id,comments,provenance,dictionary,created_at,reviewed_on,work_id,theme,context,updated_at,metaphor,text
15833,•I'm confused about how to categorize this metaphor. REVISIT.,Reading,"",2003-07-21 00:00:00 UTC,,5960,"",Mervyn decides to board Eliza with the Curlings and pursue medicine,2009-09-14 19:44:49 UTC,"""My path was already chalked out, and my fancy now pursued it with uncommon pleasure.""","My path was already chalked out, and my fancy now pursued it with uncommon pleasure. To reside in your family; to study your profession; to pursue some subordinate or casual mode of industry, by which I might purchase leisure for medical pursuits, for social recreations, and for the study of mankind on your busy and thronged stage, was the scope of my wishes. This destiny would not hinder punctual correspondence and occasional visits to Eliza. Her pen might be called into action, and her mind awakened by books, and every hour be made to add to her stores of knowledge and enlarge the bounds of her capacity.
(Part II, chapter 11, p. 511-2)"
15834,•I've included twice: Inlet and Avenue,Reading,"",2003-07-21 00:00:00 UTC,,5960,"","Part II, chapter 11. Mervyn has decided to board Eliza with the Curlings and pursue medicine",2009-09-14 19:44:49 UTC,"""Every sense was an inlet of pleasure, because it was an avenue to knowledge; and my soul brooded over the world of ideas, and glowed with exultation at the grandeur and beauty of its own creations""","Next morning I set out on my journey hither, on foot. The way was not long; the weather, though cold, was wholesome and serene. My spirits were high, and I saw nothing in the world before me but sunshine and prosperity. I was conscious that my happiness depended not on the revolutions of nature or the caprice of man. All without was, indeed, vicissitude and uncertainty; but within my bosom was a centre not to be shaken or removed. My purposes were honest and steadfast. Every sense was an inlet of pleasure, because it was an avenue to knowledge; and my soul brooded over the world of ideas, and glowed with exultation at the grandeur and beauty of its own creations.
(Part II, chapter 11, p. 512)"
16026,"•INTEREST. Should search ""lava"" and ""volcano."" I bet these react to the historical (natural) environment more than many of my other metaphors. ","Reading a chapter draft of Matt Garrett's dissertation (Chapt 1, p. 27); now published, see Episodic Poetics (Oxford UP, 2014), p. 38.","",2006-03-02 00:00:00 UTC,,6042,"","Volume III, chapter xxxi",2014-05-20 17:09:24 UTC,"""These sudden eruptions of the passions of the multitude, spread, like the lava of a volcano, throughout all France, nor could men of correct judgment, who aimed only at reform of abuses, and a renovation in all the departments, check the fury of the torrent.""","These sudden eruptions of the passions of the multitude, spread, like the lava of a volcano, throughout all France, nor could men of correct judgment, who aimed only at the reform of abuses, and a renovation in all the departments, check the fury of the torrent. This confusion and terror within, and an army without, sent on by the combined despots of Europe, with the professed design of subjecting the nation, and re-establishing the monarchy of France, gave an opportunity to ambitious, unprincipled, corrupt, and ignorant men, to come forward, under pretence of supporting the rights and liberties of mankind, without any views but those of disorder and disorganization. Thus in the midst of tumult and confusion, was indulged every vicious propensity, peculation, revenge, and all the black passions of the soul. The guillotine was glutted with the blood of innocent victims, while the rapidity of execution, and their jealousy of each other, involved the most guilty, and cut down many of the blackest miscreants, as well as the most virtuous characters in the nation.
(III.xxxi, p. 407; p. 682-3 in OLL edition)"
16200,"•This is the second usage of ""realms of mind"" I've recorded for Barbauld. See related ""realms of taste"" in Sarah Scott.",HDIS,"",2004-01-02 00:00:00 UTC,,6144,"","",2009-09-14 19:46:01 UTC,The realms of mind are ruled by shades,"Yet then the' ingenuous youth whom Fancy fires
With pictured glories of illustrious sires,
With duteous zeal their pilgrimage shall take
From the Blue Mountains, or Ontario's lake,
With fond adoring steps to press the sod
By statesmen, sages, poets, heroes trod;
On Isis' banks to draw inspiring air,
From Runnymede to send the patriot's prayer;
In pensive thought, where Cam's slow waters wind,
To meet those shades that ruled the realms of mind;
In silent halls to sculptured marbles bow,
And hang fresh wreaths round Newton's awful brow.
