Sea Grief
Along the serried coast the Southerly raves,
Grey birds scream landward through the distance hoar,
And, swinging from the dim confounded shore,
The everlasting boom of broken waves
Like muffled thunder rolls about the graves
Of all the wonder-lands and lives of yore,
Whose bones asunder bleach for evermore,
In sobbing chasms and under choking caves:
O breaking heart—whose only rest is rage,
White tossing arms, and lips that kiss and part
In lonely dreams of love's wild ecstasy,
Not the mean earth thy suffering can assuage
Nor highest heaven fulfil thy hungry heart,
O fair full-bosomed passionate weeping sea.
poem by Dowell O'Reilly
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Related quotes
Statistically Speaking
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Statistically speaking.
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Statistically speaking.
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Statistically speaking.
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Statistically speaking.
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
From the viewpoint of a human being...
I detect us humans,
Are the least important things,
On this Earth.
And the water, grass and trees...
Are the 'real' things,
Mother Nature wishes more to treat!
I perceive our existence here,
Is not so high on the list.
Since we are an experiment.
Even though we choose to think of ourselves,
As the center of the universe.
And here to live in a permanence!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Statistically speaking.
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Statistically speaking.
We leech and feed,
Off what nature offers.
We know nothing but conflict!
And this chaos we foster.
There are laws created to discriminate.
Yet we discuss things loved...
And show how much we despise and hate.
We infiltrate and pillage,
Lands where others live.
We take without thought.
Causing blood to shed.
And worship heartache.
As we lay alone sleepless in our beds!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
With faith we fake brotherhood!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
Believing prayer delivers escape!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
And cry like spoiled children!
Boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom boom,
With no guilt of remorse to eliminate...
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Blow Up
1-2-3-4
Boom bahbah boom bahbah boom bah.
Boom bahbah boom bahbah boom bah.
Boom bahbah boom bahbah boom bah.
Boom bahbah boom bahbah boom...
From the grass
Bah bah bah boom
They grew
Bah bah bah boom
Who knew
Bah bah bah boom
We would see them looking up
Bah bah bah boom
Not down
Bah bah bah boom
With frowns
Bah bah bah boom
Something got them...
Off the ground.
Oh...
Boom bahbah boom bahbah boom bah.
Boom bahbah boom bahbah boom bah.
Boom bahbah boom bahbah boom bah.
Boom bahbah boom bahbah boom...
One day
Bah bah bah boom
Dues paid
Bah bah bah boom
They said
Bah bah bah boom
They would blow up.
And be somebody!
Boom bahbah boom bahbah boom...
One day
Bahbah boom bahbah boom,
They said
Bahbah boom bahbah boom,
They would grow up,
And be somebody!
Boom bahbah boom bahbah boom bah.
Boom bahbah boom bahbah boom bah.
Boom bahbah boom bahbah boom,
Blow up...
And be that 'body'!
Boombah boombah boom bah
Boombah boombah boom bah
Boombah boombah boom...
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Chick-a-boom
Hey girl,
When ya swish and sway
In your yellow dress
cross a crowded room,
Boom, chicka-boom, chicka-boom.
Hey girl,
Freckles on your arm,
Freckles on your face,
Cant we find a place
In a crowded room, we go
Boom, chicka-boom, chicka-boom,
[boom, chicka-boom, chicka-boom] (backup singers)
Boom,
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom-boom]
Boom, boom, boom, chicka-boom.
A-hey, girl,
Im goin away,
But Im comin back
With a ginger cat.
What ya think a that?
Hey girl,
I goin away,
But Im comin back
By the railroad track,
Where the trains go by,
And we sit and we cry in the gloom,
Boom, chicka-boom,
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom]
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom-boom]
Hey girl,
[chicka-chicka-chicka-boom]
When ya swish and sway
In your yellow dress
cross a crowded room,
Boom,
Boom, chicka-boom, chicka-boom,
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom]
Boom, chicka-boom, chicka-boom,
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom-boom]
Chicka, chicka-boom, chicka-boom, chicka-boom, chicka-boom,
[chicka-chicka-chicka-boom]
Chicka-chicka-boom-boom,
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom]
Chick, chicka-boom,
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom-boom]
Boom, chicka-boom,
[chicka-chicka-chicka-boom]
Chicka-chicka-chicka-boom, chicka-boom,
[chicka-boom, chicka-boom]
Chick, chick, chicka-boom,
[...] Read more
song performed by Van Morrison
Added by Lucian Velea
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Who Lowered 'This' Boom?
