text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"TOWERS.
Heaven suffer'd more in that then you, or I: Wherefore have I been faithful to my trust, true to my Love, and tender to th' opprest? Am I condemn'd to be the second man, who e'r complain'd, he vertue serv'd in vain? But dry your tears, these sufferings all are mine. Your breast is white, and cold as falling Snow. You still as fragrant as your Eastern Groves; and your whole frame as innocent, and holy, as if your being were all soul and spirit, without the gross allay of flesh and bloud. Come to my arms again.",2009-09-14 19:34:18 UTC,"""[Y]our whole frame [is] as innocent, and holy, as if your being were all soul and spirit, without the gross allay of flesh and bloud""",2005-05-25 00:00:00 UTC,"Act IV, scene iv",Dualism,,Metal,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""allay"" (for ""alloy"") in HDIS (Drama)",9554,3689
" If by traduction came thy mind,
Our wonder is the less to find
A soul so charming from a stock so good;
Thy father was transfused into thy blood:
So wert thou born into a tuneful strain,
An early, rich, and inexhausted vein.
But if thy pre-existing soul
Was formed, at first, with myriads more,
It did through all the mighty poets roll,
Who Greek or Latin laurels wore,
And was that Sappho last, which once it was before.
If so, then cease thy flight, O heaven-born mind!
Thou hast no dross to purge from thy rich ore:
Nor can thy soul a fairer mansion find,
Than was the beauteous frame she left behind:
Return to fill or mend the choir of thy celestial kind.
(pp. 310-1, ll. 23-38)",2009-09-14 19:34:30 UTC,"A ""heaven-born mind"" may have ""no dross to purge from [its] rich ore""",2005-07-18 00:00:00 UTC,Stanza II.,Metempsychosis; Preexistence of Soul,,Metal,•See also above with the play on blood and vein.
,"Searching ""mind"" and ""dross"" in HDIS (Poetry)",9815,3812
"O happy regions, Italy and Spain,
Which never did those monsters entertain!
The Wolf, the Bear, the Boar, can there advance
No native claim of just inheritance;
And self-preserving laws, severe in show,
May guard their fences from the invading foe.
Where birth has placed them, let them safely share
The common benefit of vital air;
Themselves unharmful, let them live unharmed,
Their jaws disabled, and their claws disarmed;
Here, only in nocturnal howlings bold,
They dare not seize the Hind, nor leap the fold.
More powerful, and as vigilant as they,
The Lion awfully forbids the prey.
Their rage repressed, though pinched with famine sore,
They stand aloof, and tremble at his roar;
Much is their hunger, but their fear is more.
These are the chief; to number o'er the rest,
And stand, like Adam, naming every beast,
Were weary work; nor will the muse describe
A slimy-born and sun-begotten tribe;
Who, far from steeples and their sacred sound,
In fields their sullen conventicles found.
These gross, half-animated, lumps I leave;
Nor can I think what thoughts they can conceive.
But if they think at all, 'tis sure no higher
Than matter, put in motion, may aspire;
Souls that can scarce ferment their mass of clay;
So drossy, so divisible are they,
As would but serve pure bodies for allay;
Such souls as shards produce, such beetle things
As only buzz to heaven with evening wings;
Strike in the dark, offending but by chance,
Such are the blindfold blows of ignorance.
They know not beings, and but hate a name;
To them the Hind and Panther are the same.",2011-03-08 21:22:01 UTC,"""Souls that can scarce ferment their mass of clay; / So drossy, so divisible are they, / As would but serve pure bodies for allay.""",2005-07-19 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Metal,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""dross"" in HDIS (Poetry)",9876,3829
"He paused a while, stood silent in his mood;
For yet his rage was boiling in his blood:
But soon his tender mind the impression felt,
As softest metals are not slow to melt,
And pity soonest runs in gentle minds:
Then reasons with himself; and first he finds
His passion cast a mist before his sense,
And either made, or magnified, the offence.
Offence! of what? to whom? who judged the cause?
The prisoner freed himself by Nature's laws:
Born free, he sought his right; the man he freed
Was perjured, but his love excused the deed:
Thus pondering, he looked under with his eyes,
And saw the women's tears, and heard their cries;
Which moved compassion more: he shook his head,
And softly sighing, to himself he said:--
(p. 598, ll. 328-43)",2009-09-14 19:34:53 UTC,"""As softest metals are not slow to melt, / And pity soonest runs in gentle minds:""",2005-04-06 00:00:00 UTC,Book II,"",,Metal,"John Dryden. Ed. Keith Walker Oxford and New York: Oxford UP, 1987.",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),10310,3957
"Say, Goat, for whom this Mass of Wealth you heap?
For whom thy hoorded Bags in silence sleep?
Apulian Farms for the Rich Soil admir'd?
And thy large Fields where Falcons may be tyr'd?
Thy Fruitful Vineyards on Campanian Hills?
(Tho none drinks less, yet none more Vessels fills)
From such a Store 'tis barbarous to grudge
A small Relief to your Exhausted Drudge:
Weigh well the matter, wer't not fitter much
The Poor Inhabitants of yonder Thatch
Call'd me their Lord (who to Extreams am driven)
Than to some worthless Sycophant be given?
(Yet what smooth Sycophant by thee can gain?
