work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
5629,"","Searching ""engrav"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Drama)",2005-03-09 00:00:00 UTC,"DONNA ZEL.
It is needless; every word is imprinted in my memory. Yes, Fernando, I own thy image is engraven on my heart. To lose thee were everlasting wretchedness; but destiny, alas! is more powerful than love.
SONG.
The forest boughs, that oft have felt
The pruning Woodman's wound,
In vain accuse the axe and belt
With which they're lopt and bound:
Could I the arm of Fate direct,
Thy sorrows, Youth, should cease;
Thy days should Love and Joy protect,
Thy years should smile in peace.
",,15056,"","""I own thy image is engraven on my heart.""","",2009-09-14 19:42:39 UTC,"Act II, scene 2i"
5650,"","Searching ""engrav"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Drama)",2005-03-09 00:00:00 UTC,"LADY.
I am a stranger to them, Sir.--But your humanity must ever be engraved on my heart.",,15101,"","""But your humanity must ever be engraved on my heart.""",Writing,2012-07-05 17:01:25 UTC,"Act IV, scene i"
5651,"","Searching ""iron"" and ""heart"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-07 00:00:00 UTC,"But if (which Pow'rs above prevent)
That iron-hearted carl, Want,
Attended, in his grim advances,
By sad mistakes, and black mischances,
While hopes, and joys, and pleasures fly him,
Make you as poor a dog as I am,
Your 'humble servant' then no more;
For who would humbly serve the poor?
But, by a poor man's hopes in Heav'n!
While recollection's pow'r is giv'n,
If, in the vale of humble life,
The victim sad of Fortune's strife,
I, thro' the tender-gushing tear,
Should recognise my master dear;
If friendless, low, we meet together,
Then, sir, your hand--my Friend and Brother!",,15103,"","""But if (which Pow'rs above prevent) / That iron-hearted carl, Want, / Attended, in his grim advances, / By sad mistakes, and black mischances""",Metal,2009-09-14 19:42:46 UTC,""
5650,"",Searching in HDIS (Drama),2012-07-05 17:04:52 UTC,"SIR GEORGE.
Dear Sir--
MR. EUSTON.
Nay, with every other person 'tis the same thing--If we are stuffed into a coach, with a little chattering pert Miss, ""Oh dear, Mr. Anthony Euston, you must not ride backwards, here is room for you on this seat--and Mr. Euston, I know, will like one seat as well as another""--and then am I put with my back to the horses, though my head is whirling all the time like one of the coach wheels. Then if any thing be lost, or wanted, when no servant is by, ""Mr. Anthony Euston must not stir for the world--but Mr. Euston, they know, will be so kind as to go for it.""--And this is all because I am good natured. Egad! if this is my reward, no wonder there are so few in the world of my temper.
SIR GEORGE.
But, dear Sir, no jesting-- Does my Uncle intend to call on me or not?",,19873,"","""Nay, with every other person 'tis the same thing--If we are stuffed into a coach, with a little chattering pert Miss, ""Oh dear, Mr. Anthony Euston, you must not ride backwards, here is room for you on this seat--and Mr. Euston, I know, will like one seat as well as another""--and then am I put with my back to the horses, though my head is whirling all the time like one of the coach wheels.""","",2012-07-05 17:04:52 UTC,"Act I, scene i"
7420,"",Reading,2013-06-13 15:18:19 UTC,"Sonnet XXIII.
By the Same. To the North Star
To thy bright beams I turn my swimming eyes,
Fair, fav'rite planet! which in happier days
Saw my young hopes, ah! faithless hopes!--arise;
And on my passion shed propitious rays!
Now nightly wandering 'mid the tempests drear
That howl the woods, and rocky steeps among,
I love to see thy sudden light appear
Thro' the swift clouds--driv'n by the wind along:
Or in the turbid water, rude and dark,
O'er whose wild stream the gust of Winter raves,
Thy trembling light with pleasure still I mark,
Gleam in faint radiance on the foaming waves!
So o'er my soul short rays of reason fly,
Then fade:--and leave me, to despair and die!",,20610,"","""So o'er my soul short rays of reason fly, / Then fade:--and leave me, to despair and die!""","",2013-06-13 15:18:19 UTC,""
7421,"",Reading,2013-06-13 15:20:35 UTC,"Sonnet XXV.
By the Same. Just Before his Death
Why should I wish to hold in this low sphere
'A frail and feverish being?' wherefore try
Poorly from day to day to linger here,
Against the powerful hand of destiny?
By those who know the force of hopeless care,
On the worn heart--I sure shall be forgiven,
If to elude dark gilt, and dire despair,
I go uncall'd--to mercy and to Heaven!
