id,comments,provenance,dictionary,created_at,reviewed_on,work_id,theme,context,updated_at,metaphor,text
15021,•Note: In Cowper the metaphorical categories I am at such pains to distinguish are mixed and are often used to make assertions about more than just the mind. INTEREST.,HDIS,Inhabitants,2003-12-29 00:00:00 UTC,,5614,Mind-Body,"",2009-09-14 19:42:34 UTC,"A meagre intellect is ""unfit / To be tenant of man's noble form""","'Tis liberty alone that gives the flower
Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume,
And we are weeds without it. All constraint,
Except what wisdom lays on evil men,
Is evil; hurts the faculties, impedes
Their progress in the road of science; blinds
The eyesight of discovery, and begets
In those that suffer it, a sordid mind
Bestial, a meagre intellect, unfit
To be the tenant of man's noble form.
Thee therefore still, blame-worthy as thou art,
With all thy loss of empire, and though squeezed
By public exigence till annual food
Fails for the craving hunger of the state,
Thee I account still happy, and the chief
Among the nations, seeing thou art free!
My native nook of earth! Thy clime is rude,
Replete with vapours, and disposes much
All hearts to sadness, and none more than mine;
Thine unadulterate manners are less soft
And plausible than social life requires,
And thou hast need of discipline and art
To give thee what politer France receives
From Nature's bounty,--that humane address
And sweetness, without which no pleasure is
In converse, either starved by cold reserve,
Or flush'd with fierce dispute, a senseless brawl;
Yet being free, I love thee. For the sake
Of that one feature, can be well content,
Disgraced as thou hast been, poor as thou art,
To seek no sublunary rest beside.
But once enslaved, farewell! I could endure
Chains no where patiently, and chains at home
Where I am free by birthright, not at all.
Then what were left of roughness in the grain
Of British natures, wanting its excuse
That it belongs to freemen, would disgust
And shock me. I should then with double pain
Feel all the rigour of thy fickle clime;
And if I must bewail the blessing lost
For which our Hampdens and our Sidneys bled,
I would at least bewail it under skies
Milder, among a people less austere,
In scenes which, having never known me free,
Would not reproach me with the loss I felt.
Do I forebode impossible events,
And tremble at vain dreams? Heaven grant I may!
But the age of virtuous politics is past,
And we are deep in that of cold pretence.
Patriots are grown too shrewd to be sincere,
And we too wise to trust them. He that takes
Deep in his soft credulity the stamp
Designed by loud declaimers on the part
Of liberty, themselves the slaves of lust,
Incurs derision for his easy faith
And lack of knowledge, and with cause enough.
For when was public virtue to be found
Where private was not? Can he love the whole
Who loves no part? he be a nation's friend
Who is in truth the friend of no man there?
Can he be strenuous in his country's cause,
Who slights the charities for whose dear sake
That country, if at all, must be beloved?
(Bk. V, ll. 446-508, pp. 222-4)"
15023,•There is a complete allegory of wisdom and knowledge here. REVISIT.,HDIS,Inhabitants,2003-12-29 00:00:00 UTC,,5614,"","",2009-09-14 19:42:34 UTC,"Knowledge and wisdom dwell in the head: knowledge in ""heads replete with thoughts of other men"" and wisdom ""in minds attentive of their own""","The night was winter in his roughest mood,
The morning sharp and clear. But now at noon
Upon the southern side of the slant hills,
And where the woods fence off the northern blast,
The season smiles, resigning all its rage,
And has the warmth of May. The vault is blue
Without a cloud, and white without a speck
The dazzling splendour of the scene below.
Again the harmony comes o'er the vale,
And through the trees I view the embattled tower
Whence all the music. I again perceive
The soothing influence of the wasted strains,
And settle in soft musings as I tread
The walk still verdant under oaks and elms,
Whose outspread branches overarch the glade.
The roof though moveable through all its length
As the wind sways it, has yet well sufficed,
And intercepting in their silent fall
The frequent flakes, has kept a path for me.
No noise is here, or none that hinders thought.
The redbreast warbles still, but is content
With slender notes and more than half suppress'd.
