work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3850,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""cave"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-01-17 00:00:00 UTC,"The lives and deaths of Knights, Lords and Earls,
This little Book unto your Honour tells,
Protection and acceptance if you give,
It shall, as shall your self, for ever live.
Of all the VVonders this vile VVorld includes,
I muse how Flatt'ry such high Favour gains,
How Adulation cunningly deludes
Both high and low from Scepter to the Swain,
But if thou by Flattery could'st obtain,
More than the most that is possess'd by men,
Thou coul'dst not tune thy tongue to falshood strain,
Yet with the best can use both tongue and pen,
Thy secret Learning can both scan and ken,
The hidden things of Nature and of Art,
It's thou hast rais'd me from Oblivions Den,
And made my Muse from obscure Sleep to start;
And to your Honours censure I commit,
The first-born Issue of my worthless Wit,
Fresh-water Souldiers sails in shallow Streams,
And Leith-wynd Captains venture not their lives,
A Brain disturb'd brings furth idle Dreams,
And guilded Sheaths have seldom golden Knives,
And painted Faces none but Fools bewitch,
My Muse is plain, but witty fair and rich:
VVhen thou didst first to Agnanipa float,
VVithout thy knowledge as I surely think,
VVhere Grace and Nature filling up thy Fountain,
My Muse came flowing from Parnassus Mountain,
So long may she flow as it to thee is fit,
The boundless Ocean of a Christian wit:
For VVit, Reason, Grace, Religion, Nature, Zeal,
VVrought altogether in thy working Brain,
And to thy VVork did set this certain Seal,
Pure is the Colour that will take no stain:
My Lord, although I do transgress,
You know that I did never yet profess,
Until this time in print to be a Poet,
And now to exercise my VVit I show it;
View but the Intrals of this little Book,
And you will say that I some pains have took,
Pains mix'd with Pleasure, Pleasure joyn'd with Pain,
Produc'd this Issue of my labouring Brain.
My dear Lord, to you I owe a countless Debt,
VVhich though I ever pay, will ne're be payed.
'Tis not base Coyn, subject to Cankers fret,
If so in time my Debt might be defray'd,
But this my Debt I would have all Men know,
Is Love, the more I pay the more I owe;
VVit, Learning, Honesty, and all good parts,
Hath so possess'd thy Body and thy Mind,
That covetously thou steals away mens Hearts,
Yet 'gainst thy Shaft there's never one repay'd:
My Heart that is my greatest worldlie Pelf,
Shall ever be for thee as for my self;
Thou that in idle adulating words,
Canst never please the humors of these days,
That greatest VVorks with smallest Speech afford,
VVhose wit the Rules of VVisdoms love obeys,
In few words then, I wish that thou may'st be,
As well belov'd of all men as of me.
To Vertue and to Honour once in Rome,
Two stately Temples there erected was,
Where none might into Honours Temple come,
But first through Vertues Temple they must pass;
Which was an Emblem and an Document,
That Men by Vertue must true Honour win;
And how that Honour shall be permanent,
Which only did from Vertue first begin.
Could Envy die if Honour were deceas'd,
She could not live for Honours Envys food,
She lives by sucking of the noble blood,
And scales the lofty top of Fames high Crest,
Base thoughts compacted in the Objects breast,
The meager Monster doth neither harm nor good,
But like the wain, or wax, or ebb, or flood,
She shuns as what her age doth most detaste,
Where Heaven-bred Honour in the noble Mind,
From out the Cavern of the Breast proceeds,
There Hell-born Envy shews her hellish kind,
And Vulture-like upon the Actions feed,
But here's the odds, that Honours-Tree shall grow,
When Envy's rotten Stump shall burn in low.",,9901,"","""The meager Monster doth neither harm nor good, / But like the wain, or wax, or ebb, or flood, / She shuns as what her age doth most detaste, / Where Heaven-bred Honour in the noble Mind, / From out the Cavern of the Breast proceeds""","",2009-09-14 19:34:33 UTC,Part Second
3850,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""cave in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""breast"" ",2006-01-17 00:00:00 UTC,"The lives and deaths of Knights, Lords and Earls,
This little Book unto your Honour tells,
Protection and acceptance if you give,
It shall, as shall your self, for ever live.
