The heart of Dragon's Lair has always been its compelling story. With Dragon's Lair 3D, we think the team has really created an interactive animated movie.
quote by Don Bluth
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Soccer Under 20
soccer teams close to pa
soccer teams cartoons
soccer teams england
soccer teams aurora co age 11
soccer teams for ren jacksonville fl
soccer teams for girls in atlanta
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soccer teams in alberta
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Healthy Back Bag
animated bag of chips
amor dive bag
american eagle outfitters bags
ambag poly bags wholesale
american airlines bag limits
american beauty plastic bag theme mp3
amf bowling bag
aluminum tab weave bag
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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Interactive
Are u ready?
Picked up my paper 2day
Give u one guess what they say
Now we got 2 learn how 2 play
Interactive
Another cross in need of a road
Another loop in need of a hole
Another body in need of a soul
Interactive
Aint that a bitch?
Chorus:
Tell me what 2 do and Ill do it
I dont care just as long as we get 2 it
Up and down, around and all through it
Baby, baby, baby, lets do it
Interactive
Everything u got is so hot (interactive)
Bend me over what choice I got (interactive)
Neck and neck with u I am not
Interactive
Ahh, hey there baby, hook me up into your box
No no, I dont need the keys 2 the lock
Call me outta of luck laughin stock
Interactive
Oh, aint that a bitch?
Chorus
(as long as we get 2 it, 2 it, 2 it)
Yeah, yeah
I work twice as hard (interactive, interactive)
2 follow u no matter how far
2 u Im probably worth no more than the strings on this guitar
Aint that a bitch?
Ow!
Interactive
Oh, oh
One more, one more
song performed by Prince
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Allegany Camp
amazing grace circus camp
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[...] Read more
poem by Rwetewrt Erwtwer
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St. George And The Dragon
Of Hector's deeds did Homer sing,
And of the sack of stately Troy,
What griefs fair Helena did bring,
Which was Sir Paris' only joy:
And by my pen I will recite
St. George's deeds, and English knight.
Against the Sarazens so rude
Fought he full long and many a day,
Where many gyants he subdu'd,
In honour of the Christian way;
And after many adventures past,
To Egypt land he came at last.
Now, as the story plain doth tell,
Within that countrey there did rest
A dreadful dragon fierce and fell,
Whereby they were full sore opprest:
Who by his poisonous breath each day
Did many of the city slay.
The grief whereof did grow so great
Throughout the limits of the land,
That they their wise-men did intreat
To shew their cunning out of hand;
What way they might this fiend destroy,
That did the countrey thus annoy.
The wise-men all before the king,
This answer fram'd incontinent:
The dragon none to death might bring
By any means they could invent;
His skin more hard than brass was found,
That sword nor spear could pierce nor wound.
When this the people understood,
They cryed out most piteouslye,
The dragon's breath infects their blood,
That every day in heaps they dye;
Among them such a plague it bred,
The living scarce could bury the dead.
No means there were, as they could hear,
For to appease the dragon's rage,
But to present some virgin clear,
Whose blood his fury might asswage;
Each day he would a maiden eat,
For to allay his hunger great.
