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One way to get high blood pressure is to go mountain climbing over molehills.

quote by Earl Wilson
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Pressure Drop

(hibbert)
Mmmmmm, mmmmmmm, mmmmmmmm yeah, mmmmmmm, mmmmmmm, mmmmmmmm, yeah
It is you, oh yeah, oh yeah
It is you, oh oh, oh yeah
I said pressure drop, whoa pressure yeah, pressures gonna drop on you
I said pressure drop, whoe pressure yeah, pressures gonna drop on you
I said when it drops, youre gonna feel it, how its been doin you wrong
I said when it drops, youre gonna feel it, how its been doin you wrong
I said pressure drop, whoa pressure yeah pressures gonna drop on you
I said pressure drop, whoa pressure yeah pressures gonna drop on you
It is you, oh yeah,
It is you , oh yeah
Mmmmm, nmmmmmmm, mmmmmm, yeah
Mmmmm, mmmmmm, mmmmmm yeah
It is you, oh yeah,
It is you, oh yeah,
I say pressure drop, whoa pressure yeah, pressures gonna drop on you
I say pressure drop, whoa pressure drop, pressures gonna drop on you
Pressure, pressure,pressure, pressures gonna drop on you
Pressure, pressure,pressure, pressures gonna drop on you, you you you, yeah
Pressure, pressure, pressures gonna drop on you,
Pressure, pressure, pressures gonna drop on you,
Pressure drop whoa pressure yeah,hey pressures gonna drop on you
Pressure drop hey pressure yeah,hey pressures gonna drop on you
I said when it drops youre gonna feel it, how its been doing you wrong
I said when it drops youre gonna feel it, how its been doing you wrong
It is you, oh yeah
It is you, oh yeah
Pressure,pressure, pressure, pressures pressures gonna drop on you
Pressure,pressure, pressure, yeah pressures gonna drop on you
Pressure drop, whoa pressure , yeah pressures gonna drop on you
I said pressure drop, whoa pressure drop,whoa pressures gonna drop on you
I said when it drops youre gonna feel it, how its been doing you wrong
I said when it drops youre gonna feel it, how its been doing you wrong
Pressure,pressure, pressure, pressures pressures gonna drop on you
Pressure,pressure, pressure, pressures pressures gonna drop on you
Pressure, pressure, pressures pressures gonna drop on you

song performed by Robert Palmer
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pressure Point

I can't get this pressure point out of my head
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
I feel it in work, you know, I feel it in bed
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
I've paid all my bills and I've acted so well
Ain't been cheating, there's nothing to tell
So why all this pressure, I dont understand
I call on my neighbours, and lend them a hand
Doctor, oh doctor, I'm willing to learn
Well all of my bones, well they toss and they turn
Mother, oh mother, I'm begging you please
To rid me of madness and cure this disease
... (?) told you what I have become
With all of this pressure, my mind's on a run
... (?) changing, let's hope for the best
Maybe it's something to get off my chest
Doctor, oh doctor, I'm begging you please
To rid me of madness and cure this disease
Mother, oh mother, I'm willing to learn
Well all of my bones, well they toss and they turn
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
I feel it in work, you know, I feel it in bed
I can't get this pressure point out of my head
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...
Pressure pressure pressure pressure...

song performed by Zutons
Added by Lucian Velea
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Under Pressure

Under pressure.
Don't let it be...
Or make that be you.

Under pressure.

Feel an effort that's less due.
Don't allow it to weaken.
Or accept what is 'not'
To become true.

Under pressure.

Don't let it be...
Or make that be you.
That's under pressure.

Feel there's nothing for you to prove.

Under pressure.
Unsnap and throw it away...
Under pressure.
Unsnap and do it today.

That pressure.
Rid yourself of,
That pressure.
Rid yourself of it!
That pressure.
Unsnap and throw it away...
That pressure.
Unsnap and do it today.
That pressure.
Rid yourself of,
That pressure.
Rid yourself of it!

Feel an effort that's less due.
Don't allow it to weaken.
Or accept what is 'not'
To become true.

Under pressure.

Don't let it be...
Or make that be you.
That's under pressure.