Who lowered this boom?
Da boom boom...
Boomidy boomidy boom boom.
Boomidy boomidy boom boom.
Boomidy boomidy boom.
Who lowered this boom?
Da boom boom...
Boomidy boomidy boom boom.
Boomidy boomidy boom boom.
Boomidy boomidy boom.
There is a generation crying.
Who lowered this boom?
Da boom boom...
Boomidy boomidy boom.
There are so many people sighing.
Who lowered this boom?
Da boom boom...
Boomidy boomidy boom.
Didn't we pay when we prayed with preachers?
Who lowered this boom?
Da boom boom...
Boomidy boomidy boom.
Didn't we say we were through with leechers?
Who lowered this boom?
Da boom boom...
Boomidy boomidy boom.
Oooooow....
Boom da boom boom
Boomidy boomidy boom.
Oooooow....
Boom da boom boom
Boomidy boomidy boom.
And these are the days...
So ripe for change.
And those who are amazed,
Can't believe the craze.
And the masses who are dazed!
Who lowered this boom?
Da boom boom...
Boomidy boomidy boom boom.
Boomidy boomidy boom boom.
Boomidy boomidy boom.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Boom
complicated
understanding what you can achieve
under-rated
the one to win
one who believes
if I go away
would you follow me
to that special place of tranquility
where the..
river flows
and the fields are golden
come on, come on
yeah
boom
here to rock ya
boom
never stop, no
boom
raise up high
boom
oh, I'm
boom boom boom boom
here to rock ya
boom
never stop, no
boom
raise up high
boom boom boom boom
heya heya yeah heya boom yeah yeah heya
etc.
take no
prisoners
fight to win
and you will survive
falling
reason
just be the flame and spirit come alive
if I go away
would you follow me
to that special place of tranquility
where the..
river flows
and the fields are golden
oooh
coooome on
boom
here to rock ya
boom
never stop, no
boom
[...] Read more
song performed by Anastacia
Added by Lucian Velea
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Boom - The Official Song Of 2002 Fifa World Cup
Complicated
Understanding what you can achieve
Under-rated
The one to win
One who believes
If I go away
Would you follow me
To that special place of tranquility
Where the..
River flows
And the fields are golden
Come on, come on
Yeah
Boom
Here to rock ya
Boom
Never stop, no
Boom
Raise up high
Boom
Oh, im
Boom boom boom boom
Here to rock ya
Boom
Never stop, no
Boom
Raise up high
Boom boom boom boom
Oo yeh yeh yi yeh ya oo yeh yeh yi yeh ya oo yeh yeh yi yeh ya oo yeh yeh yi
Yeh ya oo yeh yeh yi yeh ya oo yeh yeh yi yeh ya oo yeh yeh yi yeh ya oo yeh
Yeh yi yeh ya...
Take no
Prisoners
Fight to win
And you will survive
Falling
Reason
Just be the flame and spirit come alive
If I go away
Would you follow me
To that special place of tranquility
Where the..
River flows
And the fields are golden
Oooh
Coooome on
Boom
Here to rock ya
Boom
Never stop, no
[...] Read more
song performed by Anastacia
Added by Lucian Velea
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With A Wish To Get A Bigger Bang
Boom, boom, boom.
Children listening to their videos.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
With the sound plugged in their ears.
And boom, boom, boom.
Violence is for them addicting,
With a wish to get a bigger bang.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
With a wish to get a bigger bang.
Boom, boom, boom.
Children listening to their videos.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
With a wish to get a bigger bang.
Spilling blood and guts are nothing,
To the kids who love it much.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
With a wish to get a bigger bang.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
With a wish to get a bigger bang.
It's a thrill for them to see somebody getting killed,
And...
Boom. Boom. Boom.
With a wish to get a bigger bang.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
And for them it's nothing but a game.
Boom, boom, boom.
Children listening to their videos.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
With the sound plugged in their ears.
And boom, boom, boom.
Violence is for them addicting,
With a wish to get a bigger bang.
Boom, boom, boom.
With a wish to get a bigger bang.
