text,updated_at,metaphor,created_at,context,theme,reviewed_on,dictionary,comments,provenance,id,work_id
"O, Montagu! forgive me, if I sing
Thy wisdom tempered with the milder ray
Of soft humanity, and kindness bland:
So wide its influence, that the bright beams
Reach the low vale where mists of ignorance lodge,
Strike on the innate spark which lay immersed,
Thick-clogged, and almost quenched in total night--
On me it fell, and cheered my joyless heart.
Unwelcome is the first bright dawn of light
To the dark soul; impatient, she rejects,
And fain would push the heavenly stranger back;
She loathes the cranny which admits the day;
Confused, afraid of the intruding guest;
Disturbed, unwilling to receive the beam,
Which to herself her native darkness shows.
The effort rude to quench the cheering flame
Was mine, and e'en on Stella could I gaze
With sullen envy, and admiring pride,
Till, doubly roused by Montagu, the pair
Conspire to clear my dull, imprisoned sense,
And chase the mists which dimmed my visual beam.
Oft as I trod my native wilds alone,
Strong gusts of thought would rise, but rise to die;
The portals of the swelling soul ne'er oped
By liberal converse, rude ideas strove
Awhile for vent, but found it not, and died.
Thus rust the Mind's best powers. Yon starry orbs,
Majestic ocean, flowery vales, gay groves,
Eye-wasting lawns, and heaven-attempting hills
Which bound th' horizon, and which curb the view;
All those, with beauteous imagery, awaked
My ravished soul to ecstasy untaught,
To all the transport the rapt sense can bear;
But all expired, for want of powers to speak;
All perished in the mind as soon as born,
Erased more quick than cyphers on the shore,
O'er which cruel waves, unheedful roll.
Such timid rapture as young Edwin seized,
When his lone footsteps on the Sage obtrude,
Whose noble precept charmed his wondering
Such rapture filled Lactilla's vacant soul,
When the bright Moralist, in softness dressed,
Opes all the glories of the mental world,
Deigns to direct the infant thought, to prune
The budding sentiment, uprear the stalk
Of feeble fancy, bid idea live,
Woo the abstracted spirit form its cares,
And gently guide her to scenes of peace.
Mine was than balm, and mine the grateful heart,
Which breathes its thanks in rough, but timid strains.
(ll. 30-79, pp. 395-6)",2013-11-17 16:59:48 UTC,"""The effort rude to quench the cheering flame / Was mine, and e'en on Stella could I gaze / With sullen envy, and admiring pride, / Till, doubly roused by Montagu, the pair / Conspire to clear my dull, imprisoned sense, / And chase the mists which dimmed my visual beam.""",2003-07-29 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Rooms,"•I've included twice: Prison and Mist
•I've included all the stanzas but the first because of the density of metaphors (8 entries total).",Reading,14993,5612
"O, Montagu! forgive me, if I sing
Thy wisdom tempered with the milder ray
Of soft humanity, and kindness bland:
So wide its influence, that the bright beams
Reach the low vale where mists of ignorance lodge,
Strike on the innate spark which lay immersed,
Thick-clogged, and almost quenched in total night--
On me it fell, and cheered my joyless heart.
Unwelcome is the first bright dawn of light
To the dark soul; impatient, she rejects,
And fain would push the heavenly stranger back;
She loathes the cranny which admits the day;
Confused, afraid of the intruding guest;
Disturbed, unwilling to receive the beam,
Which to herself her native darkness shows.
The effort rude to quench the cheering flame
Was mine, and e'en on Stella could I gaze
With sullen envy, and admiring pride,
Till, doubly roused by Montagu, the pair
Conspire to clear my dull, imprisoned sense,
And chase the mists which dimmed my visual beam.
Oft as I trod my native wilds alone,
Strong gusts of thought would rise, but rise to die;
The portals of the swelling soul ne'er oped
By liberal converse, rude ideas strove
Awhile for vent, but found it not, and died.
Thus rust the Mind's best powers. Yon starry orbs,
Majestic ocean, flowery vales, gay groves,
Eye-wasting lawns, and heaven-attempting hills
Which bound th' horizon, and which curb the view;
All those, with beauteous imagery, awaked
My ravished soul to ecstasy untaught,
To all the transport the rapt sense can bear;
But all expired, for want of powers to speak;
All perished in the mind as soon as born,
Erased more quick than cyphers on the shore,
O'er which cruel waves, unheedful roll.