Of all the VVonders this vile VVorld includes,
I muse how Flatt'ry such high Favour gains,
How Adulation cunningly deludes
Both high and low from Scepter to the Swain,
But if thou by Flattery could'st obtain,
More than the most that is possess'd by men,
Thou coul'dst not tune thy tongue to falshood strain,
Yet with the best can use both tongue and pen,
Thy secret Learning can both scan and ken,
The hidden things of Nature and of Art,
It's thou hast rais'd me from Oblivions Den,
And made my Muse from obscure Sleep to start;
And to your Honours censure I commit,
The first-born Issue of my worthless Wit,
Fresh-water Souldiers sails in shallow Streams,
And Leith-wynd Captains venture not their lives,
A Brain disturb'd brings furth idle Dreams,
And guilded Sheaths have seldom golden Knives,
And painted Faces none but Fools bewitch,
My Muse is plain, but witty fair and rich:
VVhen thou didst first to Agnanipa float,
VVithout thy knowledge as I surely think,
VVhere Grace and Nature filling up thy Fountain,
My Muse came flowing from Parnassus Mountain,
So long may she flow as it to thee is fit,
The boundless Ocean of a Christian wit:
For VVit, Reason, Grace, Religion, Nature, Zeal,
VVrought altogether in thy working Brain,
And to thy VVork did set this certain Seal,
Pure is the Colour that will take no stain:
My Lord, although I do transgress,
You know that I did never yet profess,
Until this time in print to be a Poet,
And now to exercise my VVit I show it;
View but the Intrals of this little Book,
And you will say that I some pains have took,
Pains mix'd with Pleasure, Pleasure joyn'd with Pain,
Produc'd this Issue of my labouring Brain.
My dear Lord, to you I owe a countless Debt,
VVhich though I ever pay, will ne're be payed.
'Tis not base Coyn, subject to Cankers fret,
If so in time my Debt might be defray'd,
But this my Debt I would have all Men know,
Is Love, the more I pay the more I owe;
VVit, Learning, Honesty, and all good parts,
Hath so possess'd thy Body and thy Mind,
That covetously thou steals away mens Hearts,
Yet 'gainst thy Shaft there's never one repay'd:
My Heart that is my greatest worldlie Pelf,
Shall ever be for thee as for my self;
Thou that in idle adulating words,
Canst never please the humors of these days,
That greatest VVorks with smallest Speech afford,
VVhose wit the Rules of VVisdoms love obeys,
In few words then, I wish that thou may'st be,
As well belov'd of all men as of me.
To Vertue and to Honour once in Rome,
Two stately Temples there erected was,
Where none might into Honours Temple come,
But first through Vertues Temple they must pass;
Which was an Emblem and an Document,
That Men by Vertue must true Honour win;
And how that Honour shall be permanent,
Which only did from Vertue first begin.
Could Envy die if Honour were deceas'd,
She could not live for Honours Envys food,
She lives by sucking of the noble blood,
And scales the lofty top of Fames high Crest,
Base thoughts compacted in the Objects breast,
The meager Monster doth neither harm nor good,
But like the wain, or wax, or ebb, or flood,
She shuns as what her age doth most detaste,
Where Heaven-bred Honour in the noble Mind,
From out the Cavern of the Breast proceeds,
There Hell-born Envy shews her hellish kind,
And Vulture-like upon the Actions feed,
But here's the odds, that Honours-Tree shall grow,
When Envy's rotten Stump shall burn in low.",,9903,I've included twice: Cave and Vulture,"""From out the Cavern of the Breast proceeds [...] Hell-born Envy shews her hellish kind, / And Vulture-like upon the Actions feed""","",2009-09-14 19:34:34 UTC,Part Second
4394,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2006-03-07 00:00:00 UTC,"He comes! he comes! in every breeze the Power
Of Philosophic Melancholy comes!
His near approach the sudden starting tear,
The glowing cheek, the mild dejected air,
The soften'd feature, and the beating heart,
Pierced deep with many a virtuous pang, declare.
O'er all the soul his sacred influence breathes!
Inflames imagination; through the breast
Infuses every tenderness; and far
Beyond dim earth exalts the swelling thought.
