Quotes like The unknown is ever imagined.

The unknown is ever imagined.

Greek proverbs
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Destination Unknown

Im getting outta here cause theres too many complications
Yeah Im getting outta here dont get driven any information
And if they ask you for a number to call just say Im gone thats all
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Ill be gone, gone, gone
Destination unknown, destination unknown
If anybody wants me just say you dont know the address
Cause Ive had enough of the confusion and the madness
And should anybody ever try to stall, just say Im gone thats all
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Ill be gone, gone, gone
Destination unknown, destination unknown
Im tired of playing other peoples games
Tired of waiting for some things to change
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Ill be gone, gone, gone
Destination unknown, destination unknown
Im tired of playing other peoples games
Tired of waiting for some things to change
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Ill be gone, gone, gone
Destination unknown, destination unknown
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Ill be gone, gone, gone
Destination unknown, destination unknown
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home
Destination unknown, Im a long way from home

song performed by Electric Light Orchestra
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Imagined

Imagined the world described as heaven
Imagined the world all is even
Imagined everywhere without evil
Imagined the absence of soldier only civil

Imagined a quest between good nature existence
Imagined people, place and body with no cause for defence
Imagined air, love, soul and all virtues show their face
Imagined the extinction of all the different race

Imagined we always praise him who live above
Imagined nature ruffs all calm like pure dove
Imagined that you are not imagining
But all this is happening

poem by Kemurl Fofanah
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Mary had a Little Vamp and Other Parodies after Sarah Josepha HALE

Mary had a little vamp,
whose teeth glowed white as snow,
each night from sightly vent – no cramp -
the crimson droplets flow.

Some followed her from school one day;
though stalking's 'gainst the rules;
it made goose pimples grow and stay
to see them play at ghouls.

But they were caught, their tale remains
from history well hid,
though we discovered their remains
beneath oak coffin lid.

And so blood flowed from inside out,
none dared to lingered near
when shadows shiver, hang about
until Vamps disappear.

'Why does the Vamp love Mary so? '
the eager children cry;
'Why, Mary loves the Vamp, you know, '
the teacher did reply.

Sleep-overs followed, - little Vamp
A, B, AB, O, drew
by light of Mary’s lurid lamp
new haemoglobulu.

Thus vampire Vlad made Mary glad
hark! men well-read may read,
from kid school lad to college grad, -
mark then welt's red fey bead.

He wore a scarlet cape to match
sweet Mary’s ruddy lips,
attached thereto a cup to catch
the rhesus drips he sips.

No fly-by-night awed Mary’s Vamp,
he could fear blend at need,
though sky high flight soared scary champ -
we here end batty screed.

Mary had a little vamp,
whose teeth were white as snow,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Undiscovered Soul

R.sambora
She was standing at the station
Small town suitcase in her hand
There were dreams she found inside her
That no one cared to understand
She never talks about her childhood
So much past to leave behind
Shes so scared to go
But still she says goodbye.
When you walk that road
You walk alone
Just an undiscovered soul
In the great unknown
When you only hope
Is to find a home
Just an undiscovered soul
In the great unknown
In the great unknown.
Born and raised in poverty
Daddy died when he was young
All the fears that raged inside him
His spirit need to overcome
Each day he tears down the reflection
Of who he used to be
And with a little luck
Hell rise eventually.
When you walk that road
When you walk alone
Just an undiscovered soul
In the great unknown
When you only hope
Is to find a home
Just an undiscovered soul
In the great unknown
The great unknown.
Solo
In the search of our salvation
Relentlessly we climb
Just looking for a reason
In creations grand design
If patience is a virtue
Then let us humbly begin
Well be here waiting
til our ship comes sailing in.
When you walk that road
We walk alone
Just an undiscovered soul
In the great unknown
When you only hope
Is to find a home

[...] Read more

song performed by Bon Jovi
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Believing They Are Best Kept Unknown

So many sighing.
And some are hiding...
Their emotions from becoming,
A civil unrest.

So many sighing.
And some are hiding...
Their emotions from becoming,
A cause to arrest.

So many sighing.
And some are hiding...
Their emotions from becoming,
A joke to detest.

So many sighing.
And some are hiding...
Their emotions from becoming,
Scenes to detest.

