work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
5787,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""line"" in HDIS (Poetry)",2005-05-11 00:00:00 UTC,"For, vainly think not, tho' the classic school
Of eloquence hath charm'd thy tranced hours,
That, there, the just--the appropriate model claims
Thine imitative labours. Unconstrain'd,
From equity's intrinsic source, (to all
Perspicuous), and the heart's decisions stamp'd
By Nature's seal, and man's primæval laws,
The immortal champions of the forum drew
Their more persuasive numbers. Short their code,
And simple; wedded to no toil austere;
Nor asking many a lustrum, to devote
The midnight lamp to musing. To combine
The quick varieties of thought; to snatch
From elocution all the heightening grace
Of diction; and amuse the million's eye
By each external impulse; this their boast,
This was their aim. No deep immuring pile
(The science of innumerous tomes) opprest
The mental strength elastic; nor perplex'd
By facts from mazy records, the free flow
Of speech, that never hesitating ran
Thro' easy vein. And while (the rare result
Of letter'd art) the precious volume gave
Its treasures to the few--perhaps no more
Accessible, and barr'd from vulgar gaze;
They bade retentive memory on their mind
Impress each image, in distinctive lines
That mock'd erasure. Hence the pleader, bold
In vigorous thought, and trusting to those powers
Which knew no ready refuge in the means
Of foreign aid, unlock'd with nature's key
The secret springs that agitate the soul!",2011-11-24,15441,"","""They bade retentive memory on their mind / Impress each image, in distinctive lines / That mock'd erasure.""","",2011-11-24 19:50:06 UTC,""
5787,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-05-16 00:00:00 UTC,"Far other notions of pathetic speech
The speakers of the Roman senate form'd;
Who ne'er essay'd to steal into the heart,
By painting to the feelings. 'Twas not theirs
To touch by imagery, but to move
By sympathetic strokes--to ope the effect
Of each impression on their own warm mind;
Not shew the mental portraiture itself,
By gradual art, thro' fancy's calmer light.
Pure passion dwells not on description's hues;
But ever lives, (and trembles, as it lives),
In indistinctest energies--a look,
A tone, a gesture! Hence, the speaker's soul
Enkindled, spreads its own contagious warmth.
'Tis thus the uncultur'd know the affection's force,
Bias'd by nature to admire! to shake
With agony, with rapture! circumscrib'd
By narrow bounds; nor shap'd to scrutinize
The ideas, whose obscure effect they feel.",,15443,"","The Roman senators ""ne'er essay'd to steal into the heart, / By painting to the feelings""","",2009-09-14 19:43:40 UTC,""
5787,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-05-16 00:00:00 UTC,"Far other notions of pathetic speech
The speakers of the Roman senate form'd;
Who ne'er essay'd to steal into the heart,
By painting to the feelings. 'Twas not theirs
To touch by imagery, but to move
By sympathetic strokes--to ope the effect
Of each impression on their own warm mind;
Not shew the mental portraiture itself,
By gradual art, thro' fancy's calmer light.
Pure passion dwells not on description's hues;
But ever lives, (and trembles, as it lives),
In indistinctest energies--a look,
A tone, a gesture! Hence, the speaker's soul
Enkindled, spreads its own contagious warmth.
'Tis thus the uncultur'd know the affection's force,
Bias'd by nature to admire! to shake
With agony, with rapture! circumscrib'd
By narrow bounds; nor shap'd to scrutinize
The ideas, whose obscure effect they feel.",,15444,"","The Roman senators did ""Not shew the mental portraiture itself, / By gradual art, thro' fancy's calmer light. / Pure passion dwells not on description's hues""","",2009-09-14 19:43:40 UTC,""
5787,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2005-06-01 00:00:00 UTC,"Alas! while difficulties such as these
Obstruct the preacher, who would undertake
But with full many a fear, the preacher's task?
