text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"Let 't not disraste my Lord, that I have heere
Annex'd th'Elegiack raptures of my Deare:
'Tis said that Polo the Tragedian
When hee on Stage to force some passion came,
Had his Sonnes ashes in an Urne enshrin'd
To worke more deepe impressions in his mind.
The Emblem's good: this Fun'rall pile of ours
Strucke passion in each line address'd to yours.",2011-06-06 03:06:52 UTC,"""'Tis said that Polo the Tragedian / When hee on Stage to force some passion came, / Had his Sonnes ashes in an Urne enshrin'd / To worke more deepe impressions in his mind.""",2005-05-15 00:00:00 UTC,I've included the entire poem,"",2011-06-05,Impressions,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""impression"" in HDIS (Poetry)",9225,3561
"Let the dull brutish World that know not Love
Continue Hereticks, and disapprove
That noble Flame; but the refined know
'Tis all the Heaven we have here below.
Nature subsists by Love, and they do tie
Things to their Causes but by Sympathy.
Love chains the different Elements in one
Great Harmony, link'd to the Heav'nly Throne.
And as on Earth, so the blest Quire above
Of Saints and Angels are maintain'd by Love;
That is their Business and Felicity,
And will be so to all Eternity.
That is the Ocean, our Affections here
Are but streams borrow'd from the Fountain there.
And 'tis the noblest Argument to prove
A Beauteous mind, that it knows how to Love:
Those kind Impressions which Fate can't controul,
Are Heaven's mintage on a worthy Soul.
For Love is all the Arts Epitome,
And is the Sum of all Divinity.
He's worse than Beast that cannot Love, and yet
It is not bought for Money, Pains or Wit;
For no chance or design can Spirits move,
But the Eternal destiny of Love:
And when two Souls are chang'd and mixed so,
It is what they and none but they can do.
This, this is Friendship, that abstracted flame
Which groveling Mortals know not how to name.
All Love is sacred, and the Marriage-tie
Hath much of Honour and Divinity.
But Lust, Design, or some unworthy ends
May mingle there, which are despis'd by Friends.
Passion hath violent extreams, and thus
All oppositions are contiguous.
So when the end is serv'd their Love will bate,
If Friendship make it not more fortunate:
Friendship, that Love's Elixir, that pure fire
Which burns the clearer' cause it burns the higher.
For Love, like earthly fires (which will decay
If the material fuel be away)
Is with offensive smoke accompanied,
And by resistance only is supplied:
But Friendship, like the fiery Element,
With its own Heat and Nourishment content,
Where neither hurt, nor smoke, nor noise is made,
Scorns the assistance of a foreign aid.
Friendship (like Heraldry) is hereby known,
Richest when plainest, bravest when alone;
Calm as a Virgin, and more Innocent
Than sleeping Doves are, and as much content
As Saints in Visions; quiet as the Night,
But clear and open as the Summer's light;
United more than Spirits Faculties,
Higher in thoughts than are the Eagle's eyes;
What shall I say? when we true friends are grown,
W'are like--Alas, w'are like our selves alone.",2009-09-14 19:34:14 UTC,"""Those kind Impressions which Fate can't controul, / Are Heaven's mintage on a worthy Soul.""",2005-04-14 00:00:00 UTC,I've included entire poem,"",2007-04-26,Coinage,•I've included twice: Impression and Mintage. INTEREST. Here the impressions are specified as mintage.,"Searching ""soul"" and ""mint"" in HDIS (Poetry)",9471,3648
"If I could ever write a lasting Verse,
It should be laid, dear Saint, upon thy Herse.
But Sorrow is no Muse, and does confess
That it least can what it would most express.
Yet that I may some bounds to grief allow,
I'le try if I can weep in Numbers now.
Ah beauteous Blossom too untimely dead!
Whither? ah whither is thy sweetness fled?
Where are the charms that alwaies did arise
From the prevailing language of thy Eyes?
Where is thy beauteous and lovely meen,
And all the wonders that in thee were seen?
Alas! in vain, in vain on thee I rave;
There is no pity in the stupid Grave.
