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Old foxes want no tutor.

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The Causes of War

On January 1st, foxes deeply irritated overnight by
Black dogs barking demanding Political Scepter
In the Morning, the foxy Governor stood by hind legs
Looking side to side, which dog to be thrown to
Finally, to wrong the red dog that fluked in the next desert
And the foxes left, the red dog became the new master
Began saying a black dog can’t rule, lead or govern
No black dog shall hold public office”
National constitution first Article reads
This political injustice, inequality and discrimination
In such prinking sensation principle caused
The black dogs to sharpen their teeth

On January 1st, the foxes deeply irritated overnight by
Black dogs barking demanding the Social rod
In the Morning, the foxy Governor stood by hind legs
Looking side to side, which dog to be thrown to
Finally, to wrong the red dog that fluked in next desert
And the foxes left, the red dog became the new master
Declared Gemono – his religion, as state religion
Virgono – his culture, as state culture
And said all dogs be Virginian – his nationality
He outlawed the black dog religion and culture
As heresy and Immoral
This blasphemy and sacrilegious in such
Manner caused war between the two dogs

On January 1st, the foxes deeply irritated overnight by
The black dogs barking demanding the foxes to leave their land
In the Morning, the foxes left, the red dogs rushed in their houses
Became the new owners of the houses
Began using Gemonoic laws to govern the black dogs
“If a black dog picks a slice of meat from butchery
A tooth of the dog is removed
If black dog tail touches gown of red dog
The dog’s tail is cut off
If black dog steps on the red dog mate
The leg that stepped on the mate is cut off”
This cruel and inhuman punishment caused biting between the red and the black dog

On January 1st, the foxes deeply irritated overnight by
The black dogs barking demanding the foxes to leave
The foxes left, the red dog became the new master
Began stealing taxes, gold and oil causing
A cycle of poverty and disadvantages and uneven development
Calling the black dogs slaves and sub – humans
Even the black dog that don’t lick the eye of their puppies underwent this economic injustice and humiliating racism
Caused bloodshed between
The black dogs and the red dogs

[...] Read more

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Amongst Foxes

Take me on a banquet table
With seats engaged by five people
Or three with superfluous orifices
And vindictive but superficial visions
Such obsequious fanatics, such prissy sticklers,
Such laggard cajolers of idiotic beliefs
Worse, no fancies or beliefs at all
Take me unto this vulpine table
And I might as well abscond my supper
And gnaw upon reticence and the taciturn
Reservations, for in notching the hinges
Of my mouth may expose the famished gulch
Inside the fractures of the skinned skeleton
Or worst, display the daunting jagged fangs
That gyrates and scintillates from friction
From riling the presence of each other
Because in the deep alleys of my soul
I might be one of the hoodwinked monsters

In cordial suppers, elegiac malls, or crowded rooms,
In corridors where people saunter
Like lewd hounds, like stray cats,
In the abundance of roaches and mice
In pairs swooned in love or in despair,
Or even one on one, tooth on tooth,
There is a madness hulking on the viscera
And they are all instigated by the same paranoia
That we have in alluring festivities in banquets,
In riling the reflection of a beguiling fox
We fleetingly saw as we walk in a mirror house
Distorting our visage and vision and filtering
Our bloods to reduce that we are all famished
With different hungers and carnal seeking
But the same scheming and volitions
To puncture the walls sundering us
From our very own dinner tables
And so we dwell amongst the foxes

Amongst foxes, you cannot be a sparrow
And fly relentlessly with the innocuous trance
You find in the affable tackles of the climate,
Nor can you be the lion that you are
For you will beckon an unwelcomed signal fire
From the pregnant belly of a burning forest
You cannot be anyone else,
But the fox that you are not
And you cannot be yourself
But inside the cloisters of your cave
Amongst foxes, you have to play fox
And from the stench of their dwellings

[...] Read more

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Byron

Canto the Second

I
Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,
I pray ye flog them upon all occasions,
It mends their morals, never mind the pain:
The best of mothers and of educations
In Juan's case were but employ'd in vain,
Since, in a way that's rather of the oddest, he
Became divested of his native modesty.

II
Had he but been placed at a public school,
In the third form, or even in the fourth,
His daily task had kept his fancy cool,
At least, had he been nurtured in the north;
Spain may prove an exception to the rule,
But then exceptions always prove its worth -—
A lad of sixteen causing a divorce
Puzzled his tutors very much, of course.