Violence is for them addicting,
And it's nothing but a game.
Boom, boom, boom.
With a wish to get a bigger bang.
Violence is for them addicting,
And it's nothing but a game.
Boom, boom, boom...
A game addicting and insane!
Violence is for them addicting,
And it's nothing but a game.
Boom, boom, boom...
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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I Got That
Shorty! We're gona go 2 the club n get crunk wi Britney
Shorty! She thinks she's fine. Fine enough to blow your mind.
Shorty! She thinks she's bad, get on the floor and shake that ass.
Shorty! She thinks she's fine. Fine enough to blow your mind.
Shorty! She thinks she's bad, get on the floor and shake that ass.
Yeah,
This is for all those southern boys out there
Hehehe
Check this out!
Check this out
I see you lookin' my way
And I know that
You have something to say
Watching every inch of my body
Like you wanted to play
Boom boom boom
Boy you look so sexy
Boom boom boom
Boy you look so sexy
I begin to dance just a little bit
To turn you on
(Yeah, I got that)
I've got that boom boom
That you want
Watching me all night long
Hurry up before its gone
I've got that boom boom
That you want
I don't think you should wait
One minute might be to late
You had caught my eye
And I wanted to get to know you
Don't be shy
I want you to come closer
So what you gonna do?
So here we go
Boom boom boom
Boy you look so sexy
Boom boom boom
Boy you look so sexy
I've got that boom boom
That you want
Watching me all night long
Hurry up before its gone
I've got that boom boom
That you want
I don't think you should wait
One minute might be to late
Shorty
She think she fine
[...] Read more
song performed by Britney Spears
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ka-Boom Ka-Boom
Ka-Boom, Ka-Boom
Ka-Boom, Ka-Boom
Ka-Boom, Ka-Boom
Ka-Boom, Ka-Boom
We're a death marching band, peter pan off the wagon
Entertain but never trust anyone sober
What tastes less but tastes good, my stop hats top hating
Unsane cheerleaders porn poms in pipe bombs
I won't do it with you, I'll do it to you
I hope this hook gets caught in your mouth
I won't do it with you, I'll do it to you
Don't say no, just say now
I like a big car cause I'm a big star
I'll make a big rock and roll hit
I'd like to love you but my heart is a sore
I am, I am, I am so yours
Ka-Boom, Ka-Boom
Ka-Boom, Ka-Boom
Ka-Boom, Ka-Boom
I'd like to la-la-la-la love you
Ka-Boom, Ka-Boom
Ka-Boom, Ka-Boom
Ka-Boom, Ka-Boom
I'd like to la-la-la-la love you
I'm the leader of the club, and I've shrugged off my mouse ears
We fly no-class Dumbo jets, and drive hardcore-o-vettes
We fight war with drugs, and our sex always formal
We wear lawsuits when we get high, high, high
I won't do it with you, I'll do it to you
I hope this hook gets caught in your mouth
I won't do it with you, I'll do it to you
Don't say no, just say now
I like a big car cause I'm a big star
I'll make a big rock and roll hit
I'd like to love you but my heart is a sore
I am, I am, I am so yours
Ka-Boom, Ka-Boom
Ka-Boom, Ka-Boom
Ka-Boom, Ka-Boom
I'd like to la-la-la-la love you
Ka-Boom, Ka-Boom
Ka-Boom, Ka-Boom
Ka-Boom, Ka-Boom
I'd like to la-la-la-la love you
Inhale exhale, lets all hail
It's a depraved new world
Inhale exhale, lets all hail
It's a depraved new world
I like a big car cause I'm a big star
I'll make a big rock and roll hit
[...] Read more
song performed by Marilyn Manson
Added by Lucian Velea
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Narrative And Dramatic The Wanderings Of Oisin
BOOK I
S. Patrick. You who are bent, and bald, and blind,
With a heavy heart and a wandering mind,
Have known three centuries, poets sing,
Of dalliance with a demon thing.
Oisin. Sad to remember, sick with years,
The swift innumerable spears,
The horsemen with their floating hair,
And bowls of barley, honey, and wine,
Those merry couples dancing in tune,
And the white body that lay by mine;
But the tale, though words be lighter than air.
Must live to be old like the wandering moon.
Caoilte, and Conan, and Finn were there,
When we followed a deer with our baying hounds.
