work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
4106,"",HDIS,2004-02-25 00:00:00 UTC,"While Cupid smil'd, by kind Occasion bless'd,
And, with the Secret kept, the Love increas'd;
The am'rous Youth frequents the silent Groves;
And much He meditates; for much He loves.
He loves: 'tis true; and is belov'd again:
Great are his Joys: but will they long remain?
Emma with Smiles receives his present Flame;
But smiling, will She ever be the same?
Beautiful Looks are rul'd by fickle Minds;
And Summer Seas are turn'd by sudden Winds.
Another Love may gain her easie Youth:
Time changes Thought; and Flatt'ry conquers Truth.
(p. 283, ll. 155-66)",,10563,"•The Nut-brown Maid is an Oldmixon poem. Henry and Emma was extremely popular. Translations into French, German, and Latin. ","""Beautiful Looks are rul'd by fickle Minds; / And Summer Seas are turn'd by sudden Winds""","",2013-07-22 15:10:24 UTC,""
4151,"",HDIS (Poetry),2003-10-28 00:00:00 UTC,"Between Verse 25 and 26 were these lines:
Many are spoil'd by that pedantic throng,
Who with great pains teach youth to reason wrong.
Tutors, like Virtuoso's, oft inclin'd
By strange transfusion to improve the mind,
Draw off the sense we have, to pour in new;
Which yet with all their skill, they ne'er could do.",2011-10-20,10678,These lines originally appeared between verses 25 and 26.,"""Tutors, like Virtuoso's, oft inclin'd / By strange transfusion to improve the mind, / Draw off the sense we have, to pour in new; / Which yet with all their skill, they ne'er could do.""","",2011-10-20 14:39:38 UTC,Note to line 25
4151,"",HDIS,2003-11-03 00:00:00 UTC,"But if in noble minds some dregs remain,
Not yet purg'd off, of spleen and sour disdain;
Discharge that rage on more provoking crimes,
Nor fear a dearth in these flagitious times.
No pardon vile Obscenity should find,
Tho' wit and art conspire to move your mind;
But Dulness with obscenity must prove
As shameful sure as Impotence in love.
In the fat age of pleasure, wealth, and ease,
Sprung the rank weed, and thriv'd with large increase;
When Love was all an easy Monarch's care;
Seldom at council, never in a war:
Jilts rul'd the state, and statesmen Farces writ;
Nay wits had pensions, and young Lords had wit:
The Fair sate panting at a Courtier's play,
And not a Mask went unimprov'd away:
The modest fan was lifted up no more,
And Virgins smil'd at what they blush'd before.
The following licence of a Foreign reign
Did all the dregs of bold Socinus drain;
Then unbelieving Priests reform'd the nation,
And taught more pleasant methods of salvation;
Where heav'ns free subjects might their rights dispute,
Lest God himself should seem too Absolute:
Pulpits their sacred satire learn'd to spare,
And Vice admir'd to find a flatt'rer there!
Encourag'd thus, Wit's Titans brav'd the skies,
And the Press groan'd with licens'd blasphemies.
These monsters, Critics! with your darts engage,
Here point your thunder, and exhaust your rage!
Yet shun their fault, who, scandalously nice,
Will needs mistake an author into vice;
All seems infected that th'infected spy,
As all looks yellow to the jaundic'd eye.
(II, ll. 526-59)",,10685,"","""But if in noble minds some dregs remain, / Not yet purg'd off, of spleen and sour disdain; / Discharge that rage on more provoking crimes, / Nor fear a dearth in these flagitious times.""","",2009-09-14 19:35:11 UTC,Part II
4151,"","Reading. Found again in Joseph Warton's An Essay on the Writings and Genius of Pope (London: Printed for M. Cooper, 1756), 116. Also in James Beattie's Dissertations Moral and Critical (London: Strahan, 1783), 6. See also Ralph Cohen's ""Pope's Meanings and the Strategies of Interrelation,"" English Literature in the Age of Disguise, ed. Maximillian E. Novak, (Berkeley: U. of California Press, 1977), 111-12.",2005-07-22 00:00:00 UTC,"But you who seek to give and merit fame,
And justly bear a Critic's noble name,
Be sure yourself and your own reach to know,
How far your genius, taste, and learning go;
Launch not beyond your depth, but be discreet,
And mark that point where sense and dulness meet.
