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Success is relevant to coping with obstacles... But no problem is ever solved by those, who, when they fail, look for someone to blame instead of something to do.

quote by Fred Waggoner
Added by Lucian Velea
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Problems

Too many problems, oh why am I here?
I need to be me, cause youre all to clear
And I can see theres something wrong with you
Oh, what do you expect me to do?
At least I gotta know what I wanna be
Dont come to me if you need pity
Are you lonely, you got no-one
You got your body in suspension
Thats a problem, problem, problem
The problem is you
Eat your heart out on a plastic tray
You dont do what you want and you fade away
You work for me, youre working nine-to-five
Its too much fun of being alive
Im using my feet for my human machine
You work for me, living for the screen
Are you lonely, all needs catered
You got your brains dehydrated
Problem, problem, problem, the problem is you
Oh what what you gonna do, problem, problem
Problem, problem, problem, the problem is you
Well, what you gonna do with your problem
The problem is you, problem
I aint death trip, but I aint automatic
You work for me, just stay ecstatic
Dont you give me any orders
To people like me, there is no order
Bet you thought you had it all worked out
Bet you thought you knew what I was about
Bet you thought youd solved all your problems
But you are the problem
Problem, problem, problem, the problem is you
Oh, what you gonna do with your problem?
Ill leave it up to you, oh problem
The problem is you, you got a problem
Oh what you gonna do?
They know a doctor, gonna take you away
Thay take you away and they throw away the key
They dont want you and they dont want me
You got a problem the problem is you
Problem, well, what you gonna do?
Problem, have you got a problem?
Problem, well you got a problem
Problem (x17)

song performed by Megadeth
Added by Lucian Velea
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII (Entire)

Strong Son of God, immortal Love,
Whom we, that have not seen thy face,
By faith, and faith alone, embrace,
Believing where we cannot prove;
Thine are these orbs of light and shade;
Thou madest Life in man and brute;
Thou madest Death; and lo, thy foot
Is on the skull which thou hast made.

Thou wilt not leave us in the dust:
Thou madest man, he knows not why,
He thinks he was not made to die;
And thou hast made him: thou art just.

Thou seemest human and divine,
The highest, holiest manhood, thou:
Our wills are ours, we know not how;
Our wills are ours, to make them thine.

Our little systems have their day;
They have their day and cease to be:
They are but broken lights of thee,
And thou, O Lord, art more than they.

We have but faith: we cannot know;
For knowledge is of things we see;
And yet we trust it comes from thee,
A beam in darkness: let it grow.

Let knowledge grow from more to more,
But more of reverence in us dwell;
That mind and soul, according well,
May make one music as before,

But vaster. We are fools and slight;
We mock thee when we do not fear:
But help thy foolish ones to bear;
Help thy vain worlds to bear thy light.

Forgive what seem’d my sin in me;
What seem’d my worth since I began;
For merit lives from man to man,
And not from man, O Lord, to thee.

Forgive my grief for one removed,
Thy creature, whom I found so fair.
I trust he lives in thee, and there
I find him worthier to be loved.

Forgive these wild and wandering cries,

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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What Defines Success

What is the journey to success?
Success is not gained by defeat
Success does not occur over night
Success can emerge at any age

Success is working to full potential
Success is courage
Success is lending a hand
Success is not listening to negativity
Success is being positive
Success is living your life instead of the life of others
Success is being proud
Success is overcoming obstacles
Success is striving
Success is listening to your heart

Most of all success is accepting
What you have accomplished

poem by Alisha Ricks
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IX. Juris Doctor Johannes-Baptista Bottinius, Fisci et Rev. Cam. Apostol. Advocatus

Had I God's leave, how I would alter things!
If I might read instead of print my speech,—
Ay, and enliven speech with many a flower
Refuses obstinate to blow in print,
As wildings planted in a prim parterre,—
This scurvy room were turned an immense hall;
Opposite, fifty judges in a row;
This side and that of me, for audience—Rome:
And, where yon window is, the Pope should hide—
Watch, curtained, but peep visibly enough.
A buzz of expectation! Through the crowd,
Jingling his chain and stumping with his staff,
Up comes an usher, louts him low, "The Court
"Requires the allocution of the Fisc!"
I rise, I bend, I look about me, pause
O'er the hushed multitude: I count—One, two—

