work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
5574,"","Searching in HDIS (Poetry); found again searching ""idea"" and ""bird;"" confirmed in ECCO.",2005-06-01 00:00:00 UTC," Painters and Poets never should be fat--
Sons of Apollo! listen well to that.
Fat is foul weather--dims the fancy's sight:
In poverty, the wits more nimbly muster:
Thus stars, when pinch'd by frost, cast keener lustre
On the black blanket of old mother night.
Your heavy fat, I will maintain,
Is perfect birdlime of the brain;
And, as to goldfinches the birdlime clings--
Fat holds ideas by the legs and wings.
Fat flattens the most brilliant thoughts,
Like the buff-stop on harpsichords, or spinets--
Muffling their pretty little tuneful throats,
That would have chirp'd away like linnets.
(cf. pp. 12-13 in 1787 ed.)",2012-06-27,14891,"INTEREST: crazy imagery...
Reviewed 2009-07-31. Went looking for metaphor in Google Books and ECCO, discovered it was first printed in 1787…
FIXED TYPO in C-H (sat/fat in first line).","""Your heavy fat, I will maintain, / Is perfect birdlime of the brain; / And, as to goldfinches the birdlime clings-- / Fat holds ideas by the legs and wings.""",Beasts,2014-03-03 19:52:38 UTC,""
5574,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry); confirmed in ECCO.,2005-06-01 00:00:00 UTC," Painters and Poets never should be fat--
Sons of Apollo! listen well to that.
Fat is foul weather--dims the fancy's sight:
In poverty, the wits more nimbly muster:
Thus stars, when pinch'd by frost, cast keener lustre
On the black blanket of old mother night.
Your heavy fat, I will maintain,
Is perfect birdlime of the brain;
And, as to goldfinches the birdlime clings--
Fat holds ideas by the legs and wings.
Fat flattens the most brilliant thoughts,
Like the buff-stop on harpsichords, or spinets--
Muffling their pretty little tuneful throats,
That would have chirp'd away like linnets.
(cf. pp. 12-13 in 1787 edition)",2012-06-27,14892,•I've included twice: Bird and Harpsichord/Spinet,"""Fat flattens the most brilliant thoughts, / Like the buff-stop on harpsichords, or spinets-- / Muffling their pretty little tuneful throats, / That would have chirp'd away like linnets.""","",2014-03-03 19:52:06 UTC,""
5615,"",HDIS (Poetry),2003-12-29 00:00:00 UTC,"Like caterpillars dangling under trees
By slender threads, and swinging in the breeze,
Which filthily bewray and sore disgrace
The boughs in which are bred the unseemly race,
While every worm industriously weaves
And winds his web about the rivell'd leaves;
So numerous are the follies that annoy
The mind and heart of every sprightly boy,
Imaginations noxious and perverse,
Which admonition can alone disperse.
The encroaching nuisance asks a faithful hand,
Patient, affectionate, of high command,
To check the procreation of a breed
Sure to exhaust the plant on which they feed.
'Tis not enough that Greek or Roman page
At stated hours his freakish thoughts engage,
Even in his pastimes he requires a friend
To warn, and teach him safely to unbend,
O'er all his pleasures gently to preside,
Watch his emotions and controul their tide,
And levying thus, and with an easy sway,
A tax of profit from his very play,
To impress a value not to be erased
On moments squander'd else, and running all to waste.
And seems it nothing in a father's eye
That unimproved those many moments fly?
And is he well content, his son should find
No nourishment to feed his growing mind
But conjugated verbs, and nouns declined?
For such is all the mental food purvey'd
By public hackneys in the schooling trade,
Who feed a pupil's intellect with store
Of syntax truly, but with little more,
Dismiss their cares when they dismiss their flock,
Machines themselves, and govern'd by a clock.
Perhaps a father blest with any brains
Would deem it no abuse or waste of pains,
To improve this diet at no great expense,
With savoury truth and wholesome common sense,
To lead his son for prospects of delight
To some not steep though philosophic height,
Thence to exhibit to his wondering eyes
Yon circling worlds, their distance, and their size,
The moons of Jove and Saturn's belted ball,
And the harmonious order of them all;
To show him in an insect or a flower,
Such microscopic proofs of skill and power,
As hid from ages past, God now displays
To combat Atheists with in modern days;
To spread the earth before him, and commend,
With designation of the finger's end,
Its various parts to his attentive note,
Thus bringing home to him the most remote;
To teach his heart to glow with generous flame
Caught from the deeds of men of ancient fame,
And more than all, with commendation due
To set some living worthy in his view,
Whose fair example may at once inspire
A wish to copy what he must admire.
