work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
3380,"","Searching ""soul"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-11-21 00:00:00 UTC,"In borrow'd shape, no Vice thro' vizor seen,
Would mimic Virtue's godlike look and mien;
Or, with deception, of a darker shade,
Presume to purchase Heav'n by vain parade;
But let Religion act her honest part,
And clear each head of hypocritic Art,
While Heav'n's pure Word would prompt Affection win,
And purge the Soul from all polluting Sin;
Till, like a faithful mirror Man would shine,
By Wisdom polish'd, and by Grace, divine;
Reflecting that bless'd Pattern, plac'd above,
In perfect Peace--Goodwill--and holy Love!",,8658,"","""Heav'n's pure Word would prompt Affection win, / And purge the Soul from all polluting Sin; / Till, like a faithful mirror Man would shine, / By Wisdom polish'd, and by Grace, divine.""","",2009-09-14 19:33:42 UTC,Love Letters to my Wife; Written in 1789
5658,"","Searching ""heart"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-11-21 00:00:00 UTC,"In opposing the follies and vice of the stage,
I must stand as a mark for the arrows of Rage;
Proscrib'd from those douceurs enjoy'd by that crowd,
Who are mean without merit, and servile tho' loud;
If I fall by Resentment, effecting my plan,
I hope when I'm martyr'd, to fall--like a man.--
Oh! I'm sick to the soul, to see Music alone,
Stretch her negligent length on the Drama's gay throne;
Where Muses more honor'd by Wisdom should sit,
To adorn the heart's mirror, and fashion our wit.
Let the Wench have her place, as a Wench worth respecting,
But to wound her old sisters, is base and affecting:
As all the high orders of Science deplore,
That their use is neglected, and influence is o'er.--
Tho' obedient Shields charms the ear by his skill,
He exalts his meek name, by resigning his will.
And Linley pens canzonets Pleasure holds dear,
Tho' Pensiveness dims every note with a tear;
But Arnold steps forward with colossal stride,
To command in the van, and diminish their pride;
Unabash'd he disports with the Orphean lyre,
As Judgment and Harmony temper his fire;
While the spirit of Handel, with rapture imprest,
Thinks the doomsday is o'er, and it flits mid the bless'd.",,15120,"","""Oh! I'm sick to the soul, to see Music alone, / Stretch her negligent length on the Drama's gay throne; / Where Muses more honor'd by Wisdom should sit, / To adorn the heart's mirror, and fashion our wit""","",2009-09-14 19:42:49 UTC,""
5718,"","Searching ""mirror"" and ""mind"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-06-28 00:00:00 UTC,"Long with a Mother's eye, a Mother's prayer,
In conscious rapture o'er her pleasing Care,
Like Eden's peerless Dame in bless'd retreat,
Bright Evelina, on your safety wait,
Fost'ring your vernal hues. Long see you grow
In Wisdom's soil: Your snowy bosoms glow
With female Worth, prime sense of Honour high,
Pure Truth, and Merit, sweet with downcast eye.
Immortal Blooms! surpassing Eden's kind,
Where Beauty shines the mirror of the Mind,
And rises fairer from the waste of Time,
To sky-born Lusture in the Heav'nly Clime.",,15247,"•C-H takes from Works, but nests it in a heading ""Occasional Poems."" Is the poem to be dated 1771 then?","""Immortal Blooms! surpassing Eden's kind, / Where Beauty shines the mirror of the Mind, / And rises fairer from the waste of Time, / To sky-born Lusture in the Heav'nly Clime.""","",2009-09-14 19:43:08 UTC,From Occasional Poems
5728,"",Reading,2003-07-29 00:00:00 UTC,"YE are the spirits who preside
In earth and air and ocean wide;
In hissing flood and crackling fire;
In horror dread and tumult dire;
In stilly calm and stormy wind,
And rule the answering changes in the human mind.
High on the tempest-beaten hill,
Your misty shapes ye shift at will;
The wild fantastic clouds yet form;
Your voice is in the midnight storm,
Whilst in the dark and lonely hour,
Oft starts the boldest heart, and owns your secret power.
From you, when growling storms are past,
And lighting ceases on the waste,
And when the scene of blood is o'er,
And groans of death are heard no more,
Still holds the mind each parted form,
Like the after-echoing of th' o'erpassed storm.
