text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"THOSE are the features, those the smiles,
That first engaged my virgin heart:
I feel the pencilled image true,
I feel the mimic power of art.
For ever on my soul engraved
His glowing cheek, his manly mien;
I need not thee, thou painted shade,
To tell me what my Love has been.
O dearer now, though bent with age,
Than in the pride of blooming youth!
I knew not then his constant heart,
I knew not then his matchless truth.
(ll. 1-12, pp. 503-4)",2011-11-24 19:53:05 UTC,"""For ever on my soul engraved / His glowing cheek, his manly mien.""",2003-07-29 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2011-11-24,"","",Reading,15878,5969
"For play and mischief: out they flew,
The plague of many an honest clown,
Who, muttering, mourned his broken fence,
And clovered meadow trampled down.
Their toil-worn parents, sore distressed
To feed and clothe each luckless child,
No schooling could afford; their minds
Were like the weedy garden wild.
No bounds their insolence restrain,
No check the little urchins know;
None, save the beadle's lifted staff,
Or stern church warden's angry brow.
(ll. 17-28, pp. 505)",2009-09-14 19:44:58 UTC,"The urchin's mind may be like ""a weedy garden wild""",2003-07-29 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","",Reading,15879,5970
"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.",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.""",2005-05-17 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2011-06-05,Impressions,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""impression"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""fancy""",15946,6002
"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.",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.""",2005-05-17 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2011-06-05,Impressions,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""impression"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""fancy""",15958,6002
"No vulgar genius did his care commend,
He gave me Blount, his favourite and his friend;
To draw whose character exceeds my art,
I bear it deep engraven in my heart;
Yet this one print drawn out, I'll dare to say
Phoebus himself can scarce the whole display.
(ll. 19-24, p. 187)",2009-09-14 19:45:22 UTC,"""To draw whose character exceeds my art, / I bear it deep engraven in my heart; / Yet this one print drawn out, I'll dare to say / Phoebus himself can scarce the whole display""",2009-09-14 19:45:22 UTC,"","",2003-10-23,Writing,•An anti-feminist poem (recommends domesticity rather than poetic efforts).
•Cross-reference: This is another C18 sense of 'character' (compare with Locke's use of the word.),Reading,15995,6021
"These sudden eruptions of the passions of the multitude, spread, like the lava of a volcano, throughout all France, nor could men of correct judgment, who aimed only at the reform of abuses, and a renovation in all the departments, check the fury of the torrent. This confusion and terror within, and an army without, sent on by the combined despots of Europe, with the professed design of subjecting the nation, and re-establishing the monarchy of France, gave an opportunity to ambitious, unprincipled, corrupt, and ignorant men, to come forward, under pretence of supporting the rights and liberties of mankind, without any views but those of disorder and disorganization. Thus in the midst of tumult and confusion, was indulged every vicious propensity, peculation, revenge, and all the black passions of the soul. The guillotine was glutted with the blood of innocent victims, while the rapidity of execution, and their jealousy of each other, involved the most guilty, and cut down many of the blackest miscreants, as well as the most virtuous characters in the nation.
(III.xxxi, p. 407; p. 682-3 in OLL edition)",2014-05-20 17:09:24 UTC,"""These sudden eruptions of the passions of the multitude, spread, like the lava of a volcano, throughout all France, nor could men of correct judgment, who aimed only at reform of abuses, and a renovation in all the departments, check the fury of the torrent.""",2006-03-02 00:00:00 UTC,"Volume III, chapter xxxi","",,"","•INTEREST. Should search ""lava"" and ""volcano."" I bet these react to the historical (natural) environment more than many of my other metaphors. ","Reading a chapter draft of Matt Garrett's dissertation (Chapt 1, p. 27); now published, see Episodic Poetics (Oxford UP, 2014), p. 38.",16026,6042
"Oft have I seen yon solitary man
Pacing the upland meadow. On his brow
Sits melancholy, mark'd with decent pride,
As it would fly the busy taunting world,
And feed upon reflection. Sometimes, near
The foot of an old tree, he takes his seat,
And with the page of legendary lore
Cheats the dull hour, while Evening's sober eye
Looks tearful as it closes. In the dell
By the swift brook he loiters, sad and mute,
Save when a struggling sigh, half murmur'd, steals
From his wrung bosom. To the rising Moon,
His eye rais'd wistfully, expression fraught,
He pours the cherish'd anguish of his soul,
Silent, yet eloquent: For not a sound
That might alarm the night's lone centinel,
The dull-ey'd Owl, escapes his trembling lip,
Unapt in supplication. He is young,
And yet the stamp of thought so tempers youth,
That all its fires are faded. What is He?