Such knowledge gain'd betimes, and which appears,
Though solid, not too weighty for his years,
Sweet in itself, and not forbidding sport,
When health demands it, of athletic sort,
Would make him what some lovely boys have been,
And more than one perhaps that I have seen,
An evidence and reprehension both
Of the mere school-boy's lean and tardy growth.
(ll. 109-168, pp. 263-5)",2009-01-06,15026,"Hilarious passage -- on masturbation, I take it.","""Like caterpillars dangling under trees / By slender threads, and swinging in the breeze, / Which filthily bewray and sore disgrace / The boughs in which are bred the unseemly race, / While every worm industriously weaves / And winds his web about the rivell'd leaves; / So numerous are the follies that annoy / The mind and heart of every sprightly boy, / Imaginations noxious and perverse, / Which admonition can alone disperse.""","",2010-01-07 04:58:22 UTC,""
5702,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2006-01-24 00:00:00 UTC,"Thus mouru'd the youth--'till sunk in pensive grief,
He woo'd his handkerchief for soft relief;
In either pocket, either hand he threw;
When lo! from each a precious tablet flew.
Thus--his sage patron's wond'rous speech on trade!
This--his own book of sarcasms, ready made!
Tremendous book!--thou motley magazine
Of stole severities, and pilter'd spleen!
Oh! rich in ill!--within thy leaves entwin'd,
What glittering adders lurk to sting the mind!
Satire's Museum--with Sir Ashton's lore,
The Naturalist of malice, eyes thy store;
Ranging with fell Virtu his poisonous tribes
Of embryo sneers, and animalcule gibes.
Here insect puns their feeble wings expand,
To speed, in little flights, their Lord's command;
There, in their paper chrysalis, he sees,
Specks of bon mots, and eggs of repartees.
In modern spirit ancient wit he steeps;
If not its gloss, the reptile's venom keeps:
Thy quaintness, Dunning;--but without thy sense,
And just enough of Bearcroft, for offence.",,15204,"","""What glittering adders lurk to sting the mind!""","",2009-09-14 19:43:01 UTC,""
5687,Ruling Passion,Reading,2011-07-18 20:36:06 UTC,"And thou, O INT'REST! dark, insidious power,
Whose sanction'd arts waste nations in an hour;
Whose mining frauds, more fatal still, destroy
Hope's tender blossom, and the fruits of joy;
Thou, to whom all the coward slights belong,
Thy heart too cruel for a generous wrong,
For fierce Revenge, that fever of the soul,
Hate that defies, and Love that spurns controul,
Or mad'ning Jealousy when Reason bends,
Or Zeal, extravagant to liberal ends,
Thou, who, for noble faults like these, too cold,
Whose vices n'er aspire, but stoop to gold,
That groveling passion of the sordid breast,
Like Aaron's serpent swallowing up the rest;
Theft, rapine, plunder, fraud, and murder, stand,
Fell ministers! to wait thy dire command.
Yes thou, the founder of this impious trade,
Mad'st him a slave, that nature never made,
Tore the poor Indian from his native soil,
And chain'd him down to never-ending toil.
(pp. 15-6)",,18917,"CROSS-REFERENCE: Pope -- ""And hence one Master Passion in the breast, / Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest.""
","""Thou, who, for noble faults like these, too cold, / Whose vices n'er aspire, but stoop to gold, / That groveling passion of the sordid breast, / Like Aaron's serpent swallowing up the rest.""",Animals,2011-07-18 20:36:59 UTC,""
6264,"","Searching ""trammel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2011-09-06 16:43:48 UTC,"Above the noise and stir of yonder fields
Uplifted, on this height I feel the mind
Expand itself in wider liberty.
The distant sounds break gently on my sense,
Soothing to meditation: so methinks,
Even so, sequester'd from the noisy world,
Could I wear out this transitory being
In peaceful contemplation and calm ease.