This thing by art the wise-men found,
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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The Great Chinese Dragon
The great Chinese dragon which is the greatest dragon in all the
world and which once upon a time was towed across the
Pacific by a crew of coolies rowing in an open boat—was
the first real live dragon ever actually to reach these shores
And the great Chinese dragon passing thru the Golden Gate
spouting streams of water like a string of fireboats then broke
loose somewhere near China Camp gulped down a hundred
Chinese seamen and forthwith ate all the shrimp in San Francisco Bay
And the great Chinese dragon was therefore forever after confined
in a Chinatown basement and ever since allowed out only for
Chinese New Year’s parades and other Unamerican demonstrations
paternally watched-over by those benevolent men in
blue who represent our more advanced civilization which has
reached such a high state of democracy as to allow even a
few barbarians to carry on their quaint native customs in our midst
And thus the great Chinese dragon which is the greatest dragon
in all the world now can only be seen creeping out of an
Adler Alley cellar like a worm out of a hole sometime during
the second week in February every year when it sorties out
of hibernation in its Chinese storeroom pushed from behind
by a band of fortythree Chinese electricians and technicians
who stuff its peristaltic accordion-body up thru a sidewalk
delivery entrance
And first the swaying snout appears and then the eyes at ground
level feeling along the curb and then the head itself casting
about and swayingand heaving finally up to the corner of
Grant Avenue itself where a huge paper sign proclaims the
World’s Largest Chinatown
And the great Chinese dragon’s jaws wired permanently agape as
if by a demented dentist to display the Cadmium teeth as the
hungry head heaves out into Grant Avenue right under the
sign and raising itself with a great snort of fire suddenly proclaims
the official firecracker start of the Chinese New Year
And the lightbulb eyes lighting up and popping out on coiled wire
springs and the body stretching and rocking further and
further around the corner and down Grant Avenue like a
caterpillar rollercoaster with the eyes sprung out and waving
in the air like the blind feelers of some mechanical preying
mantis and the eyes blinking on and off with Chinese red
pupils and tiny bamboo-blind eyelids going up and down
And here comes the St. Mary’s Chinese Girls’ Drum Corps and
here come sixteen white men in pith helmets beating big bass
drums representing the Order of the Moose and here comes
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti
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His Story
Yo, this is a story of a male female threat to society
You know being misjudged and not respected for what we are
But I want to send this special shout out to my girl tawana brawley
Cause no matter what we say or what we do
Theyll always believe his story (ow)
Chorus:
His story (yeahee, yeahee, yeahee)
Hist story (ow)
Theyre gonna believe
His story
His story
Why does it have to be that we get labeled for what we do
Its hard enough for us to be ourselves without being used
Girls have an image too
But when they get mad at you
There is no telling what theyll say to hurt you
This is a story of a male female threat to society
Why you wanna go and tell a lie on me? (yeahee, yeah, oooh)
His story over mine his story will be his story
And my story is a waste of time (aaaah-aah-aah)
Theyre gonna believe
Chorus
Sometimes I feel like there is no reason for me to explain
No matter how much we complain
You know it all stays the same
They try to call us freaks
Why does it have to be
We cant get justified until we speak up (oooh)
This is a story of a male female threat to society
Why you wanna go and tell a lie on me? (yeahee, yeah, oooh)
His story over mine his story will be his story
And my story is a waste of time (aaaah-aah-aah)
(you know its just a waste of my time)
Theyre gonna believe
His story over mine
So what you gonna do
Dont let it take over you (hey)
My story is a waste of time
Its hard enough to be ourselves without being used
So yo take it from me
Dont be a victim of society
You cant put yourself in a position to be neglected
And disrespected
You have to do whats not expected
Alright
Or all be his story
His story over mine
His story will be his story
(this is a story of) how could you do this to us
Theyre gonna believe
[...] Read more
song performed by TLC
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[9] O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
O, Moon, My Sweet-heart!
[LOVE POEMS]
POET: MAHENDRA BHATNAGAR
POEMS
1 Passion And Compassion / 1
2 Affection
3 Willing To Live
4 Passion And Compassion / 2
5 Boon
6 Remembrance
7 Pretext
8 To A Distant Person
9 Perception
10 Conclusion
10 You (1)
11 Symbol
12 You (2)
13 In Vain
14 One Night
15 Suddenly
16 Meeting
17 Touch
18 Face To Face
19 Co-Traveller
20 Once And Once only
21 Touchstone
22 In Chorus
23 Good Omens
24 Even Then
25 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (1)
26 An Evening At ‘Tighiraa’ (2)
27 Life Aspirant
28 To The Condemned Woman
29 A Submission
30 At Midday
31 I Accept
32 Who Are You?
33 Solicitation
34 Accept Me
35 Again After Ages …
36 Day-Dreaming
37 Who Are You?
38 You Embellished In Song
[...] Read more
poem by Mahendra Bhatnagar
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Saint George
The dragon, taller than a tree,
Looked down on George's head,
While he looked up uncertainly
And fighting first his dread...
He stood his ground, not one step back,
As faith within him grew,
For while he knew that things looked black,
He had to see this through...
The dragon stood his ground as well,
Though George held high his sword...
