work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
5873,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""iron"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2003-07-29 00:00:00 UTC,"I am no Amazon; nor would I give
One silver groat by iron laws to live.
Nay, if, like hers, my heart were iron-bound,
My warmth would melt the fetters to the ground.
",2011-06-26,15629,"•I've included twice: Fetters and Irons
•The milkmaid's poem is excerpted in Lonsdale (but not this stanza)","""Nay, if, like hers, my heart were iron-bound, / My warmth would melt the fetters to the ground""",Fetters,2011-05-27 14:19:45 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,""
6060,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""seal"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""window""",2005-04-19 00:00:00 UTC,"Oblivion horrible! to know no change;
Nor light from darkness! nor the human form,
The image of perfection infinite!
To fashion various phantoms of the brain,
By each amus'd, and yet by each deceiv'd!
To roll the aching eye, alas! in vain,
And still to find a melancholy blank
Of years, and months, and days, and ling'ring hours,
All dark alike, eternally obscure!
To such a wretch! whose brightest sense of bliss
Is but the shadow of a waking dream,
The sleep of death, with all its startling fears,
Must teem with prospects of Elysium!
For what is sleep, but temporary death;
Sealing up all the windows of the soul,
And binding ev'ry thought in torpid chains?
Yet, only for a time the spell controuls,
And soothing visions gild the transient gloom;
For every active faculty of mind
Springs from the numbing apathy of sleep
With renovated lustre and delight!
But he who knows one unenlighten'd void,
One dreary night, unbless'd with cheerful dreams,
Lives in the midst of Death; and, when he sleeps,
Feeds a perpetual solitude of woe,
Without one ray to dissipate its gloom.
(pp. 2-3 in 1793 ed., pp. 29-30 in 1806)",2011-05-23,16057,•I've included twice: Window and Fetters.,"""For what is sleep, but temporary death; / Sealing up all the windows of the soul, / And binding ev'ry thought in torpid chains?""",Fetters and Rooms,2011-07-19 19:39:34 UTC,""
6060,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""chain"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2011-07-19 19:31:06 UTC,"And yet, in such a mind, so whelm'd in gloom,
The pure affections of the soul still live!
The melancholy void is subject still
To the sweet magic of seraphic sounds;
The soothing eloquence of sacred song;
The whisp'ring gale, that mourns declining day;
Or Philomela's soul-subduing strain,
That woos lone Echo, from her viewless seat,
To sail aƫrial-thron'd upon the breeze!
The lulling murmurs of the wand'ring stream;
The ever rippling rill; the cataract fierce;
The lowing herds; and the small drowsy tones
That, from the insect myriads, hum around;
The love-taught minstrelsy of plumed throats;
The dulcet strains of gentle Consolation!
But, most of all, to that lov'd voice, whose thrill,
Rushing impetuous through each throbbing vein,
Dilates the wond'ring mind, and frees its pow'rs
From the cold chains of icy apathy
To all the vast extremes of bliss and pain!
For, to that voice ador'd, his quiv'ring pulse
Responsive beats! he marks its ev'ry tone,
And finds in each a sympathetic balm!
Ill-fated wretch! he knows not the sweet sense
That feeds upon the magic of a smile!
That drinks the poison of the murd'rous eye,
Or rushes, in an ecstasy of bliss,
To snatch the living roses from the cheek!
He knows not what it is to trace each charm
That plays about the symmetry of form,
And heightens ev'ry timid blushing grace,
More lovely, from the wonder it commands!
He never mark'd the soul-expressive tear!
The undescribable and speaking glance,
That promises unutterable bliss!
Then what to him avails the ruby lip,
Or the rich lustre of the silky waves,
That half conceal the azure tinctur'd eye,
As golden clouds rush on the morning star,
And glow, exulting, o'er its milder ray!
(pp. 6-8 in 1793, pp. 32-3 in 1806 ed.)",,18925,"","""But, most of all, [the mind is subject] to that lov'd voice, whose thrill, / Rushing impetuous through each throbbing vein, / Dilates the wond'ring mind, and frees its pow'rs / From the cold chains of icy apathy / To all the vast extremes of bliss and pain!""",Fetters,2011-07-19 19:41:19 UTC,""
5885,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""chains"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2011-07-20 18:17:38 UTC,"If I were rich, my boys might learn to breathe
Tones that ensnare the soul, shaking her pow'rs
With tremor much too exquisite. What boots
The languishment ideal, melting woe
So irresistible, when shades we love
Are heard by Fancy in melodious air?
Let those who feel declare.--Too oft the dance
In frightful labyrinth leaves the blooming maid,
Where virtue is no visitant. The moon
Then rises blushing, the fair wand'rer weeps
Neglected home, dreads her offended sire
Whose sole delight she was at morn, despairs,
And steals reluctantly to shades of vice,
Whence drop black poisons in the Tuscan grape
On her pale lip.--My sons, if rich, might wield
The fan emblaz'd with Psyche and her boy
O'er some enchantress, whose contagious sighs
Would blast the best impression of their souls.
The splendour of the virtuous mind appears
Brightest, when soaring to some unknown world,
Fearless of crowds beneath, or you would live
Virtuous unwisely. You are good and rich;
I poor--a vot'ry of wild fancy. When
You listen to my song, I am not poor;
You have not wealth enough to buy my joys:--
The chains of care fall off my pensive mind,
When through the winds your spirit hails me.
--Thought,
Wondrous unwearied trav'ller, boldly roams
Around the spacious globe, attempts the skies
And heav'n, to find the object of its search;
Forms silent treaties, everlasting leagues
Between courageous independent minds,
Who fly far o'er the earth, and only bend
To virtue. Thought bears on eternal spring,
Colours to form our blessings, buds of hope
For souls serene, who taste pure joy, and live.
What bliss lives not in store of Thought! Our woes
Triumph at seasons, when we weary Thought
Down to our feebleness. For you it holds
The chart of moral worlds, unfolds the sphere
Of Truth!--Behold, my friend, yon eager throng
Driving each other o'er the sultry scene!
None mourn their neighbour's overthrow. In haste
To be more busy than their fellows, all
Forget their point, or know not when they pass'd
Their Sun's meridian. Morn was spent in vain,
Noon with impatience; ev'ning's cooler hour
Came not with contemplation. Glitt'ring forms
They chase! Ah see the shadows onward glide,
Elude them!--From the world the hunters fall.",,18940,"","""The chains of care fall off my pensive mind, / When through the winds your spirit hails me.""",Fetters,2012-01-09 22:11:17 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,""
7747,"",Reading in ECCO,2013-11-03 17:35:00 UTC,"When such a youth shall Celia sue,
(Believe me such you'll find but few!)
Let not within your breast preside
Vain-glory, affectation, pride;
Each man of sense, you'll find disdain
To drag coquetry's galling chain.
'Tis prudence, truth, good sense, my dear,
That makes the lamp of love burn clear; <--page 47-->
These are the silken cords, that bind
The Lover's, and the Husband's mind.
When youth and beauty both decline,
These charms with added lustre shine;
No change they know, but ever bloom,
With graces that survive the tomb!
(pp. 47-8)",,23134,"","""Each man of sense, you'll find disdain / To drag coquetry's galling chain. / 'Tis prudence, truth, good sense, my dear, / That makes the lamp of love burn clear; / These are the silken cords, that bind / The Lover's, and the Husband's mind.""",Fetters,2013-11-03 17:35:00 UTC,""