work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3224,"",Reading,2004-07-19 00:00:00 UTC,"'I burn, I burn, as when thro' ripen'd corn
By driving winds the crackling flames are borne.'
Now, maddening-wild, I curse that fatal night,
Now bless the hour that charm'd my guilty sight.
In vain the Laws their feeble force oppose:
Chain'd at his feet, they groan Love's vanquish'd foes.
In vain Religion meets my shrinking eye:
I dare not combat, but I turn and fly.
Conscience in vain upbraids th'unhallow'd fire.
Love grasps his scorpions--stifled they expire.
Reason drops headlong from his sacred throne.
Your dear idea reigns, and reigns alone;
Each thought intoxicated homage yields,
And riots wanton in forbidden fields.
",2010-10-04,8468,"","""Your dear idea reigns, and reigns alone; / Each thought intoxicated homage yields, / And riots wanton in forbidden fields.""",Inhabitants,2010-10-04 17:39:47 UTC,""
3384,"","Searching ""breast"" and ""stranger"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-03-06 00:00:00 UTC,"For thee is laughing Nature gay,
For thee she pours the vernal day:
For me in vain is Nature drest,
While Joy's a stranger to my breast.",,8664,"","""For me in vain is Nature drest, / While Joy's a stranger to my breast""",Inhabitants,2009-09-14 19:33:42 UTC,""
4320,"","Searching ""breast"" and ""crowd"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-03-08 00:00:00 UTC,"A Thousand Transports crowd his Breast,
He moves as light as fleeting Wind,
His former Sorrows seem a Jest,
Now when his Jeanie is turn'd kind:
Riches he looks on with Disdain,
The glorious Fields of War look mean,
The chearful Hound and Horn give Pain,
If absent from his bonny Jean.",,11259,"","""A Thousand Transports crowd his Breast.""",Inhabitants,2012-01-06 21:07:23 UTC,Scot Songs
5679,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""crowd"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-03-07 00:00:00 UTC,"Now Phoebe, in her midnight reign,
Dark-muffl'd, view'd the dreary plain;
Still crowding thoughts, a pensive train,
Rose in my soul,
When on my ear this plaintive strain,
Slow-solemn, stole:--",,15153,"","""Still crowding thoughts, a pensive train, / Rose in my soul""",Inhabitants,2009-09-14 19:42:54 UTC,Stanza VI.
5709,Ruling Passion / Family Within,"Searching ""ruling passion"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2004-05-20 00:00:00 UTC,"Good Lord, what is Man! For as simple he looks,
Do but try to develop his hooks and his crooks!
With his depths and his shallows, his good and his evil,
All in all he's a problem must puzzle the Devil.
On his one ruling passion Sir Pope hugely labors,
That, like th'old Hebrew walking-switch, eats up its neighbours.
Human Nature's his show-box--your friend, would you know him?
Pull the string, Ruling Passion--the picture will show him.
What pity, in rearing so beauteous a system,
One trifling particular--Truth--should have miss'd him!
For, spite of his fine theoretic positions,
Mankind is a science defies definitions.
Some sort all our qualities each to its tribe,
And think Human Nature they truly describe:
Have you found this, or t'other? There's more in the wind,
As by one drunken fellow his comrades you'll find.
But such is the flaw, or the depth of the plan
In the make of that wonderful creature called Man,
No two virtues, whatever relation they claim,
Nor even two different shades of the same,
Though like as was ever twin brother to brother,
Possessing the one shall imply you've the other.
",,15237,•Great anti-metaphor poem. INTEREST.
•This last stanza is interesting and subtle. Family within metaphors.,"""Some sort all our qualities each to its tribe, / And think Human Nature they truly describe""",Inhabitants,2009-09-14 19:43:07 UTC,Middle Stanzas
6323,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""cell"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""fancy""",2005-08-17 00:00:00 UTC,"Monimia still! here once again!
O fatal name! O dubious strain!
Say, heaven-born virtue, power divine,
Are all these various movements thine?
Was it thy triumphs, sole inspired
My soul, to holy transports fired?
Or say, do springs less sacred move?
Ah! much, I fear, 'tis human love.
Alas! the noble strife is o'er,
The blissful visions charm no more;
Far off the glorious rapture flown,
Monimia rages here alone.
In vain, love's fugitive, I try
From the commanding power to fly;
Though grace was dawning on my soul,
Possessed by heaven sincere and whole,
Yet still in fancy's painted cells
The soul-inflaming image dwells.
Why didst thou, cruel love, again
Thus drag me back to earth and pain?
Well hoped I, love, thou would'st retire
Before the blest Jessean lyre.
