id,comments,provenance,dictionary,created_at,reviewed_on,work_id,theme,context,updated_at,metaphor,text
16024,"","Searching ""mirror"" and ""thought"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",2005-11-26 00:00:00 UTC,,6040,"","",2011-07-19 18:55:54 UTC,"""Hampton! 'tis thus thy scenes I view, / In Time and Mem'ry's mirror true.""","Hampton! 'tis thus thy scenes I view,
In Time and Mem'ry's mirror true.
Thy walnut-shade deep thought supplies,
Thy very ruins school the Wise;
And in thy solemn walks is seen,
Tho' cut thro' one unvarying green,
Calm Comtemplation,--Virtue's Friend,--
The Soul at once to move and mend."
16094,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",2005-10-23 00:00:00 UTC,,6082,"",I've included the entire poem,2009-09-14 19:45:42 UTC,"""Shakespear's page, my Lucy, shall unroll / To thy rapt sight the mirror of the soul""","When a few moons (heav'n grant the lot!) have shed
Their ripening lustre o'er thine infant head;
And Shakespear's page, my Lucy, shall unroll
To thy rapt sight the mirror of the soul;
There, 'mid his scenes with thousand colours fraught,
Old Adam shall enchant thy wond'ring thought.
Such was the man, who bad thy mother bear
This small memorial to thy future care:
From youth to age her grateful house he serv'd,
Nor from strict Virtue's path a moment swerv'd.
When life's dark winter, as it 'gan to lower,
Blasted his sight, and bound up every power
For active good, yet many a lengthen'd day
With meek content he smil'd beneath its sway;
And still with kindest thoughts his time beguil'd,
And blest the race, for whom he once had toil'd:
Till ninety years being past in measure even,
He sail'd with conscious triumph up to heaven."
16115,"","Searching ""fancy"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",2005-11-26 00:00:00 UTC,,6090,"","",2009-09-14 19:45:47 UTC,"""Let us awhile divert our spleen, / Recall the gay, the cheerful scene; /Awhile in Fancy's mirror trace / The social night, the joyous chase""","Then cease, my Friend, thy fond complaint;
Resume thy mirth and humour quaint,
Let us awhile divert our spleen,
Recall the gay, the cheerful scene;
Awhile in Fancy's mirror trace
The social night, the joyous chase;
Let us of ---'s trophies sing,
How he the fox was wont to sting,
While you, when all the hounds were gone,
With boots too short, no stocking on,
Sick, and with midnight supper cramm'd,
All huntsmen, dogs, and foxes d-m-'d;
Yet still unwilling to submit,
Kept spurring on your jaded tit:
Thy image still provokes my smiles,
And many a serious thought beguiles,
No time, my Berney, can efface
The record of thy queer grimace.
Yet, though these joyous hours be past,
Let's catch the present while they last,
And ever through each varying scene
Calm be the soul, the mind serene;
Let not lost friends augment thy pain,
But think on those who still remain:
And of that number be the bard,
Who sends this tribute of regard,
And trims once more his withering bays,
To cheer thee with his faithful lays."
16192,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry); found again ""soul""","",2005-10-10 00:00:00 UTC,,6138,"","",2009-09-14 19:46:00 UTC,"""Her hazle eye, unfix'd and bright, / Dazzles with ever-changing light, / Like flames toss'd by the wind; / Now swimming in quick-passing sadness, / Now laughing in her soul's pure gladness, / The mirror of her mind""","See'st thou yon girl quick dancing by,
Chacing the painted butterfly,
Unconscious of her power;
Little she recks of lover's sigh,
But sports away the hour.
Dwells Beauty in that frolic grace,
That airy bound, that playful race;
In look now saucy, and now meek;
In modesty's soft blushing cheek;
Now graceful woman, coy and mild,
Now all that charms us in the child?
Her hazle eye, unfix'd and bright,
Dazzles with ever-changing light,
Like flames toss'd by the wind;
Now swimming in quick-passing sadness,
Now laughing in her soul's pure gladness,
The mirror of her mind:
Her lips,--the smiles those lips that curl
Twin cherries seem to sever;
And those two rows of living pearl
Has Ceylon rival'd never.
