updated_at,id,text,theme,metaphor,work_id,reviewed_on,provenance,created_at,comments,context,dictionary
2009-09-14 19:44:56 UTC,15866,"Lo the procession! Let me pause intent,
And first drink pleasure at the peasant's grave.
Humane and christian is the muse, and fond
Of ev'ry object, cheerful or sedate,
Which rural scenes afford. She nor contemns
The nuptial holiday, nor views untouch'd
The sad solemnity of rustic woe,
What time the white-frock'd mourner slowly moves,
And brings with mute reluctance to the grave
The dear remains of some departed friend.
The decent sheet that overspreads the bier!
How well becomes it sorrow neat as their's,
Pure, and unsullied by the shameless tear
Of wrung hypocrisy! Steel were the heart
That could this passing spectacle survey,
Nor feel the touch of sympathy within.
Me it well pleases to the holy sward
To follow pitying, nor disowns my muse
The feminine sensations of a heart
That often vibrates at another's woe.
The tear that trickles down the manly cheek,
The burst of grief that braves control, the sigh
Which baffles interception, and escapes
Soon as the solemn pause bids lift the pall,
And ease the dead into his kindred earth,
Send many a tingling arrow through this breast,
Though the reluctant eye no grief betray,
And tearless silence in her deepest gloom
The decent pleasurable secret hide.
But often as my sated soul surveys
The sable funeral of city pomp,
Methinks life human is a play indeed,
And the poor player man, exhausted, spent,
Has made his exit, and now comes the farce.
'Tis pantomimic shew--the nodding plume,
The proud escutcheon'd hearse, and long parade
Of dry-eyed mourners clad in inky cloaks,
The streaming crape, and dismal aisle behung
With sable manufacture ill-applied.
To see such idle waste, and childish shew,
I smile, and nothing grieve. Not so, when death
Calls for the hind, and undissembled grief
Of father, widow, offspring, to the grave
His decent corpse attends. Then through my soul
Exquisite sympathy's vibration thrills;
It sorrows freely, breathes the grateful sigh,
Nor scorns to utter from a heart subdued
The mourner's luxury, the deep ""alas!""","","""Steel were the heart / That could this passing spectacle survey, / Nor feel the touch of sympathy within.""",5965,,"Searching ""heart"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-10 00:00:00 UTC,•C-H takes from Poems (1808),"",Metal
2009-09-14 19:44:58 UTC,15877,"How pleasant now upon the village stile
To rest well-wearied, while the jovial boy,
From school dismiss'd, upon the sunny green
Pitches his wicket, a stone-steadied hat,
And bowls exulting! Of encumbrance stript,
He for his maiden visage nothing fears,
But to the scorching day-beam, unconcern'd,
His cheek and bosom bares, nor aught regards
The freckled aspect, or the sun-burnt skin.
Piece of the nether millstone is his heart
Who marks ill-pleas'd the frolic of the child,
Or views the rural festival unmov'd.
Me it delights to overhear the dance
Upon the winnow'd floor of the void grange,
To pause at hand, and listen to the sound
Of the brisk viol challenging the foot,
And of the foot respondent, and to see
The village maid and village hind alert
Pacing the giddy labyrinth of joy,
Each in the trim of holiday attir'd.
Nor pleases not, upon the social green,
The game laborious of the manly ball
Aim'd at the wicket, and its taper shanks
Levelling certain, but for hindrance quick
And resolute repulse of the strong blow,
That sends it thunder-struck aloft in air,
Or o'er the plain rebounding. Thou hast charms,
Rural festivity, not soon surpass'd,
Compare thee, as we may, with sport polite,
The neat amusement fashion qualifies,
Till nice refinement sits without disdain
Spectatress of the scene. Never more keen
Their liveliest ecstasy, than when, for health
To George restor'd, illumination's lamp
Was freely kindled, and the rural throng
From ev'ry door conven'd, along the street
Mingled in loyalty's triumphant maze.
Then pipe and viol felt alone fatigue,
While, nothing wearied, they with foot alert
The blazing window's artificial day
Down danc'd, the fretted cupola of heaven
Their spacious ball-room, their assembler God.","","""Piece of the nether millstone is his heart / Who marks ill-pleas'd the frolic of the child, / Or views the rural festival unmov'd.""",5965,,"Searching ""mill"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-12-12 00:00:00 UTC,•C-H takes from Poems (1808),"",""
2009-09-14 19:45:00 UTC,15888," Pride, on thy vesture's purple fold
Let the sky-tinctur'd sapphire blaze,
The emerald shed its milder rays,
And rubies blush in circling gold:
Low at thy nod let suppliants bow,
And crested chiefs precedence yield;
Thy hand the rod of empire wield,
And wreaths of triumph grace thy brow:--
A nobler aim let my ambition own,
Be Love my empire, Lesbia's heart my throne!