III
I can't say that it puzzles me at all,
If all things be consider'd: first, there was
His lady-mother, mathematical,
A—never mind; his tutor, an old ass;
A pretty woman (that's quite natural,
Or else the thing had hardly come to pass);
A husband rather old, not much in unity
With his young wife—a time, and opportunity.

IV
Well—well, the world must turn upon its axis,
And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails,
And live and die, make love and pay our taxes,
And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails;
The king commands us, and the doctor quacks us,
The priest instructs, and so our life exhales,
A little breath, love, wine, ambition, fame,
Fighting, devotion, dust,—perhaps a name.

V
I said that Juan had been sent to Cadiz -—
A pretty town, I recollect it well -—
'T is there the mart of the colonial trade is
(Or was, before Peru learn'd to rebel),
And such sweet girls—I mean, such graceful ladies,
Their very walk would make your bosom swell;
I can't describe it, though so much it strike,
Nor liken it—I never saw the like:

[...] Read more

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She'll Boot Her Commuter-Taken for a Hairy Ride-Tongue Twisters II

Computing commuters hirsute
bawdy brutes though in collar and suit,
who as train hoots toot-toot
spy true beauty who’s mute,
on the fly give glad eye dissolute.

But each guy who sighs tries in pursuit,
who would lie, by and by, eye acute,
may through pride overshoot
by a wide margin moot
when he’d take for a ride maid astute.

Though some smiles superficial seem cute,
minds too sly should be given the boot,
be it beauty or loot,
or the two should it suit,
the solution seems 'ready, aim, shoot! '

Though this limerick sounds convolute
underground rails its humour to boot:
as a duty uproot
both at work and en route,
trample root underfoot and then scoot!


(Jonathan Robin limerick written 4 July 2006 and 16 July 2007
Parody Carolyn WELLS Tongue Twisters – A Tutor)


Tongue Twisters - A Tutor

A tutor who tooted the flute
Tried to tutor two tooters to toot.
Said the two to the tutor,
“Is it harder to toot, or
To tutor two tooters to toot? ”


(Carolyn WELLS 1869_1942)

Can Crime Pay?

When comptroller would syphon a dollar,
one may hear loud and clear victims holler!
Red-faced and red handed
the bait is soon landed, -
can crime pay in our heyday white collar?

There’s hot water, not flight, facts discovered,

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Jonathan Swift

Cadenus And Vanessa

THE shepherds and the nymphs were seen
Pleading before the Cyprian Queen.
The counsel for the fair began
Accusing the false creature, man.
The brief with weighty crimes was charged,
On which the pleader much enlarged:
That Cupid now has lost his art,
Or blunts the point of every dart;
His altar now no longer smokes;
His mother's aid no youth invokes—
This tempts free-thinkers to refine,
And bring in doubt their powers divine,
Now love is dwindled to intrigue,
And marriage grown a money-league.
Which crimes aforesaid (with her leave)
Were (as he humbly did conceive)
Against our Sovereign Lady's peace,
Against the statutes in that case,
Against her dignity and crown:
Then prayed an answer and sat down.

The nymphs with scorn beheld their foes:
When the defendant's counsel rose,
And, what no lawyer ever lacked,
With impudence owned all the fact.
But, what the gentlest heart would vex,
Laid all the fault on t'other sex.
That modern love is no such thing
As what those ancient poets sing;
A fire celestial, chaste, refined,
Conceived and kindled in the mind,
Which having found an equal flame,
Unites, and both become the same,
In different breasts together burn,
Together both to ashes turn.
But women now feel no such fire,
And only know the gross desire;
Their passions move in lower spheres,
Where'er caprice or folly steers.
A dog, a parrot, or an ape,
Or some worse brute in human shape
Engross the fancies of the fair,
The few soft moments they can spare
From visits to receive and pay,
From scandal, politics, and play,
From fans, and flounces, and brocades,
From equipage and park-parades,
From all the thousand female toys,
From every trifle that employs
The out or inside of their heads

[...] Read more

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Soccer Under 20

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[...] Read more

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On Seeing My First Fox

Travelling on a train through Surrey, close to Virginia Water –
Due to engineering works, my route had been slightly altered –
I decided to look out of the window, so I turned my head,
And it was then I spotted a lightning flash of orangey-red.