So many sighing.
And some are hiding...
Their emotions from becoming,
Scenes to detest.
Believing them best,
Kept unknown.
Kept unknown.
Kept unknown.
Kept unknown.

So many sighing.
And some are hiding...
Their emotions from becoming,
A civil unrest.
Believing them best,
Kept unknown.
Kept unknown.
Kept unknown.
Kept unknown.

Believing they are best,
Kept unknown.
Kept unknown.
Kept unknown.
Kept unknown.
And...
Believing they are best,
Left alone.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Unknown

This unknown figure...
This unknown place...
Where am I at anyways?
This unknown feeling that I have,
This unknown pain inside;
I can't run away from.

Unknown heart, Unknown soul,
All unknown and all gone.
Sadden by all of this and all that's left..
Is me with no feeling...
I'm gone and lost and can't find a way out!

I'm an unknown person,
And an unknown girl who can't be seen.
I'm invisible, I'm a nobody,
I'm an unknown figure to people.
I'm gone forever and ever...right?

poem by Jessica Lee
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The Wars and the Unknown Soldier

I
Dry leaves, soldier, dry leaves, dead leaves;
voices of leaves on the wind that bears them to
destruction,
impassioned prayer, impassioned hymn of delight
of the gladly doomed to die. Stridor of beasts,
stridor of men, praises of lust and battle,
numberless as waves, the waves singing
to the wind that bears them down.

Under Osiris,
him of the Egyptian priests, Osynmandyas the King,
easward into Asia we passed, swarmed over Bactria,
three thousand years before Christ.

The history of war
is the history of mankind.
So many dead:
look at them there in the dark, look at them going,
the longest parade of all, the parade of the dead:
between then and now, seven thousand million dead:
dead on the filed of battle.

The people which is not ready
to guard its gods, and its household gods, with the
sword,
who knows but it will find itself with nothing
save honour to defend - ?

Consider, soldier
whatever name you go by, doughboy, dogface,
marine or tommy. God's mercenary – consider our lot
in the days if the single combat. You have been seen on the
seashore.
In the offshore wind blown backward, a wavecrest
windwhipped and quivering, borne helpless and
briefly
to fall underfoot of an oncoming seawall, foam-
smothered,
once more to recede, wind-thwarted again; thus
deathward
the battle lines whelmed and divided. The darkling
battalions
locked arms in chaos, the bravest, the heroes,
kept in the forefront' and this line once broken,
our army was done for.

II
In the new city of marble and bright stone,
the city named for a captain; in the capital:

[...] Read more

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Lara. A Tale

The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain,
And slavery half forgets her feudal chain;
He, their unhoped, but unforgotten lord--
The long self-exiled chieftain is restored:
There be bright faces in the busy hall,
Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;
Far chequering o'er the pictured window, plays
The unwonted fagots' hospitable blaze;
And gay retainers gather round the hearth,
With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth.

II.
The chief of Lara is return'd again:
And why had Lara cross'd the bounding main?
Left by his sire, too young such loss to know,
Lord of himself;--that heritage of woe,
That fearful empire which the human breast
But holds to rob the heart within of rest!--
With none to check, and few to point in time
The thousand paths that slope the way to crime;
Then, when he most required commandment, then
Had Lara's daring boyhood govern'd men.
It skills not, boots not, step by step to trace
His youth through all the mazes of its race;
Short was the course his restlessness had run,
But long enough to leave him half undone.

III.
And Lara left in youth his fatherland;
But from the hour he waved his parting hand
Each trace wax'd fainter of his course, till all
Had nearly ceased his memory to recall.
His sire was dust, his vassals could declare,
'Twas all they knew, that Lara was not there;
Nor sent, nor came he, till conjecture grew
Cold in the many, anxious in the few.
His hall scarce echoes with his wonted name,
His portrait darkens in its fading frame,
Another chief consoled his destined bride,
The young forgot him, and the old had died;
'Yet doth he live!' exclaims the impatient heir,
And sighs for sables which he must not wear.
A hundred scutcheons deck with gloomy grace
The Laras' last and longest dwelling-place;
But one is absent from the mouldering file,
That now were welcome to that Gothic pile.