Who would attempt, but with a tremulous hope
Misgiving oft, so arduous an emprize?--
Alas! for him, who with rude hand awakes
To solemn numbers the didactic lyre,
What but sincerity, that fearless trusts
To its own conscious feelings, could excuse
These efforts, all too feeble? Yet he grasps,
Tho' weak his powers to execute, the sense
Of what is great and glorious; and, perchance,
Sees, in his art, the principles that form
A perfect model. Nurtur'd in the seat
Of academic ease, he there imbib'd
The love of sacred wisdom; tho' the muse
Of Siloa, uninvok'd, inspir'd not then
His song. But in those avenues that erst
O'erarch'd a BAGOT (proud to embower such worth--
Such virtues in their venerable shade)
There, musing oft on future scenes, he form'd
The prospect of ideal good--to flow
From his impassion'd preaching. Nor unmark'd
His decent fane, nor unreview'd his charge;
That not at distance from his natal spot
Beyond the woody Tamar, fancy trac'd;
And, as she spread the glowing tint, it seem'd
No fairy picture: for young hope reliev'd
With golden rays each figure fancy drew.",,15448,"","""Beyond the woody Tamar, fancy trac'd; / And, as she spread the glowing tint, it seem'd / No fairy picture: for young hope reliev'd / With golden rays each figure fancy drew""","",2009-09-14 19:43:41 UTC,""
5821,"",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),2004-07-09 00:00:00 UTC,"Oft have I heard the melancholy tale,
Which, all their native gaiety forgot,
These Exiles tell--How Hope impell'd them on,
Reckless of tempest, hunger, or the sword,
Till order'd to retreat, they knew not why,
From all their flattering prospects, they became
The prey of dark suspicion and regret:
Then, in despondence, sunk the unnerv'd arm
Of gallant Loyalty--At every turn
Shame and disgrace appear'd, and seem'd to mock
Their scatter'd squadrons; which the warlike youth,
Unable to endure, often implor'd,
As the last act of friendship, from the hand
Of some brave comrade, to receive the blow
That freed the indignant spirit from its pain.
To a wild mountain, whose bare summit hides
Its broken eminence in clouds; whose steeps
Are dark with woods; where the receding rocks
Are worn by torrents of dissolving snow,
A wretched Woman, pale and breathless, flies!
And, gazing round her, listens to the sound
Of hostile footsteps--No! it dies away:
Nor noise remains, but of the cataract,
Or surly breeze of night, that mutters low
Among the thickets, where she trembling seeks
A temporary shelter--clasping close
To her hard-heaving heart her sleeping child,
All she could rescue of the innocent groupe
That yesterday surrounded her--Escap'd
Almost by miracle! Fear, frantic Fear,
Wing'd her weak feet: yet, half repentant now
Her headlong haste, she wishes she had staid
To die with those affrighted Fancy paints
The lawless soldier's victims--Hark! again
The driving tempest bears the cry of Death,
And, with deep sudden thunder, the dread sound
Of cannon vibrates on the tremulous earth;
While, bursting in the air, the murderous bomb
Glares o'er her mansion. Where the splinters fall,
Like scatter'd comets, its destructive path
Is mark'd by wreaths of flame!--Then, overwhelm'd
Beneath accumulated horror, sinks
The desolate mourner; yet, in Death itself,
True to maternal tenderness, she tries
To save the unconscious infant from the storm
In which she perishes; and to protect
This last dear object of her ruin'd hopes
From prowling monsters, that from other hills,
More inaccessible, and wilder wastes,
Lur'd by the scent of slaughter, follow fierce
Contending hosts, and to polluted fields
Add dire increase of horrors--But alas!
The Mother and the Infant perish both!--
(pp. 54-7)",2011-10-06,15537,Reviewed 2008-09-11,"""[Y]et, half repentant now / Her headlong haste, she wishes she had staid / To die with those affrighted Fancy paints / The lawless soldiers' victims.""","",2011-10-06 22:53:03 UTC,I've include the entire poem
5828,"",Reading,2003-07-28 00:00:00 UTC,"Whilst on the beach I stood, my courage fainted,
And busy thought a thousand horrors painted!
Stranger to each, and each to me was strange,
With none a kind 'Good-morrow' could exchange;
With pensive mind, whilst tears my cheeks bedewed,
Fierce Boreas, and a nymph immerged I viewed;
Langour and pain her timid looks express,
As by the women carried in to dress.
'Ah me!', I cried, 'to plunge into the main
Should I presume, this weak afflicted brain
Will grow deranged, and I shall die with pain!'
