work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3224,"",Reading,2004-07-19 00:00:00 UTC,"'I burn, I burn, as when thro' ripen'd corn
By driving winds the crackling flames are borne.'
Now, maddening-wild, I curse that fatal night,
Now bless the hour that charm'd my guilty sight.
In vain the Laws their feeble force oppose:
Chain'd at his feet, they groan Love's vanquish'd foes.
In vain Religion meets my shrinking eye:
I dare not combat, but I turn and fly.
Conscience in vain upbraids th'unhallow'd fire.
Love grasps his scorpions--stifled they expire.
Reason drops headlong from his sacred throne.
Your dear idea reigns, and reigns alone;
Each thought intoxicated homage yields,
And riots wanton in forbidden fields.
",2010-10-04,8468,"","""Your dear idea reigns, and reigns alone; / Each thought intoxicated homage yields, / And riots wanton in forbidden fields.""",Inhabitants,2010-10-04 17:39:47 UTC,""
3385,Free Indirect Discourse,"Searching ""mind"" and ""crowd"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""heart;"" confirmed in ECCO.",2006-03-07 00:00:00 UTC,"The dreadful tales of robbers' bloody deeds,
That oft had swell'd his theme while nightly stretch'd
Beside the list'ning peasant's blazing hearth,
Now crowded on his mind in all their rage
Of pistols, purses, stand! deliver! death!
Trembling he stumbled on, and ever rolled
His jealous eyes around. Each waving shrub
Doubl'd his fears, till, horrible to thought!
The sound of hasty steps alarm'd his ear,
Fast hurrying up behind. Sudden he stopt,
And stooping, could discern, with terror struck,
Between him and the welkin's scanty light,
A black gigantic form of human shape,
And formidably arm'd. Ah! who can tell
The horrors dread that at this instant struck
Ralph's frozen frame. His few gray rev'rend hairs
Rose bristling up, and from his aged scalp,
Up-bore the affrighted bonnet. Down he dropt
Beneath th'oppressive load, but gath'ring soon
A little strength, in desperation crawl'd
To reach some neighb'ring shrubs' concealing shade.
(pp. 263-4 in 1790 edition)",,8666,Part II. -- English Poems.,"""The dreadful tales of robbers' bloody deeds, / That oft had swell'd his theme while nightly stretch'd / Now crowded on his mind in all their rage / Of pistols, purses, stand! deliver! death!""",Inhabitants,2014-02-27 21:35:09 UTC,""
5709,Ruling Passion / Family Within,"Searching ""ruling passion"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2004-05-20 00:00:00 UTC,"Good Lord, what is Man! For as simple he looks,
Do but try to develop his hooks and his crooks!
With his depths and his shallows, his good and his evil,
All in all he's a problem must puzzle the Devil.
On his one ruling passion Sir Pope hugely labors,
That, like th'old Hebrew walking-switch, eats up its neighbours.
Human Nature's his show-box--your friend, would you know him?
Pull the string, Ruling Passion--the picture will show him.
What pity, in rearing so beauteous a system,
One trifling particular--Truth--should have miss'd him!
For, spite of his fine theoretic positions,
Mankind is a science defies definitions.
Some sort all our qualities each to its tribe,
And think Human Nature they truly describe:
Have you found this, or t'other? There's more in the wind,
As by one drunken fellow his comrades you'll find.
But such is the flaw, or the depth of the plan
In the make of that wonderful creature called Man,
No two virtues, whatever relation they claim,
Nor even two different shades of the same,
Though like as was ever twin brother to brother,
Possessing the one shall imply you've the other.
",,15237,•Great anti-metaphor poem. INTEREST.
•This last stanza is interesting and subtle. Family within metaphors.,"""Some sort all our qualities each to its tribe, / And think Human Nature they truly describe""",Inhabitants,2009-09-14 19:43:07 UTC,Middle Stanzas
5720,"","Searching ""breast"" and ""stranger"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-03-05 00:00:00 UTC,"Peace and Hope, sweet twins of Virtue,
Shall be strangers to thy breast:
Fell Despair, with Terror's wild crew,
Still shall rob thy couch of rest.
Round thy sceptre, gain'd by treason,
Guile and factious strife shall twine:
Base Dishonour, with full blazon,
Crown that shameless head of thine.",,15250,"","""Peace and Hope, sweet twins of Virtue, / Shall be strangers to thy breast""",Inhabitants,2009-09-14 19:43:09 UTC,From Elegaic Poems on Illustrious Persons
5957,"",HDIS (Poetry),2004-06-08 00:00:00 UTC,"What lunacy distracts my soul?
What sacred fury wings me through the sky?
Beneath my feet the rattling thunders roll;
I mount, I fly.
The moon's dim earth's already past,
Uriel, to thy sublimer orb I haste.
Fancy broods amid thy rays,
I see the Phoenix shooting from thy blaze!
Fair winged steeds, more bright
Than Alpine snows, or new-born light,
Whirl her chariot through the skies.
