There can be no defense like elaborate courtesy.
quote by Edward V. Lucas
Added by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Pearl
Pearl of delight that a prince doth please
To grace in gold enclosed so clear,
I vow that from over orient seas
Never proved I any in price her peer.
So round, so radiant ranged by these,
So fine, so smooth did her sides appear
That ever in judging gems that please
Her only alone I deemed as dear.
Alas! I lost her in garden near:
Through grass to the ground from me it shot;
I pine now oppressed by love-wound drear
For that pearl, mine own, without a spot.
2
Since in that spot it sped from me,
I have looked and longed for that precious thing
That me once was wont from woe to free,
To uplift my lot and healing bring,
But my heart doth hurt now cruelly,
My breast with burning torment sting.
Yet in secret hour came soft to me
The sweetest song I e'er heard sing;
Yea, many a thought in mind did spring
To think that her radiance in clay should rot.
O mould! Thou marrest a lovely thing,
My pearl, mine own, without a spot.
3
In that spot must needs be spices spread
Where away such wealth to waste hath run;
Blossoms pale and blue and red
There shimmer shining in the sun;
No flower nor fruit their hue may shed
Where it down into darkling earth was done,
For all grass must grow from grains that are dead,
No wheat would else to barn be won.
From good all good is ever begun,
And fail so fair a seed could not,
So that sprang and sprouted spices none
From that precious pearl without a spot.
4
That spot whereof I speak I found
When I entered in that garden green,
As August's season high came round
When corn is cut with sickles keen.
There, where that pearl rolled down, a mound
With herbs was shadowed fair and sheen,
With gillyflower, ginger, and gromwell crowned,
And peonies powdered all between.
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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To His Defense
To his defense, I understand the problem that is at hand.
To his defense, I understand the turmoil behind all of this.
To his defense, you'll never live the life he has endured.
To his defense, judge, I object to the inaccuracies you are spewing forth.
Be prepared to kill two birds with one stone.
Anxiety rises about the room.
As the swine feeds on frozen hearts.
A sign of treason ascends in my thoughts.
My conscience was right, the traitor exposed.
To his defense, there must be a reason for all the things he has done.
To his defense, it could easily be a coincidence.
To his defense, look at him now.
He's happier than I'll ever become.
To his defense, theres no defense.
No toleration for betrayal.
poem by Aaron Lynn
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Courtesy
Of Courtesy, it is much less
Than Courage of Heart or Holiness,
Yet in my Walks it seems to me
That the Grace of God is in Courtesy.
On Monks I did in Storrington fall,
They took me straight into their Hall;
I saw Three Pictures on a wall,
And Courtesy was in them all.
The first the Annunciation;
The second the Visitation;
The third the Consolation,
Of God that was Our Lady's Son.
The first was of St. Gabriel;
On Wings a-flame from Heaven he fell;
And as he went upon one knee
He shone with Heavenly Courtesy.
Our Lady out of Nazareth rode -
It was Her month of heavy load;
Yet was her face both great and kind,
For Courtesy was in Her Mind.
The third it was our Little Lord,
Whom all the Kings in arms adored;
He was so small you could not see
His large intent of Courtesy.
Our Lord, that was Our Lady's Son,
Go bless you, People, one by one;
My Rhyme is written, my work is done.
poem by Hilaire Belloc
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I Am Understood?