Such timid rapture as young Edwin seized,
When his lone footsteps on the Sage obtrude,
Whose noble precept charmed his wondering
Such rapture filled Lactilla's vacant soul,
When the bright Moralist, in softness dressed,
Opes all the glories of the mental world,
Deigns to direct the infant thought, to prune
The budding sentiment, uprear the stalk
Of feeble fancy, bid idea live,
Woo the abstracted spirit form its cares,
And gently guide her to scenes of peace.
Mine was than balm, and mine the grateful heart,
Which breathes its thanks in rough, but timid strains.
(ll. 30-79, pp. 395-6)",2013-11-17 17:03:14 UTC,"""Oft as I trod my native wilds alone, / Strong gusts of thought would rise, but rise to die; / The portals of the swelling soul ne'er oped / By liberal converse, rude ideas strove / Awhile for vent, but found it not, and died.""",2003-07-29 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,Rooms,•I've included all the stanzas but the first because of the density of metaphors (8 entries total).,Reading,14995,5612
"Cover'd with laurels, from the northern shore,
A blooming hero came, Arpasia's friend,
Arpasia's lover, whom the deathful din
Of constant action in the sanguine field,
And months of weary march, and years of toil,
Estrang'd not from the maid, whose soverign eye
Gilded his path to glory. Soon as peace
Sent her white doves to close the scene of blood
And bear the branching olive, swift the youth
Hasted to Albion's shore, and anxious sought
The hoarded treasure of his virgin heart.
He sought and found her on the fatal day,
She parted from her Theron; parted soon
To meet again. And tho' Arpasia ne'er
Had lov'd Sophronius (so the youth was call'd)
As women love, who give the maiden heart
In dear exchange of passion, glad she saw
A tender friend, escap'd from ruthless war
Return'd with honour to his native land,
The land he had defended: and her tears
Mix'd with her chaste embraces. Theron then
Quick hastening to Arpasia, instant saw
Rapture that weeps, and blushes that denote
The heart's strong triumph at a treasure sav'd
From the devouring war. Her heart he knew
Lodg'd in his own true bosom, yet he feared,
(Fear still is Love's attendant) that the joy
Thron'd in her eye, and from her rubied lip
Pouring the ardent welcome, might, perchance,
Nourish a dangerous softness, yet he prais'd
Her generous warmth and join'd the glowing zeal.
But when the youth, beneath the self-same roof,
With supplication strong to be receiv'd,
A chosen guest entreated, and his suit
Incautious friendship granted, who can draw
The pangs that seiz'd on Theron? Many a day
He fed in silence on his master griefs,
And bath'd his lonely pillow with his tears,
Far from Arpasia's mansion: Ev'ry friend,
Save she who cou'd administer relief,
Appear'd with comfort in their looks--while she,
(Cold as the marble that receives the drops
Of some pale mourner, at the urn which holds
The sainted ashes of the maid he lov'd)
Remain'd untouched, and while forlorn he lay
Death-sick beneath the chill of her neglect,
Sophronius was her theme. His health, his fame,
His rising fortune, and reward in arms,
Flam'd from her pen, which courted Theron's Muse,
To blazon forth his prowess in the war,
His fair deserts in peace. Yet still she talk'd
Of Friendship's early bonds, and nam'd not Love,
Nor seem'd to know the madness and despair
That rag'd in Theron's bosom, but led on
By Pity's gentle hand--for from the youth,
From change of climate, from fatigues of war,
And the heart's tender tumult, growing still,
That gently Pity claim'd, which the kind fair
(Without a thought that wrong'd the spotless faith,
Plighted to Theron) gave, with soul sincere;
Theron meanwhile believ'd it Love, fond Love enthron'd
Upon the mutual heart, and mad'ning thence,
Exclaim'd, infuriate--""Yes! they both shall fall!