Oft shall they seek some peasant's homely shed,
Who toils, unconscious of the mighty dead,
To ask where Avon's winding waters stray,
And thence a knot of wild flowers bear away;
Anxious inquire where Clarkson, friend of man,
Or all-accomplished Jones his race began;
If of the modest mansion aught remains
Where Heaven and Nature prompted Cowper's strains;
Where Roscoe, to whose patriot breast belong
The Roman virtue and the Tuscan song,
Led Ceres to the black and barren moor
Where Ceres never gained a wreath before:
With curious search their pilgrim steps shall rove
By many a ruined tower and proud alcove,
Shall listen for those strains that soothed of yore
Thy rock, stern Skiddaw, and thy fall, Lodore;
Feast with Dun Edin's classic brow their sight,
And ""visit Melross by the pale moonlight.""
But who their mingled feelings shall pursue
When London's faded glories rise to view?
The mighty city, which by every road,
In floods of people poured itself abroad;
Ungirt by walls, irregularly great,
No jealous drawbridge, and no closing gate;
Whose merchants (such the state which commerce brings)
Sent forth their mandates to dependent kings;
Streets, where the turban'd Moslem, bearded Jew,
And woolly Afric, met the brown Hindu;
Where through each vein spontaneous plenty flowed,
Where Wealth enjoyed, and Charity bestowed.
Pensive and thoughtful shall the wanderers greet
Each splendid square, and still, untrodden street;
Or of some crumbling turret, mined by time,
The broken stairs with perilous step shall climb,
Thence stretch their view the wide horizon round,
By scattered hamlets trace its ancient bound,
And, choked no more with fleets, fair Thames survey
Through reeds and sedge pursue his idle way.
(ll. 127-76, pp. 165-7)"
16227,•Quote from Byron,HDIS,"",2004-08-11 00:00:00 UTC,,6158,"","",2009-09-14 19:46:06 UTC,"""Not all the woes of guilty souls combined, / Exceed thy 'leafless desart of the mind'""","In vain the pious or the moral page,
Rich with the labours of the saint or sage,
Have shed refreshing dews o'er fiery youth,
Or shew'd Prosperity the ways of Truth;
Experience, in her more persuasive strain,
Here echoes back the preacher, ""All is vain.""
Had Dives, from the dark abodes below,
Broke forth to tell the story of his woe,
With voice of agony his pangs proclaim'd,
And all the horrors of his state explain'd,
No stronger lesson could his brethren see,
Than thine, unhappy Harold, find in thee!
Not all the woes of guilty souls combined,
Exceed thy ""leafless desart of the mind.""
Say, Thou! whose powerful voice, with varying tone,
Makes all the empire of the mind thine own,
Who, binding wild-flowers round thy boyish reed,
Woo'd to the Dee the muses of the Tweed;
Who, lightly scathed by Satire's erring hand,
Hurl'd back with tenfold force a hissing brand,
And bade thy vengeance lighten through the land;
Who paint'st with matchless force, in colours clear,
The vernal glories of the brighter year,
Where ardent suns embrown Hesperia's hills,
And Grecian grots resound to warbling rills;
What magic influence aids thy wondrous lyre,
Or does the Genius of the Land inspire?
Lo! where before our wondering lifted eyes
Majestic Ida's snowy heights arise,
We feel the fair delusion still increase,
Embodying to our sight the gods of Greece.
Her heroes once again in armour shine,
Again her poets pour the strain divine,
At Marathon devoted bands display,
To Ruin point the Persian tyrant's sway,
And shed new splendour o'er Thermopylae.
Say! can'st thou, with the noblest gifts of mind,
Be to the narrow bounds of earth confined?
Let not thy muse extend her potent hand,
To wave the gloomy Sceptic's ebon wand,
That puts fair Faith and bright-eyed Hope to flight,
And bounds our cloudy view with endless night;
Like Polyphemus with destructive might,
Revenging thus thy loss of mental sight."
16244,•I've included twice: Rule of Thought and Avenue.,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),"",2005-10-23 00:00:00 UTC,,6162,Ruling Passion,Stanza X,2013-11-02 15:22:31 UTC,"""No single passion, and no ruling thought / That leaves the rest, as once, unseen, unsought, / But the wild prospect when the Soul reviews, / All rushing through their thousand avenues""","'Twere vain to paint to what his feelings grew--
It even were doubtful if their victim knew.
