The maw costs much.
Dutch proverbs
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Related quotes
Loose Talk Costs Lives
(b gibb)
Loose talk costs lives
People like to play
Were basically the same
We never lie
Loose talk costs lives
Dont look at me as if you dont remember me at all
There was laughter, there was pain
But I wont make the same mistakes I made
You are too beautiful to me
I hide my tears inside the rain
Am I the soul you cast your spell upon
I had control and now its gone
Or are you someone who controls my heart and mind
And I will never say a word
And I will never say goodbye
Loose talk costs lives
People like to play
Were basically the same
We never lie
Loose talk costs lives
I can see that someone hung a sign around your heart
And it reads do not return
And there is so much trouble I could cause
Someone as beautiful as you
You can feel my candle burn
And I still recall some starry night
We had it all, we held on tight
I promised I would come to you and catch you if you fall
And they will never know about us
For just one moment you were mine
Loose talk costs lives
People like to play
Were basically the same
We never lie
Loose talk costs lives
For just one moment, just one moment, you were mine
Loose talk costs lives
(our moment held in time)
People like to play
Were basically the same
We never lie
Loose talk costs lives
Loose talk costs lives
People like to play
Were basically the same
We never lie
Loose talk costs lives
song performed by Bee Gees
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The Cyclops
SILENUS:
O Bacchus, what a world of toil, both now
And ere these limbs were overworn with age,
Have I endured for thee! First, when thou fled’st
The mountain-nymphs who nursed thee, driven afar
By the strange madness Juno sent upon thee;
Then in the battle of the Sons of Earth,
When I stood foot by foot close to thy side,
No unpropitious fellow-combatant,
And, driving through his shield my winged spear,
Slew vast Enceladus. Consider now,
Is it a dream of which I speak to thee?
By Jove it is not, for you have the trophies!
And now I suffer more than all before.
For when I heard that Juno had devised
A tedious voyage for you, I put to sea
With all my children quaint in search of you,
And I myself stood on the beaked prow
And fixed the naked mast; and all my boys
Leaning upon their oars, with splash and strain
Made white with foam the green and purple sea,--
And so we sought you, king. We were sailing
Near Malea, when an eastern wind arose,
And drove us to this waste Aetnean rock;
The one-eyed children of the Ocean God,
The man-destroying Cyclopses, inhabit,
On this wild shore, their solitary caves,
And one of these, named Polypheme. has caught us
To be his slaves; and so, for all delight
Of Bacchic sports, sweet dance and melody,
We keep this lawless giant’s wandering flocks.
My sons indeed on far declivities,
Young things themselves, tend on the youngling sheep,
But I remain to fill the water-casks,
Or sweeping the hard floor, or ministering
Some impious and abominable meal
To the fell Cyclops. I am wearied of it!
And now I must scrape up the littered floor
With this great iron rake, so to receive
My absent master and his evening sheep
In a cave neat and clean. Even now I see
My children tending the flocks hitherward.
Ha! what is this? are your Sicinnian measures
Even now the same, as when with dance and song
You brought young Bacchus to Althaea’s halls?
CHORUS OF SATYRS:
STROPHE:
Where has he of race divine
[...] Read more
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Right Where I Belong
And theres a difference than spending time with me
and killing time while im there
too many ppl and too many things
and it makes me feel like hell
You have gone as I can see
and all of this she says to me
[Chorus]
Theres too many questions
and too many strings
and it wont keep this thing tied
On the road, it costs the ride
It Feels like im lying next to a ghost at night
I dont know why I gave you my heart
cause sometimes it feels so wrong
But despite of all this weather
I know why we are together
and I swear right now
I know right where I belong
I know I get a little bit crazy
but I never done you no wrong
Well I get distracted and carried away
and I spend this way too long
But I dont know what you need from me
cause all I know is what I can see
[Chorus]
Theres too many questions
and too many strings
and it wont keep this thing tied
On the road, it costs the ride
It Feels like im lying next to a ghost at night
I dont know why I gave you my heart
cause sometimes it feels so wrong
But despite of all this weather
I know why we are together
and I swear right now
I know right where I belong
Im right where I belong
Go on, Play it for me Son
[Chorus]
Theres too many questions
and too many strings
and it wont keep this thing tied
On the road, it costs the ride
It Feels like im lying next to a ghost at night
I dont know why I gave you my heart
cause sometimes it feels so wrong
But despite of all this weather
I know why we are together
and I swear right now
I know right where I belong
song performed by 3 Doors Down
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She's A Star
By: Barry Manilow, Enoch Anderson
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It really doesnt matter if she suffered all she claims.
