id,comments,provenance,dictionary,created_at,reviewed_on,work_id,theme,context,updated_at,metaphor,text
9889, ,"Searching ""haunt"" and ""mind"" in HDIS(Poetry)","",2004-06-08 00:00:00 UTC,,3845,"","",2009-09-14 19:34:33 UTC,"""[C]urst Suspitions"" may haunt the ""tortur'd Mind""","If Jealousy, that Maggot of the Pate,
Possess the Sot, how violent is his Hate?
What curst Suspitions haunt his tortur'd Mind,
And make him look, for what he would not find?
To'th' Looking-Glass he dares not cast an Eye,
For fear he should his-fine-brow antlers Spy.
Nothing but Females must i'th' house appear,
And not a Dog or Cat that's Male be there:
Nay least th'unhappy Wife should have her Longings,
He cuts out all the Men i'th' Tapstry-Hangings.
If but a harmless Letter to her's sent,
He'll make it own worse Sense than e're it meant,
And e're the Letter from his hands be cast,
He'll make it speak some deadly Crime at last.
In a curst Garret cloyster'd up for Life,
Lives Female-Innocence miscal'd a Wife.
Deny'd those Pleasures are to Virtue granted,
Yet by the Divel of a Husband haunted:
For a Release, she cannot hope nor pray,
Till milder Death take him, or her away:
If her she's happy--and if him she's blest;
Till to her Arms she take a second Guest:
But where's a Woman of all Sense so void?
Won't shun ------
That Gulph wherein she'd like t've been destroy'd."
10030,"","Searching ""thought"" and ""impression"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Impression,2005-05-20 00:00:00 UTC,,3873,"","",2009-09-14 19:34:39 UTC,"""Dancing, Singing, Swearing, Impudence, / Can make Impressions upon easie sense""","Permit me now Dear Strephon, to relate,
The Tricks and Wiles of Whores of Second Rate;
The Play-house Punks, who in a loose Undress,
Each Night receive some Cullies soft Address;
Reduc'd perhaps to the last poor half Crown,
A tawdry Gown and Petticoat put on,
Go to the House, where they demurely sit
Angling for Bubbles, in the noisy Pit:
Not Turks by Turbants, Spaniards by their Hats,
Nor Quakers by Diminutive Cravats
Are better known, than is the Tamdry Crack
By Vizor-Mask, and Rigging on her Back:
The Play-house is their place of Traffick, where
Nightly they sit, to sell their Rotten Ware;
Tho' done in silence and without a Cryer,
Yet he that bids the most, is still the Buyer;
For while he nibbles at her Am'rous Trap,
She gets the Mony, but he gets the Clap.
Intrencht in Vizor Mask they Giggling sit,
And throw designing Looks about the Pit,
Neglecting wholly what the Actors say,
'Tis their least business there to see the Play:
But if some unexperienc'd Youth by chance,
Bestows upon 'em an obliging Glance,
And in his Rustick manner offers Love,
These slow Advances, they know how t'improve;
Like Stubborn Towns, when first they view the Foe,
Some signs of vigorous Resistance show,
Till prest too hard by their opponent Fate,
Make Terms, and freely then Capitulate.
So these at first appear too nice and coy,
And scorn the kind pretences of the Boy;
Laugh loud to show their Wit, and in the Strife,
Act Modesty and Vertue to the Life.
Th' unthinking Lad more fond by distance grown,
Bears up his Thoughts, and briskly pushes on,
Till they at last contented to comply,
(As overcome by Importunity)
Accept a Coach (still Maskt and in Disguise)
Whilst he with his new gotten Female Prize
To Tavern hastning, where a Splendid Treat,
Opens his Eyes and quickly shews the Cheat;
Their Seeming Vertue off with Mask is thrown,
And they appear True Women of the Town.
If Dancing, Singing, Swearing, Impudence,
Can make Impressions upon easie sense,
And She, he thought a Goddess just before,
Now proves an Errant Rampant true bred VVhore:
And in the Height of VVine, if he's but willing
Will soon unrig her self, for one poor Shilling.