The dragon, thought to come from Hell,
Perhaps with fire stored...
The dragon had no flames and yet
He knew George planned his death,
Yet thought he had no need to fret,
If George no more had breath...
The dragon swished his giant tail,
But George was wise to that
And proved himself an agile male
Instead of falling flat...
The tail passed by, his sword went in,
The dragon roared in pain
And when George saw his chance to win,
He pierced the tail again...
If dragons cursed and dragons swore,
That must have happened next,
As blood then spurted out for sure,
With that big dragon vexed...
He dragged his dragon's tail away
As fast as he then could
And then decided, come what may,
To kill small George real good...
But George was quick to cut things short,
He climbed the dragon's tail
And valiantly he fought and fought
The dragon tooth and nail...
Across the back, just like a hill,
He clambered to the hilt,
Upto the neck where he stayed still,
In hopes the beast was killed...
[...] Read more
poem by Denis Martindale
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Eternal Creation
The Parent’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to the child; but to irrefutably ensure that the infant was nourished with their breath and blood till the time it could unflinchingly fend for its symbiotic survival; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created them for,
The Sun’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to light; but to irrefutably ensure that the rays optimistically enlightened even the most infinitesimally lugubrious cranny of remorsefully cloistered earth; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Rose’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to fragrance; but to irrefutably ensure that the majestic resplendence ebulliently blossomed into the lives of countless haplessly beleaguered and bereaved; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Peak’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to victory; but to irrefutably ensure that the royal triumph peerlessly massacred even the most ethereal iota of devilishness form this Universe; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
Nature’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to newness; but to irrefutably ensure that the evolution metamorphosed every bit of egregiously stagnating ghoulishness into a sky of rhapsodic freshness; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Cloud’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to rain; but to irrefutably ensure that the water stupendously ignited vivaciously iridescent life in every ingredient of hopelessly dying soil; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Conscience’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to truth; but to irrefutably ensure that the righteousness insuperably conquered every trace of diabolical lies on earth and the atmosphere; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Ocean’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to salt; but to irrefutably ensure that the tanginess wonderfully illuminated every treacherously spiceles and deliriously lackadaisical moment of life; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Poet’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to fantasy; but to irrefutably ensure that the dream spellbindingly impregnates the winds of Omnipotent romance into monotonously monstrous robots; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created him for,
The Lip’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to smiles; but to irrefutably ensure that the happiness altruistically perpetually perpetuates into every dwelling incarcerated in chains of murderous gloom; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Rainbow’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to vividness; but to irrefutably ensure that the color timelessly enshrouded every gruesomely befriended orphan; miserably deteriorating on the globe; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The Shadow’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to tranquility; but to irrefutably ensure that the peacefulness granted celestial reprieve to every bizarrely estranged soul squandering on this Universe; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created it for,
The philanthropist’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to unity; but to irrefutably ensure that the oneness miraculously coalesced every spuriously staggering and cold-bloodedly fighting caste; creed and tribe into the unassailable religion of humanity; was what the Almighty Creator had eternally created him for,
The wind’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to freedom; but to irrefutably ensure that the liberation unequivocally freed every element of torturously enslaved earth till times immemorial; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,
The night’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to sensuality; but to irrefutably ensure that the passion brilliantly transformed every speck of infertility into the chapters of everlastingly Omniscient procreation; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,
The eyelash’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to flirtation; but to irrefutably ensure that the mischief serenely catapulted every fretfully frenetic organism into realms of impeccable childhood; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,
The soldiers job just doesn’t end at giving birth to martyrdom; but to irrefutably ensure that the valor to timelessly serve the mothersoil; throbbed fearlessly in every chest; even centuries after his veritable death; was what the Almighty Creator had created him for,
The breath’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to life; but to irrefutably ensure that the exultation inexhaustibly transcended over; even the most inane anecdote of baseless corruption and demeaning death; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for,
And the heart’s job just doesn’t end at giving birth to Love; but to irrefutably ensure that the compassionate togetherness tirelessly bonded the entire planet into a paradise of Omnipresently unshakable strength; was what the Almighty Creator had created it for…
©copyright-2004, by nikhil parekh. All rights reserved.