You know she started somewhere and she found her way to fame.
And feeding on the lonely crowd, she finally belongs.
A Goddess by the microphone she sings her troubled songs.
Shes a star
No on can tell her anymore
(She did it)
Shell ride as far
As the road can go
And what it costs, she oughta know
She said shed do it
Shes a star
(she did it)
Theyre hangin on her music as it fills the concert hall
And shes teasin them with moments, when you think shell give it all
But shes holdin back the total, cause that s how she works the spell
Yeah, she likes to leave em hungry, yeah she loves to hear em yell!
Shes a star
No on can tell her anymore
(She did it)
Shell ride as far
As the road can go
And what it costs, she oughta know
She said shed do it
Shes a star
(she did it)
And finally, the wild applause that cleans her soul and saves
Shes left with no companions only enemies and slaves.
Shes scared again the show was slow, she felt it fall behind
Tomorrow nights already raising riot in her mind.
Shes a star
No on can tell her anymore
(She did it)
Shell ride as far
As the road can go
And what it costs, she oughta know
She said shed do it
Shes a star
(she did it)
song performed by Barry Manilow
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Love Is Expensive And Free
Written by Tony Scalzo
VERSE
You can talk to me about powder kegs
And how I'm sitting on one right now
You can warn me about candles
and whole things burning from the outside in
But don't tell me about true love
'Cause I don't think you really know
CHORUS
You need to pay the costs
You need to feel the loss
'Cause love is expensive and free
Love is expensive and free
VERSE
Talk to me about appearances
I tell ya' lately they mean less and less
Do your best to keep me occupied
It's hard to concentrate, I must confess
Don't you tell me about heartbreak
'Cause it ain't written in the stars
CHORUS
You need to pay the costs
You need to feel the loss
'Cause love is expensive and free
Love is expensive and free
Alright, you got me
VERSE
Don't you worry 'bout my baby
Her eyes are open all the time
I could never bare to see her
Much less remove her from my mind
I didn't talk to you about true love
I didn't think you'd understand
CHORUS
You need to pay the costs
You need to feel the loss
'Cause love is expensive and free
Love is expensive and free
Love is expensive and free
song performed by Fastball
Added by Lucian Velea
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And, in the past, it has been all too easy for legislators to load costs onto business in order to meet broader social goals. And costs for business means costs for consumers.