""Since Pity thus can light her savage torch,
""And bind upon her altar, Love himself,
""Love in his turn, shall boast a sacrifice,
""And mark for death his victim!"" Strait he rose,
'Twas the deep noon of night, he strode along,
A poignard snatch'd, and as he reach'd the dome
Of his Arpasia; soften'd at the view
From his torn heart these mournful accents broke:
""Oh had the chance been Theron's, had some maid,
""Bright as the morning star, her virgin heart
""Laid in the circle of these courted arms,
""And breath'd a passion warmer than e'er touch'd
""The breast of woman, tho' Compassion's sigh,
""The tenderest tear that ever Pity shed,
""The truest throb that ever Friendship knew
""Might plead his cause, nor these, nor death itself,
""Shou'd shake his plighted faith to false Arpasia,
""Shou'd shake his faith, ah no! by yonder heav'n
""Not the bright synod of the Gods shou'd draw
""His settled heart aside, tho' to the power
""Of heav'nly beauty, gold shou'd add a charm
""Richer than proud Golconda."" Scarce these words
Burst from his heart, e'en from the opening door
Rush'd forth, with hurrying step and troubled air,
Some one infolded in a thick disguise,
That needed scarce the darkness of the night
To mock discovery. Theron, at the view
Sudden retir'd unseen, and torpid stood
A few sad moments; then, with frantic haste
Pursued--Ah, hell-born Jealousy!
Thou child of Love,
Performing deeds more terrible than hate!
From shadows thinner than the fleeting night
That floats along the vale, or haply seems
To wrap the mountain in its hazy vest,
(Which the first sun-beam dissipates in air.)
How dost thou conjure monsters which ne'er mov'd
But in the chaos of thy frenzied brain!
Thence hurling frighted Reason from her throne,
And with her all the charities that wait
To grace her virtuous Court! Theron soon
O'ertook whom he pursu'd, nor doubting ought,
(For Jealousy allows no pause of sense).
It was his happy rival, rais'd his hand,
In which the poignard trembled, and in rage,
To madness, struck the bosom of--Arpasia!
Yes! 'twas Arpasia's self.
The faithful mistress, from her lover's arm,
Thus met her fate utimely, for e'er word,
Cou'd utterance find, the dagger in her breast
Transfix'd she found--""And hast thou kill'd me, Love?""
--Was all she spoke, then died in his embrace.
Upon her Theron's brow pale Horror sate,
""Kill thee!"" he cried--then deep into his heart
Plung'd the fell blade, with poor Arpasia's blood,
Distain'd and reeking--agoniz'd he fell
And kiss'd the wound--expiring in her arms.
",2018-06-18 15:16:00 UTC,"""From shadows thinner than the fleeting night / That floats along the vale, or haply seems / To wrap the mountain in its hazy vest, / (Which the first sun-beam dissipates in air.) / How dost thou conjure monsters which ne'er mov'd / But in the chaos of thy frenzied brain!""",2004-07-27 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","•I've included thrice: Weather, Shadows, Monsters",HDIS (Poetry),15036,5619
"But let no slavish pomp your feasts restrain,
Beneath your gilded roofs let freedom reign,
Push round the glass, command th' enliv'ning bowl,
Let the gay juice unlock the secret soul;
Chase vain distinction; from your frizled hair
Pluck the Tiara chance has planted there,
Forget thyself,--to aid the mystic plan,
Lay royalty aside and play the man;
Or if 'twould more enhance the general joy,
Let manhood rest awhile and,--play the boy!
'Twill well reward thy pains, for great's power
Of Bacchus gay intoxicated hour,
To tell the secret thoughts, and to impart
The hidden purpose of the cunning heart.
But would you know the passions that infest
With dead'ning influence the human breast,
Chase the gay scene, the ready dice command,
Let the box rattle in each eager hand.
Mix with the noisy tribe and mark by turns
How swelling hope within each bosom burns;
How, in a moment, forc'd by pale despair,
It quits the harrass'd throne it sought to share;
How, in the heart, by jarring tempests tost,
Truth, honour, reason, virtue all are lost.[1]
--Let not the frenzy fright thee; rather try
What venture waits upon the treach'rous die.
Who knows but, spite of every secret art,
Thy lucky throws may wring the gambler's heart.
But should'st thou lose, in fortune's fickle hour,
Mortgage the promises of future power.
Should clam'rous duns assail thy wearied gate,
And sorry tradesmen with impatience wait
Their ling'ring dues, 'till Hotham's eyes behold
Your coffers shining with replenish'd gold,
Withdraw your favours,--let the crew bemoan
The gilded plumes that made their traffic known:
Is it no honour that your name should grace
The splendid portals of the thankless race?
Or lends it not the privilege to cheat
The wealthy little ones who ape the great?