There is a war, a chaos of the mind,
When all its elements convulsed, combined
Lie dark and jarring with perturbéd force,
And gnashing with impenitent Remorse--
That juggling fiend, who never spake before,
But cries ""I warned thee!"" when the deed is o'er.
Vain voice! the spirit burning but unbent,
May writhe--rebel--the weak alone repent!
Even in that lonely hour when most it feels,
And, to itself, all--all that self reveals,--
No single passion, and no ruling thought
That leaves the rest, as once, unseen, unsought,
But the wild prospect when the Soul reviews,
All rushing through their thousand avenues--
Ambition's dreams expiring, Love's regret,
Endangered Glory, Life itself beset;
The joy untasted, the contempt or hate
'Gainst those who fain would triumph in our fate;
The hopeless past, the hasting future driven
Too quickly on to guess if Hell or Heaven;
Deeds--thoughts--and words, perhaps remembered not
So keenly till that hour, but ne'er forgot;
Things light or lovely in their acted time,
But now to stern Reflection each a crime;
The withering sense of Evil unrevealed,
Not cankering less because the more concealed;
All, in a word, from which all eyes must start,
That opening sepulchre, the naked heart
Bares with its buried woes--till Pride awake,
To snatch the mirror from the soul, and break.
Aye, Pride can veil, and Courage brave it all--
All--all--before--beyond--the deadliest fall.
Each hath some fear, and he who least betrays,
The only hypocrite deserving praise:
Not the loud recreant wretch who boasts and flies;
But he who looks on Death--and silent dies:
So, steeled by pondering o'er his far career,
He half-way meets Him should He menace near!"
16256,I've included twice: Landscape and Hunting,HDIS,"",2004-09-01 00:00:00 UTC,,6163,"","",2009-09-14 19:46:11 UTC,"One may try ""Conjecture's trackless region round, / To judge what phantasms Fancy might have found-- / What Game the glances of her Hawks might trace, / Or Greyhounds view in visionary chace""","He tried Conjecture's trackless region round,
To judge what phantasms Fancy might have found--
What Game the glances of her Hawks might trace,
Or Greyhounds view in visionary chace--
What shapes Imagination might have seen
To stir the poison in her heart of Spleen--
What Spectres mad Suspicion might behold
Pilfering her property, in goods, or gold--
What magic jaundic'd Jealousy might use
To rouze her wrath, and his fair fame abuse,
Extorting word, or action, indiscreet,
To lay him prostrate at her trampling feet--
What secret schemes her Malice might invent
To twist his conduct, and destroy Content;
Or plots and plans her Hatred might create
To stab his fortune, or to fix his Fate.
How hypocritic Art, with stale pretence,
Might frame some figment to curtail expence--
Prompt some proud speech which might offence afford,
Deserving banishment from bed and board,
And yield some plausibility to boast
His base behaviour push'd him from his post."
16279,•RICH PASSAGE,Searching in HDIS (Poetry),"",2005-04-14 00:00:00 UTC,,6163,"","",2013-06-11 19:12:19 UTC,"Ideas are ""like the silent Snows, by Winter spread, / In silvery treasures, o'er the mountain's head; / Whose stores, while undisturb'd, each hour decay, / And hue, form, substance, quickly waste away; / But stirr'd, by winds, like words, with action strong, /Each sphere enlarges as it rolls along--""","Ideas, dealt about, like current coin,
By motion, smooth'd, assimilate--and shine;
Thro' circulation still increasing store,
New generations rising, more and more--
But cloister'd, close, in such sequester'd shades,
Each strong impression, clear inscription, fades;
While all their features, fine; complexions, pure,
Neglected rust--nor long their dates endure--
Or all their broods, prohibited, to hide,
Become abortive, or, if born, destroy'd;
Like undrawn swords, in scabbards, cankering, lie,
While useless edge, and point, and polish, fly;
Unfit for Justice--Right, nor Truth, defend--
Intimidate no Foe--protect no Friend--
Or, like the silent Snows, by Winter spread,
In silvery treasures, o'er the mountain's head;
Whose stores, while undisturb'd, each hour decay,
And hue, form, substance, quickly waste away;
But stirr'd, by winds, like words, with action strong,
Each sphere enlarges as it rolls along--
Escapes the common crowd's oblivious fate,
Expands its fame, and amplifies its date--
Or, mix'd, and press'd, in masses, may produce,
Some future solace, or substantial use;
But fix'd, and frozen, in its pristine place,
Yields small advantage to Man's reasoning Race:
When thrown in sport, or spite, by human arm,
Dire mischief Causes, or creates alarm;
Or, with a blow, like a pestilential breath,
Endangers harmless individual's death--
But launch'd from Alpine heights by Heav'n's command,
Like words of Kings, which vex a vicious Land;
Tho', at the first, in force, and bulk, but small,
With widening horrors rolls the rapid ball;
Till, grown a mountain, with augmented pow'rs,
Flocks--families--huts--hamlets--towns, devours!