Nature to all things fix'd the limits fit,
And wisely curb'd proud man's pretending wit.
As on the land while here the Ocean gains,
In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains;
Thus in the soul while memory prevails,
The solid pow'r of understanding fails;
Where beams of warm imagination play,
The memory's soft figures melt away.
One science only will one genius fit;
So vast is art, so narrow human wit:
Not only bounded to peculiar arts,
But oft' in those confin'd to single parts.
Like Kings we lose the conquests gain'd before,
By vain ambition still to make them more;
Each might his sev'ral province well command,
Would all but stoop to what they understand.
(I, ll. 52-67)",2011-10-20,10710,"•I've included twice: Optics and Liquid
•Cross-reference: appears in Johnson's Dictionary (1755), and in Beattie's Dissertations Moral and Critical (1783).
• Reviewed 2009-01-28.
• Found again in Cohen, Ralph L. ""Pope's Meanings and the Strategies of Interrelation."" English Literature in the Age of Disguise, ed. Maximillian E. Novak, Berkeley: U. of California Press, 1977), 111-12.
• Expanded the entry to take in the whole epic simile (had been focused on beams of imagination before).
• Warton calls the best metaphor on the warmth of fancy
","""As on the land while here the Ocean gains, / In other parts it leaves wide sandy plains; / Thus in the soul while memory prevails, / The solid pow'r of understanding fails; / Where beams of warm imagination play, / The memory's soft figures melt away.""",Optics and Writing,2017-03-09 18:39:20 UTC,Part I
4209,"",HDIS,2003-10-26 00:00:00 UTC,"Thus toil'd the Chiefs in diff'rent Parts engag'd,
In ev'ry Quarter fierce Tydides rag'd,
Amid the Greek , amid the Trojan Train,
Rapt thro' the Ranks he thunders o'er the Plain,
Now here, now there, he darts from Place to Place,
Pours on the Rear, or lightens in their Face.
Thus from high Hills the Torrents swift and strong
Deluge whole Fields, and sweep the Trees along,
Thro' ruin'd Moles the rushing Wave resounds,
O'erwhelms the Bridge, and bursts the lofty Bounds;
The yellow Harvests of the ripen'd Year,
And flatted Vineyards, one sad Waste appear;
While Jove descends in sluicy Sheets of Rain,
And all the Labours of Mankind are vain.
Verse 116. Thus Torrents swift and strong .]
This whole Passage (says Eustathius ) is extremely beautiful. It describes the Hero carry'd by an Enthusiastick Valor into the midst of his Enemies, and so mingled with their Ranks as if himself were a Trojan. And the Simile wonderfully illustrates this Fury proceeding from an uncommon Infusion of Courage from Heaven, in resembling it not to a constant River, but a Torrent rising from an extraordinary Burst of Rain. This Simile is one of those that draws along with it some foreign Circumstances: We must not often expect from Homer those minute Resemblances in every Branch of a Comparison, which are the Pride of modern Similes. If that which one may call the main Action of it, or the principal Point of Likeness, be preserved; he affects, as to the rest, rather to present the Mind with a great Image, than to fix it down to an exact one. He is sure to make a fine Picture in the whole, without drudging on the under Parts; like those free Painters who (one would think) had only made here and there a few very significant Strokes, that give Form and Spirit to all the Piece. For the present Comparison, Virgil in the second Æneid has inserted an Imitation of it, which I cannot think equal to this, tho' Scaliger prefers Virgil 's to all our Author's Similitudes from Rivers put together.
Non sic aggeribus ruptis cum spumeus amnis
Exiit, oppositasque evicit gurgite moles ,
Fertur in arva furens cumulo, camposque per omnes
Cum stabulis armenta trahit ------
Not with so fierce a Rage, the foaming Flood
Roars, when he finds his rapid Course withstood;
Bears down the Dams with unresisted Sway,
And sweeps the Cattel and the Cotts away.
Dryden.
",,10918,•I've included both verses and note on the verses.
•INTEREST. See also interesting remark about ancient and modern simile practices.