","",A lover's heart may be one's throne,5977,,"Searching ""throne"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2004-08-07 00:00:00 UTC,"","",""
2009-09-14 19:45:01 UTC,15894,"The king, surrounded by his victor bands,
In all the pride of conscious virtue stands;
The sounds of homage that around him roll,
Swell not the placid current of his soul.--
Though by the chiefs of shouting hosts adored,
A conquering nation stooping to his sword;
While, with a stronger arm than shook the field,
His clemency compels their souls to yield:
Though myriads burn his purpose to fulfil,
Their rein his wisdom, and their spur his will;
Though conscious Rectitude, with inward voice,
The impulse seconds, and confirms his choice;
In specious colours painting to his mind,
The power unlimited to bless mankind.
Uncheck'd by human barriers, to impart
Wide, the pure dictates of a patriot heart,
Spread peace and justice o'er a smiling land,
Crush stern Oppression with a giant hand;
Yet in Truth's faithful mirror stands reveal'd,
A charge too vast for mortal man to wield.
Convinced, of public care the unnumber'd dyes
From human rights and human crimes that rise,
No single heart can judge, or arm secure,
However active, and however pure;
That the bright lure of arbitrary sway
May tempt the firmest foot from Virtue's way;
With careful hand around his throne he draws
The sacred bulwark of unbiass'd laws.
Or, if awhile his fervid pulse might beat
With the wild frenzy of Ambition's heat,
Sudden the visionary vapours fly
From the mild lustre of Elsitha's eye.
To the soft charities of social life
He turns, from lust of power, and rage of strife;
Feels the true duty of the royal mind,
His first, his purest bliss, to bless mankind.
Scorning the base degenerate power that craves
A hard-wrung homage, from a horde of slaves,
His generous thoughts to nobler fame aspire,
His bosom glows with more celestial fire;
Happy to form, by Virtue's sovereign sway,
A gallant race of freemen to obey,
Respect by deeds of goodness to impart,
And fix his empire o'er the willing heart;
While patriot worth this godlike mandate taught,
""Free be the Briton's action as his thought.""
Such the true pride of Alfred's royal line,
Such of Britannia's kings the right divine.","","A king may ""fix his empire o'er the willing heart""",5978,,"Searching ""heart"" and ""empire"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2004-08-22 00:00:00 UTC,"","",""
2009-09-14 19:45:02 UTC,15899,"Leaving the Mercian court, he sought to foil
His hopeless love, by hardihood and toil;
Till well, he deem'd, that time and absence join'd,
Had chaced the soft invader from his mind.
For when his sire led back from Erin's coast,
By Triumph graced, the Caledonian host,
Drinking each warlike tale with greedy ears,
He burns to emulate the deeds he hears,
Secure that Love had lost his faded flame,
Quench'd in the brighter blaze of martial fame.
Even when he learn'd from Alfred's dreadful tale,
What perils dire his hapless queen assail,
Though in her cause to arm he eager sought,
Fame only edged his sword, he fondly thought.
Love, so he vainly deem'd, had wing'd his flight,
And Fame and Friendship charm'd him to the fight;
For friendship still remain'd when passion fell,
And still he wish'd the fair Elsitha well;
Her image bright, yet cold as Dian's ray,
Through toil and hardship led his venturous way;
Around his bark when roar'd the wintry storm,
Mild Friendship cheer'd him in Elsitha's form;
Elsitha's friendship, like the leading star,
Guided his footsteps through the paths of war.","",Time and absence join'd may chase the soft invader from the mind,5978,,"Searching ""mind"" and ""invad"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-05-04 00:00:00 UTC,"•REVISIT. I suppose the ""Invader"" metaphors also work as ""Inhabitant"" metaphors. ","",Empire
2009-09-14 19:45:03 UTC,15912,"When loud Invasion with infuriate roar,
With boastful threatening shakes Britannia's shore;
Should Alfred turn his sainted eyes to earth,
And view the hallow'd seats that gave him birth,
How would he praise the patriot worth that calls
Her manly sons from Vinitagia's walls!
Though far from billowy ocean's blue domains,
No hostile power can waste their inland plains,
When Gallia arms and injur'd Albion bleeds,
Wherever glory points and valour leads,
Zealous from each domestic bliss they go
To meet on distant fields their country's foe,
Feeling their monarch's sacred rights their own,
Their swords his bulwark, and their heart his throne.