quote by John Hutton
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Love Is Expensive & Free
Written by tony scalzo
Verse
You can talk to me about powder kegs
And how Im sitting on one right now
You can warn me about candles
And whole things burning from the outside in
But dont tell me about true love
cause I dont think you really know
Chorus
You need to pay the costs
You need to feel the loss
cause love is expensive and free
Love is expensive and free
Verse
Talk to me about appearances
I tell ya lately they mean less and less
Do your best to keep me occupied
Its hard to concentrate, I must confess
Dont you tell me about heartbreak
cause it aint written in the stars
Chorus
You need to pay the costs
You need to feel the loss
cause love is expensive and free
Love is expensive and free
Alright, you got me
Verse
Dont you worry bout my baby
Her eyes are open all the time
I could never bare to see her
Much less remove her from my mind
I didnt talk to you about true love
I didnt think youd understand
Chorus
You need to pay the costs
You need to feel the loss
cause love is expensive and free
Love is expensive and free
Love is expensive and free
song performed by Fastball
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Paper Bag
I was staring at the sky, just looking for a star
To pray on, or wish on, or something like that
I was having a sweet fix of a daydream of a boy
Whose reality I knew, was a hopeless to be had
But then the dove of hope began its downward slope
And I believed for a moment that my chances
Were approaching to be grabbed
But as it came down near, so did a weary tear
-i thought it was a bird, but it was just a paper bag
-hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
Cuz I know Im a mess he dont wanna clean up
I got to fold cuz these hands are too shaky to hold
-hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love
And I went crazy again today, looking for a strand to climb
Looking for a little hope
Baby said he couldnt stay, wouldnt put his lips to mine,
And a fail to kiss is a fail to cope
I said, honey, I dont feel so good, dont feel justified
Come on put a little love here in my void, - he said
its all in your head, and I said, sos everything -
But he didnt get it - I thought he was a man
But he was just a little boy
-hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
Cuz I know Im a mess he dont wanna clean up
I got to fold cuz these hands are too shaky to hold
-hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love
-hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills
Cuz I know Im a mess he dont wanna clean up
I got to fold cuz these hands are too shaky to hold
-hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love
song performed by Fiona Apple
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“LIVES” are Priceless
Believe it, humans cost money, they’re profits, and lives aren’t
important:
“It costs to be born, ”
“It costs to live, ”
“It costs to die.”
In the agriculture industry, money comes before being fed.
In the fashion industry, money comes before being clothed.
In the real estate industry, money comes before being sheltered.
In the business industry, money comes before doing without needs.
In the health industry, money comes before saving lives.
In the funeral industry, money comes before burying a life.
Money is the main human sacrifice and those celebrities are the public example; the dramas and appraisers surrounding their lives are preyed upon by tabloids that make earnings about their publicity:
Their charity work, it’s worth bronze.
Their childhood, it’s worth silver.
Adultery exposure, nude images, drugs, DUI, etc. it’s worth gold.
Death or prison sentence, a pandemonium, that’s worth platinum!
Coming into this world you’re paying a price, but what will happen if people can’t afford to buy anymore? Nah, that wouldn’t happen—it’s always will or a way, and even with the different birth control life can’t be eliminated.
poem by Francee Bouvenir
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Romsdal
Come up on deck! The morning is clear,-
Memory wakes, as the landmarks appear.
How many the islands, green and cheery,
The salt-licking skerries, weed-wound, smeary!
On this side, on that side, they frolic before us,
Good friends, but wild,-in frightened chorus
Sea-fowl shriek round us, a flying legion.
We are in a region
Of storms historic, unique for aye.
We fare the fishermen's venturesome way!
Far out the bank and the big fish shoaling,
The captain narrates; and just now unrolling
Sails run to shore a swift racing match;-
Good is the catch.
Yes, yes,-I recognize them again,
Romsdal's boats' weather-beaten men.
They
know
how to sail, when need's at hand.
But I'm forgetting to look towards land!
- - - It whelms the sight
Like lightning bright,-
In memory graven, but not so great.
Wherever I suffer my eyes to wander,
Stand mountain-giants, both here and yonder,
The loin of one by the other's shoulder,
Naught else to where earth and sky are blending.
The dread of a world's din daunts the beholder;
The silence vastens the vision unending.
Some are in white and others in blue,
With pointed tops that emulous tower;
Some mass their power,
In marching columns their purpose pursue.
Away, you small folk!-In there 'The Preacher'
In high assembly the service intoning
Of magnates primeval, their patriarch owning!
Of what does he preach, my childhood's teacher?
So often, so often to him I listened,
In eager worship, devout and lowly;
My songs were christened
In light that fell from his whiteness holy.
- How great it is! I can finish never.
Great thoughts that in life and legend we treasure
Stream towards the scene in persistent endeavor,
[...] Read more
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Last Instructions to a Painter
After two sittings, now our Lady State
To end her picture does the third time wait.
But ere thou fall'st to work, first, Painter, see
If't ben't too slight grown or too hard for thee.
Canst thou paint without colors? Then 'tis right:
For so we too without a fleet can fight.
Or canst thou daub a signpost, and that ill?
'Twill suit our great debauch and little skill.