Sometimes its embarrassing to talk to you
To hold a conversation with the only one who sees right through
This version of myself
I try to hide behind
Ill bury my face because my disgrace will leave me terrified
And sometimes Im so thankful for your loyalty
Your love regardless of the mistakes I make will spoil me
My confidence is, in a sense, a gift youve given me
And Im satisfied to realize youre all Ill ever need
You looked into my life
And never stopped
And youre thinking all my thoughts
Are so simple but so beautiful
And you recite my words right back to me
Before I even speak
You let me know, I am understood
And sometimes I spend my time
Just trying to escape
I work so hard, so desperately, in an attempt to create space
Cause I want distance from the utmost important thing I know
I see your love, then turn my back, and beg for you to go
You looked into my life
And never stopped
And youre thinking all my thoughts
Are so simple but so beautiful
And you recite my words right back to me
Before I even speak
You let me know, I am understood
Youre the only one who understands
Completely
Youre the only one who knows me yet still loves completely
And sometimes the place Im at is at a loss for words
If I think of something worthy, I know that its already yours
And through the times Ive faded and youve outlined me again
Youve just patiently waited, to bring me back and then
You looked into my life
And never stopped
And youre thinking all my thoughts
Are so simple but so beautiful
And you recite my words right back to me
Before I even speak
You let me know, I am understood
The noise has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvaction
Your voice has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvation
The noise has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvaction
Your voice has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvation
[...] Read more
song performed by Relient K
Added by Lucian Velea
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Right Where It Belongs
See the animal in his cage that you built,
See the animal in his cage that you built
Are you sure what side you're on?
Are you sure whats natural
Better not look him too closely in the eye,
Na'now don't look too closely in the eye
Are you sure what side of the glass you are on?
Are you sure what side of the glass you're on
See the safety of the life you have built,
See the safety of the life you have built
Everything where it belongs
Everything where it belongs
Feel the hollowness inside of your heart,
See the hollowness inside of your home
And it's all...right where it belongs
And it's all... Right Where it belongs
What if everything around you,
What if everything around you
Isn't quite as it seems?
Isn't quite as it seems
What if all the world you think you know,
What if all the world you think you know
Is an elaborate dream?
Is an elaborate dream.
And if you look at your reflection,
Is it all you want it to be?
An' If you look at your reflection
What if you could look right through the cracks,
Is that all you want to be
Would you find yourself...find yourself afraid to see?
What if you could look right through the cracks
would you find yourself... find yourself afraid to see
What if all the world's inside of your head?
Just creations of your own
What if all the worlds inside of your head
Your devils and your gods all the living and the dead
Just creations of your own
And you really oughta know
The devils and your gods all the living and the dead
And you're really all alone
You can live in this illusion
You can choose to believe
You can live in this illusion
You keep looking but you can't find the words,
You can't choose to believe
Are you hiding in the trees?
You keep looking but you can't find the words
Now you're hiding in your dreams
What if everything around you,
Isn't quite as it seems?
[...] Read more
song performed by Nine Inch Nails
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lancelot And Elaine
Elaine the fair, Elaine the loveable,
Elaine, the lily maid of Astolat,
High in her chamber up a tower to the east
Guarded the sacred shield of Lancelot;
Which first she placed where the morning's earliest ray
Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam;
Then fearing rust or soilure fashioned for it
A case of silk, and braided thereupon
All the devices blazoned on the shield
In their own tinct, and added, of her wit,
A border fantasy of branch and flower,
And yellow-throated nestling in the nest.
Nor rested thus content, but day by day,
Leaving her household and good father, climbed
That eastern tower, and entering barred her door,
Stript off the case, and read the naked shield,
Now guessed a hidden meaning in his arms,
Now made a pretty history to herself
Of every dint a sword had beaten in it,
And every scratch a lance had made upon it,
Conjecturing when and where: this cut is fresh;
That ten years back; this dealt him at Caerlyle;
That at Caerleon; this at Camelot:
And ah God's mercy, what a stroke was there!
And here a thrust that might have killed, but God
Broke the strong lance, and rolled his enemy down,
And saved him: so she lived in fantasy.
How came the lily maid by that good shield
Of Lancelot, she that knew not even his name?
He left it with her, when he rode to tilt
For the great diamond in the diamond jousts,
Which Arthur had ordained, and by that name
Had named them, since a diamond was the prize.
For Arthur, long before they crowned him King,
Roving the trackless realms of Lyonnesse,
Had found a glen, gray boulder and black tarn.
A horror lived about the tarn, and clave
Like its own mists to all the mountain side:
For here two brothers, one a king, had met
And fought together; but their names were lost;
And each had slain his brother at a blow;
And down they fell and made the glen abhorred:
And there they lay till all their bones were bleached,
And lichened into colour with the crags:
And he, that once was king, had on a crown
Of diamonds, one in front, and four aside.