When closing glooms o'erspread the day,
And what we love has passed away,
Ye kindly bid each pleasing scene
Within the bosom to remain,
Like moons who do their watches run
With the reflected brightness of the parted sun.
(ll. 1- 24, p. 440)",,15267,"•Baillie constructs an interesting relationship between the muses and the weather (mental or otherwise). There are blurred lines here: Do the muses cuases internal storms, is weather inspirational, are the muses the weather?
•I should read the whole poem. REVISIT.
•Moons, suns, days and nights. These deserve a separate category. They don't really belong in Optics (as I've defined it).","Pleasing scenes may remain in the bosom, like ""moons who do their watches run with the reflected brightness of the sun""","",2009-09-14 19:43:12 UTC,Excerpted in Lonsdale
5736,"",Reading,2005-04-28 00:00:00 UTC,"The duke quitted the mansion, re-animated by the cheerfulness of the morn, and pursued his journey. He could gain no intelligence of the fugitives. About noon he found himself in a beautiful romantic country; and having reached the summit of some wild cliffs, he rested, to view the picturesque imagery of the scene below. A shadowy sequestered dell appeared buried deep among the rocks, and in the bottom was seen a lake, whose clear bosom reflected the impending cliffs, and the beautiful luxuriance of the overhanging shades.
(pp. 214-5; p. 93)",2013-05-29,15284,"•INTEREST. Who is mirroring here, lake or duke? The implicit metaphor here is that the mind is a lake? Also, note how many c18 metaphors of mirroring involve the bosom or heart instead of the mind. Also lake as Claude glass. ","""A shadowy sequestered dell appeared buried deep among the rocks, and in the bottom was seen a lake, whose clear bosom reflected the impending cliffs, and the beautiful luxuriance of the overhanging shades.""",Mirror,2013-05-29 20:26:57 UTC,Chapter V
5742,"","Searching ""fancy"" and ""mirror"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-11-30 00:00:00 UTC,"If such the texture luxury has thrown
O'er scenes confin'd to ruder man alone,
What shall we find them when the gentler fair
Mix with the band and every pleasure share?--
Not those bold dames who join the rustic train,
Chear the staunch hound, the fiery courser rein;
Or those to point the feather'd shaft who know,
And joy ""to bear, and draw the warrior bow.""
O may Britannia's nymphs such arts despise,
Content alone to conquer with their eyes!
For Omphale as ill the lion's spoil
Becomes, as Hercules the distaff's toil;
But such as haunt the seats of courtly fame,
Where female charms the first attention claim,
And their contending powers the arts employ
To ravish every sense with every joy.--
The splendid theatre's refulgent round,--
With pomp, with elegance, with beauty crown'd.--
Not that I mean whose homelier scenes invite
To tales of grief, of humour, of delight,
Where Shakespear's honied style enthralls the ear,
Wakes the loud laugh, or draws the heart-felt tear--
Shakespear! ador'd in these degenerate days,
To whom we hymns inscribe, and temples raise,
Worship his image, and neglect his plays.--
Ah! who the evening's festal hours will quit
For scenes of tragic woe or comic wit?--
Scenes of a purer polish must engage
The loose attention of a courtly age;
Scenes where satiric point ne'er gives offence,
Or verse disturbs its placid stream with sense;
Where from Hesperian fields the eunuch train
Trill with soft voice the unimpassion'd strain,
In measur'd cadence while the dancers art
Wakes without words the feelings of the heart.
Delightful joys! of universal power,
Suited to every taste and every hour,
Since the loose drama no connexion ties,
And all may judge who trust their ears and eyes.--
See in majestic swell yon festive dome,
Like the Pantheon of imperial Rome,
And where as many fabled forms unite,
Visions of bliss or demons of affright.