Or hast thou marked how antic masters limn
The aly-roof with snuff of candle dim,
Sketching in shady smoke prodigious tools?
'Twill serve this race of drunkards, pimps and fools.
But if to match our crimes thy skill presumes,
As th' Indians, draw our luxury in plumes.
Or if to score out our compendious fame,
With Hooke, then, through the microscope take aim,
Where, like the new Comptroller, all men laugh
To see a tall louse brandish the white staff.
Else shalt thou oft thy guiltless pencil curse,
Stamp on thy palette, not perhaps the worse.
The painter so, long having vexed his cloth--
Of his hound's mouth to feign the raging froth--
His desperate pencil at the work did dart:
His anger reached that rage which passed his art;
Chance finished that which art could but begin,
And he sat smiling how his dog did grin.
So mayst thou pérfect by a lucky blow
What all thy softest touches cannot do.
Paint then St Albans full of soup and gold,
The new court's pattern, stallion of the old.
Him neither wit nor courage did exalt,
But Fortune chose him for her pleasure salt.
Paint him with drayman's shoulders, butcher's mien,
Membered like mules, with elephantine chine.
Well he the title of St Albans bore,
For Bacon never studied nature more.
But age, allayed now that youthful heat,
Fits him in France to play at cards and treat.
Draw no commission lest the court should lie,
That, disavowing treaty, asks supply.
He needs no seal but to St James's lease,
Whose breeches wear the instrument of peace;
Who, if the French dispute his power, from thence
Can straight produce them a plenipotence..
Nor fears he the Most Christian should trepan
Two saints at once, St Germain, St Alban,
But thought the Golden Age was now restored,
When men and women took each other's word.
[...] Read more
poem by Andrew Marvell
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Endymion: Book II
O Sovereign power of love! O grief! O balm!
All records, saving thine, come cool, and calm,
And shadowy, through the mist of passed years:
For others, good or bad, hatred and tears
Have become indolent; but touching thine,
One sigh doth echo, one poor sob doth pine,
One kiss brings honey-dew from buried days.
The woes of Troy, towers smothering o'er their blaze,
Stiff-holden shields, far-piercing spears, keen blades,
Struggling, and blood, and shrieks--all dimly fades
Into some backward corner of the brain;
Yet, in our very souls, we feel amain
The close of Troilus and Cressid sweet.
Hence, pageant history! hence, gilded cheat!
Swart planet in the universe of deeds!
Wide sea, that one continuous murmur breeds
Along the pebbled shore of memory!
Many old rotten-timber'd boats there be
Upon thy vaporous bosom, magnified
To goodly vessels; many a sail of pride,
And golden keel'd, is left unlaunch'd and dry.
But wherefore this? What care, though owl did fly
About the great Athenian admiral's mast?
What care, though striding Alexander past
The Indus with his Macedonian numbers?
Though old Ulysses tortured from his slumbers
The glutted Cyclops, what care?--Juliet leaning
Amid her window-flowers,--sighing,--weaning
Tenderly her fancy from its maiden snow,
Doth more avail than these: the silver flow
Of Hero's tears, the swoon of Imogen,
Fair Pastorella in the bandit's den,
Are things to brood on with more ardency
Than the death-day of empires. Fearfully
Must such conviction come upon his head,
Who, thus far, discontent, has dared to tread,
Without one muse's smile, or kind behest,
The path of love and poesy. But rest,
In chaffing restlessness, is yet more drear
Than to be crush'd, in striving to uprear
Love's standard on the battlements of song.
So once more days and nights aid me along,
Like legion'd soldiers.
Brain-sick shepherd-prince,
What promise hast thou faithful guarded since
The day of sacrifice? Or, have new sorrows
Come with the constant dawn upon thy morrows?
Alas! 'tis his old grief. For many days,
Has he been wandering in uncertain ways:
[...] Read more
poem by John Keats
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Paradise Lost: Book 10
Mean while the heinous and despiteful act
Of Satan, done in Paradise; and how
He, in the serpent, had perverted Eve,
Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit,
Was known in Heaven; for what can 'scape the eye
Of God all-seeing, or deceive his heart
Omniscient? who, in all things wise and just,
Hindered not Satan to attempt the mind
Of Man, with strength entire and free will armed,
Complete to have discovered and repulsed
Whatever wiles of foe or seeming friend.