Grant then the favour, where your frequent name
May give the ponderous ledger half its fame.[2]
",2009-09-14 19:42:37 UTC,"In the heart, ""by jarring tempests tost, / Truth, honour, reason, virtue all are lost""",2004-08-07 00:00:00 UTC,"","",,"","",HDIS,15044,5620
"Yet still be just. In shape of fraud or force,
Ere Gold appear'd the Passions took their course;
Like whirldwinds swept the flowers of life along,
And crush'd the weak, and undermin'd the strong;
Lord as thou wert, Tibullus, of the strains
That sweetest paint an hapless lover's pains,
Long, long ere execrated Gold from earth
Arose to give each tender trespass birth,
Full many a mistress knew, like thine, the art,
To sport with vows, and practise on the heart.
Let sage Tradition's reverend records tell,
Unbrib'd by gold, what hosts in battle fell,
Unbrib'd by gold,--when acorns were the food,
And man with beast roam'd naked thro' the wood,
Ev'n in those times which raptur'd bards have sung,
When nature triumph'd, and the world was young,
Blest days! whose charms so many lays rehearse,
Blest days, alas! which only bloom in verse--
Ev'n then let Hist'ry tell what follies sped,
Assail'd the hut, and thro' the forest spread;
How daring guilt in proud obtrusion stood,
And dy'd his dreadful robe in brothers blood;
How son and sire, with unrelenting strife,
Ensanguin'd sought each other's kindred life;
How matrons stopt the new-born infants breath,
And bold self-slaughter rush'd on impious death;
How darkling error stain'd the blushing morn,
And life's first roses bore the pointed thorn;
How ages past exhibit all the crimes
That random satire aims at modern times;
How varying modes alone divide the plan
Betwixt the savage and the social man;
How ruder vices now refin'd appear,
Adopting still the fashion of the year;
Conclude we then the vices are the same,
Conclude that Man, not Gold, is still to blame,",2011-07-19 14:57:23 UTC,"""Ere Gold appear'd the Passions took their course; / Like whirldwinds swept the flowers of life along, / And crush'd the weak, and undermin'd the strong.""",2005-06-01 00:00:00 UTC,"","",2011-07-19,"","",Searching in HDIS (Poetry),15070,5637
"Yet are there some can waste their whole Age
Amid the Dullness of a College;
Whom Reason and Goodsense deride;
The Sons of PEDANTRY and PRIDE!
Heav'ns! of how cynnical a Nature
The school-taught Race of ALMA MATER!
Who, of cramp'd Mind and clouded Brain
Bind GENIUS in a Gothic Chain;
Whose Learning only proves of Use
Reason to vitiate or traduce;
While dark SMIGLECIUS frowns away
Each unsophisticated Ray!
Yet such as these affect the Skies;
Too supercilious to be wise!
(16-17, ll. 253-66)",2011-07-18 17:52:32 UTC,"""Heav'ns! of how cynnical a Nature / The school-taught Race of ALMA MATER! / Who, of cramp'd Mind and clouded Brain / Bind GENIUS in a Gothic Chain.""",2011-07-18 17:51:54 UTC,"","",,Fetters,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""chain"" in HDIS (Poetry)",18903,7013
"In the first ebullition of his fury, Vathek had resolved to rip open the body of Alboufaki and to stuff it with those of the negresses and of Carathis herself, but the remembrance of the Giaour, the palace of Istakar, the sabres, and the talismans, flashing before his imagination, with the simultaneousness of lightning, he became more moderate, and said to his mother, in a civil, but decisive tone; ""Dread lady! you shall be obeyed; but I will not drown Nouronihar. She is sweeter to me than a Myrabolan comfit; and is enamoured of carbuncles; especially that, of Giamschid; which hath also been promised to be conferred upon her: she, therefore, shall go along with us; for, I intend to repose with her upon the sofas of Soliman: I can sleep no more without her.""---""Be it so!"" replied Carathis, alighting; and, at the same time, committing Alboufaki to the charge of her black women.