And Arthur came, and labouring up the pass,
All in a misty moonshine, unawares
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Orlando Furioso Canto 19
ARGUMENT
Medoro, by Angelica's quaint hand,
Is healed, and weds, and bears her to Catay.
At length Marphisa, with the chosen band,
After long suffering, makes Laiazzi's bay.
Guido the savage, bondsman in the land,
Which impious women rule with civil sway,
With Marphisa strives in single fight,
And lodges her and hers at full of night.
I
By whom he is beloved can no one know,
Who on the top of Fortune's wheel is seated;
Since he, by true and faithless friends, with show
Of equal faith, in glad estate is greeted.
But, should felicity be changed to woe,
The flattering multitude is turned and fleeted!
While he who loves his master from his heart,
Even after death performs his faithful part.
II
Were the heart seen as is the outward cheer,
He who at court is held in sovereign grace,
And he that to his lord is little dear,
With parts reversed, would fill each other's place;
The humble man the greater would appear,
And he, now first, be hindmost in the race.
But be Medoro's faithful story said,
The youth who loved his lord, alive or dead.
III
The closest path, amid the forest gray,
To save himself, pursued the youth forlorn;
But all his schemes were marred by the delay
Of that sore weight upon his shoulders born.
The place he knew not, and mistook the way,
And hid himself again in sheltering thorn.
Secure and distant was his mate, that through
The greenwood shade with lighter shoulders flew.
IV
So far was Cloridan advanced before,
He heard the boy no longer in the wind;
But when he marked the absence of Medore,
It seemed as if his heart was left behind.
'Ah! how was I so negligent,' (the Moor
Exclaimed) 'so far beside myself, and blind,
That I, Medoro, should without thee fare,
Nor know when I deserted thee or where?'
[...] Read more
poem by Ludovico Ariosto
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The Song Of Courtesy
I
When Sir Gawain was led to his bridal-bed,
By Arthur's knights in scorn God-sped:-
How think you he felt?
O the bride within
Was yellow and dry as a snake's old skin;
Loathly as sin!
Scarcely faceable,
Quite unembraceable;
With a hog's bristle on a hag's chin! -
Gentle Gawain felt as should we,
Little of Love's soft fire knew he:
But he was the Knight of Courtesy.
II
When that evil lady he lay beside
Bade him turn to greet his bride,
What think you he did?
O, to spare her pain,
And let not his loathing her loathliness vain
Mirror too plain,
Sadly, sighingly,
Almost dyingly,
Turned he and kissed her once and again.
Like Sir Gawain, gentles, should we?
SILENT, ALL! But for pattern agree
There's none like the Knight of Courtesy.
III
Sir Gawain sprang up amid laces and curls:
Kisses are not wasted pearls:-
What clung in his arms?
O, a maiden flower,
Burning with blushes the sweet bride-bower,
Beauty her dower!
Breathing perfumingly;
Shall I live bloomingly,
Said she, by day, or the bridal hour?
Thereat he clasped her, and whispered he,
Thine, rare bride, the choice shall be.
Said she, Twice blest is Courtesy!
IV
Of gentle Sir Gawain they had no sport,
When it was morning in Arthur's court;
What think you they cried?
[...] Read more
poem by George Meredith
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Defense and offence.
Defense is a kind of offence;
Offence is a smart defense.
Offence is to break defense.
Defense is to thwart offence.
As predator, one needs offence.
As a prey, one needs defense.
Otherwise defense is as bad as offence.
12.02.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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My mental approach is totally different. My coach predicated everything on defense. He always talked about defense, defense, defense. I took it to heart that if you play defense, you can take the heart from an offensive player.
quote by Eric Williams
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 9
WHILE these affairs in distant places pass’d,
The various Iris Juno sends with haste,
To find bold Turnus, who, with anxious thought,
The secret shade of his great grandsire sought.