Pleased with his solitude, and flitting light
From spray to spray, where'er he rests he shakes
From many a twig the pendent drops of ice,
That tinkle in the wither'd leaves below.
Stillness accompanied with sounds so soft
Charms more than silence. Meditation here
May think down hours to moments. Here the heart
May give an useful lesson to the head,
And learning wiser grow without his books.
Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one,
Have ofttimes no connection. Knowledge dwells
In heads replete with thoughts of other men,
Wisdom in minds attentive to their own.
Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass,
The mere materials with which wisdom builds,
Till smooth'd and squared and fitted to its place,
Does but encumber whom it seems to enrich.
Knowledge is proud that he has learn'd so much;
Wisdom is humble that he knows no more.
Books are not seldom talismans and spells
By which the magic art of shrewder wits
Holds an unthinking multitude enthrall'd.
Some to the fascination of a name
Surrender judgement hood-wink'd. Some the style
Infatuates, and through labyrinths and wilds
Of error, leads them by a tune entranced.
While sloth seduces more, too weak to bear
The insupportable fatigue of thought,
And swallowing therefore without pause or choice
The total grist unsifted, husks and all.
But trees, and rivulets whose rapid course
Defies the check of winter, haunts of deer,
And sheep-walks populous with bleating lambs,
And lanes in which the primrose ere her time
Peeps through the moss that clothes the hawthorn root,
Deceive no student. Wisdom there, and truth,
Not shy as in the world, and to be won
By slow solicitation, seize at once
The roving thought, and fix it on themselves.
(Bk. VI, ll. 57-117 pp. 238-40)"
15036,"•I've included thrice: Weather, Shadows, Monsters",HDIS (Poetry),"",2004-07-27 00:00:00 UTC,,5619,"","",2018-06-18 15:16:00 UTC,"""From shadows thinner than the fleeting night / That floats along the vale, or haply seems / To wrap the mountain in its hazy vest, / (Which the first sun-beam dissipates in air.) / How dost thou conjure monsters which ne'er mov'd / But in the chaos of thy frenzied brain!""","Cover'd with laurels, from the northern shore,
A blooming hero came, Arpasia's friend,
Arpasia's lover, whom the deathful din
Of constant action in the sanguine field,
And months of weary march, and years of toil,
Estrang'd not from the maid, whose soverign eye
Gilded his path to glory. Soon as peace
Sent her white doves to close the scene of blood
And bear the branching olive, swift the youth
Hasted to Albion's shore, and anxious sought
The hoarded treasure of his virgin heart.
He sought and found her on the fatal day,
She parted from her Theron; parted soon
To meet again. And tho' Arpasia ne'er
Had lov'd Sophronius (so the youth was call'd)
As women love, who give the maiden heart
In dear exchange of passion, glad she saw
A tender friend, escap'd from ruthless war
Return'd with honour to his native land,
The land he had defended: and her tears
Mix'd with her chaste embraces. Theron then
Quick hastening to Arpasia, instant saw
Rapture that weeps, and blushes that denote
The heart's strong triumph at a treasure sav'd
From the devouring war. Her heart he knew
Lodg'd in his own true bosom, yet he feared,
(Fear still is Love's attendant) that the joy
Thron'd in her eye, and from her rubied lip
Pouring the ardent welcome, might, perchance,
Nourish a dangerous softness, yet he prais'd
Her generous warmth and join'd the glowing zeal.