Before her Imitation flies,
Rob'd in a lucid veil
Of ever-changing shape and hue;
And with a piercing eye looks nature through.
The sister arts (her filial train) around
Catch her shape, her thought, her sound;
From each embolden'd dash, what wonders start?
Nature's improv'd by art!
The foremost steed
Fire-clad Inspiration rides,
Lashing with furious speed,
The airy vast procession guides.
The clouds their gayest liveries wear,
Myriads of spruce ideas crowd the rear,
And symphony ascends from every sphere.",2012-01-12,15813,"•Complicated allegory, hard to capture as a simple proposition. REVISIT.
•As is, I've included twice: Train and Crowd","In Fancy's ""filial train,"" inspiration rides foremost and ""Myriads of spruce ideas crowd the rear.""",Inhabitants,2012-01-12 21:17:40 UTC,Stanza I
6091,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2006-04-25 00:00:00 UTC,"Deep in yon bed of whispering reeds
Thy airy harp shall now be laid!
That he whose heart in sorrow bleeds,
May love through life the soothing shade.
COLLINS.
When Thomson's harp of charming tone,
Giv'n to the favour'd bard alone,
(Its tuneful master snatch'd away)
Midst whispering reeds impervious lay;
The winds awak'd its mournful swell,
The wood-nymphs join'd the solemn knell.
Her yellow locks mild Autumn tore,
Wild Winter mourn'd in mantle hoar;
Sweet Spring in weeping buds was dress'd,
And Summer rent her flow'ry vest;
Sad Nature caught th' Æolian strain,
And bade it echo through the plain;
And Fate proclaim'd, no daring hand
Should Thomson's sacred harp command;
While Collins sooth'd the mourners round
With magic lyre of dulcet sound:
But when the Bard by Arun's stream
Indulg'd each sadly tender theme,
And with enchantment wild combin'd
The countless ""shadowy tribes of mind;""
Or wept o'er valour's early tomb,
Bedeck'd with wreaths of freshest bloom;
Or bade the pictur'd passions rise,
In fancy'd forms, to human eyes,--
The fair creation rose confess'd,
And dazzled reason sunk oppress'd:
No more he feels the Muse inspire,
In slumber lay the magic lyre;
Again he lifts his languid eyes,
To wake its strain in vain he tries;
Then ere he sought th' Elysian plain,
Resign'd the magic lyre to Jane!",,16117,"","""'But when the Bard by Arun's stream / Indulg'd each sadly tender theme, / And with enchantment wild combin'd / The countless ""shadowy tribes of mind;'""","",2009-09-14 19:45:47 UTC,I've included the entire poem
6093,"","Searching ""fancy"" and ""crowd"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-03-08 00:00:00 UTC,"But not with night's approach the shepherd's toils
Are ended; through the deep and dreary glooms,
Without one guiding star, he struggling wades
The rising wreath; till, quite o'erspent, compelled
To leave his flock to time and chance, he turns
Homeward his weary and uncertain steps,
Much doubting of his way, foreboding much.
In vain he tries to find his wonted marks,--
The hill-side fountain, with its little plat
Of verdant sward around; the well-known cairn;
The blasted branchless oak; the ancient stone
Where murdered martyrs fell, and where they lie:
In vain he lists to hear the rushing stream,
Whose winding course would lead him to his home.
O'ercome at last, yielding to treacherous rest,
He sits him down, and folds within his plaid,
In fond embrace, the sharer of his toils,
The partner of his children's infant sports.
His children! thought of them wakes new resolves
To make one last despairing effort more.
Meanwhile they, crouching round the blazing hearth,
Oft ask their mother when he will return.
She on her rocking infant looks the while,
Or, starting, thinks she hears the lifted latch;
And oft the drift comes sweeping o'er the floor,
While anxiously she looks into the storm,
Returning soon to stir the dying brands,
That with their blaze her sinking hopes revive:
Alas, her hopes are transient as that blaze,
And direful images her fancy crowd,--
The dog returning masterless; the search
By friends and kinsmen wandering far o'er moss
And moor; the sad success,--his body found
Half buried in a wreath; the opening door
To let the bearers in! ... The door is opened:
Shook from poor Yarrow's fur, a sleety mist
Is scattered round, and in his master steps.
What joy! what silent tearful joy pervades
The late despairing groupe! Round him they cling;
One doffs his stiffened plaid, and one his shoes;
Kneeling, one chafes his hands and feet benumbed:
The sleeping babe is roused to kiss its sire,
Restored past hope; and supper, long forgot,
Crowns the glad board: Nor is their evening prayer
This night omitted; fervent, full of thanks,
From glowing hearts in artless phrase it flows!
Then, simply chaunted by the parent pair,
And by the lisping choir, the song of praise,
Beneath the heath-roofed cottage in the wild,
Ascends more grateful to the heavenly throne,
Than pealing diapason, and the loud
Swelling acclaim of notes by art attuned.",,16120,"","""Alas, her hopes are transient as that blaze, / And direful images her fancy crowd""",Inhabitants,2009-09-14 19:45:48 UTC,""