work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3885,"",Searching HDIS (Poetry),2004-06-14 00:00:00 UTC,"THE DISCOURAGEMENT
What wou'd the wise men's Censure be,
I wonder, should they hear me say
I was resolv'd to throw my Books away;
How wou'd some scorn, and others pitty me!
Sure he's in love, 'tis for some Charming Eve
That he like Adam Paradise does leave.
This only difference would be
Between my great Gandsire, and me,
That I my Paradise forego
For want of appetite to know.
'Tis not that Knowledge I despise;
No, you misconstrue my design;
Or that t' Enthusiasm I incline
And hope by Inspiration to be wise.
'Tis not for this I bid my Books adieu,
No, I love Learning full as well as you,
And have the Arts great Circle run
With as much Vigour as the Sun
His Zodiac treads, till t'other day
A thought surpris'd me in my way.
Thought I, for any thing I know,
What we have stamp'd for science here,
Does only the Appearance of it wear
And will not pass above, tho Current here below;
Perhaps they've other rules to reason by,
And what's Truth here, with them's Absurdity.
We Truth by a Refracted ray
View, like the Sun at Ebb of day:
Whom the gross, treacherous Atmosphere
Makes where it is not, to appear.
Why then shall I with sweat and pain
Digg Mines of disputable Oar?
My labour's certain, so is not my store,
I may hereafter unlearn all again.
Why then for Truth do I my Spirits waste,
When after all I may be guil'd at last?
So when the honest Patriarch thought
With seven years labour he had bought
His Rachels Love, by morning light
He found the errour of the night.
Or grant some Knowledge dwells below,
'Tis but for some few years to stay
Till I'm set loose from this dark House of Clay,
And in an Instant I shall all things know.
Then shall I learn t' Accumulate Degrees
And be at once made Master of all Sciences.
What need I then great Summs lay out,
And that Estate with care forestall,
Which when few years are come about,
Into my hands of Course will fall?
",,10060,•INTEREST. A poem in which a philosopher despairs of philosophy. Poem bears witness to Norris's Platonism/Malebranchism,"""Or grant some Knowledge dwells below, / 'Tis but for some few years to stay / Till I'm set loose from this dark House of Clay, / And in an Instant I shall all things know.""","",2013-06-26 16:13:36 UTC,""
4217,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""cabinet"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-09-07 00:00:00 UTC,"Can Dust-born Men be proud or vain, who know
From whence they come, and whither doom'd to go?
Or can they ought that's mean, when God has set
A Jewel in their earthly Cabinet?
A Soul, of heavenly Seed, of Angel-kind,
And marry'd Matter with Immortal Mind?",,10991,•I've included twice: Jewel and Cabinet,"""Or can they ought that's mean, when God has set / A Jewel in their earthly Cabinet?""",Rooms,2009-09-14 19:35:27 UTC,""
4577,"","Searching in HDIS (Poetry). Found again reading. See also Sean Silver, The Mind is a Collection: Case Studies in Eighteenth-Century Thought (Philadelphia: Penn Press, 2015), 275n.",2005-09-08 00:00:00 UTC,"With authors, Sationers obey'd the call,
The field of glory is a field for all;
Glory, and gain, th'industrious tribe provoke;
And gentle Dulness ever loves a joke.
A Poet's form she plac'd before their eyes,
And bad the nimblest racer seize the prize;
No meagre, muse-rid mope, adust and thin,
In a dun night-gown of his own loose skin,
But such a bulk as no twelve bards could raise,
Twelve starveling bards of these degen'rate days.
All as a partridge plump, full-fed, and fair,
She form'd this image of well-bodied air,
With pert flat eyes she window'd well its head,
A brain of feathers, and a heart of lead,
And empty words she gave, and sounding strain,
But senseless, lifeless! idol void and vain!
Never was dash'd out, at one lucky hit,
A fool, so just a copy of a wit;
So like, that critics said, and courtiers swore,
A Wit it was, and call'd the phantom More.",2009-07-31,12040,•I've included twice: Lead and Feathers.,"""She form'd this image of well-bodied air, / With pert flat eyes she window'd well its head, / A brain of feathers, and a heart of lead, / And empty words she gave, and sounding strain, / But senseless, lifeless! idol void and vain!""","",2016-03-11 17:42:56 UTC,""
4752,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2004-06-22 00:00:00 UTC," Mean while, What think'st thou? Was the human Soul,
Which by a transient Glance from Pole to Pole
Travels more swift than Light, to Heav'n sublime
Can fly, descend to Hell, six fleeting Time,
The Past and Future to the Present join,
And knows no Bounds which can Its Range confine,
But Infinite alone--
Which reasons justly, Its own Thoughts o'er-rules,
And Fancy's Fire with Judgment's Temper cools;
By Sciences brings hidden Truths to Light:
Some Knowledge gains; but, with fresh Appetite,
Unsatisfy'd, for more still thirsts, and pants,
Knowing, the more It has, how much It wants;
Was by th'Almighty's Wisdom for no End
Design'd, but here a sad short Life to spend;
Only to trifle sev'nty Years away
In this frail Flesh, this Tenement of Clay,
In Doubt, in Fear, in Sorrow, in Despair,
Then cease to be, and vanish into Air?