Feel there's nothing for you to prove.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Pressure

Pressure pressure I got pressure, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah
Pressure pressure I got pressure, oh yeah
I dont really want to give it to you
cos its really contagious
You can pick it up anywhere
And it can be quite dangerous
You can spread it mouth to mouth
You can even get it when youre alone
But I can always live with it
Whenever I am close to you
Pressure pressure I got pressure, oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah
Pressure pressure I got pressure
I get it driving in my motor car
I get it when Im drinking in a bar
I get it riding on the subway
I get it regular every day
And anyone who never had it yet
And doesnt know what Im going through
But I forget the pressure
When I am close to you
Altogether now-oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah
Oh yeah, oh yeah, oh yeah
Pressure pressure I got pressure oh yeah. oh yeah. oh yeah
Pressure pressure feel the pressure
You got the pressure and thats a fact
I can tell by the way you act
And I can tell that youre pressurised
By the look thats in your eyes
I know the pressure cos Ive got it too
So I know what youre going through
But I forget the pressure
Whenever I am close to you

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Vision of Columbus – Book 3

Now, twice twelve years, the children of the skies
Beheld in peace their growing empire rise;
O'er happy realms, display'd their generous care,
Diffused their arts and soothd the rage of war;
Bade yon tall temple grace the favourite isle.
The gardens bloom, the cultured valleys smile,
The aspiring hills their spacious mines unfold.
Fair structures blaze, and altars burn, in gold,
Those broad foundations bend their arches high,
And heave imperial Cusco to the sky;
From that fair stream that mark'd their northern sway,
Where Apurimac leads his lucid way,
To yon far glimmering lake, the southern bound,
The growing tribes their peaceful dwellings found;
While wealth and grandeur bless'd the extended reign,
From the bold Andes to the western main.
When, fierce from eastern wilds, the savage bands
Lead war and slaughter o'er the happy lands;
Thro' fertile fields the paths of culture trace,
And vow destruction to the Incan race.
While various fortune strow'd the embattled plain,
And baffled thousands still the strife maintain,
The unconquer'd Inca wakes the lingering war,
Drives back their host and speeds their flight afar;
Till, fired with rage, they range the wonted wood,
And feast their souls on future scenes of blood.
Where yon blue summits hang their cliffs on high;
Frown o'er the plains and lengthen round the sky;
Where vales exalted thro' the breaches run;
And drink the nearer splendors of the sun,
From south to north, the tribes innumerous wind,
By hills of ice and mountain streams confined;
Rouse neighbouring hosts, and meditate the blow,
To blend their force and whelm the world below.
Capac, with caution, views the dark design,
From countless wilds what hostile myriads join;
And greatly strives to bid the discord cease,
By profferd compacts of perpetual peace.
His eldest hope, young Rocha, at his call,
Leaves the deep confines of the temple wall;
In whose fair form, in lucid garments drest,
Began the sacred function of the priest.
In early youth, ere yet the genial sun
Had twice six changes o'er his childhood run,
The blooming prince, beneath his parents' hand,
Learn'd all the laws that sway'd the sacred land;
With rites mysterious served the Power divine,
Prepared the altar and adorn'd the shrine,
Responsive hail'd, with still returning praise,
Each circling season that the God displays,

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
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Thurso’s Landing

I
The coast-road was being straightened and repaired again,
A group of men labored at the steep curve
Where it falls from the north to Mill Creek. They scattered and hid
Behind cut banks, except one blond young man
Who stooped over the rock and strolled away smiling
As if he shared a secret joke with the dynamite;
It waited until he had passed back of a boulder,
Then split its rock cage; a yellowish torrent
Of fragments rose up the air and the echoes bumped
From mountain to mountain. The men returned slowly
And took up their dropped tools, while a banner of dust
Waved over the gorge on the northwest wind, very high
Above the heads of the forest.
Some distance west of the road,
On the promontory above the triangle
Of glittering ocean that fills the gorge-mouth,
A woman and a lame man from the farm below
Had been watching, and turned to go down the hill. The young
woman looked back,
Widening her violet eyes under the shade of her hand. 'I think
they'll blast again in a minute.'
And the man: 'I wish they'd let the poor old road be. I don't
like improvements.' 'Why not?' 'They bring in the world;
We're well without it.' His lameness gave him some look of age
but he was young too; tall and thin-faced,
With a high wavering nose. 'Isn't he amusing,' she said, 'that
boy Rick Armstrong, the dynamite man,
How slowly he walks away after he lights the fuse. He loves to
show off. Reave likes him, too,'
She added; and they clambered down the path in the rock-face,
little dark specks
Between the great headland rock and the bright blue sea.

