text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"Philosophy, in all its Pride,
Cannot defend the Suicide,
By any Law, by any rule
In Reason's or Religion's school:
Life's the peculiar gift of Heav'n,
And He alone by whom 'tis given,
Can have alone the power to give
The stroke by which we cease to live.
Is Man to say--I've reach'd the goal,
I'll now dismiss th'imprison'd soul;
With my own hand I'll ope the way
From its base tenement of clay
Tir'd of its suff'rings here below,
I'll loose it from this scene of woe;
I'll prune its wings and let it fly,
To seek again its native sky:
Yes, I will quench my mortal breath,
I'll be the judge of Life and Death.--
But should, in its immortal sphere,
Say, should th'unsummon'd soul appear
What, what may be the sentence there!
Stay then thy hand, e'er 'tis too late,
Nor madly rush upon thy Fate!
Thou shudd'rest at the horrid mood,
When Murder drinks a brother's blood;
And dare you hope for Virtue's crown,
When your arm'd hand draws forth your own!",2010-03-24 03:03:52 UTC,"""Is Man to say--I've reach'd the goal, / I'll now dismiss th'imprison'd soul; / With my own hand I'll ope the way / From its base tenement of clay.""",2004-06-15 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2010-03-23,"",•I've included twice in Architecture: in prison and tenement of clay
•I still am not quite sure what to do with this personification: the soul is a prisoner.,Searching HDIS (Poetry),16335,6168
"Philosophy, in all its Pride,
Cannot defend the Suicide,
By any Law, by any rule
In Reason's or Religion's school:
Life's the peculiar gift of Heav'n,
And He alone by whom 'tis given,
Can have alone the power to give
The stroke by which we cease to live.
Is Man to say--I've reach'd the goal,
I'll now dismiss th'imprison'd soul;
With my own hand I'll ope the way
From its base tenement of clay;
Tir'd of its suff'rings here below,
I'll loose it from this scene of woe;
I'll prune its wings and let it fly,
To seek again its native sky:
Yes, I will quench my mortal breath,
I'll be the judge of Life and Death.--
But should, in its immortal sphere,
Say, should th'unsummon'd soul appear
What, what may be the sentence there!
Stay then thy hand, e'er 'tis too late,
Nor madly rush upon thy Fate!
Thou shudd'rest at the horrid mood,
When Murder drinks a brother's blood;
And dare you hope for Virtue's crown,
When your arm'd hand draws forth your own!",2009-12-02 19:39:19 UTC,"""With my own hand I'll ope the way / From its base tenement of clay; / Tir'd of its suff'rings here below, / I'll loose it from this scene of woe; / I'll prune its wings and let it fly, / To seek again its native sky.""",2004-06-15 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2009-12-02,"","",Searching HDIS (Poetry),16337,6168
"Come,--for the sun yet hangs above the bay,--
And whilst our time may brook a brief delay
With other thoughts, and, haply with a tear,
An old man's tale of sorrow thou shalt hear.
I wished not to reveal it;--thoughts that dwell
Deep in the lonely bosom's inmost cell
Unnoticed, and unknown, too painful wake,
And, like a tempest, the dark spirit shake,
When, starting from our slumberous apathy,
We gaze upon the scenes of days gone by.
Yet, if a moment's irritating flush,
Darkens thy cheek, as thoughts conflicting rush,
When I disclose my hidden griefs, the tale
May more than wisdom or reproof prevail.
Oh, may it teach thee, till all trials cease,
To hold thy course, though sorrowing, yet in peace;
Still looking up to Him, the soul's best stay,
Who Faith and Hope shall crown, when worlds are swept away!
",2009-09-14 19:46:35 UTC,"There are ""thoughts that dwell /Deep in the lonely bosom's inmost cell / Unnoticed, and unknown, too painful wake, / And, like a tempest, the dark spirit shake, / When, starting from our slumberous apathy, / We gaze upon the scenes of days gone by.""",2005-08-16 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Rooms,"•I've included thrice: Cell, Dwelling, Tempest",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),16345,6175
"Not thus had Isabel her love
Murmur'd to the laughing grove.
Strait to her chamber, yester-eve,
Had she retreated from the cave,
And, wildering in a maze of thought,
Fear'd every hour with danger fraught.
Nor could she from that maze escape,
Pursu'd by many a hideous shape;
When Jesse, fast as words could speak,
Told eager, how a fair young Greek,
A Palmer, and a reverend Friar
Had thither come in strange attire;
Said, she had seldom seen resort
To old Cotehele, from far or near,
A guest of such a noble port
As he who did the turban wear!
But little had poor Isabel
Heeded what flippant tongue would tell.
",2009-09-14 19:46:36 UTC,"""Strait to her chamber, yester-eve, / Had she retreated from the cave, / And, wildering in a maze of thought, / Fear'd every hour with danger fraught""",2006-01-18 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),16348,6176
" But he, the bard of every age and clime,
Of genius fruitful, ardent and sublime,
Who, from the glowing mint of fancy, pours
No spurious metal, fused from common ores,
But gold, to matchless purity refined,
And stamp'd with all the godhead in his mind;
He whom I feel, but want the power to paint,
Springs from a soul impatient of restraint,
And free from every care; a soul that loves
The Muse's haunts, clear founts, and shady groves.
