work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3353,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""steel"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-09 00:00:00 UTC,"And as the Grindstone to unpolish'd Steel
Gives Edge, and Lustre: so my Mind, I feel
VVhetted, and glaz'd by Fortunes turning VVheel",,8626,•C-H takes from Poems and Translations(1961).,"""And as the Grindstone to unpolish'd Steel / Gives Edge, and Lustre: so my Mind, I feel / VVhetted, and glaz'd by Fortunes turning VVheel""",Metal,2009-09-14 19:33:40 UTC,Ethica
3981,"",Searching HDIS (Drama),2004-06-14 00:00:00 UTC,"PHAEDRA
I must confess 'tis true thou tell'st me, Nurse,
But forc'd by Passion, I pursue the worse.
Headlong to Ruine runs my knowing Mind,
Which oft turns back, but vainly, Help to find.
So when against the Tide the Sailor toils
To force his loaded Bark, the Current foils
His Pains, down Stream the master'd Vessel's drove.
My Reason's conquer'd by more powerful Love,
Who rules as Tyrant in my captiv'd Breast.
This winged God does Heav'n and Earth infest.
With all-o'er-mast'ring Flames Jove's self he scorches,
Mars more than Fire-Pikes dreads his little Torches.
The God who three-fork'd Thunder frames, who toils,
Unswelter'd in Ætnæan Forges, broils
In his small Fires. Phoebus who bears the Fame
For Archery, this Boy with surer Aim
Tranfixes: through the Earth and ample Skies
A winged Plague to Men and Gods, he flies.
",,10340,•I've included this entry twice: once in Liquid and once in Uncategorized
,"""So when against the Tide the Sailor toils / to force his loaded Bark, the Current foils / His Pains, down Stream the master'd Vessel's drove""","",2009-09-14 19:34:54 UTC,""
3981,"","Searching ""rule"" and ""reason"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2004-06-14 00:00:00 UTC,"PHAEDRA
I must confess 'tis true thou tell'st me, Nurse,
But forc'd by Passion, I pursue the worse.
Headlong to Ruine runs my knowing Mind,
Which oft turns back, but vainly, Help to find.
So when against the Tide the Sailor toils
To force his loaded Bark, the Current foils
His Pains, down Stream the master'd Vessel's drove.
My Reason's conquer'd by more powerful Love,
Who rules as Tyrant in my captiv'd Breast.
This winged God does Heav'n and Earth infest.
With all-o'er-mast'ring Flames Jove's self he scorches,
Mars more than Fire-Pikes dreads his little Torches.
The God who three-fork'd Thunder frames, who toils,
Unswelter'd in Ætnæan Forges, broils
In his small Fires. Phoebus who bears the Fame
For Archery, this Boy with surer Aim
Tranfixes: through the Earth and ample Skies
A winged Plague to Men and Gods, he flies.
",,10342,"","Reason may be ""conquer'd by more powerful Love""","",2009-09-14 19:34:54 UTC,""
3981,"","Searching ""rule"" and ""reason"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2004-06-14 00:00:00 UTC,"PHAEDRA
I must confess 'tis true thou tell'st me, Nurse,
But forc'd by Passion, I pursue the worse.
Headlong to Ruine runs my knowing Mind,
Which oft turns back, but vainly, Help to find.
So when against the Tide the Sailor toils
To force his loaded Bark, the Current foils
His Pains, down Stream the master'd Vessel's drove.
My Reason's conquer'd by more powerful Love,
Who rules as Tyrant in my captiv'd Breast.
This winged God does Heav'n and Earth infest.
With all-o'er-mast'ring Flames Jove's self he scorches,
Mars more than Fire-Pikes dreads his little Torches.
The God who three-fork'd Thunder frames, who toils,
Unswelter'd in Ætnæan Forges, broils
In his small Fires. Phoebus who bears the Fame
For Archery, this Boy with surer Aim
Tranfixes: through the Earth and ample Skies
A winged Plague to Men and Gods, he flies.
",2012-01-12,10343,"•The ""captiv'd Breast"" is an extra touch. Nice.","""My Reason's conquer'd by more powerful Love, / Who rules as Tyrant in my captiv'd Breast.""","",2012-01-12 21:23:04 UTC,""
4165,"",Reading,2003-12-05 00:00:00 UTC,"Now wretched Oedipus, depriv'd of Sight,
Led a long Death in everlasting Night;
But while he dwells where not a chearful Ray
Can pierce the Darkness, and abhors the Day;
The clear, reflecting Mind, presents his Sin
In frightful Views, and makes it Day within;
Returning Thoughts in endless Circles roll,
And thousand Furies haunt his guilty Soul.
The Wretch then lifted to th'unpitying Skies
Those empty Orbs, from when he tore his Eyes,
Whose Wounds yet fresh, with bloody Hands he strook,
While form his Breast these dreadful Accents broke.