II
The road-workers had made their camp
North of this headland, where the sea-cliff was broken down and
sloped to a cove. The violet-eyed woman's husband,
Reave Thurso, rode down the slope to the camp in the gorgeous
autumn sundown, his hired man Johnny Luna
Riding behind him. The road-men had just quit work and four
or five were bathing in the purple surf-edge,
The others talked by the tents; blue smoke fragrant with food
and oak-wood drifted from the cabin stove-pipe
And slowly went fainting up the vast hill.
Thurso drew rein by
a group of men at a tent door
And frowned at them without speaking, square-shouldered and
heavy-jawed, too heavy with strength for so young a man,
He chose one of the men with his eyes. 'You're Danny Woodruff,

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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The Columbiad: Book III

The Argument

Actions of the Inca Capac. A general invasion of his dominions threatened by the mountain savages. Rocha, the Inca's son, sent with a few companions to offer terms of peace. His embassy. His adventure with the worshippers of the volcano. With those of the storm, on the Andes. Falls in with the savage armies. Character and speech of Zamor, their chief. Capture of Rocha and his companions. Sacrifice of the latter. Death song of Azonto. War dance. March of the savage armies down the mountains to Peru. Incan army meets them. Battle joins. Peruvians terrified by an eclipse of the sun, and routed. They fly to Cusco. Grief of Oella, supposing the darkness to be occasioned by the death of Rocha. Sun appears. Peruvians from the city wall discover Roch an altar in the savage camp. They march in haste out of the city and engage the savages. Exploits of Capac. Death of Zamor. Recovery of Rocha, and submission of the enemy.

Now twenty years these children of the skies
Beheld their gradual growing empire rise.
They ruled with rigid but with generous care,
Diffused their arts and sooth'd the rage of war,
Bade yon tall temple grace their favorite isle,
The mines unfold, the cultured valleys smile,
Those broad foundations bend their arches high,
And rear imperial Cusco to the sky;
Wealth, wisdom, force consolidate the reign
From the rude Andes to the western main.

But frequent inroads from the savage bands
Lead fire and slaughter o'er the labor'd lands;
They sack the temples, the gay fields deface,
And vow destruction to the Incan race.
The king, undaunted in defensive war,
Repels their hordes, and speeds their flight afar;
Stung with defeat, they range a wider wood,
And rouse fresh tribes for future fields of blood.

Where yon blue ridges hang their cliffs on high,
And suns infulminate the stormful sky,
The nations, temper'd to the turbid air,
Breathe deadly strife, and sigh for battle's blare;
Tis here they meditate, with one vast blow,
To crush the race that rules the plains below.
Capac with caution views the dark design,
Learns from all points what hostile myriads join.
And seeks in time by proffer'd leagues to gain
A bloodless victory, and enlarge his reign.

His eldest hope, young Rocha, at his call,
Resigns his charge within the temple wall;
In whom began, with reverend forms of awe,
The functions grave of priesthood and of law,

In early youth, ere yet the ripening sun
Had three short lustres o'er his childhood run,
The prince had learnt, beneath his father's hand,
The well-framed code that sway'd the sacred land;
With rites mysterious served the Power divine,
Prepared the altar and adorn'd the shrine,
Responsive hail'd, with still returning praise,
Each circling season that the God displays,

[...] Read more

poem by Joel Barlow
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Rocky Mountain High

This song appears on twenty-one albums, and was first released on the rocky mountain high album. this version has also been released on this is john denver, the country roads collection and the
Mountain collection albums. it has been rerecorded on the greatest hits vol 1, take me home country roads & other hits, favourites, voice of america, john denver (italian) and country class
Lbums. it has been rerecorded again on the earth songs, the very best of john denver (single cd), a portrait and the john denver collection - rocky mountain high albums. it has been rerecorded a
On the love again and a celebration of life albums. live versions also appear on the an evening with john denver, live at the sydney opera house, the wildlife concert and the best of john denver
Albums.
He was born in the summer of his 27th year
Comin home to a place hed never been before
He left yesterday behind him, you might say he was born again
You might say he found a key for every door
When he first came to the mountains his life was far away
On the road and hangin by a song
But the strings already broken and he doesnt really care
It keeps changin fast and it dont last for long
But the colorado rocky mountain high
Ive seen it rainin fire in the sky
The shadow from the starlight is softer than a lullabye
Rocky mountain high (high colorado) rocky mountain high (high colorado)
He climbed cathedral mountains, he saw silver clouds below
He saw everything as far as you can see
And they say he got crazy once, and he tried to touch the sun
And he lost a friend but kept his memory
Now he walks in quiet solitude the forests and the streams
Seeking grace in every step he takes
His sight has turned inside himself to try and understand
The serenity of a clear blue mountain lake
And the colorado rocky mountain high
Ive seen it rainin fire in the sky
You can talk to God and listen to the casual reply
Rocky mountain high (high colorado) rocky mountain high (high colorado)
Now his life is full of wonder but his heart still knows some fear
Of a simple thing he cannot comprehend
Why they try to tear the mountains down to bring in a couple more
More people, more scars upon the land
And the colorado rocky mountain high
Ive seen it rainin fire in the sky
I know hed be a poorer man if he never saw an eagle fly
Rocky mountain high
Its a colorado rocky mountain high
Ive seen it rainin fire in the sky
Friends around the campfire and everybodys high
Rocky mountain high (high colorado) rocky mountain high (high colorado)
Rocky mountain high (high colorado) rocky mountain high do de do
Words by john denver, music by john denver and mike taylor