Of course, I’d seen many pictures of foxes in books and on TV,
But an actual living, breathing one, had never been seen by me.
Thrilled by what I was seeing, I gave a small gasp of delight;
It was the first time I’d seen a fox, so it was a memorable sight.

I was excited at seeing the fox, and I was unable to hide my surprise.
Foxes are one of my favourite animals and I couldn’t believe my eyes.
He was on the embankment, and, from the train, he headed away.
I only glimpsed the fox quite briefly, but it really made my day.

I’ve been lucky enough to glimpse a few more foxes since then,
But you never can tell where they will turn up or, indeed, when.
On a train journey to Birmingham, I was as watchful as can be:
Luck was with me that day, as I saw not one, not two, but three!

I spotted a fox, carrying its prey in its mouth, crossing over a field.
Foxes need to eat to stay alive, but I felt sorry for the rabbit it killed.
My sightings of them, over the years, I have noted down in my diary.
I love their sleek outline, long, thick bushy tail, and their fur so fiery.

They are a fine animal in appearance, but they can be a real pest;
They can cause havoc, when they hunt like a mad thing possessed.
Despite having been on many trains, sightings of foxes are rare;
So if I’m lucky enough to spot one, I can’t help but sit and stare.

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Byron

Don Juan: Canto the Second

XXIV


The ship, call'd the most holy "Trinidada,"
Was steering duly for the port Leghorn;
For there the Spanish family Moncada
Were settled long ere Juan's sire was born:
They were relations, and for them he had a
Letter of introduction, which the morn
Of his departure had been sent him by
His Spanish friends for those in Italy.XXV


His suite consisted of three servants and
A tutor, the licentiate Pedrillo,
Who several languages did understand,
But now lay sick and speechless on his pillow,
And, rocking in his hammock, long'd for land,
His headache being increas'd by every billow;
And the waves oozing through the port-hole made
His berth a little damp, and him afraid.XXVI


'Twas not without some reason, for the wind
Increas'd at night, until it blew a gale;
And though 'twas not much to a naval mind,
Some landsmen would have look'd a little pale,
For sailors are, in fact, a different kind:
At sunset they began to take in sail,
For the sky show'd it would come on to blow,
And carry away, perhaps, a mast or so.XXVII


At one o'clock the wind with sudden shift
Threw the ship right into the trough of the sea,
Which struck her aft, and made an awkward rift,
Started the stern-post, also shatter'd the
Whole of her stern-frame, and, ere she could lift
Herself from out her present jeopardy,
The rudder tore away: 'twas time to sound
The pumps, and there were four feet water found.XXVIII


One gang of people instantly was put
Upon the pumps, and the remainder set
To get up part of the cargo, and what not,
But they could not come at the leak as yet;
At last they did get at it really, but
Still their salvation was an even bet:
The water rush'd through in a way quite puzzling,

[...] Read more

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La Fontaine

The Princess Betrothed To The King Of Garba

WHAT various ways in which a thing is told
Some truth abuse, while others fiction hold;
In stories we invention may admit;
But diff'rent 'tis with what historick writ;
Posterity demands that truth should then
Inspire relation, and direct the pen.

ALACIEL'S story's of another kind,
And I've a little altered it, you'll find;
Faults some may see, and others disbelieve;
'Tis all the same:--'twill never make me grieve;
Alaciel's mem'ry, it is very clear,
Can scarcely by it lose; there's naught to fear.
Two facts important I have kept in view,
In which the author fully I pursue;
The one--no less than eight the belle possessed,
Before a husband's sight her eyes had blessed;
The other is, the prince she was to wed
Ne'er seemed to heed this trespass on his bed,
But thought, perhaps, the beauty she had got
Would prove to any one a happy lot.

HOWE'ER this fair, amid adventures dire,
More sufferings shared than malice could desire;
Though eight times, doubtless, she exchanged her knight
No proof, that she her spouse was led to slight;
'Twas gratitude, compassion, or good will;
The dread of worse;--she'd truly had her fill;
Excuses just, to vindicate her fame,
Who, spite of troubles, fanned the monarch's flame:
Of eight the relict, still a maid received ;--
Apparently, the prince her pure believed;
For, though at times we may be duped in this,
Yet, after such a number--strange to miss!
And I submit to those who've passed the scene,
If they, to my opinion, do not lean.