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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The Eternal Circle
Now, a visitor from somewhere right outside this Mundane Ball
Do not ask me where he came from, for that point's not clear at all;
For he might have been an angel, or he might have come from Mars,
Or from any of the other of the fixed or unfixed stars.
As regards his mental make-up he was much like you or me;
And he toured about the country, just to see what he could see.
Well, this superhuman person was of most inquiring mind,
And 'twas noted, from his questions, he was very far from blind,
And the striking thing about him was his stern, compelling eye,
That demanded Truth ungarbled when he paused for a reply.
And, despite the mental wriggles of the folk he interviewed,
When they placed the Truth before him she was ab-so-lutely nude.
At our Civilised Society he stared in some amaze,
As he muttered his equivalent for 'Gosh!' or 'Spare me days!'
For our cherished modes and customs knocked him sideways, so to speak.
'To solve,' said he, 'this mystery, now whither shall I seek?
For a sane and sound solution I must question those on high,'
Said this extra-mundane being with the stern, compelling eye.
Now, his methods were intelligent - I confess,
For he started with our Politics, religion and the Press.
Thus, he read a morning paper through, intently, ev'ry leaf,
Then hied him out to interview the editor-in-chief:
'They say that Truth lives in a well,' he muttered as he went;
'But her well is not an inkwell, I will lay my last lone cent.'
It chanced he found the editor unguarded and alone
At the office of the paper - 'twas the MORNING MEGAPHONE.
'Now, I take it,' said the visitor, 'you represent the Press,
That great Public Educator?' And the pressman murmured, 'Yes.'
'Yet in yesterday's edition I perceived a glaring lie!
How's this?' He fixed the pressman with his stern, compelling eye.
Then the editor he stammered, and the editor he 'hemmed'
And muttered things like 'Gracious me!' and likewise, 'Well, I'm demned!'
But the lady Truth came tripping, all undressed and unashamed;
'Oh, I own it!' cried the editor. 'But how can I be blamed?
There's our blighted advertisers and our readers - Spare my grief!
But we've got to please the public!' moaned the editor-in-chief.
'Now to interview a statesman and consider his reply,'
Said this strange Select Committee with the stern, compelling eye.
And the Honorable Member for Mud Flat he chanced to find
In a noble Spring-street building of a most palatial kind.
And the Honorable Member viewed his visitor with awe,
For he surely had the most compelling eye you ever saw.
'Now, then, tell me,' said the visitor; 'you are a man of State,
[...] Read more
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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The Example of Vertu : Cantos VIII.-XIV.
Capitalum VIII.
Dame Sapyence taryed a lytell whyle
Behynd the other saynge to Dyscrecyon
And began on her to laugh and smyle
Axynge her how I stode in condycyon
Well she sayd in good perfeccyon
But best it is that he maryed be
For to eschewe all yll censualyte
I knowe a lady of meruelous beaute
Spronge out of hyghe and noble lynage
Replete with vertue and full of bounte
Whiche vnto youth were a good maryage
For she is comen of royall apparage
But herde it wyll be to gete her loue
Without youth frayltye do sore reproue
I kneled downe than vpon my kne
Afore dame Sapyence with humble chere
Besechynge her of me to haue pyte
And also Dyscrecyon her syster dere
Than dame Sapyence came me nere
Saynge youth wyll ye haue a wyfe
And her to loue durynge her lyfe
Ye madame that wolde I fayne
Yf that she be both fayre and bryght
I wyll her loue euer more certayne
And pleas her alway with all my myght
Of suche a persone wolde I haue a syght
With all my herte now at this houre
Wolde to god I had so fayre a floure
Than sayd dyscrecyon there is a kynge
Dwellynge fer hens in a fayre castell
Of whome I oft haue herd grete talkynge
Whiche hath a doughter as I you tell
I trowe that youth wyll lyke her well
She is both good eke fayre and pure
As I report me vnto dame Nature
But yf that youth sholde her go seke
Ye must syster than hym well indue
With your grete power so good and meke
That he all frayltye may eschue
For by the way it wyll oft pursue
On hym by flatery and grete temptacyon
That shall brynge hym in tribulacyon
As for that sayd she he shall not care
For he shall theym sone ouercome
And of theyr flatery ryght well beware
For I to hym shall gyue grete wysedome
Theyr dedes to withstande & make theym dōme
Wherfore dere syster as I you pray
[...] Read more
poem by Stephen Hawes
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University Of Central Florida Volleyball
universoty of fl youth summer camp
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[...] Read more
poem by Caasder Fronds
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Three Women
My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.