•I'm putting this in 'Liquid' but a case could be made that it belongs in 'Weather',"""And the Simile wonderfully illustrates this Fury proceeding from an uncommon Infusion of Courage from Heaven, in resembling it not to a constant River, but a Torrent rising from an extraordinary Burst of Rain. This Simile is one of those that draws along with it some foreign Circumstances.""","",2009-09-14 19:35:23 UTC,""
4209,"",HDIS,2003-10-26 00:00:00 UTC,"He said: and seizing Thrasimedes' Shield,
(His valiant Offspring) hasten'd to the Field;
(That Day, the Son his Father's Buckler bore)
Then snatch'd a Lance, and issu'd from the Door.
Soon as the Prospect open'd to his View,
His wounded Eyes the Scene of Sorrow knew;
Dire Disarray! the Tumult of the Fight,
The Wall in Ruins, and the Greeks in Flight.
As when old Ocean's silent Surface sleeps,
The Waves just heaving on the purple Deeps;
While yet th'expected Tempest hangs on high,
Weighs down the Cloud, and blackens in the Sky,
The Mass of Waters will no Wind obey;
Jove sends one Gust, and bids them roll away.
While wav'ring Counsels thus his Mind engage,
Fluctuates, in doubtful Thought, the Pylian Sage;
To join the Host, or to the Gen'ral haste,
Debating long, he fixes on the last:
Yet, as he moves, the Fight his Bosom warms;
The Field rings dreadful with the Clang of Arms;
The gleaming Faulchions flash, the Javelins fly;
Blows echo Blows, and all, or kill, or die.
Verse 21. As when old Ocean's silent Surface sleeps. ]
There are no where more finish'd Pictures of Nature, than those which Homer draws in several of his Comparisons. The Beauty however of some of these will be lost to many, who cannot perceive the Resemblance, having never had Opportunity to observe the things themselves. The Life of this Description will be most sensible to those who have been at Sea in a Calm: In this Condition the Water is not entirely motionless, but swells gently in smooth Waves, which fluctuate backwards and forwards in a kind of balancing Motion: This State continues till a rising Wind gives a Determination to the Waves, and rolls 'em one certain way. There is scarce any thing in the whole Compass of Nature that can more exactly represent the State of an irresolute Mind, wavering between two different Designs, sometimes inclining to the one, sometimes to the other, and then moving to the Point to which its Resolution is at last determin'd. Every Circumstance of this Comparison is both beautiful and just; and it is the more to be admir'd, because it is very difficult to find sensible Images proper to represent the Motions of the Mind; wherefore we but rarely meet with such Comparisons even in the best Poets. There is one of great Beauty in Virgil , upon a Subject very like this, where he compares his Hero's Mind, agitated with a great Variety and quick Succession of Thoughts, to a dancing Light reflected from a Vessel of Water in Motion.
Cuncta videns, magno curarum fluctuat æstu ,
Atque animum, nunc huc, celerem, nunc dividit illuc ,
In partesq; rapit varias, perque omnia versat.
Sicut aquæ tremulum labris ubi lumen ahenis
Sole repercussum, aut radiantis imagine lunæ ,
Omnia pervolitat latè loca; jamque sub auras
Erigitur, summique ferit laquearia tecti.
Æn. l. 8. V. 19.
",,10925,•I've included verses and notes on the verses
•INTEREST. Pope admits that it is hard to come up with images for the mind's motion.
•Cross-reference:
,"""As when old Ocean's silent Surface sleeps, / The Waves just heaving on the purple Deeps; / While yet th'expected Tempest hangs on high, / Weighs down the Cloud, and blackens in the Sky, / The Mass of Waters will no Wind obey; / Jove sends one Gust, and bids them roll away. / While wav'ring Counsels thus his Mind engage, / Fluctuates, in doubtful Thought, the Pylian Sage""","",2009-09-14 19:35:23 UTC,""
4209,"",HDIS,2003-10-26 00:00:00 UTC,"He said: and seizing Thrasimedes' Shield,
(His valiant Offspring) hasten'd to the Field;
(That Day, the Son his Father's Buckler bore)
Then snatch'd a Lance, and issu'd from the Door.