But so the Bankrupt sitting on the brim
Of those fierce billows which had ruin'd him,
Begs for his lost Estate, and does complain
To the inexorable Flouds in vain.
As well we may enquire when Roses die,
To what retirement their sweet Odours flie;
Whither their Virtues and their Blushes haste,
When the short triumph of their life is past;
Or call their perishing Beauties back with tears,
As adde one moment to thy finish'd years.
No, thou art gone, and thy presaging Mind
So thriftily thy early hours design'd,
That hasty Death was baffled in his Pride,
Since nothing of thee but thy Body dy'd.
Thy Soul was up betimes, and so concern'd
To grasp all Excellence that could be learn'd,
That finding nothing fill her thirsting here,
To the Spring-head she went to quench it there;
And so prepar'd, that being freed from sin
She quickly might become a Cherubin.
Thou wert all Soul, and through thy Eyes it shin'd:
Asham'd and angry to be so confin'd,
It long'd to be uncag'd, and thither flown
Where it might know as clearly as 'twas known.
In these vast hopes we might thy change have found,
But that Heav'n blinds whom it decrees to wound.
For Parts so soon at so sublime a pitch,
A Judgment so mature, Fancy so rich,
Never appear unto unthankful Men,
But as a Vision to be hid again.
So glorious Seenes in Masques, Spectators view
With the short pleasure of an hour or two;
But that once past, the Ornaments are gone,
The Lights extinguish'd, and the Curtains drawn.
Yet all these Gifts were thy less noble part,
Nor was thy Head so worthy as thy Heart;
Where the Divine Impression shin'd so clear,
As snatch'd thee hence, and yet endear'd thee here:
For what in thee did most command our love
Was both the cause and sign of thy remove.
Such fools are we, so fatally we choose:
That what we most would keep we soonest loose.
The humble greatness of thy Pious thought,
Sweetness unforc'd, and Bashfulness untaught,
The native Candour of thine open breast,
And all the Beams wherein thy Worth was drest,
Thy Wit so bright, so piercing and immense,
Adorn'd with wise and lovely Innocence,
Might have foretold thou wert not so compleat,
But that our joy might be as short as great,
So the poor Swain beholds his ripened Corn
By some rough Wind without a Sickle torn.
Never, ah! never let sad Parents guess
At one remove of future happiness:
But reckon Children 'mong those passing joys
Which one hour gives, and the next hour destroys.
Alas! we were secure of our content;
But find too late that it was onely lent,
To be a Mirrour wherein we may see
How frail we are, how spotless we should be.
But if to thy blest Soul my grief appears,
Forgive and pity these injurious tears:
Impute them to Affections sad excess,
Which will not yield to Nature's tenderness,
Since 'twas through dearest ties and highest trust
Continued from thy Cradle to thy Dust;
And so rewarded and confirm'd by thine,
That (wo is me!) I thought thee too much mine.
But I'le resign, and follow thee as fast
As my unhappy Minutes will make hast.
Till when the fresh remembrances of thee
Shall be my Emblems of Mortality.
For such a loss as this (bright Soul!) is not
Ever to be repaired or forgot.",2009-09-14 19:34:14 UTC,"""Nor was thy Head so worthy as thy Heart; / Where the Divine Impression shin'd so clear""",2005-05-16 00:00:00 UTC,I've included entire poem,"",,Impression,"","Searching ""impression"" and ""heart"" HDIS (Poetry); found again ""head""",9474,3650
"Eternal Reason, Glorious Majesty,
Compar'd to whom what can be said to be?
Whose Attributes are Thee, who art alone
Cause of all various things, and yet but One;
Whose Essence can no more be search'd by Man,
Then Heav'n thy Throne be grasped with a Span.
Yet if this great Creation was design'd
To several ends fitted for every kind;
Sure Man (the World's Epitome must be
Form'd to the best, that is, to study thee.
And as our Dignity, 'tis Duty too,
Which is summ'd up in this, to know and do.
These comely rows of Creatures spell thy Name,
Whereby we grope to find from whence they came,
By thy own Chain of Causes brought to think
There must be one, then find that highest Link.
