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Britain today is suffering from galloping obsolescence.

quote by Tony Benn
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Galloping Days

Galloping, galloping, galloping horses
Weave thro' our dreaming in burgeoning Spring;
There's sun in our hearts and there's sun on the courses,
And paeans of hope Winter's threnody forces
Over the hill-tops; for joy is a-wing.
Joy is a-wing, and the galloping rhythm
Mingles, alack, with a ruefuller rune,
For winners may rug but the losers run with 'em,
On the galloping, galloping tune.

Galloping, galloping, galloping gladly
Round the white railing and on to the turn,
While keeping in time to it, urgently madly,
Pulses are racing, ecstatic'ly, sadly;
Eyes to the thundering eagerly yearn,
Voice, upraising, are praising, are pleading,
Mid rackets gay jackets flash by and are gone.
Then the field in the sunlight, retreating, receding,
Goes galloping, galloping, galloping on.

Galloping, galloping, galloping; streaming
Now in green distances, seeming to crawl,
Like miniatures moving, like manikins seeming,
While o'er hedge and hollow a bland sun is beaming
Casting a benison over it all.
They run to the 'Distance.' The horses! The horses!
They gallop! They gallop! They turn for the 'Straight!'
They gallop, the hoses! Who nurses remorse is
A runagate cringer to galloping Fate.

Galloping, galloping, galloping ever,
Tho' cheering is over, they gallop amain;
Tho' fact and fond fancy reluctantly sever,
The round of that ultimate, straining endeavor
Still buffets and bludgeons and beats on the brain.
They gallop - Wake up, man! What profits regaining?
Luck lurks in the offing. On, on with the dance.
Aw, tear up your ticket! The sun is still shining.
The next race is starting. Who foots it with Chance?

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Galloping Horses

Oh, this is the week when no rhymster may rhyme
On the joy of the bush or the ills of the time,
Nor pour out his soul in delectable rhythm
Of women and wine and the lure they have with 'em,
Nor pen philosophic if foolish discourses,
Because of the fury of galloping horses.

Galloping, galloping thro' the refrain -
The lure and the lilt of it beat on the brain.
Strive as you may for Arcadian Themes,
The silks and the saddles will weave thro' your dreams.
Surging, and urging the visions aside
For a lyrical lay of equestrian pride,
For the roar of the race and the call of the courses,
And galloping, galloping, galloping horses.

This is the week for the apotheosis
Of Horse in his glory, from tail to proboscis.
That curious quadrupled, proud and aloof,
That holds all the land under thrall of his hoof.
All creeds and conditions, all factions and forces,
All, all must give way to the galloping horses.

Galloping, galloping - sinner and saint
March to the metre, releasing restraint.
If it isn't the Cup it's the Oaks or the Steeple
That wraps in its magic the minds of the people.
Whether they seek it for profit or pleasure,
They all, willy-nilly, must dance to the measure.
The mood of the moment in all men endorses
The glamorous game and the galloping horses
Galloping horses - jockeys and courses
They gallop, we gallop with galloping horses.

poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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For Britain Only

We blasted Glasgow
Invaded France
Assaulted Sweden
Took down our pants
And lovely England
My little kitten
Deliriously
Black widow Bitten
For Britain only
Only for Britain, yeah
For Britain only
Only for Britain
Jumped on the concord
Ain't much for sittin'
I told my boys, now
No public spiting
No bar room fighting
No bad head splitting
Behave yourself 'cause we're, we're back in Britain
For Britain only
Only for Britain
Cost six years of time and space
It took so long to change his face
To redesign his streamline face
Now strong and sleek but still no taste
Guilty
I'm guilty
Won't go to Hungary
Iran is out
Welcome to Moscow, huh
I have my doubts
Can't get near Libya
That boy's insane
Let's head for London
Where we can scream again
For Britain only
Only for Britain, yeah
For Britain only
Only for Britain
For Britain only

song performed by Alice Cooper
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M'Fingal - Canto IV

Now Night came down, and rose full soon
That patroness of rogues, the Moon;
Beneath whose kind protecting ray,
Wolves, brute and human, prowl for prey.
The honest world all snored in chorus,
While owls and ghosts and thieves and Tories,
Whom erst the mid-day sun had awed,
Crept from their lurking holes abroad.