song performed by John Denver
Added by Lucian Velea
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Turning The Heat To Hotter

Nobody came to party knew somebody who sat,
In a corner to sigh.
This was a heat to hotter party.

Nobody came to party knew somebody who sat,
In a corner to sigh.
This was a heat to hotter party.

Everybody here took off the roof to cry,
'High, high, high...high.'
With their hands up,
'High, high, high...high.'
And sweating bodies soakin'.
'High, high, high...high.'

Everybody on the scene holla'd and screamed...
'High, high, high...high.'
With their hands up,
'High, high, high...high.'

Nobody came to this party knew somebody who sat.
This was a heat to hotter party.

Everybody here took off the roof to cry,
'High, high, high...high.'
With their hands up,
'High, high, high...high.'
And sweating bodies soakin'.
'High, high, high...high.'
Turning the heat to hotter.
'High, high, high...high.'
Turning the heat to hotter.
'High, high, high...high.'
Turning the heat to hotter.
'High, high, high...high.'

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Four Seasons : Autumn

Crown'd with the sickle and the wheaten sheaf,
While Autumn, nodding o'er the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on; the Doric reed once more,
Well pleased, I tune. Whate'er the wintry frost
Nitrous prepared; the various blossom'd Spring
Put in white promise forth; and Summer-suns
Concocted strong, rush boundless now to view,
Full, perfect all, and swell my glorious theme.
Onslow! the Muse, ambitious of thy name,
To grace, inspire, and dignify her song,
Would from the public voice thy gentle ear
A while engage. Thy noble cares she knows,
The patriot virtues that distend thy thought,
Spread on thy front, and in thy bosom glow;
While listening senates hang upon thy tongue,
Devolving through the maze of eloquence
A roll of periods, sweeter than her song.
But she too pants for public virtue, she,
Though weak of power, yet strong in ardent will,
Whene'er her country rushes on her heart,
Assumes a bolder note, and fondly tries
To mix the patriot's with the poet's flame.
When the bright Virgin gives the beauteous days,
And Libra weighs in equal scales the year;
From Heaven's high cope the fierce effulgence shook
Of parting Summer, a serener blue,
With golden light enliven'd, wide invests
The happy world. Attemper'd suns arise,
Sweet-beam'd, and shedding oft through lucid clouds
A pleasing calm; while broad, and brown, below
Extensive harvests hang the heavy head.
Rich, silent, deep, they stand; for not a gale
Rolls its light billows o'er the bending plain:
A calm of plenty! till the ruffled air
Falls from its poise, and gives the breeze to blow.
Rent is the fleecy mantle of the sky;
The clouds fly different; and the sudden sun
By fits effulgent gilds the illumined field,
And black by fits the shadows sweep along.
A gaily chequer'd heart-expanding view,
Far as the circling eye can shoot around,
Unbounded tossing in a flood of corn.
These are thy blessings, Industry! rough power!
Whom labour still attends, and sweat, and pain;
Yet the kind source of every gentle art,
And all the soft civility of life:
Raiser of human kind! by Nature cast,
Naked, and helpless, out amid the woods
And wilds, to rude inclement elements;
With various seeds of art deep in the mind