With Bran, Sceolan, and Lomair,
And passing the Firbolgs' burial-motmds,
Came to the cairn-heaped grassy hill
Where passionate Maeve is stony-still;
And found On the dove-grey edge of the sea
A pearl-pale, high-born lady, who rode
On a horse with bridle of findrinny;
And like a sunset were her lips,
A stormy sunset on doomed ships;
A citron colour gloomed in her hair,
But down to her feet white vesture flowed,
And with the glimmering crimson glowed
Of many a figured embroidery;
And it was bound with a pearl-pale shell
That wavered like the summer streams,
As her soft bosom rose and fell.
S. Patrick. You are still wrecked among heathen dreams.
Oisin. 'Why do you wind no horn?' she said
'And every hero droop his head?
The hornless deer is not more sad
That many a peaceful moment had,
More sleek than any granary mouse,
In his own leafy forest house
Among the waving fields of fern:
The hunting of heroes should be glad.'
'O pleasant woman,' answered Finn,
'We think on Oscar's pencilled urn,
And on the heroes lying slain
[...] Read more
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Bom, Boom, Boom, Boom
If you're alone and you need a friend
Someone to make you forget your problems
Just come along baby
Take my hand
I'll be your lover tonight
This is what I wanna do
Let's have some fun
What I want is me and you
Boom boom boom boom
I want you in my room
Let's spend the night together
From now until forever
Boom boom boom boom
I wanna do the boom
Let's spend the night together
Together in my room
Everybody get on down
The Vengaboys are back in town
This is what I wanna do
Let's have some fun
What I want is me and you
Boom boom boom boom
I want you in my room
Let's spend the night together
From now until forever
Boom boom boom boom
I wanna do the boom
Let's spend the night together
Together in my room
Boom boom boom boom
I want you in my room
Let's spend the night together
From now until forever
Boom boom boom boom
I wanna do the boom
Let's spend the night together
Together in my room
Boom boom boom boom
I want you in my room
Let's spend the night together
From now until forever
song performed by Vengaboys
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Bombardment
Slowly, without force, the rain drops into the city. It stops a moment
on the carved head of Saint John, then slides on again, slipping and trickling
over his stone cloak. It splashes from the lead conduit of a gargoyle,
and falls from it in turmoil on the stones in the Cathedral square.
Where are the people, and why does the fretted steeple sweep about in the sky?
Boom! The sound swings against the rain. Boom, again! After it, only water
rushing in the gutters, and the turmoil from the spout of the gargoyle.
Silence. Ripples and mutters. Boom!
The room is damp, but warm. Little flashes swarm about from the firelight.
The lustres of the chandelier are bright, and clusters of rubies
leap in the bohemian glasses on the `etagere'. Her hands are restless,
but the white masses of her hair are quite still. Boom! Will it never cease
to torture, this iteration! Boom! The vibration shatters a glass
on the `etagere'. It lies there, formless and glowing,
with all its crimson gleams shot out of pattern, spilled, flowing red,
blood-red. A thin bell-note pricks through the silence. A door creaks.
The old lady speaks: 'Victor, clear away that broken glass.' 'Alas!
Madame, the bohemian glass!' 'Yes, Victor, one hundred years ago
my father brought it -' Boom! The room shakes, the servitor quakes.
Another goblet shivers and breaks. Boom!
It rustles at the window-pane, the smooth, streaming rain, and he is shut
within its clash and murmur. Inside is his candle, his table, his ink,
his pen, and his dreams. He is thinking, and the walls are pierced with
beams of sunshine, slipping through young green. A fountain tosses itself
up at the blue sky, and through the spattered water in the basin he can see
copper carp, lazily floating among cold leaves. A wind-harp in a cedar-tree
grieves and whispers, and words blow into his brain, bubbled, iridescent,
shooting up like flowers of fire, higher and higher. Boom!
The flame-flowers snap on their slender stems. The fountain rears up
in long broken spears of dishevelled water and flattens into the earth. Boom!
And there is only the room, the table, the candle, and the sliding rain.
Again, Boom! - Boom! - Boom! He stuffs his fingers into his ears.
He sees corpses, and cries out in fright. Boom! It is night,
and they are shelling the city! Boom! Boom!
