work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
7108,"",Reading,2011-10-06 21:56:00 UTC,"Sonnet XLVII.
To Fancy
Thee Queen of Shadows!--shall I still invoke,
Still love the scenes thy sportive pencil drew,
When on mine eyes the early radiance broke
Which shew'd the beauteous, rather than the true!
Alas! long since, those glowing tints are dead,
And now 'tis thine in darkest hues to dress
The spot where pale Experience hangs her head
O'er the sad grave of murder'd Happiness!
Thro' thy false medium then, no longer view'd,
May fancied pain and fancied pleasure fly,
And I, as from me all thy dreams depart,
Be to my wayward destiny subdu'd;
Nor seek perfection with a poet's eye,
Nor suffer anguish with a poet's heart!",,19258,"","""Thee Queen of Shadows! [Fancy]--shall I still invoke, / Still love the scenes thy sportive pencil drew, / When on mine eyes the early radiance broke / Which shew'd the beauteous, rather than the true!""","",2013-06-13 15:46:46 UTC,""
7365,"",Searching in HDIS,2013-03-23 19:54:53 UTC,"""Dear enthusiastic creature,"" whispered Henry, ""how you steal into my soul."" She still continued. ""The same turn of mind which leads me to adore the Author of all Perfection--which leads me to conclude that he only can fill my soul; forces me to admire the faint image--the shadows of his attributes here below; and my imagination gives still bolder strokes to them. I know I am in some degree under the influence of a delusion--but does not this strong delusion prove that I myself 'am of subtiler essence than the trodden clod:' these flights of the imagination point to futurity; I cannot banish them. Every cause in nature produces an effect; and am I an exception to the general rule? have I desires implanted in me only to make me miserable? will they never be gratified? shall I never be happy? My feelings do not accord with the notion of solitary happiness. In a state of bliss, it will be the society of beings we can love, without the alloy that earthly infirmities mix with our best affections, that will constitute great part of our happiness.
(pp. 108-9)",,20049,"","""The same turn of mind which leads me to adore the Author of all Perfection--which leads me to conclude that he only can fill my soul; forces me to admire the faint image--the shadows of his attributes here below; and my imagination gives still bolder strokes to them.""","",2013-03-23 19:58:50 UTC,Chapter XVIII
5736,"",Searching Michael Gamer's online collection of Radcliffe's poetry at http://www.english.upenn.edu/~mgamer/Etexts/radcliffepoems.html,2013-05-29 20:06:29 UTC,"When the ball broke up, she retired to her apartment, but not to sleep. Joy is as retless as anxiety or sorrow. She seemed to have entered upon a new state of existence;--those fine springs of affection which had hitherto lain concealed, were now touched, and yielded to her a happiness more exalted than any her imagination ever painted. She reflected on the tranquility of her past life, and comparing it with the emotions of the present hour, exulted in the difference. All her former pleasures now appeared insipid; she wondered that they ever had power to affect her, and that she had endured with content the dull uniformity to which she had been condemned. It was now only that she appeared to live. Absorbed in the single idea of being beloved, her imagination soared into the regions of romantic bliss, and bore her high above the possibility of evil. Since she was beloved by Hippolitus, she could only be happy. From this state of entranced delight she was awakened by the sound of music immediately under her window. It was a lute touched by a masterly hand. After a wild and melancholy symphony, a voice of more than magic expression swelled into an air so pathetic and tender, that it seemed to breathe the very soul of love. The chords of the lute were struck in low and sweet accompaniment. Julie listened, and distinguished the following words:
(II, pp. 46-7)",,20249,• Entry originally attached to duplicate title. Deleted and moved. ,"""She seemed to have entered upon a new state of existence;--those fine springs of affection which had hitherto lain concealed, were now touched, and yielded to her a happiness more exalted than any her imagination ever painted.""","",2013-05-29 20:06:29 UTC,Chapter II
5736,"",Reading,2013-05-31 21:50:39 UTC,"Thus lovely, and thus veiled in obscurity, were the daughters of the noble Mazzini. But they were happy, for they knew not enough of the world seriously to regret the want of its enjoyments, though Julia would sometimes sigh for the airy image which her fancies painted, and a painful curiosity would arise concerning the busy scenes from which she was excluded. A return to her customary amusements, however, would chase the ideal image from her mind, and restore her usual happy complacency. Books, music, and painting, divided the hours of her leisure, and many beautiful summer evenings were spent in the pavillion, where the refined conversation of madame, the poetry of Tasso, the lute of Julia, and the friendship of Emilia, combined to form a species of happiness, such as elevated and highly susceptible minds are alone capable of receiving or communicating. Madame understood and practised all the graces of conversation, and her young pupils perceived its value, and caught the spirit of its character.
(I.i, pp. 14-15; p. 7 in OUP edition)",,20254,"","""But they were happy, for they knew not enough of the world seriously to regret the want of its enjoyments, though Julia would sometimes sigh for the airy image which her fancies painted, and a painful curiosity would arise concerning the busy scenes from which she was excluded.""","",2013-05-31 21:51:06 UTC,"Volume I, Chapter I"
5736,"",Reading,2013-05-31 21:59:31 UTC,"The purposed visit of their brother, whom they had not seen for several years, gave them great pleasure. Although their minds retained no very distinct remembrance of him, they looked forward with eager and delightful expectation to his virtues and his talents; and hoped to find in his company, a consolation for the uneasiness which the presence of the marchioness would excite. Neither did Julia contemplate with indifference the approaching festival. A new scene was now opening to her, which her young imagination painted in the warm and glowing colours of delight. The near approach of pleasure frequently awakens the heart to emotions, which would fail to be excited by a more remote and abstracted observance. Julia, who in the distance, had considered the splendid gaieties of life with tranquillity, now lingered with impatient hope through the moments which withheld her from their enjoyments. Emilia, whose feelings were less lively, and whose imagination was less powerful, beheld the approaching festival with calm consideration, and almost regretted the interruption of those tranquil pleasures, which she knew to be more congenial with her powers and disposition.