Or, sought in vernal hours, that ampler space
Where beauty's steps the eternal circle trace,
And midnight revelry delights her soul
With breezes redolent of tea and roll,
In fragrant steam while thro' the crouded room
The Arabian berry yields its rich perfume,
And 'mid the murmurs of the mingled throng
Unheeded music swells the slighted song;
Or, Lent's delight, the Oratorio dull,
Of yawning connoisseurs and coxcombs full;
When, plays profane deny'd, our ears explore
The pious freaks of Alexander's whore;
The rout repeated with incessant call,
The formal concert, and the mirthless ball.--
Say is this joy?--Yes, to the virgin's heart
First stung by potent love's resistless smart;
Who 'mid the empty croud of silken beaux
Her glance on one distinguish'd fav'rite throws;
Yes, to the insidious wretch whose guilty care
Hunts artless virtue into vice's snare,
Whose every thought and action is address'd
To wound a parent's or a husband's breast,
Or that more gross tho' less pernicious tribe
Who venal beauty's joyless favors bribe;
Yes, to the rural nymph of distant plains
Who three sweet months of charming London gains;
Yes, to the youth escap'd from smoke and trade
To shew the western town his stol'n cockade:--
To these, where passion gently soothes the breast,
Or vice affords their joys a guilty zest;
Or novelty, fair pleasure's youthful queen,
Gives fresh allurements to each splendid scene,
To these, in fancy's varying mirror shown,
Amusement charms with beauties not its own.--
To all the rest, with listless mind who fly
To midnight crouds from languor's leaden eye,
To the full circle run from home-felt care,
Then start to meet the ghastly spectre there,
The night of revel wears as dull away
As to th' o'erlabor'd hind the tedious day.--
Of these our joys how transient then the state,
Since still disgust must on possession wait!
Pleasure we all pursue with eager pace,
Yet lose the quarry when we lose the chace;
Thro' fancy's medium when our view we bend,
Ten thousand charms the ideal form attend;
Shewn plainly to our disappointed eyes
The enchantment breaks, and every beauty flies.--
The sprightly boy who draws in shadowy plan
The future pleasures of the envied man,
His father's hounds in all his brothers views,
And warm a visionary fox pursues;
Or else, like Hecat', mounted on a broom
His fancied racer spurs around the room;
Tho' airy phantoms then his mind employ,
Yet then he feels more true substantial joy
Than all the sports of ripen'd age shall gain
From Meynell's hunt, or fam'd Newmarket's plain.",,15298,"","""Or novelty, fair pleasure's youthful queen, / Gives fresh allurements to each splendid scene, / To these, in fancy's varying mirror shown, / Amusement charms with beauties not its own.""",Mirror,2013-08-23 16:46:40 UTC,""
5738,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2006-01-25 00:00:00 UTC,"But come kind Mem'ry! now thy influence shed,
Hide from my heart its prophecies of dread,
Indulge fond fancy, and recal the hour,
When o'er the ruins of that tort'ring tow'r,
I saw gay youths, and festive maids advance,
And read with rapt'rous tears, ""Ici l'on danse.""
'Twas at the closing of the day renown'd,
When public choice a monarch more than crown'd;
When to the holy altar of the state,
The nation throng'd, and pour'd their vow elate,
A vow, which plotting miscreants shall defy,
""To live for Freedom, or for Freedom die!""
Heav'n's! as I wander'd 'mongst the scatter'd stone,
Whose pile was late the bulwark of a throne,
And o'er Imagination's gloomy glass,
Despair's mute sons like Banquo's visions pass,
Scourg'd--mask'd in iron--famish'd, a sad train!
While bleeding Pity wept in ev'ry vein;
How sweetly burst the merry tabor's sound!
What swift enchantment deck'd the fairy ground!
Methought Amphion's fabled potent shell,
Had sudden breath'd its counteracting spell;
Had dash'd the dome from its Tartarean base,
To spread a fair Elysium in its place.
Then blissful blessings round my senses hung,
A true devotion touch'd my trembling tongue!
And could'st thou wonder, lib'ral Burke! to see
Revenge lead on the steps of Liberty,
Could men yet smarting with the tyrant's stroke,
Forgive the tribe that bow'd them to the yoke,
Forget, how oft the pittance, from their hands
Was torn, by each relentless Lord's commands;
Condemn'd almost to starve, where plenty reign'd,
And those were criminals who e'er complain'd?
O could'st thou wonder when th'explosion came,
Which burst the o'ercharg'd culverin of shame,
That ev'ry suff'rer starting to new life,
Against his proud oppressor bared the knife,
That palaces were rifled, villains bled,
And many a murd'rous traitor lost his head?