Retir’d alone she found the daring man, 5
And op’d her rosy lips, and thus began:
“What none of all the gods could grant thy vows,
That, Turnus, this auspicious day bestows.
Æneas, gone to seek th’ Arcadian prince,
Has left the Trojan camp without defense; 10
And, short of succors there, employs his pains
In parts remote to raise the Tuscan swains.
Now snatch an hour that favors thy designs;
Unite thy forces, and attack their lines.”
This said, on equal wings she pois’d her weight, 15
And form’d a radiant rainbow in her flight.
The Daunian hero lifts his hands and eyes,
And thus invokes the goddess as she flies:
“Iris, the grace of heav’n, what pow’r divine
Has sent thee down, thro’ dusky clouds to shine? 20
See, they divide; immortal day appears,
And glitt’ring planets dancing in their spheres!
With joy, these happy omens I obey,
And follow to the war the god that leads the way.”
Thus having said, as by the brook he stood, 25
He scoop’d the water from the crystal flood;
Then with his hands the drops to heav’n he throws,
And loads the pow’rs above with offer’d vows.
Now march the bold confed’rates thro’ the plain,
Well hors’d, well clad; a rich and shining train. 30
Messapus leads the van; and, in the rear,
The sons of Tyrrheus in bright arms appear.
In the main battle, with his flaming crest,
The mighty Turnus tow’rs above the rest.
Silent they move, majestically slow, 35
Like ebbing Nile, or Ganges in his flow.
The Trojans view the dusty cloud from far,
And the dark menace of the distant war.
Caicus from the rampire saw it rise,
Black’ning the fields, and thick’ning thro’ the skies. 40
Then to his fellows thus aloud he calls:
“What rolling clouds, my friends, approach the walls?
Arm! arm! and man the works! prepare your spears
And pointed darts! the Latian host appears.”
Thus warn’d, they shut their gates; with shouts ascend 45
The bulwarks, and, secure, their foes attend:
For their wise gen’ral, with foreseeing care,
Had charg’d them not to tempt the doubtful war,
Nor, tho’ provok’d, in open fields advance,
But close within their lines attend their chance. 50
[...] Read more
poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
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Idylls of the King: The Last Tournament (excerpt)
Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood
Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round,
At Camelot, high above the yellowing woods,
Danced like a wither'd leaf before the hall.
And toward him from the hall, with harp in hand,
And from the crown thereof a carcanet
Of ruby swaying to and fro, the prize
Of Tristram in the jousts of yesterday,
Came Tristram, saying, "Why skip ye so, Sir Fool?"
For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding once
Far down beneath a winding wall of rock
Heard a child wail. A stump of oak half-dead.
From roots like some black coil of carven snakes,
Clutch'd at the crag, and started thro' mid air
Bearing an eagle's nest: and thro' the tree
Rush'd ever a rainy wind, and thro' the wind
Pierced ever a child's cry: and crag and tree
Scaling, Sir Lancelot from the perilous nest,
This ruby necklace thrice around her neck,
And all unscarr'd from beak or talon, brought
A maiden babe; which Arthur pitying took,
Then gave it to his Queen to rear: the Queen
But coldly acquiescing, in her white arms
Received, and after loved it tenderly,
And named it Nestling; so forgot herself
A moment, and her cares; till that young life
Being smitten in mid heaven with mortal cold
Past from her; and in time the carcanet
Vext her with plaintive memories of the child:
So she, delivering it to Arthur, said,
"Take thou the jewels of this dead innocence,
And make them, an thou wilt, a tourney-prize."
To whom the King, "Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn,
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear."
"Would rather you had let them fall," she cried,
"Plunge and be lost--ill-fated as they were,
A bitterness to me!--ye look amazed,
Not knowing they were lost as soon as given--
Slid from my hands, when I was leaning out
Above the river--that unhappy child
Past in her barge: but rosier luck will go
With these rich jewels, seeing that they came
Not from the skeleton of a brother-slayer,
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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The Last Tournament
Dagonet, the fool, whom Gawain in his mood
Had made mock-knight of Arthur's Table Round,
At Camelot, high above the yellowing woods,
Danced like a withered leaf before the hall.