[...] Read more

poem by James Thomson
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 11

SCARCE had the rosy Morning rais’d her head
Above the waves, and left her wat’ry bed;
The pious chief, whom double cares attend
For his unburied soldiers and his friend,
Yet first to Heav’n perform’d a victor’s vows: 5
He bar’d an ancient oak of all her boughs;
Then on a rising ground the trunk he plac’d,
Which with the spoils of his dead foe he grac’d.
The coat of arms by proud Mezentius worn,
Now on a naked snag in triumph borne, 10
Was hung on high, and glitter’d from afar,
A trophy sacred to the God of War.
Above his arms, fix’d on the leafless wood,
Appear’d his plumy crest, besmear’d with blood:
His brazen buckler on the left was seen; 15
Truncheons of shiver’d lances hung between;
And on the right was placed his corslet, bor’d;
And to the neck was tied his unavailing sword.
A crowd of chiefs inclose the godlike man,
Who thus, conspicuous in the midst, began: 20
“Our toils, my friends, are crown’d with sure success;
The greater part perform’d, achieve the less.
Now follow cheerful to the trembling town;
Press but an entrance, and presume it won.
Fear is no more, for fierce Mezentius lies, 25
As the first fruits of war, a sacrifice.
Turnus shall fall extended on the plain,
And, in this omen, is already slain.
Prepar’d in arms, pursue your happy chance;
That none unwarn’d may plead his ignorance, 30
And I, at Heav’n’s appointed hour, may find
Your warlike ensigns waving in the wind.
Meantime the rites and fun’ral pomps prepare,
Due to your dead companions of the war:
The last respect the living can bestow, 35
To shield their shadows from contempt below.
That conquer’d earth be theirs, for which they fought,
And which for us with their own blood they bought;
But first the corpse of our unhappy friend
To the sad city of Evander send, 40
Who, not inglorious, in his age’s bloom,
Was hurried hence by too severe a doom.”
Thus, weeping while he spoke, he took his way,
Where, new in death, lamented Pallas lay.
Acoetes watch’d the corpse; whose youth deserv’d 45
The father’s trust; and now the son he serv’d
With equal faith, but less auspicious care.
Th’ attendants of the slain his sorrow share.
A troop of Trojans mix’d with these appear,
And mourning matrons with dishevel’d hair. 50

[...] Read more

poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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The Lord of the Isles: Canto III.

I.
Hast thou not mark'd, when o'er thy startled head
Sudden and deep the thunder-peal has roll'd,
How when its echoes fell, a silence dead
Sunk on the wood, the meadow, and the wold?
The rye-glass shakes not on the sod-built fold,
The rustling aspen's leaves are mute and still,
The wall-flower waves not on the ruin'd hold,
Till, murmuring distant first, then near and shrill,
The savage whirlwind wakes, and sweeps the groaning hill.

II.
Artornish! such a silence sunk
Upon thy halls, when that grey Monk
His prophet-speech had spoke;
And his obedient brethren's sail
Was stretch'd to meet the southern gale
Before a whisper woke.
Then murmuring sounds of doubt and fear,
Close pour'd in many an anxious ear,
The solemn stillness broke;
And still they gazed with eager guess,
Where, in an oriel's deep recess,
The Island Prince seem'd bent to press
What Lorn, by his impatient cheer,
And gesture fierce, scarce deign'd to hear.

III.
Starting at length with frowning look,
His hand he clench'd, his head he shook,
And sternly flung apart;-
'And deem'st thou me so mean of mood,
As to forget the mortal feud,
And clasp the hand with blood inbrued
From my dear Kinsman's heart?
Is this thy rede? - a due return
For ancient league and friendship sworn!
But well our mountain proverb shows
The faith of Islesmen ebbs and flows.
Be it even so - believe, ere long,
He that now bears shall wreak the wrong.-
Call Edith - call the Maid of Lorn!
My sister, slaves! - for further scorn,
Be sure nor she nor I will stay.-
Away, De Argentine, away! -
We nor ally nor brother know,
In Bruce's friend, or England's foe.'

