text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"Where shall I find him? Angels! tell me where.
You know him: he is near you: point him out:
Shall I see glories beaming from his brow,
Or trace his footsteps by the rising flowers?
Your golden wings, now hovering o'er him, shed
Protection; now are waving in applause
To that blest Son of Foresight! Lord of Fate!
That awful Independent on To-morrow!
Whose work is done; who triumphs in the past;
Whose yesterdays look backward with a smile;
Nor, like the Parthian, wound him as they fly;
That common, but opprobrious lot! Past hours,
If not by guilt, yet wound us by their flight,
If folly bounds our prospect by the grave,
All feeling of futurity benumb'd;
All god-like passion for eternals quench'd;
All relish of realities expired;
Renounced all correspondence with the skies;
Our freedom chain'd; quite wingless our desire;
In sense dark-prison'd all that ought to soar;
Prone to the centre; crawling in the dust;
Dismounted every great and glorious aim;
Embruted every faculty divine;
Heart-buried in the rubbish of the world:
The world, that gulf of souls, immortal souls,
Souls elevate, angelic, wing'd with fire
To reach the distant skies, and triumph there
On thrones, which shall not mourn their masters changed;
Though we from earth, ethereal they that fell.
Such veneration due, O man, to man.
(ll. 325-354, pp. 59-60 in CUP edition)",2013-06-05 21:06:51 UTC,"""Our freedom chain'd; quite wingless our desire; / In sense dark-prison'd all that ought to soar / Prone to the centre; crawling in the dust; / Dismounted every great and glorious aim; / Embruted every faculty divine; / Heart-buried in the rubbish of the world.""",2013-06-05 21:06:51 UTC,Night the Second,"",,Animals and Fetters and Rooms,"",Reading,20404,7400
"Know'st thou, Lorenzo, what a friend contains?
As bees mix'd nectar draw from fragrant flowers,
So men, from FRIENDSHIP, wisdom and delight;
Twins tied by Nature, if they part, they die.
Hast thou no friend to set thy mind abroach?
Good sense will stagnate. Thoughts shut up want air,
And spoil, like bales unopen'd to the sun.
Had thought been all, sweet speech had been denied;
Speech, thought's canal! speech, thought's criterion too!
Thought in the mine may come forth gold or dross;
When coin'd in word, we know its real worth.
If sterling, store it for thy future use;
'Twill buy thee benefit; perhaps, renown.
Thought, too, deliver'd, is the more possess'd:
Teaching we learn; and giving we retain
The births of intellect; when dumb, forgot.
Speech ventilates our intellectual fire;
Speech burnishes our mental magazine,
Brightens for ornament, and whets for use.
What numbers, sheath'd in erudition, lie,
Plunged to the hilts in venerable tomes,
And rusted in; who might have borne an edge,
And play'd a sprightly beam, if born to speech;
If born blest heirs of half their mother's tongue!
'Tis thought's exchange which, like the' alternate push
Of waves conflicting, breaks the learned scum,
And defecates the student's standing pool.
(ll. 461-487, p. 63 in CUP edition)",2013-06-05 21:25:02 UTC,"""Speech ventilates our intellectual fire; / Speech burnishes our mental magazine, / Brightens for ornament, and whets for use.""",2013-06-05 21:25:02 UTC,Night the Second,"",,"","",Reading,20413,7400
"Celestial Happiness, whene'er she stoops
To visit earth, one shrine the goddess finds,
And one alone, to make her sweet amends
For absent heaven,--the bosom of a friend;
Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft,
Each other's pillow to repose divine.
Beware the counterfeit: in Passion's flame
Hearts melt; but melt like ice, soon harder froze.
True love strikes root in Reason, Passion's foe:
Virtue alone entenders us for life;
I wrong her much--entenders us for ever:
Of Friendship's fairest fruits, the fruit most fair
Is Virtue kindling at a rival fire,
And emulously rapid in her race.
O the soft enmity! endearing strife!
This carries friendship to her noon-tide point,
And gives the rivet of eternity.
(ll. 516-532, pp. 64-5 in CUP edition)",2013-06-05 21:34:11 UTC,"""Celestial Happiness, whene'er she stoops / To visit earth, one shrine the goddess finds, / And one alone, to make her sweet amends / For absent heaven,--the bosom of a friend; / Where heart meets heart, reciprocally soft, / Each other's pillow to repose divine.""",2013-06-05 21:34:11 UTC,Night the Second,"",,Inhabitants and Rooms,"",Reading,20418,7400
"From dreams, where Thought in Fancy's maze runs mad,
To reason, that heaven-lighted lamp in man,
Once more I wake; and at the destined hour,
Punctual as lovers to the moment sworn,
I keep my assignation with my woe.
(ll. 1-5, p. 73 in CUP edition)",2013-06-06 14:04:54 UTC,"""From dreams, where Thought in Fancy's maze runs mad, / To reason, that heaven-lighted lamp in man, / Once more I wake; and at the destined hour, / Punctual as lovers to the moment sworn, / I keep my assignation with my woe.""",2013-06-06 14:04:54 UTC,Night the Third,"",,"","",Reading,20421,7401
"Life makes the soul dependent on the dust;
Death gives her wings to mount above the spheres.
Through chinks, styled organs, dim Life peeps at light;
Death bursts the' involving cloud, and all is day;
All eye, all ear, the disembodied power.
Death has feign'd evils Nature shall not feel
Life, ills substantial, Wisdom cannot shun.
Is not the mighty mind, that son of heaven,
By tyrant Life dethroned, imprison'd, pain'd?