And toward him from the hall, with harp in hand,
And from the crown thereof a carcanet
Of ruby swaying to and fro, the prize
Of Tristram in the jousts of yesterday,
Came Tristram, saying, `Why skip ye so, Sir Fool?'
For Arthur and Sir Lancelot riding once
Far down beneath a winding wall of rock
Heard a child wail. A stump of oak half-dead,
From roots like some black coil of carven snakes,
Clutched at the crag, and started through mid air
Bearing an eagle's nest: and through the tree
Rushed ever a rainy wind, and through the wind
Pierced ever a child's cry: and crag and tree
Scaling, Sir Lancelot from the perilous nest,
This ruby necklace thrice around her neck,
And all unscarred from beak or talon, brought
A maiden babe; which Arthur pitying took,
Then gave it to his Queen to rear: the Queen
But coldly acquiescing, in her white arms
Received, and after loved it tenderly,
And named it Nestling; so forgot herself
A moment, and her cares; till that young life
Being smitten in mid heaven with mortal cold
Past from her; and in time the carcanet
Vext her with plaintive memories of the child:
So she, delivering it to Arthur, said,
`Take thou the jewels of this dead innocence,
And make them, an thou wilt, a tourney-prize.'
To whom the King, `Peace to thine eagle-borne
Dead nestling, and this honour after death,
Following thy will! but, O my Queen, I muse
Why ye not wear on arm, or neck, or zone
Those diamonds that I rescued from the tarn,
And Lancelot won, methought, for thee to wear.'
`Would rather you had let them fall,' she cried,
`Plunge and be lost-ill-fated as they were,
A bitterness to me!-ye look amazed,
Not knowing they were lost as soon as given-
Slid from my hands, when I was leaning out
Above the river-that unhappy child
Past in her barge: but rosier luck will go
With these rich jewels, seeing that they came
Not from the skeleton of a brother-slayer,
[...] Read more
poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Courtesy
I remember years ago
when courtesy was quite normal
amongst most people.
Giving up your seat on a bus
to someone elderly or a mum to be.
Opening the door for a woman
or someone struggling with something.
Being polite to everyone, you met.
Courtesy and respect
then used to hold each other’s hand,
but not anymore, I am afraid.
They have almost vanished
through the passing of time.
Some youngsters swear at you
instead of saying thank you
when you offer to help them out a bit.
The helping hands are hardly ever there
when you need one occasionally.
Instead, they just ignore you
and pass on their way.
I hope someone soon will think
of having a courtesy day.
A day when the whole world
can back on track
with giving a little courtesy every day.
27 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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The Corsair
'O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our soul's as free
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home!
These are our realms, no limits to their sway-
Our flag the sceptre all who meet obey.
Ours the wild life in tumult still to range
From toil to rest, and joy in every change.
Oh, who can tell? not thou, luxurious slave!
Whose soul would sicken o'er the heaving wave;
Not thou, vain lord of wantonness and ease!
whom slumber soothes not - pleasure cannot please -
Oh, who can tell, save he whose heart hath tried,
And danced in triumph o'er the waters wide,
The exulting sense - the pulse's maddening play,
That thrills the wanderer of that trackless way?
That for itself can woo the approaching fight,
And turn what some deem danger to delight;
That seeks what cravens shun with more than zeal,
And where the feebler faint can only feel -
Feel - to the rising bosom's inmost core,
Its hope awaken and Its spirit soar?
No dread of death if with us die our foes -
Save that it seems even duller than repose:
Come when it will - we snatch the life of life -
When lost - what recks it but disease or strife?
Let him who crawls enamour'd of decay,
Cling to his couch, and sicken years away:
Heave his thick breath, and shake his palsied head;
Ours - the fresh turf; and not the feverish bed.
While gasp by gasp he falters forth his soul,
Ours with one pang - one bound - escapes control.