A child wakes and is afraid, and weeps in the darkness. What has made
the bed shake? 'Mother, where are you? I am awake.' 'Hush, my Darling,
I am here.' 'But, Mother, something so queer happened, the room shook.'
Boom! 'Oh! What is it? What is the matter?' Boom! 'Where is Father?
I am so afraid.' Boom! The child sobs and shrieks. The house
trembles and creaks. Boom!
Retorts, globes, tubes, and phials lie shattered. All his trials
oozing across the floor. The life that was his choosing, lonely, urgent,
[...] Read more
poem by Amy Lowell
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Canto the Fourth
I.
I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;
A palace and a prison on each hand:
I saw from out the wave her structures rise
As from the stroke of the enchanter’s wand:
A thousand years their cloudy wings expand
Around me, and a dying glory smiles
O’er the far times when many a subject land
Looked to the wingèd Lion’s marble piles,
Where Venice sate in state, throned on her hundred isles!
II.
She looks a sea Cybele, fresh from ocean,
Rising with her tiara of proud towers
At airy distance, with majestic motion,
A ruler of the waters and their powers:
And such she was; her daughters had their dowers
From spoils of nations, and the exhaustless East
Poured in her lap all gems in sparkling showers.
In purple was she robed, and of her feast
Monarchs partook, and deemed their dignity increased.
III.
In Venice, Tasso’s echoes are no more,
And silent rows the songless gondolier;
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore,
And music meets not always now the ear:
Those days are gone - but beauty still is here.
States fall, arts fade - but Nature doth not die,
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear,
The pleasant place of all festivity,
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy!
IV.
But unto us she hath a spell beyond
Her name in story, and her long array
Of mighty shadows, whose dim forms despond
Above the dogeless city’s vanished sway;
Ours is a trophy which will not decay
With the Rialto; Shylock and the Moor,
And Pierre, cannot be swept or worn away -
The keystones of the arch! though all were o’er,
For us repeopled were the solitary shore.
V.
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Childe Harold's Pilgrimage (1818)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Ballad of the White Horse
DEDICATION
Of great limbs gone to chaos,
A great face turned to night--
Why bend above a shapeless shroud
Seeking in such archaic cloud
Sight of strong lords and light?
Where seven sunken Englands
Lie buried one by one,
Why should one idle spade, I wonder,
Shake up the dust of thanes like thunder
To smoke and choke the sun?
In cloud of clay so cast to heaven
What shape shall man discern?
These lords may light the mystery
Of mastery or victory,
And these ride high in history,
But these shall not return.
Gored on the Norman gonfalon
The Golden Dragon died:
We shall not wake with ballad strings
The good time of the smaller things,
We shall not see the holy kings
Ride down by Severn side.
Stiff, strange, and quaintly coloured
As the broidery of Bayeux
The England of that dawn remains,
And this of Alfred and the Danes
Seems like the tales a whole tribe feigns
Too English to be true.
Of a good king on an island
That ruled once on a time;
And as he walked by an apple tree
There came green devils out of the sea
With sea-plants trailing heavily
And tracks of opal slime.
Yet Alfred is no fairy tale;
His days as our days ran,
He also looked forth for an hour
On peopled plains and skies that lower,
From those few windows in the tower
That is the head of a man.
But who shall look from Alfred's hood
[...] Read more
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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Book VI - Part 02 - Great Meteorological Phenomena, Etc
And so in first place, then
With thunder are shaken the blue deeps of heaven,
Because the ethereal clouds, scudding aloft,
Together clash, what time 'gainst one another
The winds are battling. For never a sound there come
From out the serene regions of the sky;
But wheresoever in a host more dense
The clouds foregather, thence more often comes
A crash with mighty rumbling. And, again,
Clouds cannot be of so condensed a frame
As stones and timbers, nor again so fine
As mists and flying smoke; for then perforce
They'd either fall, borne down by their brute weight,
Like stones, or, like the smoke, they'd powerless be
To keep their mass, or to retain within
Frore snows and storms of hail. And they give forth
O'er skiey levels of the spreading world
A sound on high, as linen-awning, stretched
O'er mighty theatres, gives forth at times
A cracking roar, when much 'tis beaten about
Betwixt the poles and cross-beams. Sometimes, too,
Asunder rent by wanton gusts, it raves
And imitates the tearing sound of sheets
Of paper- even this kind of noise thou mayst
In thunder hear- or sound as when winds whirl
With lashings and do buffet about in air
A hanging cloth and flying paper-sheets.