For still they knew, and ought to have still remembered,
The high injunction, not to taste that fruit,
Whoever tempted; which they not obeying,
(Incurred what could they less?) the penalty;
And, manifold in sin, deserved to fall.
Up into Heaven from Paradise in haste
The angelick guards ascended, mute, and sad,
For Man; for of his state by this they knew,
Much wondering how the subtle Fiend had stolen
Entrance unseen. Soon as the unwelcome news
From Earth arrived at Heaven-gate, displeased
All were who heard; dim sadness did not spare
That time celestial visages, yet, mixed
With pity, violated not their bliss.
About the new-arrived, in multitudes
The ethereal people ran, to hear and know
How all befel: They towards the throne supreme,
Accountable, made haste, to make appear,
With righteous plea, their utmost vigilance
And easily approved; when the Most High
Eternal Father, from his secret cloud,
Amidst in thunder uttered thus his voice.
Assembled Angels, and ye Powers returned
From unsuccessful charge; be not dismayed,
Nor troubled at these tidings from the earth,
Which your sincerest care could not prevent;
Foretold so lately what would come to pass,
When first this tempter crossed the gulf from Hell.
I told ye then he should prevail, and speed
On his bad errand; Man should be seduced,
And flattered out of all, believing lies
Against his Maker; no decree of mine
Concurring to necessitate his fall,
Or touch with lightest moment of impulse
His free will, to her own inclining left
In even scale. But fallen he is; and now
What rests, but that the mortal sentence pass
On his transgression,--death denounced that day?
Which he presumes already vain and void,
[...] Read more
poem by John Milton
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The Pillage Hangman - Parody LONGFELLOW - The Village Blacksmith
Under a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The Smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can
And looks the whole world in the face
For he owes not any man.
Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.
And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming furge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing floor.
He goes on Sunday to the church
and sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach.
He hears his daughter's voice
singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.
It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.
Toiling, -rejoicing, -sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close;
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend
[...] Read more
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Indian Outlaw
(tommy barnes/gene simmons/john d. loudermilk)
(track 6 - time 3:02)
Im an indian outlaw
Half cherokee and choctaw
My baby shes a chippewa
Shes one of a kind
All my friends call me bear claw
The village cheaftin is my paw-paw
He gets his orders from my maw-maw
She makes him walk the line
You can find me in my wigwam
Ill be beatin on my tom-tom
Pull out the pipe and smoke you some
Hey and pass it around
cause Im an indian outlaw
Half cherokee and choctaw
My baby shes a chippewa
Shes one of a kind
I aint lookin for trouble
We can ride my pony double
Make your little heart bubble
Lord like a glass of wine
I remember the medicine man
He caught runnin water in my hands
Drug me around by my headband
Said I wasnt her kind
cause Im an indian outlaw
Half cherokee and choctaw
My baby shes a chippewa
Shes one of a kind
I can kill a deer or buffalo
With just my arrow and my hickory bow
From a hundred yards dont you know
I do it all the time
They all gather round my teepee
Late at night tryin to catch a peek at me
In nothin but my buffalo briefs
I got em standin in line
cause Im an indian outlaw
Half cherokee and choctaw
My baby shes a chippewa
Shes one of a kind
Cherokee people
Cherokee tribe
So proud to live
So proud to die
song performed by Tim McGraw
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Slickens
DRAMATIS PERSONAE.
HAYSEED _a Granger_
NOZZLE _a Miner_
RINGDIVVY _a Statesman_
FEEGOBBLE _a Lawyer_
JUNKET _a Committee_
_Scene_-Yuba Dam.
_Feegobble, Ringdivvy, Nozzle_.
