work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3258,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-02-06 00:00:00 UTC,"Whate'er you write of pleasant or sublime,
Always let sense accompany your rhyme.
Falsely they seem each other to oppose;
Rhyme must be made with Reason's laws to close;
And when to conquer her you bend your force,
The mind will triumph in the noble course.
To Reason's yoke she quickly will incline,
Which, far from hurting, renders her divine;
But if neglected, will as easily stray,
And master Reason, which she should obey.
Love Reason, then; and let whate'er you write
Borrow from her its beauty, force, and light.
Most writers mounted on a resty muse,
Extravagant and senseless objects chuse;
They think they err, if in their verse they fall
On any thought that's plain or natural.
Fly this excess; and let Italians be
Vain authors of false glittering poetry.
All ought to aim at sense; but most in vain
Strive the hard pass and slippery path to gain;
You drown, if to the right or left you stray;
Reason to go has often but one way.
Sometimes an author, fond of his own thought,
Pursues its object till it's overwrought:
If he describes a house, he shows the face,
And after walks you round from place to place;
Here is a vista, there the doors unfold,
Balconies here are ballustred with gold;
Then counts the rounds and ovals in the halls,
""The festoons, friezes, and the astragals:""
Tired with his tedious pomp, away I run,
And skip o'er twenty pages, to be gone.
Of such descriptions the vain folly see,
And shun their barren superfluity.
All that is needless carefully avoid;
The mind once satisfied is quickly cloyed:
He cannot write, who knows not to give o'er;
To mend one fault, he makes a hundred more:
A verse was weak, you turn it much too strong,
And grow obscure for fear you should be long.
Some are not gaudy, but are flat and dry;
Not to be low, another soars too high.
Would you of every one deserve the praise?
In writing vary your discourse and phrase;
A frozen style, that neither ebbs nor flows,
Instead of pleasing, makes us gape and dose.
Those tedious authors are esteemed by none
Who tire us, humming the same heavy tone.
Happy who in his verse can gently steer,
From grave to light; from pleasant to severe:
His works will be admired wherever found,
And oft with buyers will be compassed round.
In all you write, be neither low nor vile;
The meanest theme may have a proper style.
",,8515,"","""To Reason's yoke she quickly will incline, / Which, far from hurting, renders her divine; / But if neglected, will as easily stray, / And master Reason, which she should obey.""","",2011-06-27 21:23:31 UTC,""
3633,"","Reading. Found again in Margaret Doody's The Daring Muse: Augustan Poetry Reconsidered (Cambridge: CUP, 1985), 8. And again, Martin Kallich, ""The Association of Ideas and Critical Theory: Hobbes, Locke, and Addison"" ELH 12:4 (1945): 295n.
",2004-01-26 00:00:00 UTC,"The composition of all poems is or ought to be of wit, and wit in the poet, or wit writing (if you will give me leave to use a school distinction), is no other than the faculty of imagination in the writer, which, like a nimble spaniel, beats over and ranges through the field of memory, till it springs the quarry it hunted after; or, without metaphor, which searches over all the memory for the species or ideas of those things which it designs to represent. Wit written, is that which is well defined the happy result of thought, or product of that imagination. But to proceed from wit in the general notion of it to the proper wit of an heroic or historical poem, I judge it chiefly to consist in the delightful imaging of persons, actions, passions, or things.'Tis not the jerk or sting of an epigram, nor the seeming contradiction of a poor antithesis (the delight of an ill-judging audience in a play of rhyme), nor the jingle of a more poor paranomasia: neither is it so much the morality of a grave sentence, affected by Lucan, but more sparingly used by Virgil; but it is some lively and apt description, dressed in such colours of speech, that it sets before youre eyes the absent object as perfectly and more delightfully than nature. so then, the first happiness of the poet's imagination is properly invention, or finding of the thought; the second is fancy or the variation, driving or moulding of that thought, as the judgement represents it proper to the subject; the third is elocution, or that art of clothing and adorning that thought so found and varied, in apt, significant, and sounding words: the quickness of the imagination is seen in the invention, the fertility in the fancy, and the accuracy in the expression. For the two first of these Ovid is famous amongst the poets, for the latter Virgil. Ovid images more often the movements and affections of the mind, either combating between two contrary passions, or extremely discomposed by one: his words therefore are the least part of his care, for he pictures nature in disorder, with which the study and choice of words is inconsistent. This is the proper wit of dialogue or discourse, and consequently, of the drama, where all that is said is to be supposed the effect of sudden thought; which, though it excludes not the quickness of wit in repartees, yet admits not a too curious election of words, too frequent allusions, or use of tropes, or, in fine, anything that shows remoteness of thought, or labour in the writer. On the other side, Virgil speaks not so often to us in the person of another, like Ovid, but in his own; he relates almost all things as from himself, and thereby gains more liberty than the other to express his thoughts with all the graces of elocution, to write more figuratively, and to confess as well the labour as the force of his imagination.