Young is her cheek and her throat;
Her eyes have the smile o' May.
And love is the word for each note
In the song of my life to-day.
Her eyes have the smile o' May;
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
And the song of my life to-day
Is love, beautiful love.
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
Ah, would it but fly to my breast
Where love, beautiful love,
Has made it a downy nest.
Ah, would she but fly to my breast,
My love who is young, so young;
I have made her a downy nest
And life is a song to be sung.
1
I.
A dull little station, a man with the eye
Of a dreamer; a bevy of girls moving by;
A swift moving train and a hot Summer sun,
The curtain goes up, and our play is begun.
The drama of passion, of sorrow, of strife,
Which always is billed for the theatre Life.
It runs on forever, from year unto year,
With scarcely a change when new actors appear.
It is old as the world is-far older in truth,
For the world is a crude little planet of youth.
And back in the eras before it was formed,
The passions of hearts through the Universe stormed.
Maurice Somerville passed the cluster of girls
Who twisted their ribbons and fluttered their curls
In vain to attract him; his mind it was plain
Was wholly intent on the incoming train.
That great one eyed monster puffed out its black breath,
Shrieked, snorted and hissed, like a thing bent on death,
[...] Read more
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Don't Relapse To Recap
Get out of bed and stop retreading...
Chases loved created.
Get out of bed and stop retreading...
Chases loved created.
Don't relapse to recap them.
Chases loved created.
That which is 'not',
Leave it.
That which is 'not',
Leave it be.
Get out of bed and stop retreading...
Chases loved created.
Get out of bed and stop retreading...
Chases loved created.
Don't relapse to recap them.
Chases loved created.
That which is 'not',
Leave it.
That which is 'not',
Leave it be.
Eliminate don't calculate.
Choose another way to face...
A path to take to speed your pace.
Don't relapse to recap them.
Chases loved created.
Don't relapse to recap them.
Chases loved created.
That which is 'not',
Leave it.
That which is 'not',
Leave it be.
Get out of bed and stop retreading...
Chases loved created.
Get out of bed and stop retreading...
Chases loved created.
Don't relapse to recap them.
Chases loved created.
That which is 'not',
Leave it.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Fight With The Dragon
Why run the crowd? What means the throng
That rushes fast the streets along?
Can Rhodes a prey to flames, then, be?
In crowds they gather hastily,
And, on his steed, a noble knight
Amid the rabble, meets my sight;
Behind him--prodigy unknown!--
A monster fierce they're drawing on;
A dragon stems it by its shape,
With wide and crocodile-like jaw,
And on the knight and dragon gape,
In turns, the people, filled with awe.
And thousand voices shout with glee
"The fiery dragon come and see,
Who hind and flock tore limb from limb!--
The hero see, who vanquished him!
Full many a one before him went,
To dare the fearful combat bent,
But none returned home from the fight;
Honor ye, then, the noble knight!"
And toward the convent move they all,
While met in hasty council there
The brave knights of the Hospital,
St. John the Baptist's Order, were.
Up to the noble master sped
The youth, with firm but modest tread;
The people followed with wild shout,
And stood the landing-place about,
While thus outspoke that daring one:
"My knightly duty I have done.
The dragon that laid waste the land
Has fallen beneath my conquering hand.
The way is to the wanderer free,
The shepherd o'er the plains may rove;
Across the mountains joyfully
The pilgrim to the shrine may move."
But sternly looked the prince, and said:
"The hero's part thou well hast played
By courage is the true knight known,--
A dauntless spirit thou hast shown.
Yet speak! What duty first should he
Regard, who would Christ's champion be,
Who wears the emblem of the Cross?"--
And all turned pale at his discourse.