She shakes her head, to clear the hair
That clusters o'er her brow so fair;
And the quick motion wakes the grace
That dimples o'er that playful face;
Her lightning glance, her blush, her smile,
Would force old age to gaze awhile,
Would misery's sigh repress:
None can define the witching spell;
If it be Beauty none can tell;
All feel 'tis loveliness.--
And what is Beauty but the power
To steal the soul away?
And what so fair as Beauty's flower,
Lit, Genius, by thy ray?"
16193,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (c19 Poetry)","",2005-12-14 00:00:00 UTC,,6139,"",Sonnets,2009-09-14 19:46:00 UTC,"""To my soul let my friend be a mirror as true, / Thus my faults from all others conceal""","Son of Sirach.
To my soul let my friend be a mirror as true,
Thus my faults from all others conceal;
Nor, absent, those failings or follies renew,
Which from Heaven and from man he should veil."
16207,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",2005-10-10 00:00:00 UTC,,6149,"",Odes. Book the Third.,2009-09-14 19:46:02 UTC,"""The eye, which speaks the soul divine, / The face, which shews the nobler mind, / As on the mirror living objects shine, / In earth or heavens, what beams there so refin'd?""","The eye, which speaks the soul divine,
The face, which shews the nobler mind,
As on the mirror living objects shine,
In earth or heavens, what beams there so refin'd?"
16226,"",HDIS,"",2004-08-11 00:00:00 UTC,,6158,"","",2009-09-14 19:46:06 UTC,"The Muse may ""wave the gloomy Sceptic's ebon wand"" and bound ""our cloudy view with endless night; / Like Polyphemus with destructive might, / Revenging thus thy loss of mental sight""","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."
16230,"","Found again searching ""mind"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",2004-08-22 00:00:00 UTC,,6158,"","",2009-09-14 19:46:06 UTC,"Patriots of old saw ""In the fair mirror of each mighty mind / Each other's worth and talent""","Peace to the shade of each exalted name!
With different views, their ends were still the same.
Whate'er the sons of little men may deem,
Each view'd his generous rival with esteem;
No party-rage their vision clear could blind,
In the fair mirror of each mighty mind,
Each other's worth and talent still were seen,
Though meaner souls too often came between,
And, blind with party-rancour, vainly tried
The light of each illustrious name to hide;
Eclipsed by this dim orb, the Queen of Night
Thus seems, but only seems, to lose her light.
"
16237,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry)","",2005-06-28 00:00:00 UTC,,6158,"","",2009-09-14 19:46:07 UTC,"""The Critic, too, with wit and taste refined, / Holds up the mirror that reflects the mind;""","The Critic, too, with wit and taste refined,
Holds up the mirror that reflects the mind;
And while his ready weapon, bright and keen,
With dextrous stroke inflicts the wound unseen,
So much its dazzling rays the sight confound,
We gaze, forgetful of the recent wound."
19425,"Lots of fetters and bondage in this stanza, but not fetter metaphor of mind!",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),"",2012-01-09 18:37:46 UTC,,6058,"","",2012-01-09 18:38:53 UTC,"""Thy pure flame / Would light the sense opake, and warm the spring / Of boundless ecstacy; while nature's laws / So violated, plead, immortal-tongu'd, / For her dark-fated children; lead them forth / From bondage infamous!""","Superstition! more destructive still
Than plague or famine, tyranny or war!
Thou palsying mischief, thou benumbing foe
To all the proudest energies of man!
Whence springs thy subtle desolating charm,
From pompous pageantry and bigot pride,
From mitred canopies, and shrines of gold,
And bones of mould'ring monks? Can freezing nights,
In cells where cold inanity presides,
Cloath'd in religion's meek and sainted guise,
Or long-drawn pageantry of empty show,
Conceal the trembling soul, from that dread pow'r
Which marks th' All-seeing! On Italia's shores,
On every plain, on ev'ry mountain top,
The voice of nature speaks, in mighty sounds,
To bid thee tremble! Then, O! nature, say--
Shall rich Italia's bow'rs, her citron shades,
Her vales prolific, mountains golden clad,
And rivers fring'd with nectar-teeming groves,
Re-echo with the mighty song of praise
To empyrean space, while shackled still
The man of colour dies? Shall torrid suns
Shoot downward their hot beams on mis'ry's race,
And call forth luxuries to pamper pride,
Steep'd in the Ethiop's tears, the Ethiop's blood!