IV.
But who the Chieftain's rage can tell,

[...] Read more

poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Tower Beyond Tragedy

I
You'd never have thought the Queen was Helen's sister- Troy's
burning-flower from Sparta, the beautiful sea-flower
Cut in clear stone, crowned with the fragrant golden mane, she
the ageless, the uncontaminable-
This Clytemnestra was her sister, low-statured, fierce-lipped, not
dark nor blonde, greenish-gray-eyed,
Sinewed with strength, you saw, under the purple folds of the
queen-cloak, but craftier than queenly,
Standing between the gilded wooden porch-pillars, great steps of
stone above the steep street,
Awaiting the King.
Most of his men were quartered on the town;
he, clanking bronze, with fifty
And certain captives, came to the stair. The Queen's men were
a hundred in the street and a hundred
Lining the ramp, eighty on the great flags of the porch; she
raising her white arms the spear-butts
Thundered on the stone, and the shields clashed; eight shining
clarions
Let fly from the wide window over the entrance the wildbirds of
their metal throats, air-cleaving
Over the King come home. He raised his thick burnt-colored
beard and smiled; then Clytemnestra,
Gathering the robe, setting the golden-sandaled feet carefully,
stone by stone, descended
One half the stair. But one of the captives marred the comeliness
of that embrace with a cry
Gull-shrill, blade-sharp, cutting between the purple cloak and
the bronze plates, then Clytemnestra:
Who was it? The King answered: A piece of our goods out of
the snatch of Asia, a daughter of the king,
So treat her kindly and she may come into her wits again. Eh,
you keep state here my queen.
You've not been the poorer for me.- In heart, in the widowed
chamber, dear, she pale replied, though the slaves
Toiled, the spearmen were faithful. What's her name, the slavegirl's?
AGAMEMNON Come up the stair. They tell me my kinsman's
Lodged himself on you.
CLYTEMNESTRA Your cousin Aegisthus? He was out of refuge,
flits between here and Tiryns.
Dear: the girl's name?
AGAMEMNON Cassandra. We've a hundred or so other
captives; besides two hundred
Rotted in the hulls, they tell odd stories about you and your
guest: eh? no matter: the ships
Ooze pitch and the August road smokes dirt, I smell like an
old shepherd's goatskin, you'll have bath-water?
CLYTEMNESTRA
They're making it hot. Come, my lord. My hands will pour it.

[...] Read more

poem by Robinson Jeffers
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Pharsalia - Book VII: The Battle

Ne'er to the summons of the Eternal laws
More slowly Titan rose, nor drave his steeds,
Forced by the sky revolving, up the heaven,
With gloomier presage; wishing to endure
The pangs of ravished light, and dark eclipse;
And drew the mists up, not to feed his flames,
But lest his light upon Thessalian earth
Might fall undimmed.

Pompeius on that morn,
To him the latest day of happy life,
In troubled sleep an empty dream conceived.
For in the watches of the night he heard
Innumerable Romans shout his name
Within his theatre; the benches vied
To raise his fame and place him with the gods;
As once in youth, when victory was won
O'er conquered tribes where swift Iberus flows,
And where Sertorius' armies fought and fled,
The west subdued, with no less majesty
Than if the purple toga graced the car,
He sat triumphant in his pure white gown
A Roman knight, and heard the Senate's cheer.
Perhaps, as ills drew near, his anxious soul,
Shunning the future wooed the happy past;
Or, as is wont, prophetic slumber showed
That which was not to be, by doubtful forms
Misleading; or as envious Fate forbade
Return to Italy, this glimpse of Rome
Kind Fortune gave. Break not his latest sleep,
Ye sentinels; let not the trumpet call
Strike on his ear: for on the morrow's night
Shapes of the battle lost, of death and war
Shall crowd his rest with terrors. Whence shalt thou
The poor man's happiness of sleep regain?
Happy if even in dreams thy Rome could see
Once more her captain! Would the gods had given
To thee and to thy country one day yet
To reap the latest fruit of such a love:
Though sure of fate to come! Thou marchest on
As though by heaven ordained in Rome to die;
She, conscious ever of her prayers for thee
Heard by the gods, deemed not the fates decreed
Such evil destiny, that she should lose
The last sad solace of her Magnus' tomb.
Then young and old had blent their tears for thee,
And child unbidden; women torn their hair
And struck their bosoms as for Brutus dead.
But now no public woe shall greet thy death
As erst thy praise was heard: but men shall grieve

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poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 7