Ten thousand thousand fleet ideas, such
As never mingled with the vulgar dream,
Crowd fast into the mind's creative eye.
As fast the correspondent passions rise,
As varied, and as high: Devotion raised
To rapture, and divine astonishment;
The love of Nature unconfined, and, chief,
Of human race; the large ambitious wish,
To make them blest; the sigh for suffering worth
Lost in obscurity; the noble scorn
Of tyrant pride; the fearless great resolve;
The wonder which the dying patriot draws,
Inspiring glory through remotest time;
The awaken'd throb for virtue, and for fame;
The sympathies of love, and friendship dear;
With all the social offspring of the heart.
(pp. 116-7 in Sambrook ed., pp. 172-3 in original)",,11584,"Text from C-H Lion, checked against original","""The awaken'd throb for virtue, and for fame; / The sympathies of love, and friendship dear; / With all the social offspring of the heart.""","",2013-07-07 18:55:59 UTC,""
4442,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2003-12-01 00:00:00 UTC,"He's not the happy man, to whom is given
A plenteous fortune by indulgent Heaven;
Whose gilded roofs on shining columns rise,
And painted walls enchant the gazer's eyes:
Whose table flows with hospitable cheer,
And all the various bounty of the year;
Whose valleys smile, whose gardens breathe the spring,
Whose carved mountains bleat, and forests sing?
For whom the cooling shade in summer twines,
While his full cellars give their generous wines;
From whose wide fields unbounded autumn pours
A golden tide into his swelling stores:
Whose winter laughs; for whom the liberal gales
Stretch the big sheet, and toiling commerce sails;
When yielding crowds attend, and pleasure serves;
While youth, and health, and vigour string his nerves.
E'en not all these, in one rich lot combined,
Can make the happy man, without the mind;
Where judgment sits clear-sighted, and surveys
The chain of reason with unerring gaze;
Where fancy lives, and to the brightening eyes,
His fairer scenes, and bolder figures rise;
Where social love exerts her soft command,
And plays the passions with a tender hand,
Whence every virtue flows, in rival strife,
And all the moral harmony of life.
Nor canst thou, D--D----N, this truth decline,
Thine is the fortune, and the mind is thine.
(ll. 1-28, pp. 284-5)",,11696,"•CORRECTING C-H: I've restored HDIS ""lays"" to 1729 ""plays""","""E'en not all these, in one rich lot combined, / Can make the happy man, without the mind; / Where judgment sits clear-sighted, and surveys / The chain of reason with unerring gaze; / Where fancy lives, and to the brightening eyes, / His fairer scenes, and bolder figures rise; / Where social love exerts her soft command, / And plays the passions with a tender hand, / Whence every virtue flows, in rival strife, / And all the moral harmony of life.""",Court and Fetters,2013-06-20 20:25:11 UTC,I've included the complete poem
4488,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""stamp"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-04-08 00:00:00 UTC,"Shou'd Stair, regardless of a wretched Muse,
His kind Protection to my Verse refuse,
What generous Peer, of Caledonian Blood,
Or will, or can do Mitchell's Genius Good?
Others may boast a showy Pow'r, and State--
But who, like Stair, at once is good and great?
Be This your Glory still--nor scorn his Lays,
Who scorns to prove a Prostitute, for Praise.
Tho' long I've wander'd fickle Fortune's Sport,
By Priests pursu'd, unheeded by the Court,
Souls, of your Stamp, can pity and protect,
And gather Fame from other Men's Neglect.
So Fools, sometimes, unpolish'd Gems despise,
Whose Value, known, distinguishes the wise.",,11791,"","""Souls, of your Stamp, can pity and protect, / And gather Fame from other Men's Neglect""","",2009-09-14 19:36:15 UTC,""
4441,"",Browsing in HDIS (Poetry),2011-02-05 19:19:46 UTC,"Oh, let not then waste luxury impair
That manly soul of toil which strings your nerves,
And your own proper happiness creates!
Oh, let not the soft, penetrating plague
Creep on the freeborn mind! and working there,
With the sharp tooth of many a new-form'd want,
Endless, and idle all, eat out the heart
Of liberty; the high conception blast;
The noble sentiment, the impatient scorn
Of base subjection, and the swelling wish
For general good, erasing from the mind:
While nought save narrow selfishness succeeds,
And low design, the sneaking passions all
Let loose, and reigning in the rankled breast.