Have ye seen, Judges, have ye, lights of law,—
When it may hap some painter, much in vogue
Throughout our city nutritive of arts,
Ye summon to a task shall test his worth,
And manufacture, as he knows and can,
A work may decorate a palace-wall,
Afford my lords their Holy Family,—
Hath it escaped the acumen of the Court
How such a painter sets himself to paint?
Suppose that Joseph, Mary and her Babe
A-journeying to Egypt, prove the piece:
Why, first he sedulously practiseth,
This painter,—girding loin and lighting lamp,—
On what may nourish eye, make facile hand;
Getteth him studies (styled by draughtsmen so)
From some assistant corpse of Jew or Turk
Or, haply, Molinist, he cuts and carves,—
This Luca or this Carlo or the like.
To him the bones their inmost secret yield,
Each notch and nodule signify their use:
On him the muscles turn, in triple tier,
And pleasantly entreat the entrusted man
"Familiarize thee with our play that lifts
"Thus, and thus lowers again, leg, arm and foot!"
—Ensuring due correctness in the nude.
Which done, is all done? Not a whit, ye know!
He,—to art's surface rising from her depth,—
If some flax-polled soft-bearded sire be found,
May simulate a Joseph, (happy chance!)—
Limneth exact each wrinkle of the brow,
Loseth no involution, cheek or chap,
Till lo, in black and white, the senior lives!
Is it a young and comely peasant-nurse

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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IV. Tertium Quid

True, Excellency—as his Highness says,
Though she's not dead yet, she's as good as stretched
Symmetrical beside the other two;
Though he's not judged yet, he's the same as judged,
So do the facts abound and superabound:
And nothing hinders that we lift the case
Out of the shade into the shine, allow
Qualified persons to pronounce at last,
Nay, edge in an authoritative word
Between this rabble's-brabble of dolts and fools
Who make up reasonless unreasoning Rome.
"Now for the Trial!" they roar: "the Trial to test
"The truth, weigh husband and weigh wife alike
"I' the scales of law, make one scale kick the beam!"
Law's a machine from which, to please the mob,
Truth the divinity must needs descend
And clear things at the play's fifth act—aha!
Hammer into their noddles who was who
And what was what. I tell the simpletons
"Could law be competent to such a feat
"'T were done already: what begins next week
"Is end o' the Trial, last link of a chain
"Whereof the first was forged three years ago
"When law addressed herself to set wrong right,
"And proved so slow in taking the first step
"That ever some new grievance,—tort, retort,
"On one or the other side,—o'ertook i' the game,
"Retarded sentence, till this deed of death
"Is thrown in, as it were, last bale to boat
"Crammed to the edge with cargo—or passengers?
"'Trecentos inseris: ohe, jam satis est!
"'Huc appelle!'—passengers, the word must be."
Long since, the boat was loaded to my eyes.
To hear the rabble and brabble, you'd call the case
Fused and confused past human finding out.
One calls the square round, t' other the round square—
And pardonably in that first surprise
O' the blood that fell and splashed the diagram:
But now we've used our eyes to the violent hue
Can't we look through the crimson and trace lines?
It makes a man despair of history,
Eusebius and the established fact—fig's end!
Oh, give the fools their Trial, rattle away
With the leash of lawyers, two on either side—
One barks, one bites,—Masters Arcangeli
And Spreti,—that's the husband's ultimate hope
Against the Fisc and the other kind of Fisc,
Bound to do barking for the wife: bow—wow!
Why, Excellency, we and his Highness here
Would settle the matter as sufficiently

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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There Is No Rest For Success