Oh thou! to save whose peace I now depart,
Will thy soft mind, thy poor lost friend deplore,
When worms shall feed on this devoted heart,
Where even thy image shall be found no more
Yet may thy pity mingle not with pain,
For then thy hapless lover--dies in vain!",,20611,"","""Oh thou! to save whose peace I now depart, / Will thy soft mind, thy poor lost friend deplore, / When worms shall feed on this devoted heart, / Where even thy image shall be found no more / Yet may thy pity mingle not with pain, / For then thy hapless lover--dies in vain!""","",2013-06-13 15:20:35 UTC,""
7422,"",Reading,2013-06-13 15:24:46 UTC,"Sonnet XXVIII.
To Friendship
Oh thou! whose name too often is profan'd!
Whose charms, celestial! few have hearts to feel!
Unknown to folly--and by pride disdain'd!
--To thy soft solace may my sorrows steal!
Like the fair Moon, thy mild and genuine ray,
Thro' life's long evening shall unclouded last;
While pleasure's frail attachments fleet away,
As fades the rainbow from the northern blast!
Tis thine, oh Nymph! with 'balmy hands to bind'
The wounds inflicted in misfortune's storm,
And blunt severe affliction's sharpest dart!
--'Tis thy pure spirit warms my Anna's mind.
Beams thro' the pensive softness of her form,
And holds its altar--on her spotless heart!",,20612,"Quoting Collins, ""O Thou, the Friend of Man assign'd, / With balmy Hands his Wounds to bind"" (Ode to Pity, l. 2)","""'Tis thy pure spirit warms my Anna's mind. / Beams thro' the pensive softness of her form, / And holds its altar--on her spotless heart!""","",2013-06-13 15:25:03 UTC,""
7423,"",Reading,2013-06-13 15:27:03 UTC,"Sonnet XXXIV.
To A Friend
Charm'd by thy suffrage, shall I yet aspire,
(All inauspicious as my fate appears,
By troubles darken'd, that increase with years,)
To guide the crayon, or to touch the lyre?
Ah me!--the sister Muses still require
A spirit free from all intrusive fears,
Nor will they deign to wipe away the tears
Of vain regret, that dim their sacred fire.
But when thy envied sanction crowns my lays,
A ray of pleasure lights my languid mind,
For well I know the value of thy praise;
And to how few, the flattering meed confin'd,
That thou,--their highly favour'd brows to bind,
Wilt weave green myrtle, and unfading bays!",,20613,"","""But when thy envied sanction crowns my lays, / A ray of pleasure lights my languid mind, / For well I know the value of thy praise.""","",2013-06-13 15:27:03 UTC,""
7424,"",Reading,2013-06-13 15:29:41 UTC,"Sonnet XXXV.
To Fortitude
Nymph of the rock! whose dauntless spirit braves
The beating storm, and bitter winds that howl
Round thy cold breast; and hear'st the bursting waves,
And the deep thunder with unshaken soul;
Oh come!--and shew how vain the cares that press
On my weak bosom--and how little worth
Is the false fleeting meteor, happiness,
That still misleads the wanderers of the earth!
Strengthen'd by thee, this heart shall cease to melt
O'er ills that poor humanity must bear;
Nor friends estrang'd, or ties dissolv'd be felt
To leave regret, and fruitless anguish there:
And when at length it heaves its latest sigh,
Thou and mild hope, shall teach me how to die!",,20614,"","""Strengthen'd by thee, this heart shall cease to melt / O'er ills that poor humanity must bear; / Nor friends estrang'd, or ties dissolv'd be felt / To leave regret, and fruitless anguish there.""","",2013-06-13 15:29:41 UTC,""
7425,"",Reading,2013-06-13 15:31:43 UTC,"Sonnet XXXVI.
Should the lone Wanderer, fainting on his way,
Rest for a moment of the sultry hours,
And tho' his path thro' thorns and roughness lay,
Pluck the wild rose, or woodbine's gadding flowers;
Weaving gay wreaths, beneath some sheltering tree,
The sense of sorrow, he awhile may lose;
So have I sought thy flowers, fair Poesy!
So charm'd my way, with Friendship and the Muse
But darker now grows life's unhappy day,
Dark, with new clouds of evil, yet to come,
Her pencil sickening Fancy throws away,
And weary Hope reclines upon the tomb;
And points my wishes to that tranquil shore,
Where the pale spectre Care, pursues no more.",,20615,"","""Her pencil sickening Fancy throws away, / And weary Hope reclines upon the tomb.""","",2013-06-13 15:31:43 UTC,""