On cautious hinges, slow and stiller,
Wide oped the great M'Fingal's cellar,
Where safe from prying eyes, in cluster,
The Tory Pandemonium muster.
Their chiefs all sitting round descried are,
On kegs of ale and seats of cider;
When first M'Fingal, dimly seen,
Rose solemn from the turnip-bin.
Nor yet his form had wholly lost
Th' original brightness it could boast,
Nor less appear'd than Justice Quorum,
In feather'd majesty before 'em.
Adown his tar-streak'd visage, clear
Fell glistening fast th' indignant tear,
And thus his voice, in mournful wise,
Pursued the prologue of his sighs.

"Brethren and friends, the glorious band
Of loyalty in rebel land!
It was not thus you've seen me sitting,
Return'd in triumph from town-meeting;
When blust'ring Whigs were put to stand,
And votes obey'd my guiding hand,
And new commissions pleased my eyes;
Blest days, but ah, no more to rise!
Alas, against my better light,
And optics sure of second-sight,
My stubborn soul, in error strong,
Had faith in Hutchinson too long.
See what brave trophies still we bring
From all our battles for the king;
And yet these plagues, now past before us,
Are but our entering wedge of sorrows!

"I see, in glooms tempestuous, stand
The cloud impending o'er the land;
That cloud, which still beyond their hopes
Serves all our orators with tropes;

[...] Read more

poem by John Trumbull
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Galloping Away As You Wish

When you,
Rise and shine...
With a giving up of all your sorrows,
You will...
Hop on your high horse and ride,
To gallop away as you wish.

When you,
Rise and shine...
With a giving up of all your sorrows,
You will...
Begin to travel on a path,
That leaves behind a saddened past.

You've got to feel more deserving,
To leave behind a saddened past.
You've got to get up the nerve to...
Leave behind a sadness had.

Ride high in that saddle.
And...
Don't look back.
If you wish a better life and want it to last!
All you have to do is ask.

You've got to,
Feel more deserving...
To leave behind a saddened past,
If you wish a better life to be in your hands...
Held on tightly to grasp!

When you,
Rise and shine...
With a giving up of all your sorrows,
You will...
Hop on your horse and ride,
To gallop away to a better life.

When you,
Rise and shine...
With a giving up of all your sorrows,
You will...
Begin to travel on a path,
That leaves behind a sadness had.

You've got to get up the nerve,
To leave behind a sadness past.
Ride high in that saddle,
And...
Don't dare look back!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Affirmations(2002-2004)

Today, I will get up before my alarm
Today, I won't close my eyes until dusk
Today, I will not get a speeding ticket
Today, I will count this day as a first
Today, I will enjoy the life that has been left to me
Today, I won't frown over the may-have-beens
Today, I won't cry over the should-have-beens
Today, I won't wonder about the could-have-beens

Today, I'll smile.......Today, I'll Laugh.... Today, I'll relax

Today, I won't feel alone because I don't see you
Today, I'll find something new that wasn't true of you
Today, I won't be afraid to look upon a new face
Today, I'll step up and take my place
Today, I won't think about what I've lost
Today, I'll look forward instead of behind
Today, I'll find some piece of mind

Today, I'll hope.... Today, I'll pray... Today, I'll believe

Today, I'll dream as if I always did
Today, I'll wish on a star the way I used to
Today, I'll reach for the heavens and sigh
Today, My heart will start to heal
Today, the biggest miracle is ME.
Today, Yesterday's problems ceased to be
Today, the rain has stopped and the sun has returned
Today, the breath of kindness is found in words

Today, I wonder.... Today, I am a child.

poem by Lillian B. Rose
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Ocean: An Ode. Concluding with A wish.