THE king of Alexandria, Zarus named,
A daughter had, who all his fondness claimed,
A star divine Alaciel shone around,
The charms of beauty's queen were in her found;
With soul celestial, gracious, good, and kind,
And all-accomplished, all-complying mind.

THE, rumour of her worth spread far and wide,
The king of Garba asked her for his bride,
And Mamolin (the sov'reign of the spot,)
To other princes had a pref'rence got.

THE fair, howe'er, already felt the smart

[...] Read more

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Ch 07 On The Effects Of Education Story 03

An illustrious scholar, who was the tutor of a royal prince, had the habit of striking him unceremoniously and treating him severely. The boy, who could no longer bear this violence, went to his father to complain and when he had taken off his coat, the father’s heart was moved with pity. Accordingly he called for the tutor and said: ‘Thou dost not permit thyself to indulge in so much cruelty towards the children of my subjects as thou inflictest upon my son. What is the reason?’ He replied: ‘It is incumbent upon all persons in general to converse in a sedate manner and to behave in a laudable way but more especially upon padshahs because whatever they say or do is commented on by everybody, the utterances or acts of common people being of no such consequence.

‘If a hundred unworthy things are committed by a dervish
His companions do not know one in a hundred.
But if a padshah utters only one jest
It is borne from country to country.

‘It is the duty of a royal prince’s tutor to train up the sons of his lord in refinement of morals-and Allah caused her to grow up as a beautiful plant-more diligently than the sons of common people.’

He whom thou hast not punished when a child
Will not prosper when he becomes a man.
While a stick is green, thou canst bend it as thou listest.
When it is dry, fire alone can make it straight.

The king, being pleased with the appropriate discipline of the tutor and with his explanatory reply, bestowed upon him a robe of honour with other gifts and raised him to a higher position.

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The Dragon of the Black Pool

Deep the waters of the Black Pool, colored like ink;
They say a Holy Dragon lives there, whom men have never seen.
Beside the Pool they have built a shrine; the authorities
have established a ritual;
A dragon by itself remains a dragon, but men can make it a god.
Prosperity and disaster, rain and drought, plagues and pestilences—
By the village people were all regarded as the Sacred Dragon’s doing.
They all made offerings of sucking-pig and poured libations of wine;
The morning prayers and evening gifts depended on a “medium’s” advice.
When the dragon comes, ah!
The wind stirs and sighs
Paper money thrown, ah!
Silk umbrellas waved.
When the dragon goes, ah!
The wind also—still.
Incense-fire dies, ah !
The cups and vessels are cold.
Meats lie stacked on the rocks of the Pool’s shore;
Wine flows on the grass in front of the shrine.
I do not know, of all those offerings, how much the Dragon eats;
But the mice of the woods and the foxes of the hills are continually drunk and sated.
Why are the foxes so lucky?
What have the sucking-pigs done,
That year by year they should be killed, merely to glut the foxes?
That the foxes are robbing the Sacred Dragon and eating His sucking-pig,
Beneath the nine-fold depths of His pool, does He know or not?

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The Trees in the Garden Rained Flowers

The trees in the garden rained flowers.
Children ran there joyously.
They gathered the flowers
Each to himself.
Now there were some
Who gathered great heaps --
Having opportunity and skill --
Until, behold, only chance blossoms
Remained for the feeble.
Then a little spindling tutor
Ran importantly to the father, crying:
"Pray, come hither!
See this unjust thing in your garden!"
But when the father had surveyed,
He admonished the tutor:
"Not so, small sage!
This thing is just.
For, look you,
Are not they who possess the flowers
Stronger, bolder, shrewder
Than they who have none?
Why should the strong --
The beautiful strong --
Why should they not have the flowers?"
Upon reflection, the tutor bowed to the ground,
"My lord," he said,
"The stars are displaced
By this towering wisdom."