Never, no never, did He wildly rave,
And shake his thyrsus in the Aonian cave,
Whom poverty kept sober, and the cries
Of a lean stomach, clamorous for supplies:
No; the wine circled briskly through the veins,
When Horace pour'd his dithyrambick strains!--
What room for fancy, say, unless the mind,
And all its thoughts, to poesy resign'd,
Be hurried with resistless force along,
By the two kindred Powers of Wine and Song!
O! 'tis the exclusive business of a breast
Impetuous, uncontroll'd,--not one distrest
With household cares, to view the bright abodes,
The steeds, the chariots, and the forms of gods:
And the fierce Fury, as her snakes she shook,
And wither'd the Rutulian with a look!
Those snakes, had Virgil no Mæcenas found,
Had dropt, in listless length, upon the ground;
And the still slumbering trump, groan'd with no mortal sound.",2011-09-15 20:52:54 UTC,"""But he, the bard of every age and clime, / Of genius fruitful, ardent and sublime, / Who, from the glowing mint of fancy, pours / No spurious metal, fused from common ores, / But gold, to matchless purity refined, / And stamp'd with all the godhead in his mind.""",2005-04-07 00:00:00 UTC,"",Ruling Passion,2011-09-15,"Coinage, Impression, and Metal","•INTEREST. Here as elsewhere the stamp is specifically a matter of minting. Must read Deidre Lynch's book.
•I've included twice: Stamping and Gold","Searching ""stamp"" and ""mind"" in HDIS (Poetry); Found again ""mint"" and ""fancy""",16388,6198
"He, who grown aged in this world of woe,
In deeds, not years, piercing the depths of life,
So that no wonder waits him--nor below
Can Love or Sorrow, Fame, Ambition, Strife,
Cut to his heart again with the keen knife
Of silent, sharp endurance--he can tell
Why Thought seeks refuge in lone caves, yet rife
With airy images, and shapes which dwell
Still unimpaired, though old, in the Soul's haunted cell.
(p. 864, ll. 37-45)",2009-09-14 19:49:13 UTC,"""[H]e can tell / Why Thought seeks refuge in lone caves, yet rife / With airy images, and shapes which dwell / Still unimpaired, though old, in the Soul's haunted cell.""",2008-05-27 00:00:00 UTC,Stanza 5,"",2008-05-27,"","",Reading in Perkins. Text taken from HDIS.,17152,6456
"This makes the madmen who have made men mad
By their contagion; Conquerors and Kings,
Founders of sects and systems, to whom add
Sophists, Bards, Statesmen, all unquiet things
Which stir too strongly the soul's secret springs,
And are themselves the fools to those they fool;
Envied, yet how unenviable! what stings
Are theirs! One breast laid open were a school
Which would unteach Mankind the lust to shine or rule:
",2009-09-14 19:49:15 UTC,"""One breast laid open were a school / Which would unteach Mankind the lust to shine or rule:""",2008-05-27 00:00:00 UTC,Stanza 43,"",,"","",Reading in Perkins. Text from HDIS.,17160,6456
"And there they stand, as stands a lofty mind,
Worn, but unstooping to the baser crowd,
All tenantless, save to the crannying Wind,
Or holding dark communion with the Cloud.
There was a day when they were young and proud;
Banners on high, and battles passed below;
But they who fought are in a bloody shroud,
And those which waved are shredless dust ere now,
And the bleak battlements shall bear no future blow.
(p. 869, ll. 415-23)",2009-09-14 19:49:15 UTC,"""And there they [i.e., ""chiefless castles""] stand, as stands a lofty mind, / Worn, but unstooping to the baser crowd, / All tenantless, save to the crannying Wind, / Or holding dark communion with the Cloud.""",2008-05-27 00:00:00 UTC,Stanza 47,"",2008-05-27,"","",Reading in Perkins. Text from HDIS,17161,6456
"His life was one long war with self-sought foes,
Or friends by him self-banished; for his mind
Had grown Suspicion's sanctuary, and chose,
For its own cruel sacrifice, the kind,
'Gainst whom he raged with fury strange and blind.
But he was phrensied,--wherefore, who may know?
Since cause might be which Skill could never find;
But he was phrensied by disease or woe,
To that worst pitch of all, which wears a reasoning show.
(p. 871, ll. 752-760)",2009-09-14 19:49:16 UTC,"""[F]or his mind / Had grown Suspicion's sanctuary, and chose, / For its own cruel sacrifice, the kind, / 'Gainst whom he raged with fury strange and blind. / But he was phrensied.""",2008-05-27 00:00:00 UTC,Stanza 80,"",,"","",Reading in Perkins. Text from HDIS.,17164,6456
"GAMBIA
England! shall I behold thee? Talk of fabled land, or magic power! But what land, that poet ever sung, or enchanter swayed, can equal that, which, when the slave's foot touches, he becomes free--his prisoned soul starts forth, his swelling nerves burst the chain that enthrall'd him, and, in his own strength he stands, as the rock he treads on, majestic and secure.
(III.v)",2011-07-30 20:58:44 UTC,"""But what land, that poet ever sung, or enchanter swayed, can equal that, which, when the slave's foot touches, he becomes free--his prisoned soul starts forth, his swelling nerves burst the chain that enthrall'd him, and, in his own strength he stands, as the rock he treads on, majestic and secure.""",2011-07-30 20:58:44 UTC,"Act III, scene v","",,Fetters,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""chain"" in HDIS (Drama)",19075,7056