(pp. 177-8)",2013-06-05 16:46:28 UTC,"""In the first ebullition of his fury, Vathek had resolved to rip open the body of Alboufaki and to stuff it with those of the negresses and of Carathis herself, but the remembrance of the Giaour, the palace of Istakar, the sabres, and the talismans, flashing before his imagination, with the simultaneousness of lightning, he became more moderate, and said to his mother, in a civil, but decisive tone; 'Dread lady! you shall be obeyed; but I will not drown Nouronihar.'""",2013-06-05 16:46:28 UTC,"","",,"","",Reading,20377,7398
"Professors Reid and Anderson, and the two Messieurs Foulis, the Elzevirs of Glasgow, dined and drank tea with us at our inn, after which the professors went away; and I, having a letter to write, left my fellow-traveller with Messieurs Foulis. Though good and ingenious men, they had that unsettled speculative mode of conversation which is offensive to a man regularly taught at an English school and university. I found that, instead of listening to the dictates of the Sage, they had teazed him with questions and doubtful disputations. He came in a flutter to me, and desired I might come back again, for he could not bear these men. 'O ho! sir,' said I, 'you are flying to me for refuge!' He never, in any situation, was at a loss for a ready repartee. He answered, with quick vivacity, 'It is of two evils choosing the least.' I was delighted with this flash bursting from the cloud which hung upon his mind, closed my letter directly, and joined the company.
(p. 390)",2013-06-26 18:40:43 UTC,"""I was delighted with this flash bursting from the cloud which hung upon his mind, closed my letter directly, and joined the company.""",2013-06-26 18:40:33 UTC,"","",,"","",C-H Lion,21140,5657
"Not finding a letter here that I expected, I felt a momentary impatience to be at home. Transient clouds darkened my imagination, and in those clouds I saw events from which I shrunk; but a sentence or two of the Rambler's conversation gave me firmness, and I considered that I was upon an expedition for which I had wished for years, and the recollection of which would be a treasure to me for life.
(p. 228)",2013-06-26 18:50:06 UTC,"""Transient clouds darkened my imagination, and in those clouds I saw events from which I shrunk; but a sentence or two of the Rambler's conversation gave me firmness, and I considered that I was upon an expedition for which I had wished for years, and the recollection of which would be a treasure to me for life.""",2013-06-26 18:50:06 UTC,"","",,"","",C-H Lion,21149,5657
"O, Montagu! forgive me, if I sing
Thy wisdom tempered with the milder ray
Of soft humanity, and kindness bland:
So wide its influence, that the bright beams
Reach the low vale where mists of ignorance lodge,
Strike on the innate spark which lay immersed,
Thick-clogged, and almost quenched in total night--
On me it fell, and cheered my joyless heart.
Unwelcome is the first bright dawn of light
To the dark soul; impatient, she rejects,
And fain would push the heavenly stranger back;
She loathes the cranny which admits the day;
Confused, afraid of the intruding guest;
Disturbed, unwilling to receive the beam,
Which to herself her native darkness shows.
The effort rude to quench the cheering flame
Was mine, and e'en on Stella could I gaze
With sullen envy, and admiring pride,
Till, doubly roused by Montagu, the pair
Conspire to clear my dull, imprisoned sense,
And chase the mists which dimmed my visual beam.
Oft as I trod my native wilds alone,
Strong gusts of thought would rise, but rise to die;
The portals of the swelling soul ne'er oped
By liberal converse, rude ideas strove
Awhile for vent, but found it not, and died.
Thus rust the Mind's best powers. Yon starry orbs,
Majestic ocean, flowery vales, gay groves,
Eye-wasting lawns, and heaven-attempting hills
Which bound th' horizon, and which curb the view;
All those, with beauteous imagery, awaked
My ravished soul to ecstasy untaught,
To all the transport the rapt sense can bear;
But all expired, for want of powers to speak;
All perished in the mind as soon as born,
Erased more quick than cyphers on the shore,
O'er which cruel waves, unheedful roll.
Such timid rapture as young Edwin seized,
When his lone footsteps on the Sage obtrude,
Whose noble precept charmed his wondering.
Such rapture filled Lactilla's vacant soul,
When the bright Moralist, in softness dressed,
Opes all the glories of the mental world,
Deigns to direct the infant thought, to prune
The budding sentiment, uprear the stalk
Of feeble fancy, bid idea live,
Woo the abstracted spirit form its cares,
And gently guide her to scenes of peace.
Mine was than balm, and mine the grateful heart,
Which breathes its thanks in rough, but timid strains.
(ll. 30-79, pp. 395-6)",2013-11-17 17:12:25 UTC,"""O, Montagu! forgive me, if I sing / red with the milder ray / Of soft humanity, and kindness bland: / So wide its influence, that the bright beams / Reach the low vale where mists of ignorance lodge, / Strike on the innate spark which lay immersed, / Thick-clogged, and almost quenched in total night.""",2013-11-17 17:12:25 UTC,"","",,"",Added. Had skipped this verse paragraph on first reading.,Reading,23223,5612