Shall the caprice of nature, the deep tint
Of sultry climes, the feature varying,
Or the uncultur'd mind, endure the scourge
Of sordid tyranny, or heap the stores
Of his fair fellow man, whose ruddy cheek
Knows not the tear of pity; whose white breast
Conceals a heart, than adamant more hard,
More cruel than the tiger's! Bend thy gaze
O! happy offspring of a temper'd clime,
On whom the partial hand of nature set
The stamp of bloomy tints, proportions fine,
Unmixing with the goodly outside shew
The mind appropriate; bend thy pitying gaze
To Zembla's frozen sphere; where in his hut,
Roof'd by the rocky steep, the savage smiles,
In conscious freedom smiles, and mocks the storm
That howls along the sky. Th' unshackled limb,
Cloth'd in the shaggy hide of uncouth bear,
Or the fleet mountain elk, bounds o'er the cliff
The free-born tenant of the desert wild.
The glow of liberty, thro' ev'ry vein
Bids sensate streams revolve; the dusky path
Of midnight solitudes no terror brings,
Because he fears no lord. The prowling wolf,
Whose eye-balls redden 'midst the world of gloom,
Yells fierce defiance, form'd by nature's law
To share the desert's freedom. O'er the sky
The despot darkness reigns, in sullen pride,
Half the devoted year. His ebon wing
O'ershadows the blank space: his chilling breath
Benumbs the breast of nature; on his brow,
Myriads of stars with lucid lustre gem
His boundless diadem! The savage cheek
Smiles at the potent spoiler; braves his frown;
And while the partial gloom is most opake,
Still vaunts the mind unfetter'd! If for these
Indulgent nature breaks the bonds of woe,
Gilding the deepest solitudes of night
With the pure flame of liberty sublime;
If for the untaught sons of gelid climes,
Health cheers the darkest hour with vig'rous age,
Shall the poor African, the passive slave,
Born in the bland effulgence of broad day,
Cherish'd by torrid splendours, while around
The plains prolific teem with honey'd stores
Of Afric's burning soil; shall such a wretch
Sink prematurely to a grave obscure,
No tear to grace his ashes? Or suspire,
To wear submission's long and goading chain,
To drink the tear, that down his swarthy cheek
Flows fast, to moisten his toil-fever'd lip,
Parch'd by the noontide blaze? Shall he endure
The frequent lash, the agonizing scourge,
The day of labour, and the night of pain;
Expose his naked limbs to burning gales;
Faint in the sun, and wither in the storm;
Traverse hot sands, imbibe the morbid breeze,
Wing'd with contagion, while his blister'd feet,
Scorch'd by the vertical and raging beam,
Pour the swift life-stream? Shall his frenzied eyes,
Oh! worst of mortal miseries! behold
The darling of his soul, his sable love,
Selected from the trembling, timid throng
By the wan tyrant, whose licentious touch
Seals the dark fiat of the slave's despair!
Humanity! from thee the suppliant claims
The meed of retribution! Thy pure flame
Would light the sense opake, and warm the spring
Of boundless ecstacy; while nature's laws
So violated, plead, immortal-tongu'd,
For her dark-fated children; lead them forth
From bondage infamous! Bid reason own
The dignities of man, whate'er his clime,
Estate, or colour. And, O! sacred truth!
Tell the proud lords of traffic, that the breast
Thrice ebon-tinted, bears a crimson tide,
As pure, as clear as Europe's sons can boast.
Then, liberty, extend thy thund'ring voice
To Afric's scorching climes, o'er seas that bound
To bear the blissful tidings, while all earth
Shall hail humanity! the child of heav'n!"