IV.
He comes at last in sudden loneliness,
And whence they know not, why they need not guess;

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Light Burst, Confusion, First Thirst, Then Fusion, Flight

As nature hates a vacuum NOTHING can
be but a figment fragment second-guessed.
Reality and dreams combine, their quest
is thus to banish NOTHING then to span
creation’s vastness, scanning big bang's van,
from tao trip evolution's also-ran
to space displacement through one thousandth dan,
to Time condensing on initial jest
when request and inquest converge in gest.
Atoms void avoid, spin tails till trail's lost, rest
contest, contestants, distance, über plan,
arresting surface difference with zest.

From mess congestive to suggestive test
of chaos, universal fractal fest
patterns pitter patter, matter must
invent itself from, to, through, into dust.

./.

Before big bang rang change strange, range remaining still in flux
electrons once were strangers all to call of ‘fiat lux’.
Along came fission’s fusion, confusion first, then light
bequeathing mission’s clues upon delusion and delight.
This led to fate's conclusion, caused atoms to unite
the which, in turn, illusion lent woe_man - sum mum quite!

From chaos sprung our meeting, a marriage of convenience,
the which our rhymes are sweeting so judge linked lines with lenience.
When I was oxygenic and you two hydro genes
as dry as dust hygenic remained both Ways and Means,
as lonely and divided you me me…anderings,
unknown were helix he licks, and protoplasmic strings.

Unknown were then amoebae, or cells life's spells now bring,
like wise unfixed stoned genes' screen sticks, where species do their thing,
Thus life reached out, leached in for years before the Christian Right
decided seven days were all transforming night to right.
The Kansas Education Board's creation tale lies scored,
for aeons spun, together run, provided bread and board
for creatures wild - those really mild encountered some predators
before blind humankind assigned their carbon half-life daters.
Without our tryst few formal life forms on earth could ever
pursue existence ‘normal’, act out silly or feel clever.

When I was young and ignorant unknown to hair twins hydro
few days were spent in versing chant, reversing carbohydro
none fought for life on food chain link, existence ungalactic
they were a simple pair I think, electrons unclimactic.
But now beneath, above, beyond it is our joy to bond -

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Lara

LARA. [1]

CANTO THE FIRST.

The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain, [2]
And slavery half forgets her feudal chain;
He, their unhoped, but unforgotten lord —
The long self-exiled chieftain is restored:
There be bright faces in the busy hall,
Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;
Far chequering o'er the pictured window, plays
The unwonted fagots' hospitable blaze;
And gay retainers gather round the hearth,
With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth.

II.

The chief of Lara is return'd again:
And why had Lara cross'd the bounding main?
Left by his sire, too young such loss to know,
Lord of himself; — that heritage of woe,
That fearful empire which the human breast
But holds to rob the heart within of rest! —
With none to check, and few to point in time
The thousand paths that slope the way to crime;
Then, when he most required commandment, then
Had Lara's daring boyhood govern'd men.
It skills not, boots not, step by step to trace
His youth through all the mazes of its race;
Short was the course his restlessness had run,
But long enough to leave him half undone.

III.

And Lara left in youth his fatherland;
But from the hour he waved his parting hand
Each trace wax'd fainter of his course, till all
Had nearly ceased his memory to recall.
His sire was dust, his vassals could declare,
'Twas all they knew, that Lara was not there;
Nor sent, nor came he, till conjecture grew
Cold in the many, anxious in the few.
His hall scarce echoes with his wonted name,
His portrait darkens in its fading frame,
Another chief consoled his destined bride,
The young forgot him, and the old had died;
"Yet doth he live!" exclaims the impatient heir,
And sighs for sables which he must not wear.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron
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Aphorisms: Men and women, Happiness and misery

Some Aphorisms

Happiness is good health and a bad memory unknown
If I dropped dead right now I’d be the happiest man alive Samuel Goldwyn
Ask yourself if you are happy and you will cease to be John Stuart Mill
Be happy, it’s a way of being wise Odette

Anxiety is interest paid on trouble before it’s due Dean Inge
Harmony seldom makes a headline unknown
Don’t do whatever you like-like whatever you do unknown
Comedy is tragedy plus time Carol Burnett