I.
Sweet rural scene!
Of flocks and green!
At careless ease my limbs are spread;
All nature still
But yonder rill;
And listening pines not o'er my head:
II
In prospect wide,
The boundless tide!
Waves cease to foam, and winds to roar;
Without a breeze,
The curling seas
Dance on, in measure, to the shore.
III
Who sings the source
Of wealth and force?
Vast field of commerce and big war:
Where wonders dwell!
Where terrors swell!
And Neptune thunders from his car?
IV
Where? where are they,
Whom Pean's ray
Has touch'd, and bid divinely rave?
What, none aspire?
I snatch the lyre,
And plunge into the foaming wave.
V
The wave resounds!
The rock rebounds!
The Nereids to my song reply!
I lead the choir,
And they conspire
With voice and shell to lift it high;
VI
They spread in air
Their bosoms fair;
Their verdant tresses pour behind.
The billows beat
With nimble feet,
With notes triumphant swell the wind.
VII
Who love the shore,
And they conspire
With voice and shell to lift it high;
Let those adore
The God Apollo, and his Nine,
Parnassus' hill,
And Orpheus' skill;

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poem by Edward Young
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M'Fingal - Canto II

The Sun, who never stops to dine,
Two hours had pass'd the mid-way line,
And driving at his usual rate,
Lash'd on his downward car of state.
And now expired the short vacation,
And dinner o'er in epic fashion,
While all the crew, beneath the trees,
Eat pocket-pies, or bread and cheese,
(Nor shall we, like old Homer, care
To versify their bill of fare)
Each active party, feasted well,
Throng'd in, like sheep, at sound of bell;
With equal spirit took their places,
And meeting oped with three Oh Yesses:
When first, the daring Whigs t' oppose,
Again the great M'Fingal rose,
Stretch'd magisterial arm amain,
And thus resumed th' accusing strain.

"Ye Whigs attend, and hear affrighted
The crimes whereof ye stand indicted;
The sins and follies past all compass,
That prove you guilty, or non compos.
I leave the verdict to your senses,
And jury of your consciences;
Which though they're neither good nor true,
Must yet convict you and your crew.

"Ungrateful sons! a factious band,
That rise against your parent land!
Ye viper race, that burst in strife
The genial womb that gave you life,
Tear with sharp fangs and forked tongue
The indulgent bowels whence ye sprung;
And scorn the debt and obligation,
You justly owe the British nation,
Which, since you cannot pay, your crew
Affect to swear was never due.

"Did not the deeds of England's primate
First drive your fathers to this climate,
Whom jails and fines and every ill
Forced to their good against their will?
Ye owe to their obliging temper
The peopling your new-fangled empire,
While every British act and canon
Stood forth your causa sine qua non.

[...] Read more

poem by John Trumbull
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Watching You, Watching Me, Watching You, Watching Everyone

So this is Great Britain
A green and pleasant land?
The home of CCTV Camera’s
To get speeding drivers banned

So this is Great Britain
The welfare state, & NHS
Great British Institutions?
Some think they’re in a mess

So this Is Great Britain
That once ruled the waves
An Empire and a Commonwealth?
Now issues ASBO’s if one misbehaves

So this is Great Britain
The Mother of Democracy?
The House of Commons and Lords
Ensuring justice & liberty?