(pp. 26-7 in Walker's edition) ",2012-01-28,9431,"•Dryden calls it a metaphor, but it looks like a simile to me! META-METAPHORICAL.
2008-12-03","""The composition of all poems is or ought to be of wit, and wit in the poet, or wit writing (if you will give me leave to use a school distinction), is no other than the faculty of imagination in the writer, which, like a nimble spaniel, beats over and ranges through the field of memory, till it springs the quarry it hunted after; or, without metaphor, which searches over all the memory for the species or ideas of those things which it designs to represent.""","",2012-01-28 20:00:55 UTC,""
3720,"",Searching the internet for cross reference in Pamela. ,2005-09-03 00:00:00 UTC,"DOLA.
Men are but children of a larger growth;
Our appetites as apt to change as theirs,
And full as craving too, and full as vain;
And yet the soul, shut up in her dark room,
Viewing so clear abroad, at home sees nothing:
But, like a mole in earth, busy and blind,
Works all her folly up, and casts it outward
To the world's open view: Thus I discovered,
And blamed the love of ruined Antony:
Yet wish that I were he, to be so ruined.
(ll. 43-52)",,9614,•Cross-reference: These lines also appear in Richardson's Pamela.,"""But, like a mole in earth, busy and blind, / [the soul] Works all her folly up, and casts it outward / To the world's open view""","",2009-09-14 19:34:21 UTC,"Act IV, scene i"
3626,"","Reading Martin Kallich, ""The Association of Ideas and Critical Theory: Hobbes, Locke, and Addison"" ELH 12:4 (1945): 295n.",2012-01-28 20:25:39 UTC,"The advantages which rhyme has over blank verse, are so many, that it were lost time to name them. Sir Philip Sydney, in his Defence of Poesy, gives us one, which, in my opinion, is not the least considerable; I mean the help it brings to memory: which rhyme so knits up by the affinity of sounds, that by remembering the last word in one line, we often call to mind both the verses. Then in the quickness of repartees, which in discoursive scenes fall very often, it has so particular a grace, and is so aptly suited to them, that the sudden smartness of the answer, and the sweetness of the rhyme, set off the beauty of each other. But that benefit which I consider most in it, because I have not seldom found it, is, that it bounds and circumscribes the fancy: for imagination in a poet is a faculty so wild and lawless, that, like an high-ranging spaniel, it must have clogs tied to it, lest it outrun the judgment. The great easiness of blank verse renders the poet too luxuriant; he is tempted to say many things which might better be omitted, or at least shut up in fewer words: but when the difficulty of artful rhyming is interposed, where the poet commonly confines his sense to his couplet, and must contrive that sense into such words, that the rhyme, shall naturally follow them, not they the rhyme; the fancy then gives leisure to the judgment to come in; which seeing so heavy a tax imposed, is ready to cut off all unnecessary expences. This last consideration has already answered an objection which some have made; that rhyme is only an embroidery of sense, to make that which is ordinary in itself, pass for excellent with less examination. But certainly, that which most regulates the fancy, and gives the judgment its busiest employment, is like to bring forth the richest and clearest thoughts. The poet examines that most which he produceth with the greatest leisure, and which, he knows, must pass the severest test of the audience, because they are aptest to have it ever in their memory; as the stomach makes the best concoction, when it strictly embraces the nourishment, and takes account of every little particle as it passes through. But as the best medicines may lose their virtue by being ill applied, so is it with verse, if a fit subject be not chosen for it. Neither must the argument alone, but the characters and persons, be great and noble; otherwise (as Scaliger says of Claudian) the poet will be ignobiliore materia depressus. The scenes, which, in my opinion, most commend it, are those of argumentation and discourse, on the result of which the doing or not doing some considerable action should depend.",,19547,"","""But that benefit which I consider most in it [rhyme], because I have not seldom found it, is, that it bounds and circumscribes the fancy: for imagination in a poet is a faculty so wild and lawless, that, like an high-ranging spaniel, it must have clogs tied to it, lest it outrun the judgment.""",Fetters,2012-01-28 20:29:25 UTC,""
7270,"",Searching in HDIS (Drama),2012-06-29 16:44:28 UTC,"JACINTHA.