And why, when morning sails upon the breeze,
Fanning the blue hill's summit, does he stay
Loit'ring and sullen, like a truant boy,
Beside the woodland glen; or stretch'd along
On the green slope, watch his slow wasting form
Reflected, trembling, on the river's breast?",2009-09-14 19:45:33 UTC,"""He is young, / And yet the stamp of thought so tempers youth, / That all its fires are faded""",2005-04-09 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","","Searching ""stamp"" and ""thought"" in HDIS (Poetry)",16054,6059
"One dreary night, when winter's icy breath
Half petrified the scene, when not a star
Gleam'd o'er the bleak infinity of space,
Sudden the Hermit started from his couch
With painful agitation. On his cheek
The blanch'd interpreter of horror mute
Sat terribly impressive! In his breast
The ruddy fount of life convulsive flow'd,
And his broad eyes, fix'd motionless as death,
Gaz'd vacantly aghast! His feeble lamp
Was wasting rapidly; the biting gale
Pierc'd the thin texture of his narrow cell;
And silence, like a fearful centinel
Marking the peril which awaited near,
Conspir'd with sullen night to wrap the scene
In tenfold horrors. Thrice he rose, and thrice
His feet recoil'd; and still the livid flame
Lengthen'd and quiver'd as the moaning wind
Pass'd thro' the rushy crevice, while his heart
Beat, like the death-watch, in his shudd'ring breast.
(Cf. pp. 91-2 in 1800 Lyrical Tales)",2013-10-15 17:59:06 UTC,"""Thrice he rose, and thrice / His feet recoil'd; and still the livid flame / Lengthen'd and quiver'd as the moaning wind / Pass'd thro' the rushy crevice, while his heart / Beat, like the death-watch, in his shudd'ring breast.""",2006-11-16 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","","Searching ""breast"" and ""watch"" in HDIS (Poetry)",16085,6076
"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.",2009-09-14 19:49:36 UTC,"""Still is it the false coinage of my fears?""",2009-02-26 00:00:00 UTC,"Act V, Scene ii","",,Coinage,"","Searching ""Coinage"" in HDIS (Poetry)",17261,6489
"Sonnet LXXXV.
The fairest flowers are gone! for tempests fell,
And with wild wing swept some unblown away,
While on the upland lawn or rocky dell
More faded in the day-star's ardent ray;
And scarce the copse, or hedge-row shade beneath,
Or by the runnel's grassy course appear
Some lingering blossoms of the earlier year,
Mingling bright florets, in the yellow wreath
That Autumn with his poppies and his corn
Binds on his tawny temples--So the schemes
Rais'd by fond Hope in youth's unclouded morn,
While sanguine youth enjoys delusive dreams,
Experience withers; till scarce one remains
Flattering the languid heart, where only Reason reigns!",2013-06-13 16:17:35 UTC,"""So the schemes / Rais'd by fond Hope in youth's unclouded morn, / While sanguine youth enjoys delusive dreams, / Experience withers; till scarce one remains / Flattering the languid heart, where only Reason reigns!""",2013-06-13 16:17:16 UTC,"","",,"","",Reading,20623,7432