So this is Great Britain
Where God saves the Queen
A land of hope & glory?
You can vote at age eighteen

So this is Great Britain
Are the pensioners in poverty?
They’ve never had it so good?
They’re all having a nice cup of tea

So this is Great Britain
A class system breeding inequality
Education, Education, Education?
Needing a dose of political honesty

So this is Great Britain
Still the mother of the free?
The police, council, & MI5
Are watching you or watching me

poem by Gordon David
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The Ancient Banner

In boundless mercy, the Redeemer left,
The bosom of his Father, and assumed
A servant's form, though he had reigned a king,
In realms of glory, ere the worlds were made,
Or the creating words, 'Let there be light'
In heaven were uttered. But though veiled in flesh,
His Deity and his Omnipotence,
Were manifest in miracles. Disease
Fled at his bidding, and the buried dead
Rose from the sepulchre, reanimate,
At his command, or, on the passing bier
Sat upright, when he touched it. But he came,
Not for this only, but to introduce
A glorious dispensation, in the place
Of types and shadows of the Jewish code.
Upon the mount, and round Jerusalem,
He taught a purer, and a holier law,—
His everlasting Gospel, which is yet
To fill the earth with gladness; for all climes
Shall feel its influence, and shall own its power.
He came to suffer, as a sacrifice
Acceptable to God. The sins of all
Were laid upon Him, when in agony
He bowed upon the cross. The temple's veil
Was rent asunder, and the mighty rocks,
Trembled, as the incarnate Deity,
By his atoning blood, opened that door,
Through which the soul, can have communion with
Its great Creator; and when purified,
From all defilements, find acceptance too,
Where it can finally partake of all
The joys of His salvation.
But the pure Church he planted,—the pure Church
Which his apostles watered,—and for which,
The blood of countless martyrs freely flowed,
In Roman Amphitheatres,—on racks,—
And in the dungeon's gloom,—this blessed Church,
Which grew in suffering, when it overspread
Surrounding nations, lost its purity.
Its truth was hidden, and its light obscured
By gross corruption, and idolatry.
As things of worship, it had images,
And even painted canvas was adored.
It had a head and bishop, but this head
Was not the Saviour, but the Pope of Rome.
Religion was a traffic. Men defiled,
Professed to pardon sin, and even sell,
The joys of heaven for money,—and to raise
Souls out of darkness to eternal light,
For paltry silver lavished upon them.

[...] Read more

poem by Anonymous Americas
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The Head Of Bran The Blest

I

When the Head of Bran
Was firm on British shoulders,
God made a man!
Cried all beholders.

Steel could not resist
The weight his arm would rattle;
He, with naked fist,
Has brain'd a knight in battle.

He marched on the foe,
And never counted numbers;
Foreign widows know
The hosts he sent to slumbers.

As a street you scan,
That's towered by the steeple,
So the Head of Bran
Rose o'er his people.

II

'Death's my neighbour,'
Quoth Bran the Blest;
'Christian labour
Brings Christian rest.
From the trunk sever
The Head of Bran,
That which never
Has bent to man!
'That which never
To men has bowed
Shall live ever
To shame the shroud:
Shall live ever
To face the foe;
Sever it, sever,
And with one blow.

'Be it written,
That all I wrought
Was for Britain,
In deed and thought:
Be it written,
That while I die,
Glory to Britain!
Is my last cry.

[...] Read more

poem by George Meredith
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Carmen Seculare. For the Year 1700. To The King