By Death enlarged, ennobled, deified?
Death but entombs the body; Life, the soul.
(ll. 448-458, pp. 84-5)",2013-06-06 14:20:45 UTC,"""Is not the mighty mind, that son of heaven, / By tyrant Life dethroned, imprison'd, pain'd? / By Death enlarged, ennobled, deified? / Death but entombs the body; Life, the soul.""",2013-06-06 14:19:19 UTC,Night the Third,"",,Rooms and Throne,"",Reading,20430,7401
"Let Indians, and the gay, like Indians, fond
Of feather'd fopperies, the sun adore:
Darkness has more divinity for me:
It strikes thought inward; it drives back the soul
To settle on herself, our point supreme!
There lies our theatre; there sits our judge.
Darkness the curtain drops o'er life's dull scene;
'Tis the kind hand of Providence stretch'd out
'Twixt man and vanity; 'tis Reason's reign,
And Virtue's too; these tutelary shades
Are man's asylum from the tainted throng.
Night is the good man's friend, and guardian too;
It no less rescues Virtue than inspires.
(ll. 126-138, p. 120 in CUP edition)",2014-07-25 18:51:09 UTC,"""Darkness has more divinity for me: / It strikes thought inward; it drives back the soul / To settle on herself, our point supreme! / There lies our theatre; there sits our judge.""",2013-06-10 19:25:02 UTC,Night the Fourth,"",,Court,"","Reading; found again in Marjorie Nicholson's Newton Demands the Muse (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1946), 149-150.",20476,7407
"Or is it feeble Nature calls me back,
And breaks my spirit into grief again?
Is it a Stygian vapour in my blood,
A cold, slow puddle, creeping through my veins?
Or is it thus with all men?--Thus with all.
What are we? how unequal! now we soar,
And now we sink. To be the same, transcends
Our present prowess. Dearly pays the soul
For lodging ill; too dearly rents her clay.
Reason, a baffled counsellor, but adds
The blush of weakness to the bane of woe.
The noblest spirit, fighting her hard fate
In this damp, dusky region, charged with storms,
But feebly flutters, yet untaught to fly;
Or, flying, short her flight, and sure her fall.
Our utmost strength, when down, to rise again;
And not to yield, though beaten, all our praise.
(ll. 216-232, pp. 122-3 in CUP edition)",2013-06-10 19:44:05 UTC,"""Dearly pays the soul / For lodging ill; too dearly rents her clay.""",2013-06-10 19:44:05 UTC,Night the Fifth,"",,Inhabitants and Rooms,"",Reading,20485,7407
"The dreadful masquerader, thus equipp'd,
Out-sallies on adventures. Ask you where?
Where is he not? For his peculiar haunts
Let this suffice:--Sure as night follows day,
Death treads in Pleasure's footsteps round the world,
When Pleasure treads the paths which Reason shuns.
When against Reason Riot shuts the door,
And Gaiety supplies the place of Sense,
Then foremost, at the banquet and the ball,
Death leads the dance, or stamps the deadly die:
Nor ever fails the midnight bowl to crown.
Gaily carousing to his gay compeers,
Inly he laughs to see them laugh at him,
As absent far; and when the revel burns,
When Fear is banish'd, and triumphant Thought,
Calling for all the joys beneath the moon,
Against him turns the key, and bids him sup
With their progenitors,--he drops his mask,
Frowns out at full; they start, despair, expire.
(ll. 860-878, pp. 138-9 in CUP edition)",2013-06-10 20:47:56 UTC,"""When against Reason Riot shuts the door, / And Gaiety supplies the place of Sense, / Then foremost, at the banquet and the ball, / Death leads the dance, or stamps the deadly die.""",2013-06-10 20:47:34 UTC,Night the Fifth,"",,Inhabitants,"",Reading,20508,7407
"Ambition! powerful source of good and ill!
Thy strength in man, like length of wing in birds,
When disengaged from earth, with greater ease
And swifter flight, transports us to the skies:
By toys entangled, or in guilt bemired,
It turns a curse; it is our chain and scourge
In this dark dungeon, where confined we lie,
Close-grated by the sordid bars of sense;
All prospect of eternity shut out;
And, but for execution, ne'er set free.
(ll. 399-408, p. 159 in CUP edition)",2013-06-11 16:09:18 UTC,"""By toys entangled, or in guilt bemired, / [Ambition] turns a curse; it is our chain and scourge / In this dark dungeon, where confined we lie, / Close-grated by the sordid bars of sense; / All prospect of eternity shut out; / And, but for execution, ne'er set free.""",2013-06-11 16:09:18 UTC,Night the Sixth,"",,Fetters and Rooms,"",Reading,20516,7408
"DON CARLOS
Too soon thou praisest me. He's gone, and now
I must unsluice my overburden'd Heart,
And let it flow. I would not grieve my Friend
With Tears; nor interrupt my great Design,
Great sure as ever human Breast durst think of.
But now my Sorrows, long with Pain supprest,
Burst their Confinement with impetuous Sway,
O'er-swell all Bounds, and bear ev'n Life away.
So till the Day was won, the Greek renown'd
With Anguish wore the Arrow in his Wound,
Then drew the Shaft from out his tortur'd Side,
Let gush the Torrent of his Blood, and dy'd.
(II.i, p. 26)",2013-08-17 21:22:45 UTC,"""He's gone, and now / I must unsluice my overburden'd Heart, / And let it flow.""",2013-08-17 21:22:45 UTC,Act II,"",,"",INTEREST: Soliloquy as involving sluices.,LION,22301,7619