Devotion's harp would charm to rest
The evil spirit in my breast;
But the deaf adder fell disdains,
Unlist'ning to the chanter's strains.",,16722,•I've included twice: Cell and Dwelling,"""Yet still in fancy's painted cells / The soul-inflaming image dwells.""",Rooms,2009-09-14 19:47:47 UTC,""
6327,"","Searching ""idea"" and ""crowd"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""brain""",2006-03-08 00:00:00 UTC,"[...]
What grand ideas crowd my brain!
What images! a lofty train
In beauteous order spring:
As the keen store of feathered fates
Within the braided quiver waits,
Impatient for the wing:
See, see, they mount! The sacred few
Endued with piercing flight,
Alone through darling fields pursue
The ærial regions bright.
This nature gives, her chiefest boast;
But when the bright ideas fly,
Far soaring from the vulgar eye,
To vulgar eyes are lost.
Where nature sows her genial seeds,
A liberal harvest straight succeeds,
Fair in the human soil;
While art, with hard laborious pains,
Creeps on unseen, nor much attains,
By slow progressive toil.
Resembling this, the feeble crow,
Amid the vulgar winged crowd,
Hides in the darkening copse below,
Vain, strutting, garrulous, and loud:
While genius mounts the ethereal height,
As the imperial bird of Jove
On sounding pinions soars above,
And dares the majesty of light.
Then fit an arrow to the tuneful string,
O thou, my genius! warm with sacred flame;
Fly swift, ethereal shaft! and wing
The godlike Theron unto fame.
I solemn swear, and holy truth attest,
That sole inspires the tuneful breast,
That, never since the immortal sun
His radiant journey first begun,
To none the gods did e'er impart
A more exalted mind, or wide-diffusive heart.
Fly, Envy, hence, that durst invade
Such glories, with injurious shade;
Still, with superior lustre bright,
His virtues shine, in number more
Than are the radiant fires of night,
Or sands that spread along the sea-surrounding shore.",,16728,•I've included twice: Crowd and Train,"""What grand ideas crowd my brain! / What images! a lofty train / In beauteous order spring""",Inhabitants,2009-09-14 19:47:49 UTC,Pindar's Olympia
6982,"",Reading,2011-06-25 03:59:08 UTC,"""Even Nature pines by vilest chains oppress'd;
""Th'astonish'd kingdoms crouch to Fashion's nod.
""O ye pure inmates of the gentle breast,
""Truth, Freedom, Love, O where is your abode?
""O yet once more shall Peace from Heaven return,
""And young Simplicity with mortals dwell!
""Nor Innocence th'august pavilion scorn,
""Nor meek Contentment fly the humble cell!
(p. 22)",,18818,"","""O ye pure inmates of the gentle breast, / Truth, Freedom, Love, O where is your abode?""",Inhabitants,2011-06-25 03:59:08 UTC,""
7173,"","Searching ""dance"" and ""idea"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2012-01-19 18:06:57 UTC,"Thus I (no longer to illustrate
With Similies, lest I should frustrate
Design Laconick of a Letter,
With Heap of Language and no Matter,)
Bang'd up my blyth auld-fashion'd Whistle,
To sowf ye o'er a short Epistle,
Without Rule, Compasses, or Charcoal,
Or serious Study in a dark Hole.
Three Times I ga'e the Muse a Rug,
Then bate my Nails and claw'd my Lug;
Still heavy, at the last my Nose
I prim'd with an inspiring Dose,
Then did the Ideas dance, (dear safe us!)
As they'd been daft.--Here ends the Preface.",,19464,"","""Still heavy, at the last my Nose / I prim'd with an inspiring Dose, / Then did the Ideas dance, (dear safe us!) / As they'd been daft.""",Inhabitants,2012-01-19 18:07:33 UTC,""
7698,"",Reading,2013-10-03 02:23:46 UTC,"Sure! 'tis a serious Thing to Die! My Soul!
What a strange Moment must it be, when near
Thy Journey's End, thou hast the Gulf in View!
That awful Gulf, no Mortal e'er repass'd
To tell what's doing on the other Side!
Nature runs back, and shudders at the Sight,
And every Life-string bleeds at Thoughts of parting!
For part they must: Body and Soul must part;
Fond Couple! link'd more close than wedded Pair.
This wings its Way to its Almighty Source,
The Witness of its Actions, now its Judge:
That drops into the dark and noisome Grave,
Like a disabled Pitcher of no Use.
(p. 24, ll. 369-381)",,22913,"","""For part they must: Body and Soul must part; / Fond Couple! link'd more close than wedded Pair.""",Inhabitants,2013-10-03 02:23:46 UTC,""