work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3974,"","Searching ""thought"" and ""silver"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-03 00:00:00 UTC,"Such was Amphion, so his Airs could move,
That the stones danc'd to his soft Songs of Love.
Could I like Pow'r in Charming Numbers use,
(Charming indeed, since you inspire my Muse,)
Soon should your lofty Walls delight our view,
Like their Fair Mistress, high, and pleasing too.
Then should my Verse in softest measures flow,
Soft as those streams which gently glide below.
My Thoughts should like their Silver Fishes shine,
With quick, bright glitterings thro' each moving line.
Then might these Walks afford a Noble Theme.
When like the lovely Paphian Queen you seem,
Presiding here o'er your own Native stream.
Then might I sing how from these Walls, afar
Your Guns, and Eyes subdue in Love and War.
Sing, how we might along your dreaded shore,
Your light'nings view, and hear your thunder roar.
How, like a Goddess, from these Walls on high,
You see your Floods beneath spread out a watry Sky.
How justly those transcend the Silver Thames,
How your bright Eyes play on them with their Beams,
And so Love's Fires rise from the Silver streams.
How they would ne'er flow o'er the flowry meads,
Or any paths where their Fair Mistress treads.
Thus might I sing what thoughts the prospect yields,
Nymphs in the Rivers, Sylvans in the Fields;
Describe the flow'ry Banks, and spreading Groves;
Where Swains, and Virgins, tell their Mutual Loves.
But that the Walks, fond of what once they bore,
When they were Crown'd with your dear Feet no more,
Fell, to complain along the murm'ring shore.
And yet such greatness in their ruins lies,
Their fall, methinks, but makes my fancy rise.
So, when your Beauties (if that time can come)
Shall lose the Sweetness of their present bloom,
Ev'n your decays shall raise our wonder more,
Their Ebbs shall show the vastness of their store,
Which Charm'd Admirers Eyes who saw their tides before.
(pp. 58-9, ll. 1-38)",,10315,"","""My Thoughts should like their Silver Fishes shine, / With quick, bright glitterings thro' each moving line.""","",2014-09-28 16:20:17 UTC,I've included the entire poem
4027,"",HDIS,2004-02-25 00:00:00 UTC," Charity, decent, modest, easy, kind,
Softens the high, and rears the abject Mind;
Knows with just Reins, and gentle Hand to guide,
Betwixt vile Shame, and arbitrary Pride.
Not soon provok'd, She easily forgives;
And much She suffers, as She much believes.
Soft Peace She brings where-ever She arrives:
She builds our Quiet, as She forms our Lives;
Lays the rough Paths of peevish Nature ev'n;
And opens in each Heart a little Heav'n.
(p. 208, ll. 17-26)",2010-03-11,10430,"•Collected in 1707, 1718.","""Charity, decent, modest, easy, kind, / Softens the high, and rears the abject Mind; / Knows with just Reins, and gentle Hand to guide, / Betwixt vile Shame, and arbitrary Pride.""","",2010-03-11 16:01:43 UTC,""
4099,"","Searching ""brain"" and ""wax"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-04-11 00:00:00 UTC,"In this Surprize I stood a while,
And sometimes cough'd to hide a Smile;
For Flesh and Blood, that did but see
Their Looks, and their Hypocrisy;
The Postures of the Zeal-mad Noddies,
The Motions of their Heads and Bodies,
Could not forbear a Laugh, to smother,
At some odd Passage or another.
Some held their Hands upon their Jaws,
As if the Tooth-Ach was the Cause,
Whilst other Zealots thump'd their Breast,
As if with Grief or Flegm opprest,
And such strange antick Gestures had,
That shew'd 'em not devout, but mad,
As if old Satan had, in spite
Of all their boasted inward Light,
Blown out the Heav'nly shining Spark,
And left the inward Man i'th' Dark:
For Satan is a cunning Fiend,
That lies perdue to gain his End,
And most industriously invents
Strange Ways to disappoint the Saints.