Yet he replied, with noble grace,
While blushingly he bent him low:
"That he deserves so proud a place
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poem by Friedrich Schiller
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And God Created Woman
In a deep sleep I fell
And the music starts 2 swell
One of my ribs he took and it shall be
Bone of my bones (bone of my bones)
And God created woman
And we were naked and did not care
Theres a time 2 take and a time 2 share
2 in love, all around and all aware
Flesh of my flesh (flesh of my flesh)
And God created woman
Temptation sweet and so much (sweet and so much)
Surely die if neither one of us shall ye touch (shall ye touch)
Then again we could die from the rush (rush)
Heart of my heart (heart of my heart)
And God created woman (woman)
Woman
My-my-my-my-my-my woman
In my darkest hour I find
Many serpents who have lied (lied)
Given half the chance still Id run 2 your side (run 2 your side)
Love of my love (love of my love)
And God created woman (woman)
And if I never see u again
Its alright 4 I am guilty of no sin
They can have u, Ill have your love in the end
Soul of my soul (soul of my soul)
And God created woman
(God created woman)
(God created woman) (woman)
Flesh of my flesh
(God created woman) (soul)
(God created, God created woman)
(God created, God created woman)
(God created woman)
song performed by Prince
Added by Lucian Velea
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Silent Movie
(corky laing/ian hunter)
Well the school bell rings
I carried your things
Getting on the yellow bus
With the whole world watching us
And our love was like a silent movie
Aint got nothing to say
Our love was like a silent movie
I wish we could have kept it that way
Now the door bell rings
Im gonna get my things
Take another bright (? )
At the lions side
Cause our love was like a silent movie
Aint got nothing to say
Our love was like a silent movie
Thats the all-american way
Silent movie
And our love was like a silent movie
Theres nothing to say
Our love was like a silent movie
And thats the all-american way
And our love was like a silent movie
Theres nothing to say
Our love was like a silent movie
I wish we could have kept it that way
Our love was like a silent movie
Silent movie
Our love was like a silent movie
I wish we could have kept it that way
song performed by Ian Hunter
Added by Lucian Velea
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Paradise Lost: Book 07
Descend from Heaven, Urania, by that name
If rightly thou art called, whose voice divine
Following, above the Olympian hill I soar,
Above the flight of Pegasean wing!
The meaning, not the name, I call: for thou
Nor of the Muses nine, nor on the top
Of old Olympus dwellest; but, heavenly-born,
Before the hills appeared, or fountain flowed,
Thou with eternal Wisdom didst converse,
Wisdom thy sister, and with her didst play
In presence of the Almighty Father, pleased
With thy celestial song. Up led by thee
Into the Heaven of Heavens I have presumed,
An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air,
Thy tempering: with like safety guided down
Return me to my native element:
Lest from this flying steed unreined, (as once
Bellerophon, though from a lower clime,)
Dismounted, on the Aleian field I fall,
Erroneous there to wander, and forlorn.
Half yet remains unsung, but narrower bound
Within the visible diurnal sphere;
Standing on earth, not rapt above the pole,
More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchanged
To hoarse or mute, though fallen on evil days,
On evil days though fallen, and evil tongues;
In darkness, and with dangers compassed round,
And solitude; yet not alone, while thou
Visitest my slumbers nightly, or when morn
Purples the east: still govern thou my song,
Urania, and fit audience find, though few.
But drive far off the barbarous dissonance
Of Bacchus and his revellers, the race
Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian bard
In Rhodope, where woods and rocks had ears
To rapture, till the savage clamour drowned
Both harp and voice; nor could the Muse defend
Her son. So fail not thou, who thee implores:
For thou art heavenly, she an empty dream.
Say, Goddess, what ensued when Raphael,
The affable Arch-Angel, had forewarned
Adam, by dire example, to beware
Apostasy, by what befel in Heaven
To those apostates; lest the like befall
In Paradise to Adam or his race,
Charged not to touch the interdicted tree,
If they transgress, and slight that sole command,
So easily obeyed amid the choice
Of all tastes else to please their appetite,
Though wandering. He, with his consorted Eve,
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poem by John Milton
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Twin State
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[...] Read more
poem by Caasder Fronds
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