Thy elder Look, Great Janus, cast
Into the long Records of Ages past:
Review the Years in fairest Action drest
With noted White, Superior to the rest;
Aera's deriv'd, and Chronicles begun
From Empires founded, and from Battels won:
Show all the Spoils by valiant Kings achiev'd,
And groaning Nations by Their Arms reliev'd;
The Wounds of Patriots in their Country's Cause,
And happy Pow'r sustain'd by wholesom Laws:
In comely Rank call ev'ry Merit forth:
Imprint on ev'ry Act it's Standard Worth:
The glorious Parallels then downward bring
To Modern Wonders, and to Britain's King:
With equal Justice and Historic Care
Their Laws, Their Toils, Their Arms with His compare:
Confess the various Attributes of Fame
Collected and compleat in William's Name:
To all the list'ning World relate
(As Thou dost His Story read)
That nothing went before so Great,
And nothing Greater can succeed.
Thy Native Latium was Thy darling Care,
Prudent in Peace, and terrible in War:
The boldest Virtues that have govern'd Earth
From Latium's fruitful Womb derive their Birth.
Then turn to Her fair-written Page:
From dawning Childhood to establish'd Age,
The Glories of Her Empire trace:
Confront the Heroes of Thy Roman Race:
And let the justest Palm the Victor's Temples grace.
The Son of Mars reduc'd the trembling Swains,
And spread His Empire o'er the distant Plains:
But yet the Sabins violated Charms
Obscur'd the Glory of His rising Arms.
Numa the Rights of strict Religion knew;
On ev'ry Altar laid the Incense due;
Unskill'd to dart the pointed Spear,
Or lead the forward Youth to noble War.
Stern Brutus was with too much Horror good,
Holding his Fasces stain'd with Filial Blood.
Fabius was Wise, but with Excess of Care;
He sav'd his Country; but prolonged the War:
While Decius, Paulus, Curius greatly fought;
And by Their strict Examples taught,
How wild Desires should be controll'd;
And how much brighter Virtue was, than Gold;
They scarce Their swelling Thirst of Fame could hide;
And boasted Poverty with too much Pride.
Excess in Youth made Scipio less rever'd:

[...] Read more

poem by Matthew Prior
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On Queen Anne's Peace, Anno 1713

Mother of plenty, daughter of the skies,
Sweet Peace, the troubl'd world's desire, arise;
Around thy poet weave thy summer shades,
Within my fancy spread thy flow'ry meads,
Amongst thy train soft ease and pleasure bring,
And thus indulgent sooth me whilst I sing.

Great Anna claims the song; no brighter name
Adorns the list of never-dying fame,
No fairer soul was ever form'd above,
None e'er was more the grateful nation's love
Nor lov'd the nation more. I fly with speed
To sing such lines as Bolingbroke may read,
On war dispers'd, on faction trampled down,
On all the peaceful glories of the crown.
And if I fail in too confin'd a flight,
May the kind world upon my labours write;
'So fell the lines which strove for endless fame,
'Yet fell attempting on the noblest theme.

Now twelve revolving years has Britain stood
With loss of wealth and vast expence of blood
Europa's Guardian; still her gallant arms
Secur'd Europa from impending harms.
Fair honour, full success, and just applause,
Pursu'd her marches, and adorn'd her cause;
Whilst Gaul, aspiring to erect a throne
O'er other empires, trembled for her own,
Bemoan'd her cities won, her armies slain,
And sunk the thought of universal reign.

When thus reduc'd the world's Invaders lie,
The fears which rack'd the nations, justly die:
Pow'r finds its balance, giddy motions cease
In both the scales, and each inclines to peace.
This fair occasion Providence prepares,
To answer pious Anna's hourly pray'rs,
Which still on warm Devotion's wings arose,
And reaching Heav'n obtain'd the world's repose.

Within the vast expansion of the sky,
Where Orbs of gold in fields of Azure lie,
A glorious palace shines, whose silver ray
Serenely flowing lights the milky way,
The road of angels. Here with speedy care
The summon'd Guardians of the world repair.
When Britain's Angel on the message sent
Speaks Anna's pray'rs and Heaven's supream intent,
That war's destructive arm shou'd humble Gaul,
Spain's parted realms to diff'rent monarchs fall,

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Parnell
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On the Prospect of Peace

______ Sacerdos
Fronde super mitram, & felici comptus oliva.
Virg.

To the Lord Privy Seal

Contending kings, and fields of death, too long
Have been the subject of the British song.
Who hath not read of fam'd Ramillia's plain,
Bavaria's fall, and Danube choak'd with slain!
Exhausted themes! a gentler note I raise,
And sing returning peace in softer lays.
Their fury quell'd, and martial rage allay'd,
I wait our heroes in the sylvan shade:
Disbanding hosts are imag'd to my mind,
And warring powers in friendly leagues combin'd,
While ease and pleasure make the nations smile,
And Heaven and Anna bless Britannia's isle.
Well sends our queen her mitred Bristol forth,
For early counsels fam'd, and long-try'd worth;
Who, thirty rolling years, had oft withheld
The Swede and Saxon from the dusty field;
Completely form'd to heal the Christian wounds,
To name the kings, and give each kingdom bounds;
The face of ravag'd Nature to repair,
By leagues to soften Earth, and Heaven by prayer,