At last a Churl, with grizly Beard,
Whose Eyes like any Fury's star'd,
I'th' Gall'ry from his Seat arose,
With Hat pull'd o'er his Beetle Brows,
Who when he'ad posturiz'd his Face,
And humm'd for some few Minutes Space,
As if his hollow Skull had been
A Hive fill'd full of Bees within,
Who had, by their industrious Pains,
To Wax and Honey turn'd his Brains;
For the long Speech he did transmit,
Was sometimes hard, and sometimes sweet.",,10552,•I've included twice: Hive and Wax and Honey,"""As if his hollow Skull had been / A Hive fill'd full of Bees within"" who ""To Wax and Honey turn'd his Brains; / For the long Speech he did transmit, / Was sometimes hard, and sometimes sweet""","",2009-09-14 19:35:04 UTC,""
4112,"",HDIS,2004-08-26 00:00:00 UTC,"Here you that cherish an o'erboyling Heat,
And, when y'ave murder'd, say y'ave Souls too great,
Laying on Providence (that must be just)
Th'Effects of your Intemperance, Rage and Lust;
See but to what your boasted Honour tends;
In Pride it is begun, in Blood it ends.
Honour, th'Excuse you for Presumption find,
And Lordly Domineering o'er Mankind;
Honour! the fatal Tumor of the Mind;
From which our Modern Gentry take their Bent,
And think they're Noble, if they're Insolent.
True Honour (if that Vertue still remain)
Does not consist in Actions lewd and vain,
In lacquer'd Coaches, or a glitt'ring Train;
'Tis not a haughty Port, or peevish Will;
'Tis firmly hating all that's mean and ill:
To publick Good and mutual Aid it leads,
And Peace of Mind the glorious Toil succeeds.
Where was his Honour then that basely spilt
Such noble Blood, and triumph'd in the Guilt?
He thought perhaps to raise himself a Name,
But who wou'd have his Conscience for his Fame?
Tho' fled from Justice to evade his Sin,
Can he suppress the living Judge within?
Dissolv'd in Lust, in Wine his Mem'ry drown'd,
With his returning Sense Guilt will the more abound.
Thro' Unbelief it self e'en Sin will break,
And to the Soul it's frightful Message speak;
Set Future Fear directly in his View,
Terror, Despair, and all the grizly Crew:
Those direful Vultures on his Soul shall gnaw,
And make him wish for his Relief from Law.",,10573,"","Guilt may ""to the Soul it's frightful Message speak"" while ""Terror, Despair, and all the grizly Crew: / Those direful Vultures on [the] Soul shall gnaw""","",2009-09-14 19:35:05 UTC,""
4131,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2006-04-14 00:00:00 UTC,"Tell how his nimble Fingers mov'd
Upon the yielding Keys,
Whilst Men and Angels equally approv'd,
His melting Strains, which could no less than please,
Those pious Souls who lov'd,
Such Musick that inspir'd the Mind with Peace,
But now no more shall we be blest,
With the soft Touches of that pow'rfull Hand,
Which senthi s Soul to rest;
Who did all Harmony Command,
That could beneath the Heavens be exprest,
To raise Devotion in his Native Land.
Yet jarring Discord made him court his Death,
And put a fatal stop to his harmonious Breath.
So the old Romans Wise and Brave,
By their Example taught,
'Twas easier to embrace the Grave,
Than bear the stabbing Force of anxious Thought.
The Disappointments of the Field,
Where Lawrels grow, with Blood manur'd.
Are worse than being kill'd,
To the undaunted Breast innur'd,
To the destructive Sword,
And the defensive Shield.
So the great Soul harmoniously compos'd,
Only made fit to entertain
Sweet Musick's Art by Heaven disclos'd,
To elevate the Thoughts of Men;
If once with Worldly Cares opprest,
It Labours to expire,
And Courts the trembling Hand to give it rest,
That when its unconfin'd
From Flesh and Blood to which 'tis join'd,
It then may mount in search of the Celestial Quire.
So fell Great Britains Orpheus in his Rage,
When Furies in his Breast began to howl,
And Cares that wait on Life's uncertain Stage,
Had quite untun'd his Soul;
Who hating Discord, could not bear
The Troubles of a tortur'd Mind,
Skill'd only in harmonious Air,
And quite avers'd to Care,
That oft afflicts the best of Humane Kind;
But when he found his strugling Breast
With insupportable Remorse opprest,
Such that could only have its Rise
From wanton Love or stubborn Vice,
He clapp'd Death's fatal Engine to his Head,
And hoping for eternal Rest.