(ll. 69-80, p. 39)",,10742,"","""The clear, reflecting Mind, presents his Sin / In frightful Views, and makes it Day within.""",Mirror,2013-08-21 16:11:22 UTC,""
3353,"","Searching ""bond"" and ""soul"" in HDIS (Poetry)' found again, ""chain""",2012-01-06 21:44:34 UTC,"'Tis but the Body that blind Fortunes spight
Can chain to Earth; the nobler Soul doth slight
Her servill Bonds, and takes to Heaven her flight.
",,19397,"","""'Tis but the Body that blind Fortunes spight / Can chain to Earth; the nobler Soul doth slight / Her servill Bonds, and takes to Heaven her flight.""",Fetters,2012-01-12 02:55:23 UTC,""
7165,"","Searching ""chain"" and ""soul"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2012-01-12 03:04:33 UTC,"Why break'st thou not (my Soul) this Chain
Of Flesh? why lett'st thou that restrain
Thy nimble Flight into his Arms,
Whose only Look with gladness charms?
But (alas!) in vain I speak to thee
Poor Soul! already fled from Me;
To seek out him in whose lov'd Brest,
Thy Life, as mine in thee, doth rest.
(p. 165)",,19446,"","""Why break'st thou not (my Soul) this Chain / Of Flesh? why lett'st thou that restrain / Thy nimble Flight into his Arms, / Whose only Look with gladness charms?""",Fetters,2012-01-12 03:26:07 UTC,""
7240,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""bird"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2012-04-29 19:03:50 UTC,"The Sickness not at first past cure,
By this Relapse despiseth Art:
Now, treacherous Boy, thou hast me sure,
Playing the Wanton with my Heart,
As foolish Children that a Bird have got,
Slacken the Thread, but not unty the knot.",,19738,"","""Now, treacherous Boy, thou hast me sure, / Playing the Wanton with my Heart, / As foolish Children that a Bird have got, / Slacken the Thread, but not unty the knot.""",Beasts,2012-04-29 19:03:50 UTC,""
7326,"",Reading,2013-01-22 04:04:35 UTC,"If it be no School Treachery not to side with so Learned a Master, and if a man run not the hazard of being censured by his Schollars for taking Reasons part, and pleading Senecas cause, I think it may be said such thoughts are too mean to form a Disciple of Christ, and that his words are too little generous to make an ordinary Philosopher. For who shall imagin that things out of our power should make us happy? and that Fortune, which is but a Chimera should dispense the favours which are the Recompences of Vertue. Wherefore should we build our happiness upon Riches; Since our minds are the Magazines of true wealth, and why should we expect that from Strangers, which we may bestow upon our Selves? Nature is too liberal to deny us our Desires: She is too Noble to refuse us a gift which she preserves for us in the Cabinet of our Soul: and her Guide is too faithful to carry us astray from that good to which we aspire. Those that so much cry it down have not known the advantages of it: and had they studied to become as reasonable as eloquent, they would have confessed with us, that she is not less a Teacher of the faithful then a Soverain to the Polititians, and the Mistress of Philosophers. Vertue is her workmanship, born in her bosome, and so obedient a Daughter, that she followes her Counsels in all her Actions. Just men own her for their Mother, they pay respect to her Orders, when ever she commands; and as her Laws are descended from Heaven, they fear to offend him that ruleth there, by hearkening to other Counsels then hers.
(pp. 15-6)",,19956,"","""Since our minds are the Magazines of true wealth, and why should we expect that from Strangers, which we may bestow upon our Selves?""","",2013-01-22 04:06:43 UTC,Discourse II
7326,"","Reading Thomas Keymer's edition of Rasselas (Oxford UP, 2009), 131n.",2013-01-22 04:08:48 UTC,"If it be no School Treachery not to side with so Learned a Master, and if a man run not the hazard of being censured by his Schollars for taking Reasons part, and pleading Senecas cause, I think it may be said such thoughts are too mean to form a Disciple of Christ, and that his words are too little generous to make an ordinary Philosopher. For who shall imagin that things out of our power should make us happy? and that Fortune, which is but a Chimera should dispense the favours which are the Recompences of Vertue. Wherefore should we build our happiness upon Riches; Since our minds are the Magazines of true wealth, and why should we expect that from Strangers, which we may bestow upon our Selves? Nature is too liberal to deny us our Desires: She is too Noble to refuse us a gift which she preserves for us in the Cabinet of our Soul: and her Guide is too faithful to carry us astray from that good to which we aspire. Those that so much cry it down have not known the advantages of it: and had they studied to become as reasonable as eloquent, they would have confessed with us, that she is not less a Teacher of the faithful then a Soverain to the Polititians, and the Mistress of Philosophers. Vertue is her workmanship, born in her bosome, and so obedient a Daughter, that she followes her Counsels in all her Actions. Just men own her for their Mother, they pay respect to her Orders, when ever she commands; and as her Laws are descended from Heaven, they fear to offend him that ruleth there, by hearkening to other Counsels then hers.
(pp. 15-6)",,19957,"","""Nature is too liberal to deny us our Desires: She is too Noble to refuse us a gift which she preserves for us in the Cabinet of our Soul: and her Guide is too faithful to carry us astray from that good to which we aspire.""","",2013-01-22 04:08:48 UTC,Discourse II