For sometimes, too, it chances that the clouds
Cannot together crash head-on, but rather
Move side-wise and with motions contrary
Graze each the other's body without speed,
From whence that dry sound grateth on our ears,
So long drawn-out, until the clouds have passed
From out their close positions.
And, again,
In following wise all things seem oft to quake
At shock of heavy thunder, and mightiest walls
Of the wide reaches of the upper world
There on the instant to have sprung apart,
Riven asunder, what time a gathered blast
Of the fierce hurricane hath all at once
Twisted its way into a mass of clouds,
And, there enclosed, ever more and more
Compelleth by its spinning whirl the cloud
To grow all hollow with a thickened crust
Surrounding; for thereafter, when the force
And the keen onset of the wind have weakened
That crust, lo, then the cloud, to-split in twain,
Gives forth a hideous crash with bang and boom.
No marvel this; since oft a bladder small,
[...] Read more
poem by Lucretius
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Pharsalia - Book IX: Cato
Yet in those ashes on the Pharian shore,
In that small heap of dust, was not confined
So great a shade; but from the limbs half burnt
And narrow cell sprang forth and sought the sky
Where dwells the Thunderer. Black the space of air
Upreaching to the poles that bear on high
The constellations in their nightly round;
There 'twixt the orbit of the moon and earth
Abide those lofty spirits, half divine,
Who by their blameless lives and fire of soul
Are fit to tolerate the pure expanse
That bounds the lower ether: there shall dwell,
Where nor the monument encased in gold,
Nor richest incense, shall suffice to bring
The buried dead, in union with the spheres,
Pompeius' spirit. When with heavenly light
His soul was filled, first on the wandering stars
And fixed orbs he bent his wondering gaze;
Then saw what darkness veils our earthly day
And scorned the insults heaped upon his corse.
Next o'er Emathian plains he winged his flight,
And ruthless Caesar's standards, and the fleet
Tossed on the deep: in Brutus' blameless breast
Tarried awhile, and roused his angered soul
To reap the vengeance; last possessed the mind
Of haughty Cato.
He while yet the scales
Were poised and balanced, nor the war had given
The world its master, hating both the chiefs,
Had followed Magnus for the Senate's cause
And for his country: since Pharsalia's field
Ran red with carnage, now was all his heart
Bound to Pompeius. Rome in him received
Her guardian; a people's trembling limbs
He cherished with new hope and weapons gave
Back to the craven hands that cast them forth.
Nor yet for empire did he wage the war
Nor fearing slavery: nor in arms achieved
Aught for himself: freedom, since Magnus fell,
The aim of all his host. And lest the foe
In rapid course triumphant should collect
His scattered bands, he sought Corcyra's gulfs
Concealed, and thence in ships unnumbered bore
The fragments of the ruin wrought in Thrace.
Who in such mighty armament had thought
A routed army sailed upon the main
Thronging the sea with keels? Round Malea's cape
And Taenarus open to the shades below
And fair Cythera's isle, th' advancing fleet
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poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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Evangeline: A Tale of Acadie
This is the forest primeval. The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green, indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld, with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar, with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Loud from its rocky caverns, the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate answers the wail of the forest.
This is the forest primeval; but where are the hearts that beneath it
Leaped like the roe, when he hears in the woodland the voice of the huntsman
Where is the thatch-roofed village, the home of Acadian farmers,--
Men whose lives glided on like rivers that water the woodlands,
Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven?
Waste are those pleasant farms, and the farmers forever departed!
Scattered like dust and leaves, when the mighty blasts of October
Seize them, and whirl them aloft, and sprinkle them far o'er the ocean
Naught but tradition remains of the beautiful village of Grand-Pre.
Ye who believe in affection that hopes, and endures, and is patient,
Ye who believe in the beauty and strength of woman's devotion,
List to the mournful tradition still sung by the pines of the forest;
List to a Tale of Love in Acadie, home of the happy.
PART THE FIRST
I
In the Acadian land, on the shores of the Basin of Minas,
Distant, secluded, still, the little village of Grand-Pre
Lay in the fruitful valley. Vast meadows stretched to the eastward,
Giving the village its name, and pasture to flocks without number.