Conquer'd those Vipers in his Conscience bred,
And with himself, shot all the stinging Fantoms dead.",,10604,"","Mr Clark ""Conquer'd those Vipers in his Conscience bred, / And with himself, shot all the stinging Fantoms dead""","",2009-09-14 19:35:07 UTC,""
4255,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-05-04 00:00:00 UTC," But when the great Apostate's Art
Seduc'd the wav'ring Creature's Heart,
Man from his happy Region fell
To the destructive Gulph of Death and Hell;
Now Guilt's infernal Gloom, and horrid Night,
O'erwhelm his Intellectual Sight,
And Clouds, with Vengeance stor'd, his trembling Soul affright.
Darkness, like that in Central Caves beneath,
Like that, which spreads the lonesome Walks of Death,
Where never Ray one Inroad made,
The Rebels Mind did swift invade.
The Light, which he enjoy'd, abus'd withdrew,
And back to Heav'n, its Parent, flew.
His Breast of this Celestial Guest bereft,
Became a Den of salvage Passions, left
Without a Keeper, loose and unconfin'd,
Which now no Guide directs, nor Precepts bind.",,11089,"","One's breast may become ""a Den of salvage Passions, left / Without a Keeper, loose and unconfin'd""","",2009-09-14 19:35:33 UTC,Stanza IX
4151,"","Reading; found again in Howard Erskine-Hill, Gulliver's Travels (Cambridge UP, 1993), 66.",2009-01-28 00:00:00 UTC,"First follow Nature, and your judgment frame
By her just standard, which is still the same:
Unerring Nature, still divinely bright,
One clear, unchang'd, and universal light,
Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart,
At once the source, and end, and test of art.
Art from that fund each just supply provides,
Works without show, and without pomp presides:
In some fair body thus th'informing soul
With spirits feeds, with vigour fills the whole,
Each motion guides, and ev'ry nerve sustains;
Itself unseen, but in th'effects, remains.
There are whom heav'n has blest with store of wit,
Yet want as much again to manage it;
For wit and judgment ever are at strife,
Tho' meant each other's aid, like man and wife.
'Tis more to guide, than spur the Muse's steed;
Restrain his fury, than provoke his speed;
The winged courser, like a gen'rous horse,
Shows most true mettle when you check his course.
(I, ll. 68-87)",,17224,"REVISIT. Built in simile: courser like horse. The ""winged courser"" is a metaphor for wit. INTEREST.","""Tis more to guide, than spur the Muse's steed; / Restrain his fury, than provoke his speed; / The winged courser, like a gen'rous horse, / Shows most true mettle when you check his course.""","",2014-07-11 19:28:18 UTC,Part I
4108,"","Searching ""brain"" and ""bird"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2012-06-27 18:26:23 UTC,"As mad as this is he to Learning Bred,
That thinks to gain a Mistress by his Head;
When any Block-head sooner shall prevail
The Scorns that Aid, and Courts her with his Tail.
What need of using all the Liberal Arts,
So well receiv'd with our own Natural Parts?
The Fools in Verse enough themselves expose,
Yet are exceeded by this Fool in Prose.
His Love's the very Bird-lime of his Brain,
And pulls some Part away with every Strain.
Wou'd but my Lady's tawdry Woman show
The Billets sh' has receiv'd from Chaplain Beau;
(Who, with his fair Wig, and fine Cambrick Band,
Thinks all the Ladies are at his Command,)
Wou'd she, I say, but deign to let you see
This Rhetorician in his Gaiety,
In all his Tropes and Figures, and the rest
Of those hard Terms in which his Passion's drest;
You'd swear a Woman by such Courtship won,
Wou'd not deny th'Address of a Baboon,
Whose Chatt'ring she wou'd understand as soon.
Beyond her knowledge all her Stile does run,
And if he wins her he's beyond his own;
More dull the deeper in her Books he gets,
That study where the wisest lose their Wits.",,19798,"","""His Love's the very Bird-lime of his Brain, / And pulls some Part away with every Strain.""",Animals,2012-06-27 18:26:23 UTC,""
4089,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""horse"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""fancy""",2012-07-05 04:24:03 UTC,"O'er the broad lands, and cross the tide,
On fancy's airy horse I ride,
(Sweet rapture of the mind!)
Till on the banks of Ganges' flood,
In a tall ancient grove I stood
For sacred use design'd.",,19857,"","""O'er the broad lands, and cross the tide, / On fancy's airy horse I ride, /
(Sweet rapture of the mind!) / Till on the banks of Ganges' flood, / In a tall ancient grove I stood / For sacred use design's.""",Beasts,2012-07-05 04:24:03 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,""