Success is a journey not a destination a year from
now you may wish you had started today.
Every beginner is a winner. Success is not escaping problems but facing them creatively.
There is no success without sacrifice.
Great success always calls for great sacrifice.
Even failure can become an important ingredient to success.
Failure just means that you have not yet succeeded.
I’d rather change my mind and succeed than have my own way and fail. Success without conflict is unrealistic.
Any person can be successful on smooth seas,
but it is the victory over the storm that gains true honor.
Success doesn’t come through the way you think it comes;
it comes through the way you think.
Never settle for less than success.
Success is doing something good.
When you can, where you can, while you can.
It’s better to attempt to do something great and fail,
than attempt to do nothing and succeed.
Success is not necessarily reaching your goal- but reaching the maximum possibilities in light of the opportunities that come your way.
To keep your values on target remember to live so that when you “arrive”, you’ll have pride behind you and hope ahead of you.
The success is truly the path to heaven.
Success is never ending, because success is like the process of seed planting. Every creative contribution like a seed planted may bear fruit.
Success finally is not what you have it is not what you do;
it is who you are, and what
you want to become of yourself.

poem by Felix Lugo
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Succes My World

When I think success
I see it comes
When i dream success
I see it comes
When i touch success
It fates away
Success success
My hope

I'll find success
Embrace success
When i hold success
I'll keep it save
When I have success
I'll share it
Success success
My world

I'll rule
Yes, I'll influence
Thought, Oh thought
My Success Success
I'll keep,
I see
Success a life
Success my hope
Success my world

poem by Fiefa Bruce
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Succes My World

When I think success
I see it comes
When i dream success
I see it comes
When i touch success
It fates away
Success success
My hope

I'll find success
Embrace success
When i hold success
I'll keep it save
When I have success
I'll share it
Success success
My world

I'll rule
Yes, I'll influence
Thought, Oh thought
My Success Success
I'll keep,
I see
Success a life
Success my hope
Success my world

poem by Shubham Kumar
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You have the right to feel, you are successful

Success, sweet success
Success, it is waiting for you
To own and hold on to it

Success of any kind
Has easy access
If you are after it restlessly

Success is not indeed the end
It is the beginning of a
New chain of successes

Simple it is to be successful
So simple, you wonder how many of us are not at it

It all depends on what you feel
Success means to you
You may school your thoughts
And train your emotions
To feel successful on everything
That happens around you

Your retention of all your
Physical, mental and social abilities
Is indeed your success

Your ability to make friends
And help them out in times of need
Is indeed your success

Your ability to keep your cool
In emotionally competing events
And situations
Is indeed your success

Your ability to make your ends meet
Come over challenges, emotional or otherwise
At the right time and in a rightful manner
Is indeed a success

Your ability to stand up
And hold on to your values
Is indeed a success

Your ability to be able to
Discharge your assigned responsibilities
Is indeed your success

Your ability to objectively assess
People and events

[...] Read more

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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What is Success?

Success is not merely becoming wealthy.
Success is not only working for remaining healthy.
Success is not going after fame and name.
Success is not living life for such mind game.

Success is not just taking career to the top.
Success is not staying in a bungalow at the hill top.
Success is working hard for your dreams you believe.
Success is perseverance and efforts till you achieve your deal.

Success is having consideration for everyone.
Success is a strong desire and to live to help each one.
Success is to follow the religion of humanity.
Success is to always remember all pervading divinity.

Success is to follow the principle, “Live and let others live.”
Success is to accept others as diversity of nature; beautiful and alive.
Success is working for happiness of the world, a dedication.
Success is to love everyone unconditionally without any expectation.

poem by Dr.nutan Pol
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The Victories Of Love. Book I

I
From Frederick Graham

Mother, I smile at your alarms!
I own, indeed, my Cousin's charms,
But, like all nursery maladies,
Love is not badly taken twice.
Have you forgotten Charlotte Hayes,
My playmate in the pleasant days
At Knatchley, and her sister, Anne,
The twins, so made on the same plan,
That one wore blue, the other white,
To mark them to their father's sight;
And how, at Knatchley harvesting,
You bade me kiss her in the ring,
Like Anne and all the others? You,
That never of my sickness knew,
Will laugh, yet had I the disease,
And gravely, if the signs are these:

