work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
6003,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-05-18 00:00:00 UTC,"But give the tone of brain, the nerves which bear
Faithful impressions strong; give the mild sun
Of opportunity to dart its rays;
Give leisure, curious search, the strenuous thought
Aiming at worth superlative, give time
Which solely perfects wisdom; and the form
Of Genius will arise, on eagle wing
To soar to heaven, or with a lynx's eye
To penetrate the abyss, to associate all
The charms of beauty, grasp the true sublime,
Add novel tints to fancy's rainbow dress;
Or separate the clouds by error spread,
Till all the gloom is vanquish'd, and the light
Of intellectual day wide-blazing streams.",2008-12-03,15948,"","Genius may ""Add novel tints to fancy's rainbow dress.""","",2009-09-14 19:45:13 UTC,""
6158,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-11-21 00:00:00 UTC,"There, Peace, retired in her sequester'd bower,
Enjoys composed Reflection's silent hour,
Where the soul's image to the view is brought
In the calm mirror of unruffled thought,
Its secret faults to self-reproach exposed,
And all its cherish'd weaknesses disclosed;
Till Reason's powers, by studious care refined,
In moral graces dress the chasten'd mind.
While Self-denial lends his pow'rful hand
To smooth the rugged way for self-command,
""That column of true dignity in man,""
Stern Fortitude, gives firmness to the plan.
What permanent delights to him are known
Who dares to meet his secret soul alone;
Who, firm in Truth and Honour's sacred cause,
Still loves his country and reveres her laws!
Though bright perfection, made alone for Heav'n,
Has not even to that favour'd land been giv'n;
Who strives not in life's vestibule to stand,
And tear the curtain with unhallow'd hand,
But waits with awful eye and will resign'd
The hour appointed by th' all-seeing Mind,
When every cloudy mist shall melt away,
And doubt dissolve in beams of endless day.",2008-12-03,16247,"","""Reason's powers, by studious care refined, / In moral graces dress the chasten'd mind.""","",2009-09-14 19:46:09 UTC,""
6217,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2003-09-17 00:00:00 UTC,"Lamia beheld him coming, near, more near--
Close to her passing, in indifference drear,
His silent sandals swept the mossy green;
So neighbour'd to him, and yet so unseen
She stood: he pass'd, shut up in mysteries,
His mind wrapp'd like his mantle, while her eyes
Follow'd his steps, and her neck regal white
Turn'd--syllabling thus, ""Ah, Lycius bright,
""And will you leave me on the hills alone?
""Lycius, look back! and be some pity shown.""",2003-10-22,16480,"•There is a kind of failure of parallelism in the compression. Doesn't Keats mean ""His mind wrapp'd like his body in its mantle""? (10/22/2003)","""She stood: he pass'd, shut up in mysteries, / His mind wrapp'd like his mantle.""","",2011-09-06 14:44:22 UTC,""
6270,"","Searching ""mind"" at Electronic Text Center at UVA Library",2005-08-11 00:00:00 UTC,"But what is of more importance in the temporary oblivion we are enabled to throw over the refuse of the body, it is thus we arrive at the majesty [page 14] of man. That sublimity of conception which renders the poet, and the man of great literary and original endowments ""in apprehension like a God,"" we could not have, if we were not privileged occasionally to cast away the slough and exuviæ of the body from incumbering and dishonouring us, even as Ulysses passed over his threshold, stripped of the rags that had obscured him, while Minerva enlarged his frame, and gave loftiness to his stature, added a youthful beauty and grace to his motions, and caused his eyes to flash with more than mortal fire. With what disdain, when I have been rapt in the loftiest moods of mind, do I look down upon my limbs, the house of clay that contains me, the gross flesh and blood of which my frame is composed, and wonder at a lodging, poorly fitted to entertain so divine a guest!