AND thou, O matron of immortal fame,
Here dying, to the shore hast left thy name;
Cajeta still the place is call’d from thee,
The nurse of great Æneas’ infancy.
Here rest thy bones in rich Hesperia’s plains; 5
Thy name (’t is all a ghost can have) remains.
Now, when the prince her fun’ral rites had paid,
He plow’d the Tyrrhene seas with sails display’d.
From land a gentle breeze arose by night,
Serenely shone the stars, the moon was bright, 10
And the sea trembled with her silver light.
Now near the shelves of Circe’s shores they run,
(Circe the rich, the daughter of the Sun,)
A dang’rous coast: the goddess wastes her days
In joyous songs; the rocks resound her lays: 15
In spinning, or the loom, she spends the night,
And cedar brands supply her father’s light.
From hence were heard, rebellowing to the main,
The roars of lions that refuse the chain,
The grunts of bristled boars, and groans of bears, 20
And herds of howling wolves that stun the sailors’ ears.
These from their caverns, at the close of night,
Fill the sad isle with horror and affright.
Darkling they mourn their fate, whom Circe’s pow’r,
(That watch’d the moon and planetary hour,) 25
With words and wicked herbs from humankind
Had alter’d, and in brutal shapes confin’d.
Which monsters lest the Trojans’ pious host
Should bear, or touch upon th’ inchanted coast,
Propitious Neptune steer’d their course by night 30
With rising gales that sped their happy flight.
Supplied with these, they skim the sounding shore,
And hear the swelling surges vainly roar.
Now, when the rosy morn began to rise,
And wav’d her saffron streamer thro’ the skies; 35
When Thetis blush’d in purple not her own,
And from her face the breathing winds were blown,
A sudden silence sate upon the sea,
And sweeping oars, with struggling, urge their way.
The Trojan, from the main, beheld a wood, 40
Which thick with shades and a brown horror stood:
Betwixt the trees the Tiber took his course,
With whirlpools dimpled; and with downward force,
That drove the sand along, he took his way,
And roll’d his yellow billows to the sea. 45
About him, and above, and round the wood,
The birds that haunt the borders of his flood,
That bath’d within, or basked upon his side,
To tuneful songs their narrow throats applied.
The captain gives command; the joyful train 50

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poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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The Giaour

No breath of air to break the wave
That rolls below the Athenian's grave,
That tomb which, gleaming o'er the cliff
First greets the homeward-veering skiff
High o'er the land he saved in vain;
When shall such Hero live again?

Fair clime! where every season smiles
Benignant o'er those blesséd isles,
Which, seen from far Colonna's height,
Make glad the heart that hails the sight,
And lend to lonliness delight.
There mildly dimpling, Ocean's cheek
Reflects the tints of many a peak
Caught by the laughing tides that lave
These Edens of the Eastern wave:
And if at times a transient breeze
Break the blue crystal of the seas,
Or sweep one blossom from the trees,
How welcome is each gentle air
That waves and wafts the odours there!
For there the Rose, o'er crag or vale,
Sultana of the Nightingale,

The maid for whom his melody,
His thousand songs are heard on high,
Blooms blushing to her lover's tale:
His queen, the garden queen, his Rose,
Unbent by winds, unchilled by snows,
Far from winters of the west,
By every breeze and season blest,
Returns the sweets by Nature given
In soft incense back to Heaven;
And gratefu yields that smiling sky
Her fairest hue and fragrant sigh.
And many a summer flower is there,
And many a shade that Love might share,
And many a grotto, meant by rest,
That holds the pirate for a guest;
Whose bark in sheltering cove below
Lurks for the pasiing peaceful prow,
Till the gay mariner's guitar
Is heard, and seen the Evening Star;

Then stealing with the muffled oar,
Far shaded by the rocky shore,
Rush the night-prowlers on the prey,
And turns to groan his roudelay.
Strande—that where Nature loved to trace,
As if for Gods, a dwelling place,

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poem by Byron (1813)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Giaour: A Fragment Of A Turkish Tale

No breath of air to break the wave
That rolls below the Athenian's grave,
That tomb which, gleaming o'er the cliff
First greets the homeward-veering skiff
High o'er the land he saved in vain;
When shall such Hero live again?

Fair clime! where every season smiles
Benignant o'er those blesséd isles,
Which, seen from far Colonna's height,
Make glad the heart that hails the sight,
And lend to lonliness delight.
There mildly dimpling, Ocean's cheek
Reflects the tints of many a peak
Caught by the laughing tides that lave
These Edens of the Eastern wave:
And if at times a transient breeze
Break the blue crystal of the seas,
Or sweep one blossom from the trees,
How welcome is each gentle air
That waves and wafts the odours there!
For there the Rose, o'er crag or vale,
Sultana of the Nightingale,

The maid for whom his melody,
His thousand songs are heard on high,
Blooms blushing to her lover's tale:
His queen, the garden queen, his Rose,
Unbent by winds, unchilled by snows,
Far from winters of the west,
By every breeze and season blest,
Returns the sweets by Nature given
In soft incense back to Heaven;
And gratefu yields that smiling sky
Her fairest hue and fragrant sigh.
And many a summer flower is there,
And many a shade that Love might share,
And many a grotto, meant by rest,
That holds the pirate for a guest;
Whose bark in sheltering cove below
Lurks for the pasiing peaceful prow,
Till the gay mariner's guitar
Is heard, and seen the Evening Star;
Then stealing with the muffled oar,
Far shaded by the rocky shore,
Rush the night-prowlers on the prey,
And turns to groan his roudelay.
Strande-that where Nature loved to trace,
As if for Gods, a dwelling place,
And every charm and grace hath mixed