When Lust it self strikes thy Flint-Heart in vain?)
A Beggar! Fie! 'tis Impudence, (he cry'd)
And such mean shifting Answers still reply'd;
But Rent unpaid, says Begg till Virro Grant;
(How ill does Modesty consist with Want?)
My single Boy (like Polyphemus Eye)
Mourns his harsh Fate, and Weeps for a Supply.
One will not do, hard Labour'd and hard Fed,
How then shall Hungry two expect their Bread?
What shall I say, when rough December Storms?
When Frosts, and Snow, have crampt their Naked Arms
What Comforts without Money can I bring?
Will they be satisfy'd to think on Spring?
(p. 181, ll. 100-125)",2013-07-11 14:40:24 UTC,"""(Yet what smooth Sycophant by thee can gain? / When Lust it self strikes thy Flint-Heart in vain?)""",2013-07-11 14:40:24 UTC,"","",,"","",Browsing in EEBO,21639,7529
"Yet, thy moist Clay is pliant to Command;
Unwrought, and easie to the Potter's hand:
Now take the Mold; now bend thy Mind to feel
The first sharp Motions of the Forming Wheel.
But thou hast Land; a Country Seat, secure
By a just Title; costly Furniture;
A Fuming-Pan thy Lares to appease:
What need of Learning when a Man's at ase?
If this be not enough to swell thy Soul,
Then please thy Pride, and search the Herald's Roll:
Where thou shalt find thy famous Pedigree
Drawn from the Root of some old Thuscan Tree;
And thou, a Thousand, off, a Fool of long Degree.
Who, clad in Purple, canst thy Censor greet;
And, loudly, call him Cousin, in the Street.
(pp. 33-4, ll. 38-52)",2013-07-11 15:03:22 UTC,"""Yet, thy moist Clay is pliant to Command; / Unwrought, and easie to the Potter's hand: / Now take the Mold; now bend thy Mind to feel / The first sharp Motions of the Forming Wheel.""",2013-07-11 15:03:22 UTC,"","",,"","Much cited, I think. I feel I've seen these lines variously Englished by different poets and cited as is.",Browsing in EEBO,21646,7535
"[...]
In Pow'r unpleas'd, impatient of Disgrace.
A fiery Soul, which working out its way,
Fretted the Pigmy-Body to decay;
And o'r inform'd the Tenement of Clay.
A daring Pilot in extremity;
Pleas'd with the Danger, when the Waves went high
He sought the Storms; but for a Calm unfit,
Would Steer to nigh the Sands, to boast his Wit,
Great Wits are sure to Madness neer ally'd;
And thin Partitions do their Bounds divide:
Else, why should he, with Wealth and Honour blest,
Refuse his Age the needful hours of rest?
Punish a Body which he coud not please;
Bankrupt of Life, yet Prodigal of ease?
And all to leave, what with his Toyl he won,
To that unfeather'd, two legg'd thing, a Son:
Got, while his Soul did hudled Notions try;
And born a shapeless Lump, like Anarchy.
In friendship false, implacable in hate:
Resolv'd to ruine, or to Rule the State.
To compass this, the Triple Bond he broke;
The Pillars of the publick Safety shook:
And fitted Israel for a Foreign Yoke.
Then, seiz'd with Fear, yet still affecting Fame,
Usurp'd a Patriot's All-atoning Name.
So easy still it proves in factious times,
With publick Zeal to cancel private crimes:
How safe is Treason, and how sacred ill,
Where none can sin against the peoples will:
Where Crowds can wink; and no offence be known,
Since in anothers guilt they find their own.
Yet, Fame deserv'd, no Enemy can grudge;
The Statesman we abhor, but praise the Judge.
In Israels Courts ne'r sat an Abbethdin
With more discerning eyes, or hands more clean:
Unbrib'd, unsought, the Wretched to redress;
Swift of Dispatch, and easie of Access.
Oh, had he been content to serve the Crown,
With vertues only proper to the Gown;
Or, had the rankness of the Soyl been freed
From Cockle, that opprest the Noble seed:
David, for him his tuneful Harp had strung,
And Heav'n had wanted one Immortal song.
But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand;
And Fortunes Ice prefers to Vertues Land:
Achitophel, grown weary to possess
A lawful Fame, and lazy Happiness;
Disdain'd the Golden Fruit to gather free,
And lent the Croud his Arm to shake the Tree.
Now, manifest of Crimes, contriv'd long since,
He stood at bold Defiance with his Prince:
Held up the Buckler of the peoples Cause,
Against the Crown; and sculk'd behind the Laws.
The wish'd occasion of the Plot he takes;
Some circumstances finds, but more he makes.
By buzzing Emissaries, fills the ears
Of listning Crowds, with jealousies and fears
Of Arbitrary Counsels brought to light,
And proves the King himself a Iebusite:
Weak Arguments! which yet he knew full well,
Were strong with People easie to Rebel. [...]
(pp. 11-12 in Dublin edition)",2014-09-27 20:30:47 UTC,"""In Pow'r unpleas'd, impatient of Disgrace. / A fiery Soul, which working out its way, / Fretted the Pigmy-Body to decay; / And o'r inform'd the Tenement of Clay.""",2014-09-27 20:30:47 UTC,"","",,"","",Reading,24457,3745