text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"River, that rollest by the ancient walls,
Where dwells the Lady of my love, when she
Walks by thy brink, and there perchance recalls
A faint and fleeting memory of me:
What if thy deep and ample stream should be
A mirror of my heart, where she may read
The thousand thoughts I now betray to thee,
Wild as thy wave, and headlong as thy speed!
What do I say--a mirror of my heart?
Are not thy waters sweeping, dark, and strong?
Such as my feelings were and are, thou art;
And such as thou art were my passions long.",2009-09-14 19:47:13 UTC,"""The thousand thoughts I now betray to thee, / Wild as thy wave, and headlong as thy speed""",2005-12-14 00:00:00 UTC,Opening Stanzas,"",,"","",Searching in HDIS (c19 Poetry),16538,6242
"River, that rollest by the ancient walls,
Where dwells the Lady of my love, when she
Walks by thy brink, and there perchance recalls
A faint and fleeting memory of me:
What if thy deep and ample stream should be
A mirror of my heart, where she may read
The thousand thoughts I now betray to thee,
Wild as thy wave, and headlong as thy speed!
What do I say--a mirror of my heart?
Are not thy waters sweeping, dark, and strong?
Such as my feelings were and are, thou art;
And such as thou art were my passions long.",2009-09-14 19:47:13 UTC,"""What do I say--a mirror of my heart? / Are not thy waters sweeping, dark, and strong? / Such as my feelings were and are, thou art; / And such as thou art were my passions long.""",2005-12-14 00:00:00 UTC,Opening Stanzas,"",,"",•I've included twice: Mirror and River,"Searching ""thought"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (c19 Poetry)",16539,6242
"Their only labour was to kill the time;
(And labour dire it is, and weary woe)
They sit, they loll, turn o'er some idle rhyme;
Then, rising sudden, to the glass they go,
Or saunter forth, with tottering step and slow:
This soon too rude an exercise they find;
Straight on the couch their limbs again they throw,
Where hours on hours they sighing lie reclined,
And court the vapoury god, soft breathing in the wind.
(Canto I, ll. 640-8, p. 196)
[And then, this stanza followed in 1746 edition?]
One nymph there was, methought, in bloom of May,
On whom the idle Fiend glanced many a look,
In hopes to lead her down the slippery way
To taste of Pleasure's deep deceitful brook:
No virtues yet her gentle mind forsook:
No idle whims, no vapours fill'd her brain,
But Prudence for her youthful guide she took,
And Goodness, which no earthly vice could stain,
Dwelt in her mind; she was ne proud I ween or vain.
(Canto I, p. 320)",2013-06-20 21:01:45 UTC,""No idle whims, no vapours fill'd her brain, / But Prudence for her youthful guide she took, / And Goodness, which no earthly vice could stain, / Dwelt in her mind; she was ne proud I ween or vain.""",2003-11-24 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","•Sambrook classifies the second as a stanza of doubtful authority. It was first printed by Nicholas (1830), ii 57, with a note explaining that it ""was introduced, in the edition of 1746"" (p. 321).
•Notice also that Goodness may dwell in the mind.",HDIS (Poetry),16577,6269
"Yet must I think less wildly:--I have thought
Too long and darkly, till my brain became,
In its own eddy boiling and o'erwrought,
A whirling gulf of phantasy and flame:
And thus, untaught in youth my heart to tame,
My springs of life were poisoned. 'Tis too late:
Yet am I changed; though still enough the same
In strength to bear what Time can not abate,
And feed on bitter fruits without accusing Fate.
(pp. 864-5, ll. 55-63)",2009-09-14 19:49:14 UTC,"""Yet must I think less wildly:--I have thought / Too long and darkly, till my brain became, / In its own eddy boiling and o'erwrought, / A whirling gulf of phantasy and flame.""",2008-05-27 00:00:00 UTC,Stanza 7,"",,"",I've included twice: Boiling and Flame,Reading in Perkins. Text from HDIS.,17153,6456
"To fly from, need not be to hate, mankind:
All are not fit with them to stir and toil,
Nor is it discontent to keep the mind
Deep in its fountain, lest it overboil
In the hot throng, where we become the spoil
Of our infection, till too late and long
We may deplore and struggle with the coil,
In wretched interchange of wrong for wrong
Midst a contentious world, striving where none are strong.
(p. 870, ll. 552-661)",2009-09-14 19:49:15 UTC,"""Nor is it discontent to keep the mind / Deep in its fountain, lest it overboil / In the hot throng, where we become the spoil / Of our infection""",2008-05-27 00:00:00 UTC,Stanza 69,"",,"","",Reading in Perkins. Text from HDIS.,17163,6456