But when the youth, beneath the self-same roof,
With supplication strong to be receiv'd,
A chosen guest entreated, and his suit
Incautious friendship granted, who can draw
The pangs that seiz'd on Theron? Many a day
He fed in silence on his master griefs,
And bath'd his lonely pillow with his tears,
Far from Arpasia's mansion: Ev'ry friend,
Save she who cou'd administer relief,
Appear'd with comfort in their looks--while she,
(Cold as the marble that receives the drops
Of some pale mourner, at the urn which holds
The sainted ashes of the maid he lov'd)
Remain'd untouched, and while forlorn he lay
Death-sick beneath the chill of her neglect,
Sophronius was her theme. His health, his fame,
His rising fortune, and reward in arms,
Flam'd from her pen, which courted Theron's Muse,
To blazon forth his prowess in the war,
His fair deserts in peace. Yet still she talk'd
Of Friendship's early bonds, and nam'd not Love,
Nor seem'd to know the madness and despair
That rag'd in Theron's bosom, but led on
By Pity's gentle hand--for from the youth,
From change of climate, from fatigues of war,
And the heart's tender tumult, growing still,
That gently Pity claim'd, which the kind fair
(Without a thought that wrong'd the spotless faith,
Plighted to Theron) gave, with soul sincere;
Theron meanwhile believ'd it Love, fond Love enthron'd
Upon the mutual heart, and mad'ning thence,
Exclaim'd, infuriate--""Yes! they both shall fall!
""Since Pity thus can light her savage torch,
""And bind upon her altar, Love himself,
""Love in his turn, shall boast a sacrifice,
""And mark for death his victim!"" Strait he rose,
'Twas the deep noon of night, he strode along,
A poignard snatch'd, and as he reach'd the dome
Of his Arpasia; soften'd at the view
From his torn heart these mournful accents broke:
""Oh had the chance been Theron's, had some maid,
""Bright as the morning star, her virgin heart
""Laid in the circle of these courted arms,
""And breath'd a passion warmer than e'er touch'd
""The breast of woman, tho' Compassion's sigh,
""The tenderest tear that ever Pity shed,
""The truest throb that ever Friendship knew
""Might plead his cause, nor these, nor death itself,
""Shou'd shake his plighted faith to false Arpasia,
""Shou'd shake his faith, ah no! by yonder heav'n
""Not the bright synod of the Gods shou'd draw
""His settled heart aside, tho' to the power
""Of heav'nly beauty, gold shou'd add a charm
""Richer than proud Golconda."" Scarce these words
Burst from his heart, e'en from the opening door
Rush'd forth, with hurrying step and troubled air,
Some one infolded in a thick disguise,
That needed scarce the darkness of the night
To mock discovery. Theron, at the view
Sudden retir'd unseen, and torpid stood
A few sad moments; then, with frantic haste
Pursued--Ah, hell-born Jealousy!
Thou child of Love,
Performing deeds more terrible than hate!
From shadows thinner than the fleeting night
That floats along the vale, or haply seems
To wrap the mountain in its hazy vest,
(Which the first sun-beam dissipates in air.)
How dost thou conjure monsters which ne'er mov'd
But in the chaos of thy frenzied brain!
Thence hurling frighted Reason from her throne,
And with her all the charities that wait
To grace her virtuous Court! Theron soon
O'ertook whom he pursu'd, nor doubting ought,
(For Jealousy allows no pause of sense).
It was his happy rival, rais'd his hand,
In which the poignard trembled, and in rage,
To madness, struck the bosom of--Arpasia!
Yes! 'twas Arpasia's self.
The faithful mistress, from her lover's arm,
Thus met her fate utimely, for e'er word,
Cou'd utterance find, the dagger in her breast
Transfix'd she found--""And hast thou kill'd me, Love?""
--Was all she spoke, then died in his embrace.
Upon her Theron's brow pale Horror sate,
""Kill thee!"" he cried--then deep into his heart
Plung'd the fell blade, with poor Arpasia's blood,
Distain'd and reeking--agoniz'd he fell
And kiss'd the wound--expiring in her arms.
"
15076,"","Searching ""mind"" in Liberty Fund OLL",Inhabitants,2005-08-18 00:00:00 UTC,,5640,Wandering,"Book I. Preliminary Considerations, Chapter 6. Human Happiness",2013-06-04 16:43:39 UTC,"""[W]hen the mind is absent, and the thoughts are wandering to something else than what is passing in the place in which we are, we are often miserable""","Whilst our minds are taken up with the objects or business before us, we are commonly happy, whatever the object or business be; when the mind is absent, and the thoughts are wandering to something else than what is passing in the place in which we are, we are often miserable.
(p. 22)"
15084,"•Footnote gives, ""Sterne."" Note, ""mad multitude"" appears in Dryden's translation of the Aeneid and in Aaron Hill.