Induced at last, by scarce perceived degrees,
Sapping the very frame of government,
And life, a total dissolution comes;
Sloth, ignorance, dejection, flattery, fear.
Oppression raging o'er the waste he makes;
The human being almost quite extinct;
And the whole state in broad corruption sinks.
Oh, shun that gulf: that gaping ruin shun!
And countless ages roll it far away
From you, ye heaven-beloved! May liberty,
The light of life! the sun of humankind!
Whence heroes, bards, and patriots borrow flame,
E'en where the keen depressive north descends,
Still spread, exalt, and actuate your powers!
While slavish southern climates beam in vain.
And may a public spirit from the throne,
Where every virtue sits, go copious forth,
Live o'er the land! the finer arts inspire;
Make thoughtful Science raise his pensive head,
Blow the fresh bay, bid Industry rejoice,
And the rough sons of lowest labour smile.
As when, profuse of Spring, the loosen'd West
Lifts up the pining year, and balmy breathes
Youth, life, and love, and beauty, o'er the world.
(ll. 248-85, pp. 28-9)",,18113,"","""Oh, let not then waste luxury impair / That manly soul of toil which strings your nerves, / And your own proper happiness creates!""","",2011-02-05 19:19:46 UTC,""
7479,"",Reading,2013-06-20 15:46:32 UTC,"As thus the snows arise; and foul, and fierce,
All winter drives along the darken'd air;
In his own loose revolving fields, the swain
Disaster'd stands; sees other hills ascend,
Of unknown joyless brow; and other scenes,
Of horrid prospect, shag the trackless plain:
Nor finds the river, nor the forest, hid
Beneath the white abrupt; but wanders on
From hill to dale, still more and more astray:
Impatient flouncing through the drifted heaps,
Stung with the thoughts of home; the thoughts of home
Rush on his nerves, and call their vigour forth
In many a vain effort. How sinks his soul!
What black despair, what horror fills his heart!
When for the dusky spot, that fancy feign'd
His tufted cottage rising thro' the snow,
He meets the roughness of the middle waste,
Far from the tract and bless'd abode of man:
While round him night resistless closes fast,
And every tempest, howling o'er his head,
Renders the savage wilderness more wild.
Then throng the busy shapes into his mind,
Of cover'd pits, unfathomably deep,
A dire descent! beyond the power of frost,
Of faithless bogs; of precipices huge,
Smooth'd up with snow; and, what is land unknown,
What water, of the still unfrozen eye,
In the loose marsh or solitary lake,
Where the fresh mountain from the bottom boils.
These check his fearful steps; and down he sinks,
Beneath the shelter of the shapeless drift,
Thinking o'er all the bitterness of death,
Mix'd with the tender anguish nature shoots
Thro' the wrung bosom of the dying man,
His wife, his children, and his friends unseen.
In vain for him th' officious wife prepares
The fire fair-blazing, and the vestment warm;
In vain his little children, peeping out
Into the mingling rack, demand their sire,
With tears of artless innocence. Alas!
Nor wife, nor children more shall he behold,
Nor friends, nor sacred home. On every nerve
The deadly Winter seizes; shuts up sense;
And, o'er his inmost vitals creeping cold,
Lays him along the snows, a stiffen'd corse,
Stretch'd out, and bleaching in the northern blast.
(ll. 350-395)",,21044,"","""Impatient flouncing through the drifted heaps, / Stung with the thoughts of home; the thoughts of home / Rush on his nerves, and call their vigour forth / In many a vain effort.""","",2013-06-20 15:46:32 UTC,""
7479,"",Reading,2013-06-20 15:59:52 UTC,"Clear frost succeeds; and thro' the blue serene,
For sight too fine, the ethereal nitre flies:
Killing infectious damps, and the spent air
Storing afresh with elemental life.
Close crowds the shining atmosphere; and binds
Our strengthen'd bodies in its cold embrace,
Constringent; feeds, and animates our blood;
Refines our spirits, through the new-strung nerves,
In swifter sallies darting to the brain;
Where sits the soul, intense, collected, cool,
Bright as the skies, and as the season keen.