Thus all created Excellence we see
Is a resemblance faint and dark of thee.
Such shadows are produc'd by the Moon-beams
Of Trees or Houses in the running streams.
Yet by Impressions born with us we find
How good, great, just thou art, how unconfin'd.
Here we are swallowed up and gladly dwell,
Safely adoring what we cannot tell.
All we know is, thou art supremely good,
And dost delight to be so understood.
A spicy Mountain on the Universe,
On which thy richest Odours do disperse.
But as the Sea to fill a Vessel heaves
More greedily than any Cask receives,
Besieging round to find some gap in it,
Which will a new Infusion admit:
So dost thou covet that thou mayst dispence
Upon the empty World thy Influence;
Lov'st to disburse thy self in kindness: Thus
The King of Kings waits to be gracious.
On this account, O God, enlarge my heart
To entertain what thou wouldst fain impart.
Nor let that Soul, by several titles thine,
And most capacious form'd for things Divine,
(So nobly meant, that when it most doth miss,
'Tis in mistaken pantings after Bliss)
Degrade it self in sordid things delight,
Or by prophaner mixtures lose its right.
Oh! that with fixt unbroken thoughts it may
Admire the light which does obscure the day.
And since 'tis Angels work it hath to do,
May its composure be like Angels too.
When shall these clogs of Sense and Fancy break,
That I may hear the God within me speak?
When with a silent and retired art
Shall I with all this empty hurry part?
To the Still Voice above, my Soul, advance;
My light and joy plac'd in his Countenance.
By whose dispence my Soul to such frame brought,
My tame each trech'rous, fix each scat'ring thought;
With such distinctions all things here behold,
And so to separate each dross from gold,
That nothing my free Soul may satisfie,
But t'imitate, enjoy, and study thee.",2009-09-14 19:34:15 UTC,"""Yet by Impressions born with us we find/ How good, great, just thou art, how unconfin'd.""",2005-05-31 00:00:00 UTC,I've included entire poem,Innate Ideas,,Impression,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),9489,3661
"Argument I.
How Pygmalion fell in Love with the Image he made.
Pygmalion niveum mira feliciter arte
Sculp sit ebur, formamq; dedit, qua fæmina nasci
Nulla potest, operesq; sui concepit amorem.
Ovid. l. x.
I find that heretofore was one,
whose name it was Pygmalion,
which was a lusty man of youth,
and at fine warks was very couth
above all other men, as tho,
and through fortune it fell him so.
As he that doth in Love travail,
he made an Image of entail;
like to a Woman in semblance
of feature and of countenance.
So fair, yet never was Figure,
right as a living creature
she seemed, for of Ivory white
he hath it wrote of such delight.
She was ruddy on the Cheke,
and red on her Lips eke,
whereof then he himself begyl'd,
for with a goodly look she smil'd;
so that through pure impression
of his own imagination,
with all the heat of his courage
his love upon this fair Image
he set: and her of love pray'd,
but she not one word again said.
All the long day what thing he did,
this fair Image in the same stead
was ever by, so that at meat
he would her serve, and pray'd her eat,
and put unto her mouth the cup:
and when the board was taken up,
he led her to his chamber home,
and after when the night was come,
he lay'd her in bed all naked,
he often wept and often waked.
He kist her cold lips oft and oft,
and wisht her that they were more soft;
and oft he told her in her ear,
and oft his arm now here now there
he lay'd as he would her embrace;
and ever and anon he asked grace,
as though she wyst what it meant,
and himself began to torment.
But Venus of her grace him heard
by night, and whan that least he fear'd,
and it lay naked in his arm,
the cold Image began be warm
of flesh and bone, and full of life;
lo thus he wan a lusty Wife,
which obeysant was at his will,
and of his pleasure gave him fill.