Dikes, that the hands of the farmers had raised with labor incessant,
Shut out the turbulent tides; but at stated seasons the flood-gates
Opened, and welcomed the sea to wander at will o'er the meadows.
West and south there were fields of flax, and orchards and cornfields
Spreading afar and unfenced o'er the plain; and away to the northward
Blomidon rose, and the forests old, and aloft on the mountains
Sea-fogs pitched their tents, and mists from the mighty Atlantic
Looked on the happy valley, but ne'er from their station descended
There, in the midst of its farms, reposed the Acadian village.
Strongly built were the houses, with frames of oak and of hemlock,
Such as the peasants of Normandy built in the reign of the Henries.
Thatched were the roofs, with dormer-windows; and gables projecting
Over the basement below protected and shaded the doorway.
There in the tranquil evenings of summer, when brightly the sunset
Lighted the village street and gilded the vanes on the chimneys,
Matrons and maidens sat in snow-white caps and in kirtles
Scarlet and blue and green, with distaffs spinning the golden
Flax for the gossiping looms, whose noisy shuttles within doors
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poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Pharsalia - Book V: The Oracle. The Mutiny. The Storm
Thus had the smiles of Fortune and her frowns
Brought either chief to Macedonian shores
Still equal to his foe. From cooler skies
Sank Atlas' daughters down, and Haemus' slopes
Were white with winter, and the day drew nigh
Devoted to the god who leads the months,
And marking with new names the book of Rome,
When came the Fathers from their distant posts
By both the Consuls to Epirus called
Ere yet the year was dead: a foreign land
Obscure received the magistrates of Rome,
And heard their high debate. No warlike camp
This; for the Consul's and the Praetor's axe
Proclaimed the Senate-house; and Magnus sat
One among many, and the state was all.
When all were silent, from his lofty seat
Thus Lentulus began, while stern and sad
The Fathers listened: 'If your hearts still beat
With Latian blood, and if within your breasts
Still lives your fathers' vigour, look not now
On this strange land that holds us, nor enquire
Your distance from the captured city: yours
This proud assembly, yours the high command
In all that comes. Be this your first decree,
Whose truth all peoples and all kings confess;
Be this the Senate. Let the frozen wain
Demand your presence, or the torrid zone
Wherein the day and night with equal tread
For ever march; still follows in your steps
The central power of Imperial Rome.
When flamed the Capitol with fires of Gaul
When Veii held Camillus, there with him
Was Rome, nor ever though it changed its clime
Your order lost its rights. In Caesar's hands
Are sorrowing houses and deserted homes,
Laws silent for a space, and forums closed
In public fast. His Senate-house beholds
Those Fathers only whom from Rome it drove,
While Rome was full. Of that high order all
Not here, are exiles. Ignorant of war,
Its crimes and bloodshed, through long years of peace,
Ye fled its outburst: now in session all
Are here assembled. See ye how the gods
Weigh down Italia's loss by all the world
Thrown in the other scale? Illyria's wave
Rolls deep upon our foes: in Libyan wastes
Is fallen their Curio, the weightier part
Of Caesar's senate! Lift your standards, then,
Spur on your fates and prove your hopes to heaven.
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poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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The Columbiad: Book I
The Argument
Natives of America appear in vision. Their manners and characters. Columbus demands the cause of the dissimilarity of men in different countries, Hesper replies, That the human body is composed of a due proportion of the elements suited to the place of its first formation; that these elements, differently proportioned, produce all the changes of health, sickness, growth and decay; and may likewise produce any other changes which occasion the diversity of men; that these elemental proportions are varied, not more by climate than temperature and other local circumstances; that the mind is likewise in a state of change, and will take its physical character from the body and from external objects: examples. Inquiry concerning the first peopling of America. View of Mexico. Its destruction by Cortez. View of Cusco and Quito, cities of Peru. Tradition of Capac and Oella, founders of the Peruvian empire. Columbus inquires into their real history. Hesper gives an account of their origin, and relates the stratagems they used in establishing that empire.
I sing the Mariner who first unfurl'd
An eastern banner o'er the western world,
And taught mankind where future empires lay
In these fair confines of descending day;
Who sway'd a moment, with vicarious power,
Iberia's sceptre on the new found shore,
Then saw the paths his virtuous steps had trod
Pursued by avarice and defiled with blood,
The tribes he foster'd with paternal toil
Snatch'd from his hand, and slaughter'd for their spoil.