But Conscience, which still censures on our acts,
That awful voice within us, and the sense
Of an Hereafter, wake and rouse us up
From such unshaped retirement; which were else
A blest condition on this earthly stage.
For who would make his life a life of toil
For wealth, o'erbalanced with a thousand cares;
Or power, which base compliance must uphold;
Or honour, lavish'd most on courtly slaves;
Or fame, vain breath of a misjudging world;
Who for such perishable gaudes would put
A yoke upon his free unbroken spirit,
And gall himself with trammels and the rubs
Of this world's business; so he might stand clear
Of judgment and the tax of idleness
In that dread audit, when his mortal hours
(Which now with soft and silent stealth pace by)
Must all be counted for? But, for this fear,
And to remove, according to our power,
The wants and evils of our brother's state,
'Tis meet we justle with the world; content,
If by our sovereign Master we be found
At last not profitless: for worldly meed,
Given or withheld, I deem of it alike.
(pp. 4-6)",,19140,"","""Who for such perishable gaudes would put / A yoke upon his free unbroken spirit, / And gall himself with trammels and the rubs / Of this world's business; so he might stand clear / Of judgment and the tax of idleness / In that dread audit, when his mortal hours / (Which now with soft and silent stealth pace by) / Must all be counted for?""",Beasts and Fetters,2011-09-06 16:45:40 UTC,""
7269,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""bird"" in HDIS (Drama)",2012-06-29 16:14:34 UTC,"MARY.
Dear heart! I am so fine, I hardly know myself.
[Surveying herself all round.]
Do, mother, put your hand upon my heart, it springs like a bird in my breast with joy. Lud! lud! what a power of handsome men are here at court;--then they are all so well dressed, and grin so pretty to shew their white teeth, and smell so sweet!
(II.2)",,19814,"","""Do, mother, put your hand upon my heart, it springs like a bird in my breast with joy.""",Beasts,2012-06-29 16:14:34 UTC,"Act II, Scene ii"
5638,"","Searching ""passion"" and ""horse"" in HDIS (Drama)",2012-07-05 16:58:36 UTC,"JACK.
Don't be frighten'd, Mrs. Phoebe! you have nothing to fear: I have seen my error, and thoroughly repent of it.
PHOEBE.
'Tis well you have, Sir.
JACK.
Very true, 'tis a happy reformation-- but who can command himself at all times, Mrs. Phoebe? Where's the man that can do it? I was surpriz'd, taken unawares, passion ran away with me like an unbroke horse: but I have got him under now; I can govern him with a twine of thread.
PHOEBE.
'Tis well you can, Sir.
(IV)",,19872,"","""I was surpriz'd, taken unawares, passion ran away with me like an unbroke horse: but I have got him under now; I can govern him with a twine of thread.""",Beasts,2012-07-05 16:58:36 UTC,Act IV
5657,"",Searching in C-H Lion,2013-06-26 14:35:09 UTC,"We talked of Mr Burke. Dr Johnson said, he had great variety of knowledge, store of imagery, copiousness of language. ROBERTSON. 'He has wit too.' JOHNSON. 'No, sir; he never succeeds there. 'Tis low; 'tis conceit. I used to say, Burke never once made a good joke. What I most envy Burke for, is, his being constantly the same. He is never what we call humdrum; never unwilling to begin to talk, nor in haste to leave off.' BOSWELL. 'Yet he can listen.' JOHNSON. 'No; I cannot say he is good at that. So desirous is he to talk, that, if one is speaking at this end of the table, he'll speak to somebody at the other end. Burke, sir, is such a man, that if you met him for the first time in the street where you were stopped by a drove of oxen, and you and he stepped aside to take shelter but for five minutes, he'd talk to you in such a manner, that, when you parted, you would say, this is an extraordinary man. Now, you may be long enough with me, without finding any thing extraordinary.' He said, he believed Burke was intended for the law; but either had not money enough to follow it, or had not diligence enough. He said, he could not understand how a man could apply to one thing, and not to another. Robertson said, one man had more judgment, another more imagination. JOHNSON. 'No, sir; it is only, one man has more mind than another. He may direct it differently; he may, by accident, see the success of one kind of study, and take a desire to excel in it. I am persuaded that, had Sir Isaac Newton applied to poetry, he would have made a very fine epick poem. I could as easily apply to law as to tragick poetry.' BOSWELL. 'Yet, sir, you did apply to tragick poetry, not to law.' JOHNSON. 