(I.i, pp. 32-3; p. 14 in OUP edition)",,20259,"","""A new scene was now opening to her, which her young imagination painted in the warm and glowing colours of delight.""","",2013-05-31 21:59:31 UTC,"Volume I, Chapter I"
5736,"",Reading,2013-05-31 22:06:07 UTC,"When the ball broke up, she retired to her apartment, but not to sleep. Joy is as restless as anxiety or sorrow. She seemed to have entered upon a new state of existence;--those fine springs of affection which had hitherto lain concealed, were now touched, and yielded to her a happiness more exalted than any her imagination had ever painted. She reflected on the tranquillity of her past life, and comparing it with the emotions of the present hour, exulted in the difference. All her former pleasures now appeared insipid; she wondered that they ever had power to affect her, and that she had endured with content the dull uniformity to which she had been condemned. It was now only that she appeared to live. Absorbed in the single idea of being beloved, her imagination soared into the regions of romantic bliss, and bore her high above the possibility of evil. Since she was beloved by Hippolitus, she could only be happy.
(I.ii, pp. 51-2; p. 23 in OUP edition)",,20262,"","""She seemed to have entered upon a new state of existence;--those fine springs of affection which had hitherto lain concealed, were now touched, and yielded to her a happiness more exalted than any her imagination had ever painted.""","",2013-05-31 22:06:07 UTC,"Volume I, Chapter II"
7425,"",Reading,2013-06-13 15:31:43 UTC,"Sonnet XXXVI.
Should the lone Wanderer, fainting on his way,
Rest for a moment of the sultry hours,
And tho' his path thro' thorns and roughness lay,
Pluck the wild rose, or woodbine's gadding flowers;
Weaving gay wreaths, beneath some sheltering tree,
The sense of sorrow, he awhile may lose;
So have I sought thy flowers, fair Poesy!
So charm'd my way, with Friendship and the Muse
But darker now grows life's unhappy day,
Dark, with new clouds of evil, yet to come,
Her pencil sickening Fancy throws away,
And weary Hope reclines upon the tomb;
And points my wishes to that tranquil shore,
Where the pale spectre Care, pursues no more.",,20615,"","""Her pencil sickening Fancy throws away, / And weary Hope reclines upon the tomb.""","",2013-06-13 15:31:43 UTC,""
7438,Punning on portray and draw?,Reading,2013-06-13 17:18:37 UTC,"Thou spectre of terrific mien,
Lord of the hopeless heart and hollow eye,
In whose fierce train each form is sees
That drives sick Reason to insanity!
I woo thee with unusual prayer,
""Grim visaged, comfortless Despair:""
Approach; in me a willing victim find,
Who seeks thine iron sway--and calls thee kind!
Ah! hide for ever from my sight
The faithless flatterer Hope--whose pencil, gay,
Portrays some vision of delight,
Then bids the fairy tablet fade away;
While in dire contrast, to mine eyes
Thy phantoms, yet more hideous, rise,
And Memory draws, from Pleasure's wither'd flower,
Corrosives for the heart--of fatal power!
I bid the traitor Love, adieu!
Who to this fond, believing bosom came,
A guest insidious and untrue,
With Pity's soothing voice--in Friendship's name;
The wounds he gave, nor Time shall cure
Nor Reason teach me to endure.
And to that breast mild Patience pleads in vain,
Which feels the curse--of meriting it's pain.
(ll. 1-24, pp. 49-50)",,20630,"","""Ah! hide for ever from my sight / The faithless flatterer Hope--whose pencil, gay, / Portrays some vision of delight, / Then bids the fairy tablet fade away; / While in dire contrast, to mine eyes / Thy phantoms, yet more hideous, rise, / And Memory draws, from Pleasure's wither'd flower, / Corrosives for the heart--of fatal power!""",Writing,2013-06-13 17:18:37 UTC,""
7439,"",Searching in C-H Lion,2013-06-14 05:05:51 UTC,"The gust grew more vehement, and deafened her with it's fury; while the mountainous waves it had raised, burst thundering against the rocks and seemed to shake their very foundation. Emmeline, at the picture her imagination drew of their united powers of desolation, shuddered involuntarily and sighed.
(III, p. 219)",,20677,"","""Emmeline, at the picture her imagination drew of their united powers of desolation, shuddered involuntarily and sighed.""","",2013-06-14 05:05:51 UTC,""
7439,"",C-H Lion,2013-06-14 05:28:52 UTC,"""I have by no means encouraged visions so delightful, without a severe alloy of fear and mistrust. Frequently, your coldness, your unkindness, gives me again to despondence and every lovely prospect I had suffered my imagination to draw is lost in clouds and darkness. Yet I am convinced you do not intend to torture me; and that from Miss Mowbray I may expect that candour that explicit conduct, of which common minds are incapable. Tell me then, dearest and loveliest Emmeline, may I venture to hope that tender bosom is not wholly insensible? Will she hear me with patience, and even with pity?""
(IV, p. 218)",,20698,"","""Frequently, your coldness, your unkindness, gives me again to despondence and every lovely prospect I had suffered my imagination to draw is lost in clouds and darkness.'","",2013-06-14 05:28:52 UTC,""