These sights his lustful Fever serve to cure,
Or else like Oyl to Fire, inflame it more;
So doubly flusht with VVine and Love at last,
Their fatal Kindness he attempts to tast:
Fatal indeed, but too too often prove,
These stollen snatches of unlawful Love;
Delusions charm his reason for a while,
And ev'ry thing about him seems to smile;
Pleas'd with the Raptures of his new found Bliss,
Fancies there is no other Paradice:
But sober Reason must at last take place,
And he, tho' late, perceives his own disgrace;
For when he lay intranc'd in Celia's Lap,
He little thought 'twould terminate in Clap:
So finds the total Sum of all his gains
Are Saffold's Pills, to Cure all sorts of Pains."
10071,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""window"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Rooms,2005-09-08 00:00:00 UTC,2013-07-24,3893,"","",2013-07-24 14:24:55 UTC,"""His Eyes, which are the windows of his Soul, / With soft and languishing Desires are full.""","So I have seen a Maid, Young, Fair, and Chast,
By chance, or else by kind Appointment plac'd,
Close by the side of a Dissembling Youth,
(Sworn Enemy to Constancy and Truth.)
With awful Distance is his first Adress,
Fearing least rudely on her Charms he press;
Till more familiar grown the Spark at last,
Encircles with one Arm her slender Waste,
While t'other hand is honoured with the Bliss,
To grasp her soft Hand, or her softer Knees.
His Eyes, which are the windows of his Soul,
With soft and languishing Desires are full;
Each glance of them Speaks more a Lovers sense,
Than all the Raptures of Lip-Eloquence;
Some little time by these Dumb Signs he speaks,
Till with fain'd Sighs he thus his Silence Breaks.
(pp. 4-5, ll. 81-96)"
10073,"•I've included thrice: Cave, Prison, Torture
•Marshall Brown visits Stanford. I show him my table of contents and he wonders where are the caves?","Searching ""cave"" and ""mind"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""thought""","",2006-01-17 00:00:00 UTC,,3895,"",Stanza XXV,2009-09-14 19:34:41 UTC,"""Suspence that torture of the Mind, / Long had our Thoughts in doubts dark Cave confin'd""","Hail! Welcome News, with treble welcome Hail,
No little Infant e're was seen,
The Milk from Breast more greedily to suck in,
Than we with pleasure catch thy wond'rous tale,
Suspence that torture of the Mind,
Long had our Thoughts in doubts dark Cave confin'd,
Yet hope the gay Fore-runner of Success,
With gladsom smiles would often bless
Our Anxious Souls until at last,
We did the Luscious Banquet taste,
Who the exalted pleasure can express,
When Tidings of a Victory,
Confirm'd by all convincing certainty,
From dark Suspicious did our Souls Release;
The Joys, bless'd Souls unbodied feel,
Tho' far above our pow'r to tell,
Yet we in part their Mighty Transports guess;
By lively Mirth which still controuls,
And keeps her Revels in our Souls,
So great, that words cannot its Love express."
18839,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),Fetters,2011-06-29 02:35:12 UTC,,6985,"","",2011-06-29 02:35:12 UTC,"""By Law and Inclination doubly joyn'd, / Both acted by one Sympathetick Mind. / Whom Wedlock's Silken Chains as softly tye, / As that which when asunder snapt, we dye, / Which makes the Soul and Body's wondrous harmony.""","Degenerate Race! Your own and Natures Foe:
Ah! that your Fathers never had done so!
And yet in truth 'twou'd bear a long debate,
If this whole Age be'nt illegitimate?
By their loose Sires with Rage and Brandy hot,
In Leagures on the Sutlers Wives begot.
Since nothing they but Drabs and Drinking mind,
So true the Proverb, Cat will after kind.
Tho some there are, so very good and few,
That if enough might Plant the VVorld anew.
Not made like those Sown on Earths fertile Face,
Old Pyrrhu's and Deucalion's Stony Race,
But warm'd with gentle Fire and gentle Love,
As Pure and Constant as the Lamps above.