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poem by Byron
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Mountain Of Love

(downbeat, denny. denny. downbeat!)
(*laughter*)
(what? )
(get out of here!)
(oh, man!)
(oh, rock out!)
Standin on a mountain lookin down on a city
The way I feel is a doggone pity
Teardrops fallin down the mountainside
Many times Ive been here, many times Ive cried
We used to be so happy when we were in love
High on a mountain of love
Night after night Im a-standin here alone
Weepin out my heart (*laugh*) till the cold grey dawn
Prayin that youre lonely and youll come here too
Hopin just by chance that Ill get a glimpse of you
(oh yeah!)
Trying hard to find you somewhere up above
High on a mountain of love
The mountain of love, the mountain of love
You should be ashamed
You used to be a mountain of love
But you just changed your name
Way down below theres a half a million people
Somewhere theres a church with a big tall steeple
Inside the church, theres an altar filled with flowers
Wedding bells are ringin and they shouldve been ours
Thats why Im so handy, my dream is gone above
High on a mountain of love
([...])
(keep playin it like it is!)
([...])
High on a mountain of love
The mountain of love, the mountain of love
You should be ashamed
You used to be a mountain of love
But you just changed your name
Way down below theres a half a million people
Somewhere theres a church with a big tall steeple
Inside the church, theres an altar filled with flowers
Wedding bells are ringin and they shouldve been ours
Thats why Im so lonely, my dream is gone above
High on a mountain of love
High on a mountain of love
High on a mountain of love
High on a mountain of love
(what, honey? )
High on a mountain of love.
(hahahaha.)
Ooh baby...

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song performed by Beach Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Pressure

A funny thing happened yesterday
I felt the pressure in a brand new way
It kept hitting me from all directions
I got this feeling I was cracking up
My knees were shaking and I couldnt close my eyes
I fought to gain control and make corrections
A funny thing happened yesterday
I felt the pressure in a tv way.
Dont feel, dont feel
Feel pressure from me
Dont feel, dont feel
No pressure from me
Dont feel, dont feel
Feel pressure from me.
You watch the box and the video jocks
If you could talk that could even be you up there
Thats why you need max head room
Too much pressure for peace on earth
Too much tryin to get your moneys worth
Too much dying
The eldorado, the mercedes benz
The job security that never ends.
Dont feel, dont feel
Feel pressure from me
Dont feel, dont feel
No pressure from me
Dont feel, dont feel
Feel pressure from me
Dont feel, dont feel
No pressure from me.
I feel the pressure building every night
One of these days Im gonna go out like a light
Oh, baby
I feel the pressure building every night
One of these days Im gonna go out like a light.

song performed by Neil Young
Added by Lucian Velea
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Thespis: Act I

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

GODS

Jupiter, Aged Diety
Apollo, Aged Diety
Mars, Aged Diety
Diana, Aged Diety
Mercury

THESPIANS

Thespis
Sillimon
TimidonTipseion
Preposteros
Stupidas
Sparkeio n
Nicemis
Pretteia
Daphne
Cymon

ACT I - Ruined Temple on the Summit of Mount Olympus

[Scene--The ruins of the The Temple of the Gods, on summit of
Mount Olympus. Picturesque shattered columns, overgrown with
ivy, etc. R. and L. with entrances to temple (ruined) R. Fallen
columns on the stage. Three broken pillars 2 R.E. At the back of
stage is the approach from the summit of the mountain. This
should be "practicable" to enable large numbers of people to
ascend and descend. In the distance are the summits of adjacent
mountains. At first all this is concealed by a thick fog, which
clears presently. Enter (through fog) Chorus of Stars coming off
duty as fatigued with their night's work]

CHO. Through the night, the constellations,
Have given light from various stations.
When midnight gloom falls on all nations,
We will resume our occupations.

SOLO. Our light, it's true, is not worth mention;
What can we do to gain attention.
When night and noon with vulgar glaring
A great big moon is always flaring.

[During chorus, enter Diana, an elderly goddess. She is carefully
wrapped up in cloaks, shawls, etc. A hood is over her head, a
respirator in her mouth, and galoshes on her feet. During the

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poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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