What have you laid an ambush for me?
WILDBLOOD.
Only to make a Reprisal of my heart.
JACINTHA.
'Tis so wild, that the Lady who has it in her keeping, would be glad she were well rid on't: it does so flutter about the Cage. 'Tis a meer Bajazet; and if it be not let out the sooner, will beat out the brains against the Grates.
WILDBLOOD.
I am afraid the Lady has not fed it, and 'tis wild for hunger.
JACINTHA.
Or perhaps it wants company; shall she put another to it?
WILDBLOOD.
I; but then 'twere best to trust 'em out of the Cage together; let 'em hop about at libertie.
JACINTHA.
But if they should lose one another in the wide world.
WILDBLOOD.
They'll meet at night I warrant 'em.
JACINTHA.
But is not your heart of the nature of those Birds that breed in one Countrie, and goe to winter in another?
WILDBLOOD.
Suppose it does so; yet I take my Mate along with me. And now to leave our parables, and speak in the language of the vulgar, what think you of a voyage to merry England?
JACINTHA.
Just as Æsop's Frog did, of leaping into a deep Well in a drought: if he ventur'd the leap, there might be water; but if there were no water, how should he get out again?
(II)",,19817,"","""'Tis so wild [Wildblood's heart], that the Lady who has it in her keeping, would be glad she were well rid on't: it does so flutter about the Cage. 'Tis a meer Bajazet; and if it be not let out the sooner, will beat out the brains against the Grates.""",Beasts,2012-06-29 16:45:15 UTC,Act II
7270,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""bird"" in HDIS (Drama)",2012-06-29 16:46:16 UTC,"JACINTHA.
What have you laid an ambush for me?
WILDBLOOD.
Only to make a Reprisal of my heart.
JACINTHA.
'Tis so wild, that the Lady who has it in her keeping, would be glad she were well rid on't: it does so flutter about the Cage. 'Tis a meer Bajazet; and if it be not let out the sooner, will beat out the brains against the Grates.
WILDBLOOD.
I am afraid the Lady has not fed it, and 'tis wild for hunger.
JACINTHA.
Or perhaps it wants company; shall she put another to it?
WILDBLOOD.
I; but then 'twere best to trust 'em out of the Cage together; let 'em hop about at libertie.
JACINTHA.
But if they should lose one another in the wide world.
WILDBLOOD.
They'll meet at night I warrant 'em.
JACINTHA.
But is not your heart of the nature of those Birds that breed in one Countrie, and goe to winter in another?
WILDBLOOD.
Suppose it does so; yet I take my Mate along with me. And now to leave our parables, and speak in the language of the vulgar, what think you of a voyage to merry England?
JACINTHA.
Just as Æsop's Frog did, of leaping into a deep Well in a drought: if he ventur'd the leap, there might be water; but if there were no water, how should he get out again?
(II)",,19818,"Meta-metaphorical comment on the ""language of parable""","""But is not your heart of the nature of those Birds that breed in one Countrie, and goe to winter in another?""",Beasts,2012-06-29 16:46:39 UTC,Act II
7277,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""beast"" in HDIS (Drama)",2012-07-02 13:21:43 UTC,"FREDERICK.
I hope I may love your mind, Madam; I may Love Spiritually.
HIPPOLITA.