To gain by love, where rage and slaughter fail,
And make the crosier o'er the sword prevail.
So when great Moses, with Jehovah's wand,
Had scatter'd plagues o'er stubborn Pharaoh's land,
Now spread an host of locusts round the shore,
Now turn'd Nile's fattening streams to putrid gore;
Plenty and gladness mark'd the priest of God,
And sudden almonds shot from Aaron's rod.

O thou, from whom these bounteous blessings flow,
To whom, as chief, the hopes of peace we owe,

(For next to thee, the man whom kings contend
To style companion, and to make their friend,
Great Strafford, rich in every courtly grace,
With joyful pride accepts the second place)
From Britain's isle, and Isis' sacred spring,
One hour, oh! listen while the Muses sing.
Though ministers of mighty monarchs wait,
With beating hearts to learn their masters' fate,
One hour forbear to speak thy queen's commands,
Nor think the world, thy charge, neglected stands;

[...] Read more

poem by Thomas Tickell
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Your Horoscope For Today

aquarius
There's travel in your future when your tongue freezes to the back of a
Speeding bus
Fill that void in your pathetic life by playing whack-a-mole seventeen hours a
Day
Pisces
Try to avoid any virgos or leos with the ebola virus
You are the tru lord of the dance, no matter what those idiots at work say
Aries
The look on your face will be priceless when you find that forty pound
Watermelon in your colon
Trade toothbrushes with an albino dwarf, then give a hickey to meryl streep
Taurus
You will never find tru happiness - what you gonna do, cry about it?
The stars predict tomorrow you'll wake up, do a bunch of stuff, and then go
Back to sleep
That's your horoscope for today (that's your horoscope for today)
That's your horoscope for today
That's your horoscope for today (that's your horoscope for today)
That's your horoscope for today
Gemini
Your birthday party will be ruined once again by your explosive flatulence
Your love life will run into trouble when your fiance hurls a javelin through
Your chest
Cancer
The position of jupiter says you should spend the rest of the week face down in
The mud
Try not to shove a roll of duct tape up your nose while taking your driver's
Test
Leo
Now is not a good time to photocopy your butt and staple it to your boss's
Face, oh no
Eat a bucket of tuna-flavored pudding, then wash it down with a gallon of
Strawberry quik
Virgo
All virgos are extremely friendly and intelligent - except for you
Expect a big surprise today when you wind up with your head impaled on a stick
That's your horoscope for today (that's your horoscope for today)
That's your horoscope for today
That's your horoscope for today (that's your horoscope for today)
That's your horoscope for today
Now you may find it inconceivable or at the very least a bit unlikely that the
Relative position of the planets and the stars could have a special deep
Significance or meaning that exclusively applies to only you, but let me give
You my assurance that these forcasts and predictions are all based on solid,
Scientific, documented evidence, so you would have to be some kind of moron not
To reaize that every single one of the is absolutely true.
Where was i?
Libra
A big promotion is just around the corner for someone much more talented that

[...] Read more

song performed by Weird Al Yankovic
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Today! !