(pp. 13-14)",,16589,•I've included twice: Slough and Exuviae and Rags,"In poetry we are ""privileged occasionally to cast away the slough and exuviæ of the body from incumbering and dishonouring us, even as Ulysses passed over his threshold, stripped of the rags that had obscured him, while Minerva enlarged his frame, and gave loftiness to his stature, added a youthful beauty and grace to his motions, and caused his eyes to flash with more than mortal fire""","",2009-09-14 19:47:22 UTC,Essay I. Of Body and Mind. The Prologue.
6270,"","Searching ""mind"" at Electronic Text Center at UVA Library",2005-08-11 00:00:00 UTC,"Yet there were things that Shakespear could not do. He could not make a hero. Familiar as he was with the evanescent touches of mind en dishabille, [page 70] and in its innermost feelings, he could not sustain the tone of a character, penetrated with a divine enthusiasm, or fervently devoted to a generous cause, though this is truly within the compass of our nature, and is more than any other worthy to be delineated. He could conceive such sentiments, for there are such in his personage of Brutus; but he could not fill out and perfect what he has thus sketched. He seems even to have had a propensity to bring the mountain and the hill to a level with the plain. Cæsar is spiritless, and Cicero is ridiculous, in his hands. He appears to have written his Troilus and Cressida partly with a view to degrade, and hold up to contempt, the heroes of Homer; and he has even disfigured the pure, heroic affection which the Greek poet has painted as existing between Achilles and Patroclus with the most odious imputations.",2008-02-02,16603,"","""Familiar as [Shakespeare] was with the evanescent touches of mind en dishabille, and in its innermost feelings, he could not sustain the tone of a character, penetrated with a divine enthusiasm, or fervently devoted to a generous cause, though this is truly within the compass of our nature.""","",2009-09-14 19:47:24 UTC,Essay III. Of Intellectual Abortion
6456,"",Reading in Perkins. Text from HDIS.,2008-05-27 00:00:00 UTC,"I have not loved the World, nor the World me;
I have not flattered its rank breath, nor bowed
To its idolatries a patient knee,
Nor coined my cheek to smiles,--nor cried aloud
In worship of an echo: in the crowd
They could not deem me one of such--I stood
Among them, but not of them--in a shroud
Of thoughts which were not their thoughts, and still could,
Had I not filed my mind, which thus itself subdued.
(p. 872, ll. 1049-1057)",2008-12-03,17166,"• Note, ""filed"" is ""defiled."" Byron cites Macbeth, III.i.65: ""For Banquo's issue have I filed my mind.""","""I stood / Among them, but not of them--in a shroud / Of thoughts which were not their thoughts, and still could, / Had I not filed my mind, which thus itself subdued.""","",2009-09-14 19:49:16 UTC,Stanza 113
6697,"",Searching The Poetess Archive,2010-04-16 20:47:09 UTC,"COME ye forth to our revel by moonlight,
With your lutes and your spirits in tune;
The dew falls to-night like an odour,
Stars weep o'er our last day in June.
Come maids leave the loom and its purple,
Though the robe of a monarch were there;
Seek your mirror, I know 'tis your dearest,
And be it to-night your sole care.
Braid ye your curls in their thousands,
Whether dark as the raven's dark wing,
Or bright as that clear summer colour,
When sunshine lights every ring.
On each snow ankle lace silken sandal,
Don the robes like the neck they hide white;
Then come forth like planets from darkness,
Or like lilies at day-break's first light.
Is there one who half regal in beauty,
Would be regal in pearl and in gem;
Let her wreath her a crown of red roses,
No rubies are equal to them.
Is there one who sits languid and lonely,
With her fair face bowed down on her hand,
With a pale cheek and glittering eyelash,
And careless locks 'scaped from their band.
For a lover not worth that eye's tear-drop,
Not worth that sweet mouth's rosy kiss,
Nor that cheek though 'tis faded to paleness;
I know not the lover that is.