While various Species of th'inferior, brute
Creation, void of Reason, prone, and mute,
Beasts, Fishes, Birds, ev'n Vegetables, Trees,
The Oak, the Yew, and other Things like These,
Senseless, inanimate, whole Ages last,
After our longest Term of Days is past?
Should One in Pow'rs mechanick most expert
The utmost Efforts of his Skill exert,
Some curious, delicate Machine to frame,
Surpassing all his other Works of Fame;
Yet so contriv'd, that one revolving Sun
Should see This mighty Doing quite undone;
The Wheels, and Springs stand still, and made to stand,
Fix'd, disobedient to the Mover's Hand;
Or, bursting, into Dissolution fly,
And all dispers'd in useless Fragments lie:
Would'st thou not say that, after such Expense
Of Art, the Artist wanted Common Sense?
And shall Eternal Wisdom be impeach'd
Of Folly, which no Mortal Fool e'er reach'd?
",,12579,"","""Only to trifle sev'nty Years away / In this frail Flesh, this Tenement of Clay, / In Doubt, in Fear, in Sorrow, in Despair, / Then cease to be, and vanish into Air?""",Rooms,2011-03-08 21:30:50 UTC,""
3330,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""bird"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2012-04-29 15:19:26 UTC,"I am the man who long have known
The strength and rage of inbred sin;
My soul is dead, my heart is stone,
A cage of birds and beasts unclean,
A den of thieves, a dire abode
Of dragons, but no house of God.",,19734,"","""My soul is dead, my heart is stone, / A cage of birds and beasts unclean, / A den of thieves, a dire abode / Of dragons, but no house of God.""",Beasts,2012-04-29 15:19:26 UTC,""
7407,"",Reading,2013-06-10 19:44:05 UTC,"Or is it feeble Nature calls me back,
And breaks my spirit into grief again?
Is it a Stygian vapour in my blood,
A cold, slow puddle, creeping through my veins?
Or is it thus with all men?--Thus with all.
What are we? how unequal! now we soar,
And now we sink. To be the same, transcends
Our present prowess. Dearly pays the soul
For lodging ill; too dearly rents her clay.
Reason, a baffled counsellor, but adds
The blush of weakness to the bane of woe.
The noblest spirit, fighting her hard fate
In this damp, dusky region, charged with storms,
But feebly flutters, yet untaught to fly;
Or, flying, short her flight, and sure her fall.
Our utmost strength, when down, to rise again;
And not to yield, though beaten, all our praise.
(ll. 216-232, pp. 122-3 in CUP edition)",,20485,"","""Dearly pays the soul / For lodging ill; too dearly rents her clay.""",Inhabitants and Rooms,2013-06-10 19:44:05 UTC,Night the Fifth
3938,"",C-H Lion,2013-07-02 18:53:23 UTC,"The Sun himself whose bright revealing Ray
To it's more glorious Author shews the way,
Serves Mortals more by this, than when it's Light
From these dark Seats removes the Shades of Night.
We can't Divine, Essential Glory see,
Nor view th'Almighty's naked Majesty.
We can't th'unequal Object comprehend;
The Creatures must their help to Reason lend,
While step by step it dos to Heav'n ascend.
Wide Nature's Frame and all her steddy Laws
Lead thinking Man to th'Independent Cause.
And then the Creatures have their noblest Use,
When thoughts Divine they in our Minds produce.
Now in the Sacred Images we rear,
This pious Use more plainly do's appear.
These in our Breasts do warm Devotion raise,
And mind us to advance th'Eternal's praise.
They move our Minds his Greatness to adore,
To love his Goodness, and revere his Power.
They to his Duty stupid Man excite,
And when he aims at Heav'n assist his Flight.
And those who know the high and steepy way,
The painful steps that reach Celestial Day,
Will not of friendly Succors be afraid,
But thankfully receive the proffer'd Aid.
Our Senses to the Mind while lodg'd in Clay,
Do all their various Images convey.
Things that we tast, and feel, and see, afford
The Seeds of Thought with which our Minds are stor'd.
(Bk VIII, p. 214, ll. 308-336)",,21428,"","""Our Senses to the Mind while lodg'd in Clay, / Do all their various Images convey. / Things that we tast, and feel, and see, afford / The Seeds of Thought with which our Minds are stor'd.""",Inhabitants and Rooms,2013-07-02 18:53:23 UTC,Book VIII
5494,"",LION,2013-08-16 22:31:16 UTC,"OVERBURY.