Slaves, kings, adventurers, envious of his name,
Enjoy'd his labours and purloin'd his fame,
And gave the Viceroy, from his high seat hurl'd.
Chains for a crown, a prison for a world
Long overwhelm'd in woes, and sickening there,
He met the slow still march of black despair,
Sought the last refuge from his hopeless doom,
And wish'd from thankless men a peaceful tomb:
Till vision'd ages, opening on his eyes,
Cheer'd his sad soul, and bade new nations rise;
He saw the Atlantic heaven with light o'ercast,
And Freedom crown his glorious work at last.
Almighty Freedom! give my venturous song
The force, the charm that to thy voice belong;
Tis thine to shape my course, to light my way,
To nerve my country with the patriot lay,
To teach all men where all their interest lies,
How rulers may be just and nations wise:
Strong in thy strength I bend no suppliant knee,
Invoke no miracle, no Muse but thee.
Night held on old Castile her silent reign,
Her half orb'd moon declining to the main;
O'er Valladolid's regal turrets hazed
The drizzly fogs from dull Pisuerga raised;
Whose hovering sheets, along the welkin driven,
Thinn'd the pale stars, and shut the eye from heaven.
Cold-hearted Ferdinand his pillow prest,
Nor dream'd of those his mandates robb'd of rest,
Of him who gemm'd his crown, who stretch'd his reign
To realms that weigh'd the tenfold poise of Spain;
Who now beneath his tower indungeon'd lies,
Sweats the chill sod and breathes inclement skies.
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poem by Joel Barlow
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The Columbiad: Book VI
The Argument
British cruelty to American prisoners. Prison Ship. Retreat of Washington with the relics of his army, pursued by Howe. Washington recrossing the Delaware in the night, to surprise the British van, is opposed by uncommon obstacles. His success in this audacious enterprise lays the foundation of the American empire. A monument to be ere on the bank of the Delaware. Approach of Burgoyne, sailing up the St. Laurence with an army of Britons and various other nations. Indignant energy of the colonies, compared to that of Greece in opposing the invasion of Xerxes. Formation of an army of citizens, under the command of Gates. Review of the American and British armies, and of the savage tribes who join the British standard. Battle of Saratoga. Story of Lucinda. Second battle, and capture of Burgoyne and his army.
But of all tales that war's black annals hold,
The darkest, foulest still remains untold;
New modes of torture wait the shameful strife,
And Britain wantons in the waste of life.
Cold-blooded Cruelty, first fiend of hell,
Ah think no more with savage hordes to dwell;
Quit the Caribian tribes who eat their slain,
Fly that grim gang, the Inquisitors of Spain,
Boast not thy deeds in Moloch's shrines of old,
Leave Barbary's pirates to their blood-bought gold,
Let Holland steal her victims, force them o'er
To toils and death on Java's morbid shore;
Some cloak, some color all these crimes may plead;
Tis avarice, passion, blind religion's deed;
But Britons here, in this fraternal broil,
Grave, cool, deliberate in thy service toil.
Far from the nation's eye, whose nobler soul
Their wars would humanize, their pride control,
They lose the lessons that her laws impart,
And change the British for the brutal heart.
Fired by no passion, madden'd by no zeal,
No priest, no Plutus bids them not to feel;
Unpaid, gratuitous, on torture bent,
Their sport is death, their pastime to torment;
All other gods they scorn, but bow the knee,
And curb, well pleased, O Cruelty, to thee.
Come then, curst goddess, where thy votaries reign,
Inhale their incense from the land and main;
Come to Newyork, their conquering arms to greet,
Brood o'er their camp and breathe along their fleet;
The brother chiefs of Howe's illustrious name
Demand thy labors to complete their fame.
What shrieks of agony thy praises sound!
What grateless dungeons groan beneath the ground!
See the black Prison Ship's expanding womb
Impested thousands, quick and dead, entomb.
Barks after barks the captured seamen bear,
Transboard and lodge thy silent victims there;
A hundred scows, from all the neighboring shore,
Spread the dull sail and ply the constant oar,
Waft wrecks of armies from the well fought field,
And famisht garrisons who bravely yield;
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poem by Joel Barlow
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