Sure manly Moralist! a soul like thine,
Where all the nobler qualities combine,
Where Virtue rises from its purest source,
And Learning gives true genius double force;
Sure such a soul must own, the lantern's cord,
Compar'd to dungeons, cannon, and the sword,
Was but a trifling ill, the People's rage
A moment rous'd, a moment could assuage,
But vengeful Ministers no pity feel,
They bring their direst chain, their racking wheel,
Doom their sad victims length'ning pangs to share,
And even think it mercy when they spare!",,15299,•I've included twice: Glass and Ghost,"""And o'er Imagination's gloomy glass, / Despair's mute sons like Banquo's visions pass""","",2009-09-14 19:43:17 UTC,""
7108,"",Reading,2013-06-13 15:48:16 UTC,"Sonnet XLVII.
To Fancy
Thee Queen of Shadows!--shall I still invoke,
Still love the scenes thy sportive pencil drew,
When on mine eyes the early radiance broke
Which shew'd the beauteous, rather than the true!
Alas! long since, those glowing tints are dead,
And now 'tis thine in darkest hues to dress
The spot where pale Experience hangs her head
O'er the sad grave of murder'd Happiness!
Thro' thy false medium then, no longer view'd,
May fancied pain and fancied pleasure fly,
And I, as from me all thy dreams depart,
Be to my wayward destiny subdu'd;
Nor seek perfection with a poet's eye,
Nor suffer anguish with a poet's heart!",,20618,"","""Thro' thy [Fancy's] false medium then, no longer view'd, / May fancied pain and fancied pleasure fly, / And I, as from me all thy dreams depart, / Be to my wayward destiny subdu'd.""","",2013-06-13 15:48:16 UTC,""
7591,"",Searching in ECCO-TCP,2013-08-16 05:55:55 UTC,"She was then the most courteous creature existing, and began to love them with all her might, as if she thought there was no time to lose, and that she must endeavour to crowd such an extraordinary degree of fondness into the short space which was left, as might counterbalance her neglect or unkindness through the whole course of their lives. The way to make her regard permanent was to dieāher affection was violent when her friends came to the last gasp; and after having settled the matter with her own conscience by these parting demonstrations of sorrow, she submitted with pious resignation to her loss. The ruling passion of Mrs. Melbourne's soul was her love of her daughter; but it was carried to an excess that rendered it illiberal and selfish: her mind resembled a convex glass, and every ray of affection in her bosom was concentered in one small point. She considered every fine young woman as the rival of Miss Melbourne, and hated them in proportion as they merited regard. She could not forgive Julia for being young, beautiful, accomplished, and amiable, till her own daughter was married. After that period she pardoned these intrusive qualities; and at the request of Charlotte, upon her removal from school, invited Julia to spend a short time at her house in Hanover-square.
(I.i, pp. 11-12)",,22184,"","""The ruling passion of Mrs. Melbourne's soul was her love of her daughter; but it was carried to an excess that rendered it illiberal and selfish: her mind resembled a convex glass, and every ray of affection in her bosom was concentered in one small point.""","",2013-08-16 05:55:55 UTC,"Vol. I, Chap. i"
7591,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""mirror"" in ECCO-TCP",2013-08-16 06:16:23 UTC,"Chapter XXII
Mrs. Chartres was one of those persons to whom time is a burden, which, without the assistance of cards, would be insupportable. She considered whist as the first end of existence, and the sole pleasure of society; for she thought conversation the dullest occupation in the world; and, although she knew there was such a term as friendship, her feelings did not convey much force to its meaning. Yet, she was not insensible of some preference towards those who gave her the best dinners. A present of a brace of woodcocks, of which she was remarkably fond, would also secure her partial regard, and a young hare never failed to win her heart. With too little sensibility to feel her own deficiencies, and too little discernment to perceive when she was treated with contempt, Mrs. Chartres could bear neglect without mortification, and derision without resentment. She was perfectly satisfied with being admitted into company, as one who helped to make up the necessary number at a whist table, and to act a part, which an automaton, with a very little farther improvement in mechanism, could have performed as well. It was fortunate for Mrs. Chartres, that she was not difficult in her choice of society, or rigorous in her demands of attention and respect; for she found solitude the most insupportable of all evils. Her mind resembled an empty mirror, which has no character, no images of its own, borrows every impression from some passing object, and, if left to itself, would for ever remain vacant.
(II.xxii, pp. 22-3)",,22194,"","""Her mind resembled an empty mirror, which has no character, no images of its own, borrows every impression from some passing object, and, if left to itself, would for ever remain vacant.""",Mirror,2013-08-16 06:16:23 UTC,"Vol. II, Chap. xxii"