•I've included twice: Stranger and Music","Searching ""passion"" and ""stranger"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""bosom""",Inhabitants,2006-03-05 00:00:00 UTC,2010-06-22,5644,"","",2010-06-22 19:25:33 UTC,"Silence is the ""Refuge of tender hearts must fear mixing ""With the mad multitude, where passions fell, / And strangers to their bosom, enter wild, / Like Sin and Death in Paradise, to jar / On the soft music of according souls!""","Now slow along the blossom'd dale we go
Wooing sequester'd Silence, where she sits
Embow'r'd with shrubs (impervious to the ken
Of eyes which keep their worship for the world)
Refuge of tender hearts, who still must fear
(So delicately white th'unsullied gloss
Of innocence in love and faith engag'd)
To ""spot its snowy mantle,""* should it mix
With the mad multitude, where passions fell,
And strangers to their bosom, enter wild,
Like Sin and Death in Paradise, to jar
On the soft music of according souls!
*Sterne"
15086,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""stranger"" in HDIS (Drama)",Inhabitants,2006-03-06 00:00:00 UTC,,5643,"","Act III, scene iii",2013-08-16 04:26:59 UTC,"""Oh, that every heart was like mine, a stranger to dissimulation!""","ANG.
Oh, that every heart was like mine, a stranger to dissimulation! Why is the countenance made a mask for the soul, when it should be a mirror, in which every eye might behold the true features of the mind, in the deformity of vice, or the loveliness of virtue!
(III.iii)"
15108,"","Searching ""mirror"" and ""soul"" in HDIS (Poetry); confirmed in ECCO.",Inhabitants and Mirror,2005-11-21 00:00:00 UTC,,5655,"","",2014-07-15 19:05:33 UTC,"""Young Fancy, oft in rainbow vest array'd, / Points to new scenes that in succession pass / Across the wond'rous mirror that she bears, / And bids thy unsated soul and wandering eye / A wider range o'er all her prospects take.""","Child of the potent spell and nimble eye,
Young Fancy, oft in rainbow vest array'd,
Points to new scenes that in succession pass
Across the wond'rous mirror that she bears,
And bids thy unsated soul and wandering eye
A wider range o'er all her prospects take:
Lo, at her call, New-Zealand's wastes arise!
Casting their shadows far along the main,
Whose brows cloud-cap'd in joyless majesty,
No human foot hath trod since time began;
Here death-like silence ever-brooding dwells,
Save when the watching sailor startled hears,
Far from his native land at darksome night,
The shrill-ton'd petrel, or the penguin's voice,
That skim their trackless flight on lonely wing,
Through the bleak regions of a nameless main:
Here danger stalks and drinks with glutted ear
The wearied sailor's moan, and fruitless sigh,
Who, as he slowly cuts his daring way,
Affrighted drops his axe, and stops awhile,
To hear the jarring echoes lengthen'd din,
That fling from pathless cliffs their sullen sound:
Oft here the fiend his grisly visage shews,
His limbs of giant form in vesture clad
Of drear collected ice and stiffened snow,
The same he wore a thousand years ago,
That thwarts the sun-beam and endures the day.
(cf. pp. 12-13 in 1785 printing)"
19103,"",Reading,Inhabitants,2011-08-29 20:24:15 UTC,,6753,Psychomachia,"Part I, Chapter viii",2011-08-29 20:24:15 UTC,"""From that awful period, almost every expectation is forlorn: the heart is left unguarded: its great protector is no more: the vices therefore, which so long encompassed it in vain, obtain an easy victory: in crouds they pour into the defenceless avenues, and take possession of the soul: there is nothing now too vile for them to meditate, too impious to perform.""","But if the African kings could be capable of such injustice, what vices are there, that their consciences would restrain, or what enormities, that we might not expect to be committed? When men once consent to be unjust, they lose, at the same instant with their virtue, a considerable portion of that sense of shame, which, till then, had been found a successful protector against the sallies of vice. From that awful period, almost every expectation is forlorn: the heart is left unguarded: its great protector is no more: the vices therefore, which so long encompassed it in vain, obtain an easy victory: in crouds they pour into the defenceless avenues, and take possession of the soul: there is nothing now too vile for them to meditate, too impious to perform. Such was the situation of the despotick sovereigns of Africa. They had once ventured to pass the bounds of virtue, and they soon proceeded to enormity. This was particularly conspicuous in that general conduct, which they uniformly observed, after any unsuccesful conflict. Influenced only by the venal motives of European traffick, they first made war upon the neighbouring tribes, contrary to every principle of justice; and if, by the flight of the enemy, or by other contingencies, they were disappointed of their prey, they made no hesitation of immediately turning their arms against their own subjects. The first villages they came to, were always marked on this occasion, as the first objects of their avarice. They were immediately surrounded, were afterwards set on fire, and the wretched inhabitants seized, as they were escaping from the flames. These, consisting of whole families, fathers, brothers, husbands, wives, and children, were instantly driven in chains to the merchants, and consigned to slavery.