'Because, sir, I had not money to study law. Sir, the man who has vigour, may walk to the east, just as well as to the west, if he happens to turn his head that way.' BOSWELL. 'But, sir,'tis like walking up and down a hill; one man will naturally do the one better than the other. A hare will run up a hill best, from her fore-legs being short; a dog down.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, sir; that is from mechanical powers. If you make mind mechanical, you may argue in that manner. One mind is a vice, and holds fast; there's a good memory. Another is a file; and he is a disputant, a controversialist. Another is a razor; and he is sarcastical.' We talked of Whitefield. He said, he was at the same college with him, and knew him 'before he began to be better than other people' (smiling); that he believed he sincerely meant well, but had a mixture of politicks and ostentation: whereas Wesley thought of religion only. Robertson said, Whitefield had strong natural eloquence, which, if cultivated, would have done great things. JOHNSON. 'Why, sir, I take it, he was at the height of what his abilities could do, and was sensible of it. He had the ordinary advantages of education; but he chose to pursue that oratory which is for the mob.' BOSWELL. 'He had great effect on the passions.' JOHNSON. 'Why, sir, I don't think so. He could not represent a succession of pathetick images. He vociferated, and made an impression. There, again, was a mind like a hammer.' Dr JOHNSON now said, a certain eminent political friend of ours was wrong, in his maxim of sticking to a certain set of men on all occasions. 'I can see that a man may do right to stick to a party,' said he; 'that is to say, he is a Whig, or he is a Tory, and he thinks one of those parties upon the whole the best, and that to make it prevail, it must be generally supported, though, in particulars, it may be wrong. He takes its faggot of principles, in which there are fewer rotten sticks than in the other, though some rotten sticks to be sure; and they cannot well be separated. But, to bind one's self to one man, or one set of men (who may be right to-day and wrong to-morrow), without any general preference of system, I must disapprove.
(pp. 172-4)",,21131,INTEREST. USE IN INTRODUCTION?,"""BOSWELL. 'But, sir,'tis like walking up and down a hill; one man will naturally do the one better than the other. A hare will run up a hill best, from her fore-legs being short; a dog down.' JOHNSON. 'Nay, sir; that is from mechanical powers. If you make mind mechanical, you may argue in that manner. One mind is a vice, and holds fast; there's a good memory. Another is a file; and he is a disputant, a controversialist. Another is a razor; and he is sarcastical.'""",Animals,2013-06-26 14:35:09 UTC,""
5657,"",C-H Lion,2013-06-26 18:47:48 UTC,"Dr Johnson said, 'It is a pity to see Lord Monboddo publish such notions as he has done; a man of sense, and of so much elegant learning. There would be little in a fool doing it; we should only laugh; but when a wise man does it, we are sorry. Other people have strange notions; but they conceal them. If they have tails, they hide them; but Monboddo is as jealous of his tail as a squirrel.' I shall here put down some more remarks of Dr Johnson's on Lord Monboddo, which were not made exactly at this time, but come in well from connection. He said, he did not approve of a judge's calling himself Farmer Burnett, and going about with a little round hat. He laughed heartily at his lordship's saying he was an enthusiastical farmer; 'for,' said he, 'what can he do in farming by his enthusiasm?' Here, however, I think Dr Johnson mistaken. He who wishes to be successful, or happy, ought to be enthusiastical, that is to say, very keen in all the occupations or diversions of life. An ordinary gentleman-farmer will be satisfied with looking at his fields once or twice a day: an enthusiastical farmer will be constantly employed on them; will have his mind earnestly engaged; will talk perpetually of them. But Dr Johnson has much of the nil admirari in smaller concerns. That survey of life which gave birth to his Vanity of Human Wishes early sobered his mind. Besides, so great a mind as his cannot be moved by inferior objects: an elephant does not run and skip like lesser animals.
(p. 218)",,21147,"","""Besides, so great a mind as his cannot be moved by inferior objects: an elephant does not run and skip like lesser animals.""",Animals,2013-06-26 18:47:48 UTC,""