All nature feels the renovating force
Of Winter, only to the thoughtless eye
[I]n desolation seen. The vacant glebe
Draws in abundant vegetable soul,
And gathers vigour for the coming year,
A stronger glow sits on the lively cheek
Of ruddy fire: and luculent along
The purer rivers flow; their sullen deeps,
Amazing, open to the shepherd's gaze,
And murmur hoarser at the fixing frost.
(l. 650-670)",,21050,"","""Close crowds the shining atmosphere; and binds / Our strengthen'd bodies in its cold embrace, / Constringent; feeds, and animates our blood; / Refines our spirits, through the new-strung nerves, / In swifter sallies darting to the brain; / Where sits the soul, intense, collected, cool, / Bright as the skies, and as the season keen.""",Throne,2013-06-20 15:59:52 UTC,""
4393,"",Reading,2013-06-20 17:27:24 UTC,"BUT yonder breathing Prospect bids the Muse
Throw all her Beauty forth, that Daubing all
Will be to what I gaze; for who can paint
Like Nature? Can Imagination boast
Amid his gay Creation Hues like Her's?
And can He mix them with that matchless Skill,
And lay them on so delicately sweet,
And lose them in each other, as appears
In every Bud that blows? If Fancy then
Unequal fails beneath the lovely Task;
Ah what shall Language do? Ah where find Words
Ting'd with so many Colours? And whose Power
To Life approaching, may perfume my Lays
With that fine Oil, these aromatic Gales,
Which inexhaustive flow continual round.
(pp. 23-4)",,21053,"","""BUT yonder breathing Prospect bids the Muse / Throw all her Beauty forth, that Daubing all / Will be to what I gaze; for who can paint / Like Nature? Can Imagination boast / Amid his gay Creation Hues like Her's? / And can He mix them with that matchless Skill, / And lay them on so delicately sweet, / And lose them in each other, as appears / In every Bud that blows?""","",2013-06-20 17:27:24 UTC,""
4393,"",Reading,2013-06-20 19:50:10 UTC,"AND let th' aspiring Youth beware of Love,
And shun th' enchanting Glance, for 'tis too late
When on his Heart the Torrent Softness pours.
Then Interest sinks to Dirt, and distant Fame
Dissolves in Air away. While the fond Soul
Is wrapt in Dreams of Ecstacy, and Bliss;
Still paints th' illusive Form, the kindling Grace,
Th' alluring Smile, the full aethereal Eye
Effusing Heaven; and listens ardent still
To the small Voice, where Harmony and Wit,
A modest, melting, mingled Sweetness, flow.
No sooner is the fair Idea form'd,
And Contemplation fixes on the Theme,
Than from his own Creation wild He flies,
Sick of a Shadow. Absence comes apace,
And shoots his every Pang into his Breast.
'Tis nought but Gloom around. The darken'd Sun
Loses his Light. The rosy-bosom'd Spring
To weeping Fancy pines; and yon bright Arch
Of Heaven low-bends into a dusky Vault.
All Nature fades extinct; and She alone
Heard, felt, and seen, possesses every Thought,
Fills every Sense, and pants in every Vein.
Books are but formal Dulness, tedious Friends,
And sad amid the Social Band he sits,
Lonely, and inattentive. From the Tongue
Th' unfinish'd Period falls: while, born away
On swelling Thought, his wafted Spirit flies
To the dear Bosom of his absent Fair;
And leaves the Semblance of a Lover, fix'd
In melancholy Site, with Head declin'd,
And Love-dejected Eyes. Sudden he starts,
Shook from his tender Trance, and restless runs
To glimmering Shades, and sympathetic Glooms,
Where the dun Umbrage o'er the falling Stream
Romantic hangs; there thro' the pensive Dusk
Strays, in Heart-thrilling Meditation lost,
Indulging all to Love: or on the Bank
Thrown, amid drooping Lillies, swells the Breeze
With Sighs unceasing, and the Brook with Tears.
