,
'Twas here they hid the fruits of all their toil;
Yet aw'd by jealous fear, no stranger guest
E'er view'd their secret haunt, or shar'd their feast."
16109,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""brass"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again","",2005-06-07 00:00:00 UTC,,6086,"","",2009-09-14 19:45:46 UTC,"""Secure, his adamantine heart / In learning's musty cell / Repell'd poor Cupid's powerful dart, / And slighted every belle""","Secure, his adamantine heart
In learning's musty cell
Repell'd poor Cupid's powerful dart,
And slighted every belle.
Had he like Aldo no repast
But what his bow supplied,
He'd dare well pleas'd the wintry blast
When shells were smoking wide.
But college sophs of modern times,
In Sloth's soft lap reclin'd,
Will praise the fair in well-turn'd rhymes,
Yet leave them to the wind.
He talks of gaining hearts of beaux,
To please the angry fair;
But whether they have hearts to lose,
He does not know nor care.
Ah! sly observer, deeply read
In Nature's ample page;
Too well you know that beaux well-bred
In this self-loving age,
In panoply of lead and brass
Their cautious heart s unfold,
Which beauty cannot pierce, alas!
Unless with darts of gold!"
17261,"","Searching ""Coinage"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Coinage,2009-02-26 00:00:00 UTC,,6489,"","Act V, Scene ii",2009-09-14 19:49:36 UTC,"""Still is it the false coinage of my fears?""","VAL.
Still is it the false coinage of my fears?
Ah! hearing, sight, and every sense is now
False and deceitful grown. I'll sit me down,
And think no more, but let the black hour pass
In still and fixed stupor o'er my head."
17702,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""judge"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Court,2010-02-05 00:08:24 UTC,2012-05-31,6678,"","Act III, scene ii",2012-05-31 19:42:33 UTC,"""It matters not, though gen'rous in their nature, / They yet may serve a most ungen'rous end; / And he who teaches men to think, though nobly, / Doth raise within their minds a busy judge / To scan his actions.""","It matters not, though gen'rous in their nature,
They yet may serve a most ungen'rous end;
And he who teaches men to think, though nobly,
Doth raise within their minds a busy judge
To scan his actions. Send thine agents forth,
And sound it in their ears how much Count Basil
Affects all difficult and desp'rate service,
To raise his fortunes by some daring stroke;
Having unto the emperor pledg'd his word,
To make his troops all dreadful hazards brave:
For which intent he fills their simple minds
With idle tales of glory and renown;
Using their warm attachment to himself
For most unworthy ends.
This is the busy time; go forth, my friend;
Mix with the soldiers, now in jolly groups
Around their ev'ning cups. There, spare no cost.
[Gives him a purse.]
Observe their words, see how the poison takes,
And then return again.
(III.ii)"