Today the sun was shine less
Today the moon was mood less
Today the birds were wing less
Today as the sun rose, they told me
Today as I woke
They told me
Last night I’ve lost my voice they echoed me

Today the mountains are height less
Today the clock was time less
Today the sky was wind less
Today my hands were workless
Today as the sun boiled, they told me
Today as I spoiled
They told me
Last morning I’ve lost my hands they assured me

Today the world was sightless
Today the room was lightless
Today the voices were figureless
Today my eyes were imageless
Today as the night dived, they told me
Today as I defined
They told me
Last afternoon I’ve lost my eyes they cursed me

Today the era was soundless
Today the room was noise less
Today the things were strike less
Today my ears were voice less
Today as the dawn fell, they told me
Today as I felt
They told me
Last evening I’ve lost my ears they pitted me

Last night I was voiceless
Last night I was hand less
Last night I was eyes less
Last night I was ears less
And now today I feel
That they’ll tell me
That I’ve lost, they’ll yell me
Lost a heartbeat
And now is grave less
Left in open far godless
Unmentioned they say expressionless.

poem by Nishtha Dutta
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England And Spain

Too long have Tyranny and Power combined,
To sway, with iron sceptre, o'er mankind;
Long has Oppression worn th' imperial robe,
And Rapine's sword has wasted half the globe!
O'er Europe's cultured realms, and climes afar,
Triumphant Gaul has pour'd the tide of war;
To her fair Austria veil'd the standard bright;
Ausonia's lovely plains have own'd her might;
While Prussia's eagle, never taught to yield,
Forsook her tow'ring height on Jena's field!

Oh! gallant Fred'ric! could thy parted shade,
Have seen thy country vanquish'd and betray'd;
How had thy soul indignant mourn'd her shame,
Her sullied trophies, and her tarnish'd fame!
When Valour wept lamented BRUNSWlCK's doom,
And nursed with tears, the laurels on his tomb;
When Prussia, drooping o'er her hero's grave,
Invoked his spirit to descend and save;
Then set her glories -- then expired her sun,
And fraud achieved -- e'en more than conquest won!

O'er peaceful realms, that smiled with plenty gay,
Has desolation spread her ample sway;
Thy blast, oh Ruin! on tremendous wings,
Has proudly swept o'er empires, nations, kings!
Thus the wild hurricane's impetuous force,
With dark destruction marks its whelming course;
Despoils the woodland's pomp, the blooming plain,
Death on its pinion, vengeance in its train!
-- Rise, Freedom, rise! and breaking from thy trance,
Wave the dread banner, seize the glittering lance!
With arm of might assert thy sacred cause,
And call thy champions to defend thy laws!
How long shall tyrant power her throne maintain?
How long shall despots and usurpers reign?
Is honour's lofty soul for ever fled?
Is virtue lost? is martial ardour dead?
Is there no heart where worth and valour dwell,
No patriot WALLACE, no undaunted TELL?
Yes, Freedom, yes! thy sons, a noble band,
Around thy banner, firm, exulting stand;
Once more 'tis thine, invincible, to wield
The beamy spear, and adamantine shield!
Again thy cheek with proud resentment glows,
Again thy lion-glance appals thy foes;
Thy kindling eye-beam darts unconquer'd fires,
Thy look sublime the warrior's heart inspires:
And while, to guard thy standard and thy right,
Castilians rush, intrepid, to the fight;

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poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Added by Poetry Lover
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Suffering

I heard about your happiness
And all the plans that youre involved in
Since youre gone youd be impressed
To know i, too, have been evolving
But I dont think you comprehend
Ive been suffering
Yeah, Ive been suffering
Guess Ill be suffering up around the bend
This love is a cancer in me
I can feel it advancing in me
This fire it is my light in the world
Well, I found me a new friend
Ive been suffering
Yeah, Ive been suffering
Guess Ill be suffering up around the bend
I hung around in a leather bar
They threw me on the cement
Slept all night in my plastic car
Got in an accident
I brushed by you in the supermart
And I had me a touch of whats real
It was real when you crushed me with your steel
Black clouds roll through my mind
Who says anyway these halls are sovereign?
I am a hater of the human kind
So keep away, this hearts not softening
No, I dont think that its the end of this suffering
Yeah, Ive been suffering
Ive been suffering
Ive been suffering
And Ill be suffering up around the bend

song performed by Frank Black
Added by Lucian Velea
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An Ode - Humbly Inscribed To The Queen, On the Glorious Success of Her Majesty's Arms

When great Augustus govern'd ancient Rome,
And sent his conquering bands to foreign wars,
Abroad when dreaded, and beloved at home,
He saw his fame increasing with his years,
Horace, great bard, (so fate ordain'd) arose,
And, bold as were his countryman in fight,
Snatch'd their fair actions from degrading prose,
And set their battles in eternal light:
High as their trumpets tune his lyre he strung,
And with his prince's arms he moralized his song.