His corse may boast its urn and narrow cave,
And they who loath'd his life may gild his grave:
Ours are the tears, though few, sincerely shed,
When Ocean shrouds and sepulchres our dead.
For us, even banquets fond regret supply
In the red cup that crowns our memory;
And the brief epitaph in danger's day,
When those who win at length divide the prey,
And cry, Remembrance saddening o'er each brow,
How had the brave who fell exulted now!'
II.
Such were the notes that from the Pirate's isle
Around the kindling watch-fire rang the while:
Such were the sounds that thrill'd the rocks along,
And unto ears as rugged seem'd a song!
In scatter'd groups upon the golden sand,
They game-carouse-converse-or whet the brand:
[...] Read more
The Lay of the Last Minstrel: Canto V.
I
Call it not vain;-they do not err,
Who say, that when the Poet dies,
Mute Nature mourns her worshipper,
And celebrates his obsequies:
Who say, tall cliff and cavern lone
For the departed Bard make moan;
That mountains weep in crystal rill;
That flowers in tears of balm distill;
Through his lov'd groves that breezes sigh,
And oaks, in deeper groan, reply;
And rivers teach their rushing wave
To murmur dirges round his grave
II
Not that, in sooth, o'er mortal urn
Those things inanimate can mourn;
But that the stream, the wood, the gale
Is vocal with the plaintive wail
Of those, who, else forgotten long,
Liv'd in the poet's faithful song,
And with the poet's parting breath,
Whose memory feels a second death.
The Maid's pale shade, who wails her lot,
That love, true love, should be forgot,
From rose and hawthorn shakes the tear
Upon the gentle Minstrel's bier:
The phantom Knight, his glory fled,
Mourns o'er the field he heap'd with dead;
Mounts the wild blast that sweeps amain,
And shrieks along the battle-plain.
The Chief, whose antique crownlet long
Still sparkled in the feudal song,
Now, from the mountain's misty throne,
Sees, in the thanedom once his own,
His ashes undistinguish'd lie,
His place, his power, his memory die:
His groans the lonely caverns fill,
His tears of rage impel the rill:
All mourn the Minstrel's harp unstrung,
Their name unknown, their praise unsung.
III
Scarcely the hot assault was staid,
The terms of truce were scarcely made,
When they could spy, from Branksome's towers,
The advancing march of martial powers.
Thick clouds of dust afar appear'd,
And trampling steeds were faintly heard;
Bright spears, above the columns dun,
[...] Read more
poem by Sir Walter Scott
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If This Needs Repeating
I feel blessed.
Yes.
And less stressed with mess.
I feel deep within me a happiness,
I can bring to the surface and express.
I'm not going to say,
I am free of an ache or pain.
I'm not going to elaborate...
On my losses or gains.
Or even my despairs and disappointments,
That may come!
I'm not sharing any of that!
None,
With anyone!
I feel blessed.
Yes.
And less stressed with mess.
I feel deep within me a happiness,
I can bring to the surface and express.
I'm not going to say,
I am free of an ache or pain.
I'm not going to elaborate...
On my losses or gains.
Or even my despairs and disappointments,
That may come!
I'm not sharing any of that!
None,
With anyone!
If this needs repeating...
I don't mind being the one,
To get that done!
I feel blessed.
Yes.
And less stressed with mess.
I feel deep within me a happiness,
I can bring to the surface and express.
I'm not going to say,
I am free of an ache or pain.
I'm not going to elaborate...
On my losses or gains.
Or even my despairs and disappointments,
That may come!
I'm not sharing any of that!
None,
With anyone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Aeneid of Virgil: Book 2
ALL were attentive to the godlike man,
When from his lofty couch he thus began:
“Great queen, what you command me to relate
Renews the sad remembrance of our fate:
An empire from its old foundations rent, 5
And ev’ry woe the Trojans underwent;
A peopled city made a desart place;
All that I saw, and part of which I was:
Not ev’n the hardest of our foes could hear,
Nor stern Ulysses tell without a tear. 10
And now the latter watch of wasting night,
And setting stars, to kindly rest invite;
But, since you take such int’rest in our woe,
And Troy’s disastrous end desire to know,
I will restrain my tears, and briefly tell 15
What in our last and fatal night befell.