When it rains look up rather than down
For without the rain there’d be no rainbow Jerry Chinn
Everything human is pathetic, the secret source
Of humor itself is not joy but sorrow unknown

I love my raggedy-ass ol’ life
I never want to die Dennis Trudell
We’d all be sorry if
All our wishes were gratified Aesop

Give a man free hands
and you’ll know where to find them Mae West
When a wife learns to understand a man
She usually stops listening to him unknown

All who would win joy, must share it
For happiness was born a twin Lord Byron
A Home is not a mere transient shelter
It’s essence lives in the people within unknown

Be good and you’ll be lonely Mark Twain
Don’t scorn the man who’s happy, he knows something you don’t Paul Jones
Men don’t need women, only parts of their anatomy unknown
Sex is what women have and what most men don’t unknown

poem by David Whalen
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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,

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Best Man

(Ricky)
Me and you babe
Ooh
mmm,mmm,mmm,mmm
mmm,mmm,mmm,mmm
Ooh
mmm,mmm,mmm,mmm
1st Verse
(Ralph)
I've been knowing you several years
Watched you laughed even shead tears, my dear
But we've only been friends kept it like that
Now we getting older and i don't know how to act
As of matter of fact there's something i wanna ask and it's....
Chrous
Have you ever considered me
As the best man for you(please tell me the truth right now)
Have you ever looked at me and said
that who i would say i do to(i'm talking bout your futher now)
Have you ever imagined me
As the best man for you
HAVE-YOU-EVER
2nd verse
(Ricky)
I know i'm coming out the blue, so suddenly
Just wanted to make sure i was ready
To be infactuated listen to me
Can't you see(i'm so tierd)
Of spending time with other women(so sick and tierd)
Of spending my money and don't wanna(i hope you tierd)
Of just being friends and keeping it like that
Cause we're getting older and i don't know how to act
As of matter of fact there's something i wanna ask and it's....
Chrous
Have you ever considered me
As the best man for you(come on and don't be embarassed and tell me)
Have you ever looked at me and said
that who i would say i do to(no one can fit this song but you)
Have you ever imagined me
As the best man for you
WHAT-CAN-IT-BE(ooh)
WITH ME AND YOU
Bridge
(Ralph & Johnny)
Chillin,
All the time,
Hanging out
Having a good time
(is it meant to be)
Yes is does

[...] Read more

song performed by New Edition
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Canto the First

The Serfs are glad through Lara's wide domain,
And slavery half forgets her feudal chain;
He, their unhoped, but unforgotten lord —
The long self-exiled chieftain is restored:
There be bright faces in the busy hall,
Bowls on the board, and banners on the wall;
Far chequering o'er the pictured window, plays
The unwonted fagots' hospitable blaze;
And gay retainers gather round the hearth,
With tongues all loudness, and with eyes all mirth.

II.

III.

[...] Read more

poem by Byron from Lara (1815)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Missionary - Canto Third

Come,--for the sun yet hangs above the bay,--
And whilst our time may brook a brief delay
With other thoughts, and, haply with a tear,
An old man's tale of sorrow thou shalt hear.
I wished not to reveal it;--thoughts that dwell
Deep in the lonely bosom's inmost cell
Unnoticed, and unknown, too painful wake,
And, like a tempest, the dark spirit shake,
When, starting from our slumberous apathy,
We gaze upon the scenes of days gone by.
Yet, if a moment's irritating flush,
Darkens thy cheek, as thoughts conflicting rush,
When I disclose my hidden griefs, the tale
May more than wisdom or reproof prevail.
Oh, may it teach thee, till all trials cease,
To hold thy course, though sorrowing, yet in peace;
Still looking up to Him, the soul's best stay,
Who Faith and Hope shall crown, when worlds are swept away!
Where fair Seville's Morisco turrets gleam
On Guadilquiver's gently-stealing stream;
Whose silent waters, seaward as they glide,
Reflect the wild-rose thickets on its side,
My youth was passed. Oh, days for ever gone!
How touched with Heaven's own light your mornings shone
Even now, when lonely and forlorn I bend,
My weary journey hastening to its end,
A drooping exile on a distant shore,
I mourn the hours of youth that are no more.
The tender thought amid my prayers has part,
And steals, at times, from Heaven my aged heart.
Forgive the cause, O God!--forgive the tear,
That flows, even now, o'er Leonora's bier;
For, 'midst the innocent and lovely, none
More beautiful than Leonora shone.
As by her widowed mother's side she knelt,
A sad and sacred sympathy I felt.
At Easter-tide, when the high mass was sung,
And, fuming high, the silver censer swung;
When rich-hued windows, from the arches' height,
Poured o'er the shrines a soft and yellow light;
From aisle to aisle, amid the service clear,
When 'Adoremus' swelled upon the ear.
(Such as to Heaven thy rapt attention drew
First in the Christian churches of Peru),
She seemed, methought, some spirit of the sky,
Descending to that holy harmony.
But wherefore tell, when life and hope were new,
How by degrees the soul's first passion grew!
I loved her, and I won her virgin heart;
But fortune whispered, we a while must part.