(I.viii)"
19616,USE IN ENTRY,Reading,Rooms and Throne,2012-03-01 17:30:06 UTC,,5642,"",Chapter 3. Of Hypothesis,2012-03-01 17:30:31 UTC,"""He conjectured, that the soul is seated in a small gland in the brain, called the pineal gland: That there, as in her chamber of presence, she receives intelligence of every thing that affects the senses, by means of a subtile fluid contained in the nerves, called the animal spirits; and that she dispatches these animal spirits, as her messengers, to put in motion the several muscles of the body, as there is occasion.""","To omit many ancient systems of this kind, Des Cartes, about the middle of the last century, dissatisfied with the materia prima, the substantial forms, and the occult qualities of the Peripatetics, conjectured boldly, that the heavenly bodies of our system are carried round by a vortex or whirlpool of subtile matter, just as straws and chaff are carried round in a tub of water. He conjectured, that the soul is seated in a small gland in the brain, called the pineal gland: That there, as in her chamber of presence, she receives intelligence of every thing that affects the senses, by means of a subtile fluid contained in the nerves, called the animal spirits; and that she dispatches these animal spirits, as her messengers, to put in motion the several muscles of the body, as there is occasion. By such conjectures as these, Des Cartes could account for every phænomenon in nature, in such a plausible manner, as gave satisfaction to a great part of the learned world for more than half a century.
(I.iii, p. 47)"
20376,"",Reading,Inhabitants,2013-06-05 16:45:17 UTC,,7398,"","",2013-06-05 16:45:17 UTC,"""All the stories of malignant Dives and dismal Goules thronged into her memory: but, her curiosity was, notwithstanding, more predominant than her fears.""","At length she arrived at the opening of the glen; but, instead of coming up to the light, she found herself surrounded by darkness; excepting that, at a considerable distance, a faint spark glimmered by fits. She stopped, a second time: the sound of water-falls mingling their murmurs; the hollow rustlings among the palm-branches; and the funereal screams of the birds from their rifted trunks: all conspired to fill her soul with terror. She imagined, every moment, that she trod on some venomous reptile. All the stories of malignant Dives and dismal Goules thronged into her memory: but, her curiosity was, notwithstanding, more predominant than her fears. She, therefore, firmly entered a winding track that led towards the spark; but, being a stranger to the path, she had not gone far, till she began to repent of her rashness. ""Alas!"" said she, ""that I were but in those secure and illuminated apartments, where my evenings glided on with Gulchenrouz! Dear child! how would thy heart flutter with terror, wert thou wandering in these wild solitudes, like me!"" Thus speaking, she advanced, and, coming up to steps hewn in the rock, ascended them undismayed. The light, which was now gradually enlarging, appeared above her on the summit of the mountain, and as if proceeding from a cavern. At length, she distinguished a plaintive and melodious union of voices, that resembled the dirges which are sung over tombs. A sound, like that which arises from the filling of baths, struck her ear at the same time. She continued ascending, and discovered large wax torches in full blaze, planted here and there in the fissures of the rock. This appearance filled her with fear, whilst the subtle and potent odour, which the torches exhaled, caused her to sink, almost lifeless, at the entrance of the grot.
(pp. 132-4)"