That's enough, that's enough: let him love the mind without the body if he can.
ASCANIO.
Ay, ay, when the love is once come so far, that Spiritual Mind will never leave pulling, and pulling, till it has drawn the beastly body after it.
FREDERICK.
Well, Madam, since I must confess it, (though I expect to be laugh'd at, after my railing against Love) I do love you all over, both Soul and Body.
ASCANIO.
Lord, Sir, What a Tygress have you provok'd! you may see she takes it to the death that you have made this declaration.
(IV.iv)",,19831,Like a stubborn animal on a leash?,"""Ay, ay, when the love is once come so far, that Spiritual Mind will never leave pulling, and pulling, till it has drawn the beastly body after it.""",Animals,2012-07-02 13:22:28 UTC,""
7532,"",Browsing in EEBO,2013-07-11 14:48:29 UTC,"XVIII.
But why must those be thought to scape, that feel
Those Rods of Scorpions, and those Whips of Steel
Which Conscience shakes, when she with Rage controuls,
And spreads Amazing Terrors through their Souls?
Not sharp Revenge, not Hell it self can find
A fiercer Torment, than a Guilty Mind,
Which Day and Night doth dreadfully accuse,
Condemns the Wretch, and still the Charge renews.
(p. 267, ll. 248-55)",,21642,"","""But why must those be thought to scape, that feel / Those Rods of Scorpions, and those Whips of Steel / Which Conscience shakes, when she with Rage controuls, / And spreads Amazing Terrors through their Souls?""",Animals,2013-07-11 14:48:29 UTC,""
7521,"",Browsing in EEBO,2013-07-11 14:50:50 UTC,"If a Rich Wife he Marries, in her Bed
She's found by Dagger or by Poison, Dead.
While Merchants make long Voyages by Sea
To get Estates, he cuts a shorter Way.
In mighty Mischiefs little Labour lies:
I never Counsel'd this the Father cries:
But still, base Man, he Copy'd this from Thee:
Thine was the Prime, Original Villany.
For he who covets Gain to such excess,
Does by dumb Signs himself as much express,
As if in Words at lngth he showd his Mind:
The bad Example made him Sin by Kind.
But who can Youth, let loose to Vice, restrain?
When once the hard-mouth'd Horse has got the Rein,
He's past thy Pow'r to stop; Young Phaeton,
By the Wild Coursers of his Fancy drawn,
From East to North, irregularly hurl'd,
First set on Fire himself, and then the World.
(p. 287, ll. 283-301)",,21643,"","""When once the hard-mouth'd Horse has got the Rein, / He's past thy Pow'r to stop; Young Phaeton, / By the Wild Coursers of his Fancy drawn, /
From East to North, irregularly hurl'd, / First set on Fire himself, and then the World.""",Animals,2013-07-11 14:50:50 UTC,""
7163,"",Reading,2014-05-26 20:18:09 UTC,"Then, Death, so call'd, is but old Matter dress'd
In some new Figure, and a vary'd Vest:
Thus all Things are but alter'd, nothing dies;
And here and there th' unbodied Spirit flies,
By Time, or Force, or Sickness dispossest,
And lodges, where it lights, in Man or Beast;
Or hunts without, till ready Limbs it find,
And actuates those according to their kind;
From Tenement to Tenement is toss'd;
The Soul is still the same, the Figure only lost:
And, as the soften'd Wax new Seals receives,
This Face assumes, and that Impression leaves;
Now call'd by one, now by another Name;
The Form is only chang'd, the Wax is still the same:
So Death, so call'd, can but the Form deface,
Th' immortal Soul flies out in empty space;
To seek her Fortune in some other Place.
(p. 512, cf. p. 821 in OUP)",,23860,"","""Thus all Things are but alter'd, nothing dies; / And here and there th' unbodied Spirit flies, / By Time, or Force, or Sickness dispossess, / And lodges, where it lights, in Man or Beast; / Or hunts without, till ready Limbs it find, / And actuates those according to their kind; / From Tenement to Tenement is toss'd; / The Soul is still the same, the Figure only lost.""",Rooms,2014-05-26 20:18:09 UTC,""