Soon as the Prospect open'd to his View,
His wounded Eyes the Scene of Sorrow knew;
Dire Disarray! the Tumult of the Fight,
The Wall in Ruins, and the Greeks in Flight.
As when old Ocean's silent Surface sleeps,
The Waves just heaving on the purple Deeps;
While yet th'expected Tempest hangs on high,
Weighs down the Cloud, and blackens in the Sky,
The Mass of Waters will no Wind obey;
Jove sends one Gust, and bids them roll away.
While wav'ring Counsels thus his Mind engage,
Fluctuates, in doubtful Thought, the Pylian Sage;
To join the Host, or to the Gen'ral haste,
Debating long, he fixes on the last:
Yet, as he moves, the Fight his Bosom warms;
The Field rings dreadful with the Clang of Arms;
The gleaming Faulchions flash, the Javelins fly;
Blows echo Blows, and all, or kill, or die.
Verse 21. As when old Ocean's silent Surface sleeps. ]
There are no where more finish'd Pictures of Nature, than those which Homer draws in several of his Comparisons. The Beauty however of some of these will be lost to many, who cannot perceive the Resemblance, having never had Opportunity to observe the things themselves. The Life of this Description will be most sensible to those who have been at Sea in a Calm: In this Condition the Water is not entirely motionless, but swells gently in smooth Waves, which fluctuate backwards and forwards in a kind of balancing Motion: This State continues till a rising Wind gives a Determination to the Waves, and rolls 'em one certain way. There is scarce any thing in the whole Compass of Nature that can more exactly represent the State of an irresolute Mind, wavering between two different Designs, sometimes inclining to the one, sometimes to the other, and then moving to the Point to which its Resolution is at last determin'd. Every Circumstance of this Comparison is both beautiful and just; and it is the more to be admir'd, because it is very difficult to find sensible Images proper to represent the Motions of the Mind; wherefore we but rarely meet with such Comparisons even in the best Poets. There is one of great Beauty in Virgil , upon a Subject very like this, where he compares his Hero's Mind, agitated with a great Variety and quick Succession of Thoughts, to a dancing Light reflected from a Vessel of Water in Motion.
Cuncta videns, magno curarum fluctuat æstu ,
Atque animum, nunc huc, celerem, nunc dividit illuc ,
In partesq; rapit varias, perque omnia versat.
Sicut aquæ tremulum labris ubi lumen ahenis
Sole repercussum, aut radiantis imagine lunæ ,
Omnia pervolitat latè loca; jamque sub auras
Erigitur, summique ferit laquearia tecti.
Æn. l. 8. V. 19.
",,10926,•I've included verses and notes on the verses
•INTEREST. Pope admits that it is hard to come up with images for the mind's motion.
,"""There is scarce any thing in the whole Compass of Nature [referring to the calmed sea] that can more exactly represent the State of an irresolute Mind, wavering between two different Designs, sometimes inclining to the one, sometimes to the other, and then moving to the Point to which its Resolution is at last determin'd""","",2009-09-14 19:35:23 UTC,""
7682,"",Reading,2013-09-18 14:31:26 UTC,"Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us,
And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us:
Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain,
And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign:
Wit-unconcoct is the Extream of Sloth,
And too much Sense is the Extream of both;
Abstracted-Wit 'Tis own'd is a Disease,
But Sense-abstracted has no Power to please:
For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense,
And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense:
Meer Sense is sullen; stiff, and unpolite,
Meer Wit is Apoplectick, thin, and light:
Wit is a King without a Parliament,
And Sense a Democratick Government:
Wit, like the French, wher'e'er it reigns destroys,
And Sense advanc'd is apt to Tyrannize:
Wit without Sense is like the Laughing-Evil,
And Sense unmix'd with Fancy is the D---l.
Wit is a Standing-Army Government,
And Sense a sullen stubborn P---t:
Wit by its haste anticipates its Fate,
And so does Sense by being obstinate:
Wit without Sense in Verse is all but Farce,
Sense without Wit in Verse is all mine A---.
Wit, like the French, performs before it thinks,
And thoughtful Sense without Performance sinks;
Sense without Wit is Flegmatick and pale,
And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail:
Wit without Sense is Cholerick and Red,
Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head.
Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one,
Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune:
Wit, like the Belly, if it be not fed,
Will starve the Members, and distract the Head.
Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive,
Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give:
Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth,
Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth.
United: Wit and Sense, makes Science thrive,
Divided: neither Wit nor Sense can live;
For while the Parties eagerly contend,
The Mortal Strife must in their mutual Ruin end.
(pp. 165-7, ll. 353-394)",,22791,"FOUND and FIXED TYPOS in C-H Lion transcription: ""rarisy'd"" and ""advant'd""","""Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us, / And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us.""","",2013-09-18 14:48:49 UTC,""
7682,"",Reading,2013-09-18 14:33:58 UTC,"Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us,
And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us:
Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain,
And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign:
Wit-unconcoct is the Extream of Sloth,
And too much Sense is the Extream of both;
Abstracted-Wit 'Tis own'd is a Disease,
But Sense-abstracted has no Power to please:
For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense,
And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense:
Meer Sense is sullen; stiff, and unpolite,
Meer Wit is Apoplectick, thin, and light:
Wit is a King without a Parliament,
And Sense a Democratick Government:
Wit, like the French, wher'e'er it reigns destroys,
And Sense advanc'd is apt to Tyrannize:
Wit without Sense is like the Laughing-Evil,
And Sense unmix'd with Fancy is the D---l.
Wit is a Standing-Army Government,
And Sense a sullen stubborn P---t:
Wit by its haste anticipates its Fate,
And so does Sense by being obstinate:
Wit without Sense in Verse is all but Farce,
Sense without Wit in Verse is all mine A---.
Wit, like the French, performs before it thinks,
And thoughtful Sense without Performance sinks;
Sense without Wit is Flegmatick and pale,
And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail:
Wit without Sense is Cholerick and Red,
Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head.
Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one,
Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune:
Wit, like the Belly, if it be not fed,
Will starve the Members, and distract the Head.
Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive,
Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give:
Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth,
Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth.
United: Wit and Sense, makes Science thrive,
Divided: neither Wit nor Sense can live;
For while the Parties eagerly contend,
The Mortal Strife must in their mutual Ruin end.
(pp. 165-7, ll. 353-394)",,22792,"OED: ""An abnormally copious flowing of blood, excrement, etc. from the bowels or other organs; a morbid or excessive discharge. spec. An early name for dysentery; also †red flux, †flux of blood, bloody flux (see main entry).""","""Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain, / And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign.""","",2013-09-18 14:49:18 UTC,""
7682,"",Reading,2013-09-18 14:37:46 UTC,"Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us,
And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us:
Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain,
And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign:
Wit-unconcoct is the Extream of Sloth,
And too much Sense is the Extream of both;
Abstracted-Wit 'Tis own'd is a Disease,
But Sense-abstracted has no Power to please:
For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense,
And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense:
Meer Sense is sullen; stiff, and unpolite,
Meer Wit is Apoplectick, thin, and light:
Wit is a King without a Parliament,
And Sense a Democratick Government:
Wit, like the French, wher'e'er it reigns destroys,
And Sense advant'd is apt to Tyrannize:
Wit without Sense is like the Laughing-Evil,
And Sense unmix'd with Fancy is the D---l.
Wit is a Standing-Army Government,
And Sense a sullen stubborn P---t:
Wit by its haste anticipates its Fate,
And so does Sense by being obstinate:
Wit without Sense in Verse is all but Farce,
Sense without Wit in Verse is all mine A---.
Wit, like the French, performs before it thinks,
And thoughtful Sense without Performance sinks;
Sense without Wit is Flegmatick and pale,
And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail:
Wit without Sense is Cholerick and Red,
Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head.
Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one,
Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune:
Wit, like the Belly, if it be not fed,
Will starve the Members, and distract the Head.
Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive,
Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give:
Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth,
Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth.
United: Wit and Sense, makes Science thrive,
Divided: neither Wit nor Sense can live;
For while the Parties eagerly contend,
The Mortal Strife must in their mutual Ruin end.
(pp. 165-7, ll. 353-394)",,22794,"FIXING TYPO in C-H Lion: ""rarisy'd""","""For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense, / And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense.""","",2013-09-18 14:40:28 UTC,""