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Helpless Woman

He and she and they can persecute
Number of times knowingly
Torturing her by many means they invent
Pleasure is theirs.She, wounded unhappily
No way of guarding herself.
God! Foxes should be spiked only by God
Will they be sorry? no, hope not
Some are born to repent not
When they turn to be repaid themselves
Will she redeem her happy youth?
Gone are her days in the den of foxes;
Foxes harassing others into the flaming hearth.
One foot onto the threshold of death
Dire her wish to be rescued
Ere fastened in her burial sheath
Frowning are her words'cursed
Are you! others treated
Vehemently under your feet crushed
You be crushed by the fury of God! '

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Sound Of Sheep

The sheep are soundless in the snow,
Sleepless for the night as it stoops;
Aggression has appeared for the lairs,
As I have risen for the keeping of foxes.

Exhaling now and then, we are gray in the mind,
Life is dazzling with a vortex of guidance;
Anger has stunned us for the hope is near
For the foxes to retreat and rout, the auction is so near.

It is agitated, and been clear at hand
That foxes number the dozens in sleep.

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Prerequisite Lessons

repackaged eagerly sought out still
similar determined tutor stereotypes now
revamped eagerly ad lip answering
a higher more prestigious new calling

high-status impressive undergrads
esteemed exalted young minds
keen eager minds grade willing
seek out privileged private lessons

to learn scan forth search tutor out
price paid is bartered ephemeral time paid
traditional lessons prerequisite lessons
examinations chit bargaining entry point


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Part II

So, they ring bell, give orders, pay, depart
Amid profuse acknowledgment from host
Who well knows what may bring the younger back.
They light cigar, descend in twenty steps
The 'calm acclivity,' inhale—beyond
Tobacco's balm—the better smoke of turf
And wood fire,—cottages at cookery
I' the morning,—reach the main road straitening on
'Twixt wood and wood, two black walls full of night
Slow to disperse, though mists thin fast before
The advancing foot, and leave the flint-dust fine
Each speck with its fire-sparkle. Presently
The road's end with the sky's beginning mix
In one magnificence of glare, due East,
So high the sun rides,—May's the merry month.
They slacken pace: the younger stops abrupt.
Discards cigar, looks his friend full in face.

"All right; the station comes in view at end;
Five minutes from the beech-clump, there you are!
I say: let's halt, let's borrow yonder gate
Of its two magpies, sit and have a talk!
Do let a fellow speak a moment! More
I think about and less I like the thing—
No, you must let me! Now, be good for once!
Ten thousand pounds be done for, dead and damned!
We played for love, not hate: yes, hate! I hate
Thinking you beg or borrow or reduce
To strychnine some poor devil of a lord
Licked at Unlimited Loo. I had the cash
To lose—you knew that!—lose and none the less
Whistle to-morrow: it's not every chap
Affords to take his punishment so well!
Now, don't be angry with a friend whose fault
Is that he thinks—upon my soul, I do—
Your head the best head going. Oh, one sees
Names in the newspaper—great this, great that,
Gladstone, Carlyle, the Laureate:—much I care!
Others have their opinion, I keep mine:
Which means—by right you ought to have the things
I want a head for. Here's a pretty place,
My cousin's place, and presently my place.
Not yours! I'll tell you how it strikes a man.
My cousin's fond of music and of course
Plays the piano (it won't be for long!)
A brand-new bore she calls a 'semi-grand,'
Rosewood and pearl, that blocks the drawing-room.
And cost no end of money. Twice a week
Down comes Herr Somebody and seats himself.
Sets to work teaching—with his teeth on edge—

[...] Read more

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The Princess (prologue)

Sir Walter Vivian all a summer's day
Gave his broad lawns until the set of sun
Up to the people: thither flocked at noon
His tenants, wife and child, and thither half
The neighbouring borough with their Institute
Of which he was the patron. I was there
From college, visiting the son,--the son
A Walter too,--with others of our set,
Five others: we were seven at Vivian-place.

And me that morning Walter showed the house,
Greek, set with busts: from vases in the hall
Flowers of all heavens, and lovelier than their names,
Grew side by side; and on the pavement lay
Carved stones of the Abbey-ruin in the park,
Huge Ammonites, and the first bones of Time;
And on the tables every clime and age
Jumbled together; celts and calumets,
Claymore and snowshoe, toys in lava, fans
Of sandal, amber, ancient rosaries,
Laborious orient ivory sphere in sphere,
The cursed Malayan crease, and battle-clubs
From the isles of palm: and higher on the walls,
Betwixt the monstrous horns of elk and deer,
His own forefathers' arms and armour hung.