Let her bind up her beautiful tresses;
Call her wandering rose back again;
And for one prisoner 'scaping her bondage,
A hundred shall carry her chain.
Come, gallants, the gay and the graceful,
With hearts like the light plumes ye wear;
Eyes all but divine light our revel,
Like the stars in whose beauty they share.
Come ye, for the wine cups are mantling,
Some clear as the morning's first light;
Others touched with the evening's last crimson,
Or the blush that may meet ye to night.
There are plenty of sorrows to chill us,
And troubles last on to the grave;
But the coldest glacier has its rose-tint,
And froth rides the stormiest wave.
Oh! Hope will spring up from its ashes,
With plumage as bright as before;
And pleasures like lamps in a palace,
If extinct, you need only light more.
When one vein of silver's exhausted,
'Tis easy another to try;
There are fountains enough in the desert,
Though that by your palm-tree be dry:
When an India of gems is around you,
Why ask for the one you have not?
Though the roc in your hall may be wanting,
Be contented with what you have got.
Come to-night, for the white blossomed myrtle
Is flinging its love- sighs around;
And beneath like the veiled eastern beauties,
The violets peep from the ground.
Seek ye for gold and for silver,
There are both on these bright orange- trees;
And never in Persia the moonlight
Wept o'er roses more blushing than these.
There are fireflies sparkling by myriads,
The fountain wave dances in light;
Hark! the mandolin's first notes are waking,
And soft steps break the sleeping of the night.
Then come all the young and the graceful,
Come gay as the lovely should be,
'Tis much in this world's toil and trouble,
To let one midnight pass Sans Souci.
(pp. 77-80, ll. 1-72)
",,17787,"","""Come, gallants, the gay and the graceful, / With hearts like the light plumes ye wear; / Eyes all but divine light our revel, / Like the stars in whose beauty they share.""","",2010-04-16 20:52:32 UTC,""
7301,"",Reading in Google Books,2012-07-17 14:37:20 UTC,"Cirencester Church-Yard
Our bodies are like shoes, which off we cast;
Physic their cobler is, and death their last.
(II, p. 190)",,19884,"","""Our bodies are like shoes, which off we cast; / Physic their cobler is, and death their last.""","",2012-07-17 14:37:20 UTC,""
7651,"",Reading,2013-08-24 21:09:47 UTC,"Words are too awful an instrument for good and evil to be trifled with: they hold above all other external powers a dominion over thoughts. If words be not (recurring to a metaphor before used) an incarnation of the thought but only a clothing for it, then surely will they prove an ill gift; such a one as those poisoned vestments, read of in the stories of superstitious times, which had power to consume and to alienate from his right mind the victim who put them on. Language, if it do not uphold, and feed, and leave in quiet, like the power of gravitation or the air we breathe, is a counter-spirit, unremittingly and noiselessly at work to derange, to subvert, to lay waste, to vitiate, and to dissolve.
(pp.84-85)",,22563,"","""If words be not (recurring to a metaphor before used) an incarnation of the thought but only a clothing for it, then surely will they prove an ill gift; such a one as those poisoned vestments, read of in the stories of superstitious times, which had power to consume and to alienate from his right mind the victim who put them on.""","",2013-08-24 21:09:47 UTC,III
7666,"",Reading,2013-09-02 14:31:21 UTC,"It is right it should be so
Man was made for Joy & Woe
And when this we rightly know
Thro the World we safely go
Joy & Woe are woven fine
A Clothing for the soul divine
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine
The Babe is more than Swadling Bands
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made & Born were hands
Every Farmer Understands
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity
This is caught by Females bright
And returnd to its own delight
The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar
Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of Death
The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air
Does to Rags the Heavens tear
The Soldier armed with Sword & Gun
Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
The poor Mans Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Africs Shore
",,22653,"","""Joy & Woe are woven fine / A Clothing for the soul divine / Under every grief & pine / Runs a joy with silken twine""","",2013-09-02 14:31:21 UTC,""