By Law and Inclination doubly joyn'd,
Both acted by one Sympathetick Mind.
Whom Wedlock's Silken Chains as softly tye,
As that which when asunder snapt, we dye,
Which makes the Soul and Body's wondrous harmony.
Thrice Happy they in those soft Fetters ty'd,
The Fatal Sisters only can divide;
Who for no other Mastry ever strove,
But whether of the two should better Love,
As kind as when the Youth did first pretend,
(Passions on Virtue founded never end)
For tho in Age their Tops less verdant show,
Their flour'shing twisted Roots still stronger grow.
No churlish Feuds disturb their blest Abodes,
All calm, as are the Dwellings of the Gods.
No little peevish Quarrels enter there,
No noise but Sighs which Fan the Amorous Air,
And all like Tempe still, and all like Tempe Fair.
Jealousy's Banish'd thence, and Rage and Pride,
And all the Torments of the World beside,
Sweet Peace their close Attendant, Love their Guide.
All the white Passions that delight to rest,
With Innocence in every constant Breast;
Pleasures which Guilt, nor Time, nor Age destroy,
Grateful Vicissitudes of Hope and Joy.
(pp. 19-20)"
19728,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""bird"" in HDIS (Poetry)",Animals,2012-04-27 18:41:01 UTC,,7233,"","",2012-04-27 18:41:01 UTC,"""Have you not seen an early-rising Lark / Spring from her Turf, making the Sun her mark, / Shooting her self aloft, yet higher, higher, / Till she had sung her self into Heaven's Quire? / Thus would he rise in Pray'r, and in a trice / His Soul become a Bird of Paradise.""","Nay, now forbear; for pity sake give o're,
You that would make the Clergy none, or poor:
We are made miserable enough this year,
That we have lost our Reverend Whitaker;
Loss above Deans and Chapters! had but he
Liv'd still and preach'd: Ziba take all (for me.)
Nay I believe had sacrilegious hands
Finger'd our poor remains of Tithes and Lands,
Whil'st he surviv'd they had but pray'd in vain,
Whitaker would have pray'd them back again,
As Luther did a young mans Soul repeal,
Giv'n to the Devil under Hand and Seal,
A Chariot and an Horseman we have lost,
In whose each single Pray'r incamp'd an Host.
How have I heard him on some solemn Day,
When doubtful War could make all London pray)
Mount up to Heav'n with armed cries and tears,
And rout, as far as York, the Cavaliers!
Have you not seen an early-rising Lark
Spring from her Turf, making the Sun her mark,
Shooting her self aloft, yet higher, higher,
Till she had sung her self into Heaven's Quire?
Thus would he rise in Pray'r, and in a trice
His Soul become a Bird of Paradise:
And if our faint Devotions Prayers be,
What can we call his less than Extasie?"
21984,"",Searching in C-H Lion,"",2013-07-24 13:52:20 UTC,,3895,"",Stanza XXVI,2013-07-24 13:53:32 UTC,"""The thinking States-man, when the News he hears, / How e're his Thought may be employ'd, In projects for his Countries good, / Now lays aside the weight of publick cares, / And with a Mind unbent, prepares / To share the common Joy, since now / In Mirth to Revel, Stoicks would allow, / The Plodding Man of Business too, Smooths up the wrinckles of his Brow, / Puts on a chearful look, and seems to say, / His Mind shall now keep Holy-day.""","XXVI.
The thinking States-man, when the News he hears,
How e're his Thought may be employ'd,
In projects for his Countries good,
Now lays aside the weight of publick cares,
And with a Mind unbent, prepares
To share the common Joy, since now
In Mirth to Revel, Stoicks would allow,
The Plodding Man of Business too,
Smooths up the wrinckles of his Brow,
Puts on a chearful look, and seems to say,
His Mind shall now keep Holy-day;
The Rustick leaves his weary Plough,
And on a Lovely Verdant Green,
Are Tytirus and Phillis seen,
Dancing with other Nymphs and Swains,
Forgetting all their Amorous pains,
They trip it o're the Lawns, & frisk upon the Plains.