As, ere the Spring has any power,
The almond branch all turns to flower,
Though not a leaf is out, so she
The bloom of life provoked in me;
And, hard till then and selfish, I
Was thenceforth nought but sanctity
And service: life was mere delight
In being wholly good and right,
As she was; just, without a slur;
Honouring myself no less than her;
Obeying, in the loneliest place,
Ev'n to the slightest gesture, grace
Assured that one so fair, so true,
He only served that was so too.
For me, hence weak towards the weak,
No more the unnested blackbird's shriek
Startled the light-leaved wood; on high
Wander'd the gadding butterfly,
Unscared by my flung cap; the bee,
Rifling the hollyhock in glee,
Was no more trapp'd with his own flower,
And for his honey slain. Her power,
From great things even to the grass
Through which the unfenced footways pass,
Was law, and that which keeps the law,
Cherubic gaiety and awe;
Day was her doing, and the lark
Had reason for his song; the dark
In anagram innumerous spelt
Her name with stars that throbb'd and felt;

[...] Read more

poem by Coventry Patmore
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Success

Success is not just being the best,
it's been so unassisted in a test.
Success is not been someone else,
but by making yourself a role model to everyone else.
Success is not just academic stability,
it's the mandate to succeed in every good ability.
Success is not just getting there first,
it's sometimes needed to carry the rest.
Success isn't ' i know and you don't ',
neither is it ' you know and i don't '.
It always says ' what can we learn from eachother ',
or ' lets strive to be the best together '.
Success is not measured by fames or fortunes,
but by the amendment of the past misfortunes.
Success has nothing to do with your age,
neither is it acheived by lust or rage.
Success is not having all you want,
but by you appericiating, cos that will count.
Success is set in motion by great men,
who have nothing to do wit bad omen.
success doen't smile and say ' i have all ',
neither does it laugh and say ' you don't have at all '.
Success isn't in knowledge or wealth,
but it's in justice and divine health.
Success is acheived by great readers,
who end up being exceptional leaders.
Success is not a feeling of superity,
but by a unique character and humility.
Coupled with hardwork and determination,
in other to acheive all dreams and visions.
Success doesn't mean financial prosperity,
but it means heavenly security.
To get tn the house of greatness,
one must walk through the road of success.
Successful people believe right from d day of their birth,
and in that which can't be destroyed by moth or death.

poem by Stanley Oguh
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Life – A Melodrama Of Labour

The melodrama of labour,
The menace of failure
The determination to achieve,
To make one believe
That success can be near,
Turns down the failure-fear
And a step you advance, success seems to cling
Give more thrust and advance, And you find yourself in success ring.

Success succumbs to the brave,
Cowards fear success break
Paradoxically the want is universal
Made by planned series of rehearsals.

How many can cut the joy of enjoying?
Or learn enjoying in the work?
How many can realize the joy is work?
And learn working without end?

Complacence succumbs to success,
But significant is its degree
So calls for success after success,
Ongoing till breath can be!

Falls to be without distress,
And success to be without rest
Just as Nature weaves the flowers,
Without heed to the whither-showers.

Success is all pervasive,
Success: light or massive
Success is sugar of life,
The sprout of Success is bright.

No onset, No end,
Success has in its blend
Image of one’s deity
And gratefulness for complacence.

This is the tale of life,
This is the consent of joy & spice
From a success in having breaths
To an all successful life!

poem by Jasleen Khanuja
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
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The Big Problem....

There is this BIG PROBLEM
WE decided not to talk about it
We think that that problem must solve itself
Auto-resolution

So day and night the problem stays there
Like a drunkard in the room
Vomiting
To every nook of the house
The house
That smells like fucking
Shit

But that problem is never considered a problem
There is a room for it to stay
And it can stay
It cannot consume us
It has no mouth and so it has no teeth
It has no tongue it cannot say a word
It stays there like a piece of art
And we begin to appreciate it
Like a piece of rock
Unchanged in the middle of the living room
We eat lunch there
They prepare nice dinners
We drink red wine
We munch chocolates
And sweet berries
The problem stays but it cannot nag us
Because we can pretend
That it is a brother
That we cannot junk but only love
And keep as part of the
Company

There is still this problem
And it did not solve itself
We live by this problem and this problem lives with us
Symbiosis

And so now
What is the problem? Is this a problem after all these years?
It is not anymore
We have learned that it is not a problem anymore
We die soon
And it shall perhaps disappear
Shall it weep over our departure?
That is its problem.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bishop Blougram's Apology

No more wine? then we'll push back chairs and talk.
A final glass for me, though: cool, i' faith!
We ought to have our Abbey back, you see.
It's different, preaching in basilicas,
And doing duty in some masterpiece
Like this of brother Pugin's, bless his heart!
I doubt if they're half baked, those chalk rosettes,
Ciphers and stucco-twiddlings everywhere;
It's just like breathing in a lime-kiln: eh?
These hot long ceremonies of our church
Cost us a little—oh, they pay the price,
You take me—amply pay it! Now, we'll talk.