Thoughts, like Churl's corn, in chamber'd stores entomb'd,
Devour'd by vermin, or, decay, consum'd;
Whose fruits might food, or opulence, afford;
Enrich the Rich, or bless the poor Man's board--
For soon the pregnant vegetative grain
When scatter'd, aptly, o'er the cultur'd plain,
In vernal Spring expands its verdant smiles
To pay, in part, with hopes, the Seedsman's toils;
With golden wealth, in time, to flood the ground,
And spread strength, health, and happiness, around!"
20455,"","Reading M.H. Abrams, The Mirror and the Lamp: Romantic Theory and the Critical Tradition (London: Oxford UP, 1953), 49.","",2013-06-06 19:50:03 UTC,,7405,"","",2013-06-06 19:50:03 UTC,"""I by no means rank poetry or poets high in the scale of intellect. This may look like affectation, but it is my real opinion. It is the lava of the imagination whose eruptions prevents an earthquake.""","I by no means rank poetry or poets high in the scale of intellect. This may look like affectation, but it is my real opinion. It is the lava of the imagination whose eruptions prevents an earthquake. They say poets never or rarely go mad. Cowper and Collins are instances to the contrary (but Cowper was no poet). It is, however, to be remarked that they rarely do, but are generally so near it that I cannot help thinking rhyme is so far useful in anticipating and preventing the disorder. I prefer the talents of action--of war, of the senate, of even of science,--to all the speculations of those mere dreamers of another existence (I don't mean religiously but fancifully) and spectators of this apathy. Disgust and perhaps incapacity have rendered me now a mere spectator; but I have occasionally mixed in the active and tumultuous departments of existence, and on these alone my recollection rests with any satisfaction, though not the best parts of it."
22560,"",Reading,"",2013-08-24 20:59:51 UTC,,7650,"",The Prospectus,2013-08-24 20:59:51 UTC,"""Not Chaos, not / The darkest pit of lowest Erebus, / Nor aught of blinder vacancy, scooped out / By help of dreams--can breed such fear and awe / As fall upon us often when we look / Into our Minds, into the Mind of Man-- / My haunt, and the main region of my song.""","So prayed, more gaining than he asked, the Bard--
In holiest mood. Urania, I shall need
Thy guidance, or a greater Muse, if such
Descend to earth or dwell in highest heaven!
For I must tread on shadowy ground, must sink
Deep--and, aloft ascending, breathe in worlds
To which the heaven of heavens is but a veil.
All strength--all terror, single or in bands,
That ever was put forth in personal form--
Jehovah--with his thunder, and the choir
Of shouting Angels, and the empyreal thrones--
I pass them unalarmed. Not Chaos, not
The darkest pit of lowest Erebus,
Nor aught of blinder vacancy, scooped out
By help of dreams--can breed such fear and awe
As fall upon us often when we look
Into our Minds, into the Mind of Man--
My haunt, and the main region of my song.
--Beauty--a living Presence of the earth,
Surpassing the most fair ideal Forms
Which craft of delicate Spirits hath composed
From earth's materials--waits upon my steps;
Pitches her tents before me as I move,
An hourly neighbour. Paradise, and groves
Elysian, Fortunate Fields--like those of old
Sought in the Atlantic Main--why should they be
A history only of departed things,
Or a mere fiction of what never was?
For the discerning intellect of Man,
When wedded to this goodly universe
In love and holy passion, shall find these
A simple produce of the common day.
(p. 6, ll. 38-69)"