I know not why, but I am shock'd of late!
My dreams are dreadful--Be it as it may;
While virtue arms me, what have I to fear?
This cold clay cottage is but the soul's prison,
And death, at worst, is but a surly friend,
Who conquers to give liberty.
(V.i, p. 176)",,22253,"","""This cold clay cottage is but the soul's prison, / And death, at worst, is but a surly friend, / Who conquers to give liberty.""",Rooms,2013-08-16 22:31:16 UTC,"Act V, scene i"
7698,"",Reading,2013-10-03 02:22:23 UTC,"How shocking must thy Summons be, O Death !
To him that is at Ease in his Possessions;
Who counting on long Years of Pleasure here,
Is quite unfurnish'd for that World to come!
In that dread Moment, how the frantick Soul
Raves round the Walls of her Clay Tenement,
Runs to each Avenue, and shrieks for Help,
But shrieks in vain! How wishfully she looks
On all she's leaving, now no longer hers!
A little longer, yet a little longer,
Oh! might she stay, to wash away her Stains,
And fit her for her Passage! Mournful Sight!
Her very Eyes weep Blood; and every Groan
She heaves is big with Horror: But the Foe,
Like a stanch Murth'rer steady to his Purpose,
Pursues her close through ev'ry Lane of Life,
Nor misses once the Track, but presses on;
Till forc'd at last to the tremendous Verge,
At once she sinks to everlasting Ruin.
(pp. 23-4, ll. 350-368)",,22912,"","""In that dread Moment, how the frantick Soul / Raves round the Walls of her Clay Tenement, / Runs to each Avenue, and shrieks for Help, / But shrieks in vain!""",Rooms,2013-10-03 02:22:23 UTC,""
3745,"",Reading,2014-09-27 20:30:47 UTC,"[...]
In Pow'r unpleas'd, impatient of Disgrace.
A fiery Soul, which working out its way,
Fretted the Pigmy-Body to decay;
And o'r inform'd the Tenement of Clay.
A daring Pilot in extremity;
Pleas'd with the Danger, when the Waves went high
He sought the Storms; but for a Calm unfit,
Would Steer to nigh the Sands, to boast his Wit,
Great Wits are sure to Madness neer ally'd;
And thin Partitions do their Bounds divide:
Else, why should he, with Wealth and Honour blest,
Refuse his Age the needful hours of rest?
Punish a Body which he coud not please;
Bankrupt of Life, yet Prodigal of ease?
And all to leave, what with his Toyl he won,
To that unfeather'd, two legg'd thing, a Son:
Got, while his Soul did hudled Notions try;
And born a shapeless Lump, like Anarchy.
In friendship false, implacable in hate:
Resolv'd to ruine, or to Rule the State.
To compass this, the Triple Bond he broke;
The Pillars of the publick Safety shook:
And fitted Israel for a Foreign Yoke.
Then, seiz'd with Fear, yet still affecting Fame,
Usurp'd a Patriot's All-atoning Name.
So easy still it proves in factious times,
With publick Zeal to cancel private crimes:
How safe is Treason, and how sacred ill,
Where none can sin against the peoples will:
Where Crowds can wink; and no offence be known,
Since in anothers guilt they find their own.
Yet, Fame deserv'd, no Enemy can grudge;
The Statesman we abhor, but praise the Judge.
In Israels Courts ne'r sat an Abbethdin
With more discerning eyes, or hands more clean:
Unbrib'd, unsought, the Wretched to redress;
Swift of Dispatch, and easie of Access.
Oh, had he been content to serve the Crown,
With vertues only proper to the Gown;
Or, had the rankness of the Soyl been freed
From Cockle, that opprest the Noble seed:
David, for him his tuneful Harp had strung,
And Heav'n had wanted one Immortal song.
But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand;
And Fortunes Ice prefers to Vertues Land:
Achitophel, grown weary to possess
A lawful Fame, and lazy Happiness;
Disdain'd the Golden Fruit to gather free,
And lent the Croud his Arm to shake the Tree.
Now, manifest of Crimes, contriv'd long since,
He stood at bold Defiance with his Prince:
Held up the Buckler of the peoples Cause,
Against the Crown; and sculk'd behind the Laws.
The wish'd occasion of the Plot he takes;
Some circumstances finds, but more he makes.
By buzzing Emissaries, fills the ears
Of listning Crowds, with jealousies and fears
Of Arbitrary Counsels brought to light,
And proves the King himself a Iebusite:
Weak Arguments! which yet he knew full well,
Were strong with People easie to Rebel. [...]
(pp. 11-12 in Dublin edition)",,24457,"","""In Pow'r unpleas'd, impatient of Disgrace. / A fiery Soul, which working out its way, / Fretted the Pigmy-Body to decay; / And o'r inform'd the Tenement of Clay.""","",2014-09-27 20:30:47 UTC,""