So, you despise me, Mr. Gigadibs.
No deprecation—nay, I beg you, sir!
Beside 't is our engagement: don't you know,
I promised, if you'd watch a dinner out,
We'd see truth dawn together?—truth that peeps
Over the glasses' edge when dinner's done,
And body gets its sop and holds its noise
And leaves soul free a little. Now's the time:
Truth's break of day! You do despise me then.
And if I say, "despise me"—never fear!
1 know you do not in a certain sense—
Not in my arm-chair, for example: here,
I well imagine you respect my place
(Status, entourage, worldly circumstance)
Quite to its value—very much indeed:
—Are up to the protesting eyes of you
In pride at being seated here for once—
You'll turn it to such capital account!
When somebody, through years and years to come,
Hints of the bishop—names me—that's enough:
"Blougram? I knew him"—(into it you slide)
"Dined with him once, a Corpus Christi Day,
All alone, we two; he's a clever man:
And after dinner—why, the wine you know—
Oh, there was wine, and good!—what with the wine . . .
'Faith, we began upon all sorts of talk!
He's no bad fellow, Blougram; he had seen
Something of mine he relished, some review:
He's quite above their humbug in his heart,
Half-said as much, indeed—the thing's his trade.
I warrant, Blougram's sceptical at times:
How otherwise? I liked him, I confess!"
Che che, my dear sir, as we say at Rome,
Don't you protest now! It's fair give and take;
You have had your turn and spoken your home-truths:
The hand's mine now, and here you follow suit.

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from Men and Women (1855)
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Secrete To Success

Success is defined as surviving failures and learning from them.
Success has a secrete and
Unless a man undertakes more than he possible can do
He’ll never do all that he can.
Success has a secrete and
Nothing succeeds like the appearance of success.
Success has a secrete and
You always go through failures on the way to success
Maybe it does secrete of success.

It is possible to fail in many ways,
Just polish them with ignorance.
Whiles possible to succeed in other ways
Just stamp with confidence
Then success is short.

Take steps to success;
Plan while others are playing,
Study while others are delaying,
Begin while others are procrastinating,
Work while others are wishing,
Listen while others are talking,
Smile while others are frowning,
Commend while others are criticizing,
Persist while others are quitting.
You’ll be lucrative in your success,
If you follow this secretes of success.

You are not old,
To be unsuccessful,
Don’t go where there is excitement,
Thus with-holds your succeeding journey,
Stay where there is love,
Thus you open all of you to it.
This is a secretive secrete of success,
IF ITS NOT! !
THERE’S NOTHING EXITING TO BE THE SECRETE OF SUCCESS
I won’t tell you the author, cause he is a secrete successor.

poem by Stephen Raseona
Added by Poetry Lover
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Why Are You Waiting

What can I do Im at the door
Ive tried turning back theres no point in that now
What should I say, what should I do
Should I fix my hair oh why am I scared now
Facing the world is so hard do you know what I mean
People are so often hard and far too ready to say...hey...ohhh
Why are you waiting?
Why are you waiting?
Why are you waiting?
What if I fail (you wont fail)
Why are you waiting?
What if I fail (you wont fail, you wont fail)
Look at me stand outside the door
Like a frightened child with a nervous smile see
What should I do, what should I say
Should I speak at all
I am much too small now
Facing the world is so hard do you know what I mean
People are so often hard and far too ready to say...hey...ohhh
Why are you waiting?
Why are you waiting?
Why are you waiting?
What if I fail (you wont fail)
Why are you waiting?
What if I fail (you wont fail)
Why are you waiting?
What if I fail (you wont fail, you wont fail, you wont fail)

song performed by Rick Springfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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