work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3268,"","Searching ""conque"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-02-14 00:00:00 UTC,"Strength and Wisdom useless prove,
Once to see her is to Love;
Others in Time a heart may gain
By Treaty or Perswasion,
Their Conquests They by Siege obtain;
You o'er my heart were born to reign
And bravely took it by Invasion.",,8527,"•C-H takes from ""Poems from the Longleat MSS.""","""Others in Time a heart may gain / By Treaty or Perswasion, / Their Conquests They by Siege obtain.""","",2013-06-12 17:41:44 UTC,""
3268,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-02-14 00:00:00 UTC,"Strength and Wisdom useless prove,
Once to see her is to Love;
Others in Time a heart may gain
By Treaty or Perswasion,
Their Conquests They by Siege obtain;
You o'er my heart were born to reign
And bravely took it by Invasion.",,8528,•I've included twice: Invasion and rule of lover.,"""You o'er my heart were born to reign / And bravely took it by Invasion.""","",2013-06-12 17:43:09 UTC,""
3882,"","HDIS; Found again searching ""conque"" and ""mind"" in HDIS (Poetry) (2/6/2005)",2004-01-05 00:00:00 UTC,"On its own Worth True Majesty is rear'd,
And Virtue is her own Reward,
With solid Beams and Native Glory bright,
She neither Darkness dreads, nor covets Light;
True to Her self, and fix'd to inborn Laws,
Nor sunk by Spite, nor lifted by Applause,
She from her settl'd Orb looks calmly down,
On Life or Death a Prison or a Crown.
When bound in double Chains poor Belgia lay,
To foreign Arms, and inward Strife a Prey,
Whilst One Good Man buoy'd up Her sinking State,
And Virtue labour'd against Fate;
When Fortune basely with Ambition join'd,
And all was conquer'd but the Patriot's Mind;
When Storms let loose, and raging Seas
Just ready the torn Vessel to o'erwhelm,
Forc'd not the faithful Pilot from his Helm;
Nor all the Syren Songs of future Peace,
And dazling Prospect of a promis'd Crown,
Cou'd lure his stubborn Virtue down;
But against Charms, and Threats, and Hell, He stood,
To that which was severely good;
Then, had no Trophies justify'd his Fame,
No Poet bless'd his Song with Nassau's Name,
Virtue alone did all that Honour bring,
And Heav'n as plainly pointed out the King,
As when he at the Altar stood,
In all his Types and Robes of Powr,
Whilst at his Feet Religious Britain bow'd,
And own'd him next to what we there Adore.
(ll. 130-165, pp. 118-9)",,10054,•Republished 1714 and 1715.,"""And all was conquer'd but the Patriot's Mind.""",Empire,2013-07-22 15:02:09 UTC,""
7682,"",Reading,2013-09-18 15:04:13 UTC,"Wit, like a hasty Flood, may over-run us,
And too much Sense has oftentimes undone us:
Wit is a Flux, a Looseness of the Brain,
And Sense-abstract has too much Pride to reign:
Wit-unconcoct is the Extream of Sloth,
And too much Sense is the Extream of both;
Abstracted-Wit 'Tis own'd is a Disease,
But Sense-abstracted has no Power to please:
For Sense, like Water, is but Wit condense,
And Wit, like Air, is rarify'd from Sense:
Meer Sense is sullen; stiff, and unpolite,
Meer Wit is Apoplectick, thin, and light:
Wit is a King without a Parliament,
And Sense a Democratick Government:
Wit, like the French, wher'e'er it reigns destroys,
And Sense advanc'd is apt to Tyrannize:
Wit without Sense is like the Laughing-Evil,
And Sense unmix'd with Fancy is the D---l.
Wit is a Standing-Army Government,
And Sense a sullen stubborn P---t:
Wit by its haste anticipates its Fate,
And so does Sense by being obstinate:
Wit without Sense in Verse is all but Farce,
Sense without Wit in Verse is all mine A---.
Wit, like the French, performs before it thinks,
And thoughtful Sense without Performance sinks;
Sense without Wit is Flegmatick and pale,
And is all Head, forsooth, without a Tail:
Wit without Sense is Cholerick and Red,
Has Tail enough indeed, but has no Head.
Wit, like the jangling Chimes, rings all in one,
Till Sense, the Artist, sets them into Tune:
Wit, like the Belly, if it be not fed,
Will starve the Members, and distract the Head.
Wit is the Fruitful Womb where Thoughts conceive,
Sense is the Vital Heat which Life and Form must give:
Wit is the Teeming Mother brings them forth,
Sense is the Active Father gives them Worth.
United: Wit and Sense, makes Science thrive,
Divided: neither Wit nor Sense can live;
For while the Parties eagerly contend,
The Mortal Strife must in their mutual Ruin end.
(pp. 165-7, ll. 353-394)",,22798,"","""Wit is a Standing-Army Government, / And Sense a sullen stubborn P---t.""","",2013-09-18 15:04:13 UTC,""