And 'this' he said 'was Hugh's at Agincourt;
And that was old Sir Ralph's at Ascalon:
A good knight he! we keep a chronicle
With all about him'--which he brought, and I
Dived in a hoard of tales that dealt with knights,
Half-legend, half-historic, counts and kings
Who laid about them at their wills and died;
And mixt with these, a lady, one that armed
Her own fair head, and sallying through the gate,
Had beat her foes with slaughter from her walls.

'O miracle of women,' said the book,
'O noble heart who, being strait-besieged
By this wild king to force her to his wish,
Nor bent, nor broke, nor shunned a soldier's death,
But now when all was lost or seemed as lost--
Her stature more than mortal in the burst
Of sunrise, her arm lifted, eyes on fire--
Brake with a blast of trumpets from the gate,
And, falling on them like a thunderbolt,
She trampled some beneath her horses' heels,
And some were whelmed with missiles of the wall,
And some were pushed with lances from the rock,
And part were drowned within the whirling brook:

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The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,

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In Loving Memory

A long time ago,1976 to be exact
a friend said I should go along
to a writing class he had joined.
Therefore, I did and met someone,
who was to change my life.
However, I did not know it at the time.
For the first couple of years he was simply my tutor.

However, as the years rolled on,
he became my mentor,
and most of all my friend.
For every year, we knew one another
the friendship grew stronger than before.
Before I met Maurice,
he had published four novels
and I have every one.

He started with A City Called Holy,
next came The Splendour and the Havoc,
and then The World and the Flesh,
and finally Across the Frontier.
He also wrote plays,
produced, directed and acted
in them with his wife Peggy.
When I met him his books
were out of print,
but through the years,
I found them one by one.

After a friendship that lasted
over seventeen years Maurice died.
However just before he passed away,
he told me how his local library
had approached him, wanting to know
if he had any copies of his books,
as they only had one left.
He did not and felt sadly about that.
As he told me, I made a promise to myself.

Not matter how long it took,
or how much it would cost,
his local library would have,
those books of his they did not have.
More than ten years passed from the time of his death,
until I was finally able to fulfil my promise.
I collected through the years
the books the library was missing.
In January 2006, I presented them to his local library.

It was a way of saluting a special friend,

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John Dryden

Cymon And Iphigenia. From Boccace

Old as I am, for lady's love unfit,
The power of beauty I remember yet,
Which once inflamed my soul, and still inspires my wit.
If love be folly, the severe divine;
Has felt that folly, though he censures mine;
Pollutes the pleasures of a chaste embrace,
Acts what I write, and propagates in grace,
With riotous excess, a priestly race.
Suppose him free, and that I forge the offence,
He showed the way, perverting first my sense:
In malice witty, and with venom fraught,
He makes me speak the things I never thought.
Compute the gains of his ungoverned zeal;
Ill suits his cloth the praise of railing well.
The world will think that what we loosely write,
Though now arraigned, he read with some delight;
Because he seems to chew the end again,
When his broad comment makes the text too plain,
And teaches more in one explaining page
Than all the double meanings of the stage.

What needs he paraphrase on what we mean?
We were at worst but wanton; he's obscene.
I nor my fellows nor my self excuse;
But Love's the subject of the comic Muse;
Nor can we write without, nor would you
A tale of only dry instruction view.
Nor love is always of a vicious kind,
But oft to virtuous acts inflames the mind,
Awakes the sleepy vigour of the soul,
And, brushing o'er, adds motion to the pool.
Love, studious how to please, improves our parts
With polished manners, and adorns with arts.
Love first invented verse, and formed the rhyme,
The motion measured, harmonized the chime;
To liberal acts enlarged the narrow-souled,
Softened the fierce, and made the coward bold;
The world, when waste, he peopled with increase,
And warring nations reconciled in peace.
Ormond, the first, and all the fair may find,
In this one legend to their fame designed,
When beauty fires the blood, how love exalts the mind.
In that sweet isle, where Venus keeps her court,
And every grace, and all the loves, resort;
Where either sex is formed of softer earth,
And takes the bent of pleasure from their birth;
There lived a Cyprian lord, above the rest
Wise, wealthy, with a numerous issue blest.

But, as no gift of fortune is sincere,

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