But if he would have help him still,
he should have failed of his will;
but 'cause he pray'd, his love he sped,
and had all that he would abed;
for e're away they two did go,
a jolly child between them two
they gate: Thus Love is favourable
to them that have been of Love stable.",2009-09-14 19:34:18 UTC,"""[W]ith a goodly look she smil'd; / so that through pure impression / of his own imagination, / with all the heat of his courage / his love upon this fair Image / he set.""",2005-05-20 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2008-12-03,Impression,"•C-H collects under the heading ""Minor Burlesques and Travesties""","Searching ""imagination"" and ""impression"" in HDIS (Poetry)",9549,3685
"Theologue.
You'l find it worse and worse; and what's behind
Will strange Impressions make upon your Mind:
For now you'l hear what Justice has to say,
What horrid Crimes he to her charge will lay.
And though she seems undaunted without fear,
Once more I'e try if she will lend an Ear.",2009-09-14 19:34:22 UTC,"""You'l find it worse and worse; and what's behind / Will strange Impressions make upon your Mind.""",2005-05-15 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2009-02-21,Impression,Stripped out bolding typo,"Searching ""mind"" and ""impression"" in HDIS (Poetry)",9634,3725
"Hark, trembling Soul! thou to the Bar art cited,
And for high Treason there dost stand Indicted,
Committed by thee 'twas in antient time,
When thou didst dwell in Eden, in thy prime:
When thou hadst flourisht there but a short season,
Thou didst contract that guilt of horrid Treason
Against thy Soveraign, in whose Princely Eye
Was Grace and favour mixt with Majesty:
Gracious to pardon many great Offences,
And yet severe to punish Insolences.
But thou both Grace and Justice didst despise,
And in thy Heart didst evil things surmise
Against thy Soveraign Lord, and secretly
Join'st with his Foes in close Conspiracy.
'Twas with the King of Darkness thou didst close,
Obeyd'st his will, and didst thy God oppose.
A dreadful Sentence then against thee past,
Which ne're by humane Art could be reverst.
Thy Sentence was in Prison long to lie,
And for thy fact at last Condemn'd to die.
And Death on thee did seize the self-same time,
When thou commitst that high and fearful Crime;
The sad effects of it I this Day see,
Thou still ly'st dead in thine Iniquity.
Ah! I may preach untill my heart doth ake,
And it on thee will no Impression make.
Thou art depriv'd of Life and Light of God,
And long hast thou in this estate abode.
But a worse Death doth in thy Sentence lie,
(Though very few on it will cast an Eye)
Condemn'd to suffer everlasting pains,
And on thee then were fastned heavy Chains.
And though thy Execution be delay'd,
Yet 'tis by means of Jesus only stay'd.
His precious Grace preserves thee from that fire,
Whose torments once begun, shall ne'r expire.
That Soul-amazing Sentence who can bear
The thoughts of it, and not let fall a tear?
What Malefactors are Condemn'd to die,
But on the sense of Death's approaching nigh,
Contracts not horrour on their Souls thereby?
What then to suffer Death for evermore,
Where Torments ne're abate, nor will be o're?
To be a thousand tedious Ages Rackt,
Not Dead, yet always in the dying Act.
A fiery Furnace with a sevenfold heat
We read of, yet its flames were not so great,
But that they soon would languish and grow cold;
Whereas these Tortures, still increasing, hold.
If e're thou shouldst be cast into that place,
Before thou dost take hold of Love and Grace,
There's this will then thy sorrows aggravate,
None will thee pity in that wretched state.
Never was Malefactor in distress,
But met with pity either more or less;
And though it do not take away the grief,
Yet where there's pity, there's some small Relief.
But if thou dost this fearful Sentence bear,
There's none to pity, none to shed a tear.
O think of this, alas! thy wretched Eyes
Are blinded now, thou basely dost despise
The best of Comfort, Joy and Consolation,
For love to Sin, horrid Abomination!
Thou swell'st in pride, unmindful of thine end,
And seest no need of comfort from a Friend:
But what wouldst thou for such a Friend then give,
And for those Comforts thou mayst now receive?
Dost not thou tremble at this frightful news?
Tremble at least at that which next ensues.
Three things there are, three Circumstances great,
Which much thy final woe will aggravate:
Which severally unto thee I'le relate,
That thou mayst think upon thy future state.