[...] Read more

poem by William Lisle Bowles
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The Unknown Star

I was born of an unknown star, of a mother who did not know herself-
From the very beginning I was a canary that could not sing and who
Would fall to the ground every time I lifted my wings to fly-
Trapped inside a cage of my own delusions,
I was alone looking upward towards that clouded sky, searching for that unknown star,
Where by chance I could find a place where I would belong-

My mother wept a wide stream of tears
Not to be consoled from the deep pain that tore at her heart-
The day I lost myself to another world, she abandoned me as agony wrenched her soul-
A phantasmal canary lying still at the bottom of my cage-
Hiding behind a rainbow looking for rays of hope,
Trying to deafen the voices only I could hear,

Searching for that unknown star,
I would dance in the rain beneath the faint light of the moon at night
Seeking for myself, that person I could not find, however
All I could find was a shadow upon the wall-

A shadow upon the wall I hardly recognized as myself,
A reflection within a pond which was that stream of my mother’s tears-
Dancing in the rain trying to become somebody,
Somebody famous or a perhaps an angel or a saint,
Trapped inside a cage of my own apparition where dense cloud cover barred me from
That unknown star where I might feel at home-

Looking about me at hillsides I might have tried to climb-all I could see was my shadow.
A shadow upon a hillside or inside, a shadow upon the wall,
A vague reflection within a pool of tears- Seemingly eyes of a ghost staring into mine,
Reading the demonic thoughts that raced inside of my mind-
Born of an unknown star, I had never found a home and
Born of an unknown star, I had never found myself-
Searching inside and outside all I could ever see was
A dark shadow of a lost person with no destiny or direction-

That canary that could not sing or fly, or perhaps a being who
Tried to come to life dancing in the rain beneath the faint moonlight- I became
A shadow dancing beneath the light of that unknown star I could not reach-
Hoping someday I would save the souls of those who despair and expectantly
Someday I would become that canary, but lifting my wings to fly and bursting into song,
Joyfully watching the sunrise as the moon would vanish
Behind disappearing dark clouds of despair.

poem by Claudia Krizay
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The Dream

'TWAS summer eve; the changeful beams still play'd
On the fir-bark and through the beechen shade;
Still with soft crimson glow'd each floating cloud;
Still the stream glitter'd where the willow bow'd;
Still the pale moon sate silent and alone,
Nor yet the stars had rallied round her throne;
Those diamond courtiers, who, while yet the West
Wears the red shield above his dying breast,
Dare not assume the loss they all desire,
Nor pay their homage to the fainter fire,
But wait in trembling till the Sun's fair light
Fading, shall leave them free to welcome Night!

So when some Chief, whose name through realms afar
Was still the watchword of succesful war,
Met by the fatal hour which waits for all,
Is, on the field he rallied, forced to fall,
The conquerors pause to watch his parting breath,
Awed by the terrors of that mighty death;
Nor dare the meed of victory to claim,
Nor lift the standard to a meaner name,
Till every spark of soul hath ebb'd away,
And leaves what was a hero, common clay.