All Men from high to low degree,
Are fill'd with Mirth and Jollity,
And Albion enjoys an Universal Jubilee.
(ll. 435-454)"
21985,"",Searching in C-H Lion,"",2013-07-24 14:04:10 UTC,,7556,"","",2013-07-24 14:04:10 UTC,"""With them all sober Reason's Stuff; /But they are now grown Satyr-proof, / And all their Mind's impregnable like warlike Buff.""","Blest Regulators of a blessed Cause,
When French Dragoons shall give to England Laws;
What sort of Creatures are there in the Nation,
Who wish and pray for such a Reformation?
In that Enquiry goe not yet too far,
For in this Town a numerous Croud there are,
Wretches impatient of their Liberty;
Who, tho' they all might live at ease,
Are utter Enemies to Peace,
And long for Wooden Shoes and Slavery;
To utter Ruine would their Country bring,
To Re-instate an Idol-King;
And when with Flames they see the Nation burn,
Not drop a Tear, or Sigh and mourn;
But Nero-like, tune up their Harps and sing:
With them all sober Reason's Stuff;
But they are now grown Satyr-proof,
And all their Mind's impregnable like warlike Buff.
(pp. 27-8, ll. 421-438)"
21987,"","Searching ""mind"" in C-H Lion","",2013-07-24 14:32:06 UTC,,3893,"","",2013-07-24 14:33:41 UTC,"""Nature when first she form'd our Minds took care, / To place the softest, tenderest Passions there. / Hence 'tis, our Thoughts like Tinder, apt to fire, / Are often caught with loving kind Desire.""","More Mis'ries still our wretched Sex endure,
And Mis'ries which can ne're admit of cure;
Nature when first she form'd our Minds took care,
To place the softest, tenderest Passions there.
Hence 'tis, our Thoughts like Tinder, apt to fire,
Are often caught with loving kind Desire;
But Custom does such rigid Laws impose,
We must not for our Lives the thing disclose.
If one of us a lovely Youth has seen,
And streight some tender Thoughts to feel begin;
Which liking does insensibly improve
It self to longing fond impatient Love.
The Damsel in distress must still remain,
Tortur'd and wrack'd with the tormenting Pain:
Custom and Modesty, much more severe,
Strictly forbid our Passion to declare.
If we reveal, then Decency's provok't,
If kept, then we are with the Secret choakt;
Besides, to Baseness Men are so ally'd,
So lifted up with Vanity and Pride,
That should a Maid with Sighs and Blushes tell,
The restless Love she does for Strephon feel;
Her sad Distress he would regard no more,
Than Rich Men do Petitions from the Poor:
Whilst wretched She in vain for Pity sues,
He leaves her to frequent the Publick Stews;
So slights the Vertue which he should adore,
To kneel at Feet of Mercenary Whore.
(pp. 11-2, ll. 264-291)"
21988,"","Searching ""mind"" in C-H Lion","",2013-07-24 14:37:44 UTC,,3893,"","",2013-07-24 14:37:44 UTC,"""""Kind melting Kisses, modest, yet desiring, / May raise to Life a Passion Just expiring; / And he's a Monster Affrick ne're saw, / Whose frozen Mind such kind Heats cannot thaw.""","But ah! the young and lovely Bride too soon
Perceives the waining of the Hony-Moon:
Her Passion by Indearments still improves,
And till the more enjoy'd, the more she loves;
While the ingrateful Wretch she Husband calls,
By little flights shews how his Fancy palls,
By frequent use grown weary of her Charms,
He comes with dull Indifference to her Arms.
If here the Humour stops, some hopes are left,
(Provided he's not of all sense bereft;)
By Arts of kind Indearments to recover,
Th'expiring Passion of the Husband Lover.
Wild Beasts by roughness may endure the Chain,
But milder means are us'd to soften Man:
Kind melting Kisses, modest, yet desiring,
May raise to Life a Passion Just expiring;
And he's a Monster Affrick ne're saw,
Whose frozen Mind such kind Heats cannot thaw.
(p. 15, ll. 345-262)
"