First, from thy high Descent thy birth did crown
Thee with the greatest Honour and Renown,
That ever any had upon the Earth,
Thou being own'd a Soveraign Queen by Birth.
Yet that which did so much advance thy fame,
Was not alone the Honour of thy Name,
As the rare properties of thy sweet Nature,
A most transcendent and accomplisht Creature;
An Heav'n-composed frame, as if thou'dst bin
Deriv'd from some Celestial Seraphim.
When great Jehovah's fruitful Word had made
The whole Creation, touching thee, he said,
This Creature shall alone our Image bear,
Whom all things else shall reverence and fear;
Our Sacred Portraiture we solely place,
In this sweet Creatures Heaven-erected face.
And when he sent his first-begotten down,
No other form or Image must he own.
The Angels Nature wholly he refuses,
And rather Humane Soul and flesh he chuses.
Alas! there's not a greater aggravation,
Than for a person of the highest station
To be thrown down into the deep'st Abyss
Of woe and sorrow! oh! how sad is this?
Thy self caus'd change a miserable Creature,
Will surely make thy Torments far the greater.",2009-09-14 19:34:22 UTC,"""Ah! I may preach untill my heart doth ake, / And it on thee will no Impression make.""",2005-05-16 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Impression,"","Searching ""impression"" and ""heart"" HDIS (Poetry)",9635,3725
"Tho lawless Boors should insolently prat,
And still exclaim against they know not what;
Tho some of higher rank should now give o'r
And pay not Suite and Presence, as before;
Yet let not this, GREAT SIR, discourage you,
Nor from thence judge the Loyal to be few:
For These all things dislike, and have a trick
T' oppose the Pow'rs, and spurne against the prick.
In their own dye the Latter soon appear,
To change their minds, as th' Air-fed beast, by fear,
His colour alters; to be Fortunes Apes,
And with the times to vary in all shapes.
So the most precious Sun's regarded less
By those, to whom he daily makes address;
But where he enters Stranger, his arise
Gets a kind Welcome from all glaring eyes.
To you, GREAT SIR, we offer up the Key
Of our close bow'rs, may't please you to survey
Our breasts; and of a Scots heart take a view,
As small as any English, and as true.
Here your dear Memory shall be inshrin'd,
And deep impression bear upon our mind;
Here, what transported Tongues cannot express,
'Tis legible, and in a better dress
Then my obedient Muse can ere digest:
But to the Chanc'lour I referr the rest.",2011-06-06 03:03:20 UTC,"""Here your dear Memory shall be inshrin'd, / And deep impression bear upon our mind.""",2005-05-15 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2011-06-05,Impression,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""impression"" in HDIS (Poetry)",9655,3736
B.
But how shall I begin this great Confession?
Which in my Soul doth make this deep Impression:,2009-09-14 19:34:23 UTC,"""But how shall I begin this great Confession? / Which in my Soul doth make this deep Impression:""",2005-05-17 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Impression,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""impression"" in HDIS (Poetry)",9656,3737
"77
THy glasse will shew thee how thy beauties were,
Thy dyall how thy pretious mynuits waste,
The vacant leaues thy mindes imprint will beare,
And of this booke, this learning maist thou taste.
The wrinckles which thy glasse will truly show,
Of mouthed graues will giue the memorie,
Thou by thy dyals shady stealth maist know,
Times theeuish progresse to eternitie.
Looke what thy memorie cannot containe,
Commit to these waste blacks, and thou shalt finde
Those children nurst, deliuerd from thy braine,
To take a new acquaintance of thy minde.
These offices, so oft as thou wilt looke,
Shall profit thee and much inrich thy booke.",2013-08-24 16:01:57 UTC,""The vacant leaues thy mindes imprint will beare, / And of this booke, this learning maist thou taste.""",2013-08-24 16:01:57 UTC,"","",,Impressions,"","Reading Rayna Kalas, Frame, Glass, Verse: The Technology of Poetic Invention in the English Renaissance (Cornell UP, 2007), p. 127.",22556,7649