Oh! Twilight! Spirit that dost render birth
To dim enchantments; melting Heaven with Earth,
Leaving on craggy hills and rumning streams
A softness like the atmosphere of dreams;
Thy hour to all is welcome! Faint and sweet
Thy light falls round the peasant's homeward feet,
Who, slow returning from his task of toil,
Sees the low sunset gild the cultured soil,
And, tho' such radliance round him brightly glows,
Marks the small spark his cottage window throws.
Still as his heart forestals his weary pace,
Fondly he dreams of each familiar face,
Recalls the treasures of his narrow life,
His rosy children, and his sunburnt wife,

To whom his coming is the chief event
Of simple days in cheerful labour spent.
The rich man's chariot hath gone whirling past,
And those poor cottagers have only cast
One careless glance on all that show of pride,
Then to their tasks turn'd quietly aside;
But him they wait for, him they welcome home,
Fond sentinels look forth to see him come;
The fagot sent for when the fire grew dim,
The frugal meal prepared, are all for him;
For him the watching of that sturdy boy,

[...] Read more

poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Armani

To Susilo Bambarg Yudhoyono of Indinesia,
And to Lula Da Silvia of Brazil;
Your name is Armani and,
My love for you is like Absalom's Monument.

Life is like a message to the unknown girl,
Life is like a message to the unnown boy,
Life is like a message to the unknown man,
Life is like a message to the unknown woman,
Life is like a message to the unkown gardener,
Life is likea message to the unknown potter,
Life is like a message to the unknown seller,
Life is like a message to the unknown painter,
But i will be with you my love.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Unknown Girl

You are the unknown girl that i have to make to,
You are the unknown girl sitting alone in the forest,
You are the unknown girl with the fruits of love so sweet,
But there exists s friend sticking closer than your siblings;
So come into my arms my sweet one.

To tell or not to tell?
You are the unknown girl still looking for a lover;
To seek or not to seek?
You are the unknown girl who is still in love with my muse;
To ask or not to ask?
You are the unknown girl with the attractive breasts!
For you need a true loving companion like my type.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Added by Poetry Lover
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Pharsalia - Book VI: The Fight Near Dyrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits. The Witch Of Thessalia.

Now that the chiefs with minds intent on fight
Had drawn their armies near upon the hills
And all the gods beheld their chosen pair,
Caesar, the Grecian towns despising, scorned
To reap the glory of successful war
Save at his kinsman's cost. In all his prayers
He seeks that moment, fatal to the world,
When shall be cast the die, to win or lose,
And all his fortune hang upon the throw.
Thrice he drew out his troops, his eagles thrice,
Demanding battle; thus to increase the woe
Of Latium, prompt as ever: but his foes,
Proof against every art, refused to leave
The rampart of their camp. Then marching swift
By hidden path between the wooded fields
He seeks, and hopes to seize, Dyrrhachium's fort;
But Magnus, speeding by the ocean marge,
First camped on Petra's slopes, a rocky hill
Thus by the natives named. From thence he keeps
Watch o'er the fortress of Corinthian birth
Which by its towers alone without a guard
Was safe against a siege. No hand of man
In ancient days built up her lofty wall,
No hammer rang upon her massive stones:
Not all the works of war, nor Time himself
Shall undermine her. Nature's hand has raised
Her adamantine rocks and hedged her in
With bulwarks girded by the foamy main:
And but for one short bridge of narrow earth
Dyrrhachium were an island. Steep and fierce,
Dreaded of sailors, are the cliffs that bear
Her walls; and tempests, howling from the west,
Toss up the raging main upon the roofs;
And homes and temples tremble at the shock.

Thirsting for battle and with hopes inflamed
Here Caesar hastes, with distant rampart lines
Seeking unseen to coop his foe within,
Though spread in spacious camp upon the hills.
With eagle eye he measures out the land
Meet to be compassed, nor content with turf
Fit for a hasty mound, he bids his troops
Tear from the quarries many a giant rock:
And spoils the dwellings of the Greeks, and drags
Their walls asunder for his own. Thus rose
A mighty barrier which no ram could burst
Nor any ponderous machine of war.
Mountains are cleft, and level through the hills
The work of Caesar strides: wide yawns the moat,
Forts show their towers rising on the heights,

[...] Read more

poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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Pharsalia - Book VI: The Fight Near Dyrhachium. Scaeva's Exploits. The Witch Of Thessalia.

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