","",The heart of a corps of volunteers may be the monarch's throne,5982,,"Searching ""throne"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2004-08-07 00:00:00 UTC,"",I've included the entire poem,""
2009-09-14 19:45:04 UTC,15913,"Then let me not with sorrowing eye pursue
Past scenes, which long have vanish'd from my view;
But ere of life the fleeting shadows close,
Thankful receive what Fortune yet bestows.
And you, my gen'rous friend, whose princely seat
Gives me from noise and strife a short retreat;
Where I can breathe again the fragrant air,
While days of leisure sweeten months of care;
Spring's blushing flowers, and Summer's fruits behold,
And Autumn's stores of vegetable gold;
Accept these votive numbers, nor refuse
The heartfelt offering of a grateful Muse;
Thanks from a heart, which, while it boasts with pride,
A line to patriots, nobles, kings, allied;
Is prouder yet in sterling worth to shine,
Stamp'd by the friendship of a mind like thine.","","""Is prouder yet in sterling worth to shine, / Stamp'd by the friendship of a mind like thine""",5983,,"Searching ""stamp"" and ""mind"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-04-07 00:00:00 UTC,•I've included twice: Stamping and Sterling Silver,"",Impression
2013-10-02 19:30:04 UTC,15965,"Come from thy wildly-winding stream,
First-born of Genius, Shakspeare, come!
The listening World attends thy theme,
And bids each elder Bard be dumb:
For thou, within the human Mind
Fix'd, as on thy peculiar throne,
Sitt'st like a Deity inshrined;
And either Muse is all thine own!
(pp. 185-186)","","""For thou, within the human Mind / Fix'd, as on thy peculiar throne, / Sitt'st like a Deity inshrined.""",6008,,"Searching ""throne"" and ""mind"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2004-07-09 00:00:00 UTC,"","",""
2009-09-14 19:45:17 UTC,15968,"D---, in sweet friendship's firmest bands
Link'd to my inmost soul! now pensive Eve
Steals slowly thro' yon misty meads,
What polish'd page of Rome, or wiser Greece,
Say, shall we next enraptur'd turn?
Shall we by murm'ring Mincio rove? or sit
Beneath the darksome pines that Pan
Planted in that Sicilian valley wild,
True region of poetic bliss?
Or in Achilles' loudly-thund'ring car
Be whirl'd o'er Troy's ensanguin'd plain;
Or see him strive Patroclus' shrieking ghost,
Poor unsubstantial shade! to clasp
With eager arms?--But let us never fail
Nightly to visit the soft bard
Best suited to the tender, feeling heart,
Compassion's throne: O joy refin'd!
To watch the big tear from thy meaning eye
Steal secret, while Medea's soul
With jealousy, maternal love, with rage
And haughty indignation fir'd,
Now points the dagger to her smiling babes,
Now, touch'd with nature, hurls away
The deathful steel! Or while Orestes starts
In madness from the opiate couch
Where his fond Pylades for many a day,
And many a bitter night, had watch'd
His limbs convuls'd, and ghastly staring eyes
Fix'd on the Furies! Milder scenes
Invite us next--the grove where Comus built
His magic dome, and Echo heard
The nymph's distress:--or where, in cavern deep
Sweet Melancholy sits, to hear
The bubb'ling brook, or awful bell, or plaint
Of ever-wakeful Philomel.--
Thus with the Muses pass the blissful hours
Till, dearest Youth, snatch'd far away,
In solitude thou leav'st thy weeping Friend.
Who then with cordial looks and smiles
Can lull my cares? To whom can I unfold
My secret breast? Whom else can trust?
Whom else can love? Beneath cold Midnight's gleam
Thy absence will I oft lament,
Stretch'd in thy fav'rite grove, near Itchin's stream,
Close to those ivy'd mould'ring walls,
While the lone Cloysters echo to my woes.","","The ""tender, feeling heart"" is ""Compassion's throne""",6009,,"Searching ""throne"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2004-08-07 00:00:00 UTC,"•A footnote explains that ""The attribution of this poem is questionable.""","",""
2009-09-14 19:45:17 UTC,15970,By those love-darting Eyes I find
How many hearts their empire own;
I see the sweetness of thy mind
That keeps the hearts those Eyes have won:,"","""[L]ove-darting Eyes"" may show ""How many hearts their empire own""",6011,,"Searching ""mind"" and ""empire"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again searching ""heart"" and ""empire"" (8/22/2004)",2004-08-11 00:00:00 UTC,"•Cross-reference: See also Crowe's poem (dated 1827): ""To a Lady, Fortune-Telling with Cards""","",""