Thus in soft Anguish he consumes the Day;
Nor quits his deep Retirement, till the Moon
Peeps thro' the Chambers of the fleecy East,
Enlighten'd by Degrees, and in her Train
Leads on the gentle Hours; then forth He walks,
Beneath the trembling Languish of her Beams,
With soften'd Soul, and wooes the Bird of Eve
To mingle Woes with his: or while the World,
And all the Sons of Care lie hush'd in Sleep,
Associates with the Mid-night Shadows drear,
And, sighing to the lonely Taper, pours
His sweetly-tortur'd Heart into the Page
Meant for the moving Messenger of Love.
But ah how faint, how meaningless, and poor
To what his Passion swells! which bursts the Bounds
Of every Eloquence, and asks for Looks,
Where Fondness flows on Fondness, Love on Love;
Entwisting Beams with Her's, and speaking more
Than ever charm'd, ecstatic Poet sigh'd
To listening Beauty, bright with conscious Smiles,
And graceful Vanity. But if on Bed
Delirious flung, Sleep from his Pillow flies.
All Night he tosses, nor the balmy Power
In any Posture finds; 'till the grey Morn
Lifts her pale Lustre on the paler Wretch,
Exanimate by Love: and then perhaps
Exhausted Nature sinks a-while to Rest,
Still interrupted by disorder'd Dreams,
That o'er the sick Imagination rise,
And in black Colours paint the mimic Scene.
Oft with the Charmer of his Soul he talks;
Sometimes in Crowds distrest; or if retir'd
To secret-winding, Flower-inwoven Bowers,
Far from the dull Impertinence of Man,
Just as He kneeling all his former Cares
Begins to lose in vast oblivious Love,
Snatch'd from her yielded Hand, he knows not how,
Thro' Forests huge, and long untravel'd Heaths
With Desolation brown, he wanders waste,
In Night and Tempest wrapt; or shrinks aghast,
Back, from the bending Precipice; or wades
The turbid Stream below, and strives to reach
The farther Shore, where succourless, and sad,
His Dearer Life extends her beckoning Arms,
But strives in vain, born by th' outragious Flood
To Distance down, he rides the ridgy Wave,
Or whelm'd beneath the boiling Eddy sinks.
Then a weak, wailing, lamentable Cry
Is heard, and all in Tears he wakes, again
To tread the Circle of revolving Woe.
These are the charming Agonies of Love,
Whose Misery delights. But thro' the Heart
Should Jealousy it's Venom once diffuse,
'Tis then delightful Misery no more,
But Agony unmixt, incessant Rage,
Corroding every Thought, and blasting all
The Paradise of Love. Ye Fairy Prospects then,
Ye Beds of Roses, and ye Bowers of Joy,
Farewell! Ye Gleamings of departing Peace,
Shine out your last! The yellow-tinging Plague
Internal Vision taints, and in a Night
Of livid Gloom Imagination wraps.
Ay then, instead of Love-enliven'd Cheeks,
Of Sunny Features, and of ardent Eyes
With flowing Rapture bright, dark Looks succeed,
Suffus'd, and glaring with untender Fire,
A clouded Aspect, and a burning Cheek,
Where the whole poison'd Soul, malignant, fits,
And frightens Love away. Ten thousand Fears,
Invented wild, ten thousand frantic Views
Of horrid Rivals, hanging on the Charms
For which he melts in Fondness, eat him up
With fervent Anguish, and consuming Pine.
In vain Reproaches lend their idle Aid,
Deceitful Pride, and Resolution frail,
Giving a Moment's Ease. Reflection pours,
Afresh, her Beauties on his busy Thought,
Her first Endearments, twining round the Soul,
With all the Witchcraft of ensnaring Love.
Strait the fierce Storm involves his Mind anew,
Flames thro' the Nerves, and boils along the Veins;
While anxious Doubt distracts the tortur'd Heart;
For even the sad Assurance of his Fears
Were Heaven to what he feels. Thus the warm Youth,
Whom Love deludes into his thorny Wilds,
Thro' flowery-tempting Paths, or leads a Life
Of feavor'd Rapture, or of cruel Care;
His brightest Aims extinguish'd all, and all
His lively Moments running down to Waste.
(pp. 48-54)",,21061,"","""But thro' the Heart / Should Jealousy it's Venom once diffuse, / 'Tis then delightful Misery no more, / But Agony unmixt, incessant Rage, / Corroding every Thought, and blasting all / The Paradise of Love.""","",2013-06-20 19:50:10 UTC,""