NOZZLE:
My friends, since '51 I have pursued
The evil tenor of my watery way,
Removing hills as by an act of faith
RINGDIVVY:
Just so; the steadfast faith of those who hold,
In foreign lands beyond the Eastern sea,
The shares in your concern-a simple, blind,
Unreasoning belief in dividends,
Still stimulated by assessments which,
When the skies fall, ensnaring all the larks,
Will bring, no doubt, a very great return.
ALL (_singing_):
O the beautiful assessment,
The exquisite assessment,
The regular assessment,
That makes the water flow.
RINGDIVVY:
The rascally-assessment!
FEEGOBBLE:
The murderous assessment!
NOZZLE:
The glorious assessment
That makes my mare to go!
FEEGOBBLE:
[...] Read more
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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Clarence
Clarence Lee from Tennessee
Loved the commercials he saw on TV.
He watched with wide believing eyes
And bought everything they advertised --
Cream to make his skin feel better
Spray to make his hair look wetter
Bleach to make his white things whiter
Stylish jeans that fit much tighter.
Toothpaste for his cavities,
Powder for his doggie's fleas,
Purple mouthwash for his breath,
Deodorant to stop his sweat.
He bought each cereal they presented,
Bought each game that they invented.
Then one day he looked and saw
'A brand-new Maw, a better Paw!
New, improved in every way --
Hurry, order yours today!'
So, of course, our little Clarence
Sent off for two brand-new parents.
The new ones cam in the morning mail,
The old ones he sold at a garage sale.
And now they all are doing fine:
His new folks treat him sweet and kind,
His old ones work in an old coal mine.
So if your Maw and Paw are mean,
And make you eat your lima beans
And make you wash and make you wait
And never let you stay up late
And scream and scold and preach and pout,
That simply means they're wearing out.
So send off for two brand-new parents
And you'll be happy as little Clarence.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 10
THE GATES of heav’n unfold: Jove summons all
The gods to council in the common hall.
Sublimely seated, he surveys from far
The fields, the camp, the fortune of the war,
And all th’ inferior world. From first to last, 5
The sov’reign senate in degrees are plac’d.
Then thus th’ almighty sire began: “Ye gods,
Natives or denizens of blest abodes,
From whence these murmurs, and this change of mind,
This backward fate from what was first design’d? 10
Why this protracted war, when my commands
Pronounc’d a peace, and gave the Latian lands?
What fear or hope on either part divides
Our heav’ns, and arms our powers on diff’rent sides?
A lawful time of war at length will come, 15
(Nor need your haste anticipate the doom),
When Carthage shall contend the world with Rome,
Shall force the rigid rocks and Alpine chains,
And, like a flood, come pouring on the plains.
Then is your time for faction and debate, 20
For partial favor, and permitted hate.
Let now your immature dissension cease;
Sit quiet, and compose your souls to peace.”
Thus Jupiter in few unfolds the charge;
But lovely Venus thus replies at large: 25
“O pow’r immense, eternal energy,
(For to what else protection can we fly?)
Seest thou the proud Rutulians, how they dare
In fields, unpunish’d, and insult my care?
How lofty Turnus vaunts amidst his train, 30
In shining arms, triumphant on the plain?
Ev’n in their lines and trenches they contend,
And scarce their walls the Trojan troops defend:
The town is fill’d with slaughter, and o’erfloats,
With a red deluge, their increasing moats. 35
Æneas, ignorant, and far from thence,
Has left a camp expos’d, without defense.
This endless outrage shall they still sustain?
Shall Troy renew’d be forc’d and fir’d again?
A second siege my banish’d issue fears, 40
And a new Diomede in arms appears.
One more audacious mortal will be found;
And I, thy daughter, wait another wound.
Yet, if with fates averse, without thy leave,
The Latian lands my progeny receive, 45
Bear they the pains of violated law,
And thy protection from their aid withdraw.
But, if the gods their sure success foretell;
If those of heav’n consent with those of hell,
To promise Italy; who dare debate 50
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poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
Added by Poetry Lover
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There are risks and costs to a program of action. But they are far less than the long-range risks and costs of comfortable inaction.
quote by John F. Kennedy
Added by Lucian Velea
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