When bright Eliza ruled Britannia's state,
Widely distributing her high commands,
And, boldly wise and fortunately great,
Freed the glad nations from tyrannic bands,
An equal genius was in Spenser found;
To the high theme he match'd his noble lays;
He travelled England o'er on fairy ground,
In mystic notes to sing his monarch's praise:
Reciting wondrous truths in pleasing dreams
He deck'd Eliza's head with Gloriana's beams.

But, greatest Anna! while thy arms pursue
Paths of renown, and climb ascents of fame,
Which nor Augustus nor Eliza knew,
What poet shall be found to sing thy name?
What numbers shall record, what tongue shall say
Thy wars on land, thy triumphs on the main?
O fairest model of imperial sway!
What equal pen shall write thy wondrous reign?
Who shall attempts and feats of arms rehearse,
Nor yet by story told, nor parallel'd by verse?

Me all too mean for such a task I weet;
Yet if the sovereign Lady designs to smile
I'll follow Horace with impetuous heat,
And clothe the verse in Spenser's native style:
By these examples rightly taught to sing,
And smit with pleasure of my country's praise,
Stretching the plumes of an uncommon wing,
High as Olympus I my flight will raise,
And latest times shall in my numbers read
Anna's immortal fame and Marlborough's hardy deed.

As the strong eagle in the silent wood,
Mindless of warlike rage and hostile care,
Plays round the rocky cliff or crystal flood,
Till by Jove's high behests call'd out to war,
And charged with thunder of his angry king,
His bosom with the vengeful message glows,

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poem by Matthew Prior
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The Faithful Few: An Ode

While Pow'r triumphant bears unrival'd Sway,
Propt by the Aid of all-prevailing Gold;
While bold Corruption blasts the Face of Day,
And Men, in Herds, are offer'd to be sold;
Select, Urania, from the venal Throng,
The Faithful Few, to grace the deathless Song!

To thee, chaste Nymph, by Jove and Fate, is giv'n
The sacred Charge of the Celestial Bays;
Thou raisest Heroes to their native Heav'n,
And point'st the Objects of eternal Praise.
And in thy Records, dear to future Fame,
Each Son of Liberty inscribes his Name.

When o'er a Nation Fraud and Guilt prevail,
And, fafe, all Question and Enquiry shun,
Thine is the impartial Sword,-and thine the Scale
To weigh the Crime, and make the Actors known:
From Britain's Eyes the deadly Mist to cast,
And bid her waken, lest she sleep her last!

Begin, bright Goddess, the celestial Strain;
To lofty Notes accord the tuneful Lyre:
Almeria shall lead on the shining Train,
Whose Looks the Love of Liberty inspire.
Let lower Beauties fetter those who fee;
None should behold a Pallas, but the Free.

So when great Juno came near Latium's Land,
Detain'd, by Fate, the Guardian Vessel stood,
No human Force could make it touch the Strand,
Fix'd, it remain'd, in Tyber's rapid Flood,
Till one bright Vestal, (such is Virtue's Pow'r!)
Dissolv'd the Charm, and drew the Gift on Shore.

Nor less the Chief, whom, bless'd in Myra's Charms,
The sacred Love of Liberty inspires;
Whose generous Breast the same great Passion warms,
That brightly glow'd in his Heroic Sires.
How justly are the Patriot-Names ally'd,
How softly pair'd, a Douglas and a Hyde.

See Hamilton, with Lustre, next appear,
A Prince descended from a Royal Race.

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poem by William Hamilton
Added by Poetry Lover
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