But some kind fair, impressed with sympathy,
Consoled my gries, and bade my sorrows flee;
Of whom, to practise what themselves had taught,
One plunged into the sea, with courage fraught;
Near thrice twice-told she dipped quite undismayed,
And then ascends to dress, nor asks for aid.
I chid my fears--my cowardice was nipped,
And next below the wave my head was dipped:
A strange sensation--in a second o'er,
And I quite braced, much happier than before;
When I bathe next, I'll have two dippings more.
(ll. 1-22, p. 377)
",,15549, •Fear and sensations are described. C18 medicine!
,"Busy thought may paint ""a thousand horrors""","",2009-09-14 19:43:57 UTC,"Treatment of headaches by ""dipping"" in the sea"
6858,"",Browsing in Google Books,2011-05-20 15:34:36 UTC,"By Locke, true WIT is best defin'd,
Her pleasant pictures lure the mind;
Associations sudden rise,
And seize the fancy by surprise;
The effect is strong,--because it's odd,
Like fire electric from a clod;
Or when fix'd air puts out a light,
Tho' vital makes it blaze more bright.
Thus novelty a zest supplies,
And WIT still pleads by surprise;
The brilliant thought that charm'd to day,
By repetition fades away;
A maid thus shines the joy of life;-—
But what a different thing's a wife?
Wit suits not the heroic line,
Her similes are not divine;
The ludicrous they blithly season,
And make us laugh in spite of reason:-—
Discordant tho' the ideas be,
In Fancy's logic they agree;
As in the Ark by special grace,
Mice liv'd with Cats, yet throve apace.
(pp. 29-30)",,18451,"","""By Locke, true WIT is best defin'd, / Her pleasant pictures lure the mind; / Associations sudden rise, / And seize the fancy by surprise.""","",2011-05-20 15:34:36 UTC,""
7108,"",Reading,2011-10-06 21:56:00 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!",,19258,"","""Thee Queen of Shadows! [Fancy]--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!""","",2013-06-13 15:46:46 UTC,""
7438,Punning on portray and draw?,Reading,2013-06-13 17:18:37 UTC,"Thou spectre of terrific mien,
Lord of the hopeless heart and hollow eye,
In whose fierce train each form is sees
That drives sick Reason to insanity!
I woo thee with unusual prayer,
""Grim visaged, comfortless Despair:""
Approach; in me a willing victim find,
Who seeks thine iron sway--and calls thee kind!
Ah! hide for ever from my sight
The faithless flatterer Hope--whose pencil, gay,
Portrays some vision of delight,
Then bids the fairy tablet fade away;
While in dire contrast, to mine eyes
Thy phantoms, yet more hideous, rise,
And Memory draws, from Pleasure's wither'd flower,
Corrosives for the heart--of fatal power!
I bid the traitor Love, adieu!
Who to this fond, believing bosom came,
A guest insidious and untrue,
With Pity's soothing voice--in Friendship's name;
The wounds he gave, nor Time shall cure
Nor Reason teach me to endure.
And to that breast mild Patience pleads in vain,
Which feels the curse--of meriting it's pain.
(ll. 1-24, pp. 49-50)",,20630,"","""Ah! hide for ever from my sight / The faithless flatterer Hope--whose pencil, gay, / Portrays some vision of delight, / Then bids the fairy tablet fade away; / While in dire contrast, to mine eyes / Thy phantoms, yet more hideous, rise, / And Memory draws, from Pleasure's wither'd flower, / Corrosives for the heart--of fatal power!""",Writing,2013-06-13 17:18:37 UTC,""
7695,"",ECCO-TCP,2013-09-28 19:55:46 UTC,"Now in strong lines, with bolder tints design'd,
You sketch ideas, and portray the mind;
Teach how fine atoms of impinging light
To ceaseless change the visual sense excite;
While the bright lens collects the rays, that swerve,
And bends their focus on the moving nerve.
How thoughts to thoughts are link'd with viewless chains,
Tribes leading tribes, and trains pursuing trains;
With shadowy trident how Volition guides,
Surge after surge, his intellectual tides;
Or, Queen of Sleep, Imagination roves
With frantic Sorrows, or delirious Loves.
(p. viii)",,22882,"","""Now in strong lines, with bolder tints design'd, / You sketch ideas, and portray the mind.""","",2013-09-28 19:55:46 UTC,""