“By destiny compell’d, and in despair,
The Greeks grew weary of the tedious war,
And by Minerva’s aid a fabric rear’d,
Which like a steed of monstrous height appear’d: 20
The sides were plank’d with pine; they feign’d it made
For their return, and this the vow they paid.
Thus they pretend, but in the hollow side
Selected numbers of their soldiers hide:
With inward arms the dire machine they load, 25
And iron bowels stuff the dark abode.
In sight of Troy lies Tenedos, an isle
(While Fortune did on Priam’s empire smile)
Renown’d for wealth; but, since, a faithless bay,
Where ships expos’d to wind and weather lay. 30
There was their fleet conceal’d. We thought, for Greece
Their sails were hoisted, and our fears release.
The Trojans, coop’d within their walls so long,
Unbar their gates, and issue in a throng,
Like swarming bees, and with delight survey 35
The camp deserted, where the Grecians lay:
The quarters of the sev’ral chiefs they show’d;
Here Phœnix, here Achilles, made abode;
Here join’d the battles; there the navy rode.
Part on the pile their wond’ring eyes employ: 40
The pile by Pallas rais’d to ruin Troy.
Thymoetes first (’t is doubtful whether hir’d,
Or so the Trojan destiny requir’d)
Mov’d that the ramparts might be broken down,
To lodge the monster fabric in the town. 45
But Capys, and the rest of sounder mind,
The fatal present to the flames designed,
Or to the wat’ry deep; at least to bore
The hollow sides, and hidden frauds explore.
The giddy vulgar, as their fancies guide, 50
[...] Read more
poem by Publius Vergilius Maro
Added by Poetry Lover
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Criminal
Ive been a bad bad girl,
Ive been careless with a delicate man.
And its a sad sad world,
When a girl can break a boy
Just because she can.
Dont you tell me to deny it,
Ive done wrong and I want to
Suffer for my sins.
Ive come to you cause I need
Guidance to be true
And I just dont know where I can begin.
What I need is a good defense
cause Im feelin like a criminal.
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I sinned against
Because he was all I ever knew of love.
Heaven help me for the way I am.
Save me from these evil deeds.
Before I get them done.
I know tomorrow brings the consequence
At hand.
But I keep livin this day like
The next will never come.
Oh, help me, but dont tell me
To deny it.
Ive got to cleanse myself.
Of all these lies till Im good
Enough for him.
Ive got a lot to lose and im
Bettin high
So Im beggin you before it ends
Just tell me where to begin.
What I need is a good defense
cause Im feelin like a criminal.
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I sinned against
Because he was all I ever knew of love.
Let me know the way
Before theres hell to pay.
Give me room to lay the law and let me go.
Ive got to make a play
To make my lover stay
So, what would an angel say?
cause the devil wants to know.
What I need is a good defense
cause Im feelin like a criminal.
And I need to be redeemed
To the one I sinned against
Because he was all I ever knew of love.
What I need is a good defense
[...] Read more
song performed by Fiona Apple
Added by Lucian Velea
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Zilch
By david jones, micky dolenz,
Michael nesmith and peter tork
1st part
Zilch!
Mister dobalena, mister bob dobalena
Mister dobalena, mister bob dobalena
Mister dobalena, mister bob dobalena
Mister dobalena, mister bob dobalena
2nd part
Zilch!
China clipper calling alameda
China clipper calling alameda
China clipper calling alameda
China clipper calling alameda
3rd part
Zilch!
Never mind the furthermore, the plea is self defense.
Never mind the furthermore, the plea is self defense.
Never mind the furthermore, the plea is self defense.
Never mind the furthermore, the plea is self defense.
4th part
Zilch!
It is of my opinion that the people are intending.
It is of my opinion that the people are intending.
It is of my opinion that the people are intending.
It is of my opinion that the people are intending.
song performed by Monkees
Added by Lucian Velea
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