Under the Pines
"LIFE is sad," says the wind in the pines
To the still soul listening,
While the pale, pale day declines
Like a white bird on the wing.
"Life is sad," says the quiet earth
5
Under the churchyard wall,
Where the spring flowers have their birth
And the autumn leaflets fall.
"Life is sad," say the daisies that blow there
And stretch out their heads to the sun;
10
"Life is sad," say the poor hearts that go there
To weep when the day's work is done.
"Life is sad," from below, from on high,
From forest and meadow and tree,
From the clouds that drift over the sky
15
And the days that die into the sea.
Then up and be brave with thy sorrow,
Like a man with his face to the blast;
Not from hope of the joys of to-morrow,
Nor rest when the warfare is past;
20
But strong that weak souls may grow strong,
That men may take heart by the way,
Till the heavens break forth with the song
That will herald eternal day.
poem by Frederick George Scott
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Related quotes
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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The Regiment of Princes
Musynge upon the restlees bysynesse
Which that this troubly world hath ay on honde,
That othir thyng than fruyt of bittirnesse
Ne yildith naght, as I can undirstonde,
At Chestres In, right faste by the Stronde,
As I lay in my bed upon a nyght,
Thoght me byrefte of sleep the force and might. 1
And many a day and nyght that wikkid hyne
Hadde beforn vexed my poore goost
So grevously that of angwissh and pyne
No rycher man was nowhere in no coost.
This dar I seyn, may no wight make his boost
That he with thoght was bet than I aqweynted,
For to the deeth he wel ny hath me feynted.
Bysyly in my mynde I gan revolve
The welthe unseur of every creature,
How lightly that Fortune it can dissolve
Whan that hir list that it no lenger dure;
And of the brotilnesse of hir nature
My tremblynge herte so greet gastnesse hadde
That my spirites were of my lyf sadde.
Me fil to mynde how that nat longe agoo
Fortunes strook doun thraste estat rial
Into mescheef, and I took heede also
Of many anothir lord that hadde a fal.
In mene estat eek sikirnesse at al
Ne saw I noon, but I sy atte laste
Wher seuretee for to abyde hir caste.
In poore estat shee pighte hir pavyloun
To kevere hir fro the storm of descendynge 2
For shee kneew no lower descencion
Sauf oonly deeth, fro which no wight lyvynge
Deffende him may; and thus in my musynge
I destitut was of joie and good hope,
And to myn ese nothyng cowde I grope.
For right as blyve ran it in my thoght,
Thogh poore I be, yit sumwhat leese I may.
Than deemed I that seurtee wolde noght
With me abyde; it is nat to hir pay
Ther to sojourne as shee descende may.
And thus unsikir of my smal lyflode,
Thoght leide on me ful many an hevy lode.
I thoghte eek, if I into povert creepe,
Than am I entred into sikirnesse;
[...] Read more
poem by Thomas Hoccleve
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Courtship of Miles Standish, The
I
MILES STANDISH
In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims
To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,
Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovan leather,
Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain.
Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him, and pausing
Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare,
Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber, --
Cutlass and corselet of steel, and his trusty sword of Damascus,
Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystical Arabic sentence,
While underneath, in a corner, were fowling-piece, musket, and matchlock.
Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,
Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;
Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already
Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.
Near him was seated John Alden, his friend and household companion,
Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine by the window:
Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion,
Having the dew of his youth, and the beauty thereof, as the captives
Whom Saint Gregory saw, and exclaimed, "Not Angles, but Angels."
Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the Mayflower.
Suddenly breaking the silence, the diligent scribe interrupting,
Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth.
"Look at these arms," he said, "the war-like weapons that hang here
Burnished and bright and clean, as if for parade or inspection!
This is the sword of Damascus I fought with in Flanders; this breastplate,
Well I remember the day! once save my life in a skirmish;
Here in front you can see the very dint of the bullet
Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish arcabucero.
Had it not been of sheer steel, the forgotten bones of Miles Standish
Would at this moment be mould, in their grave in the Flemish morasses."
Thereupon answered John Alden, but looked not up from his writing:
"Truly the breath of the Lord hath slackened the speed of the bullet;
He in his mercy preserved you, to be our shield and our weapon!"
Still the Captain continued, unheeding the words of the stripling:
"See, how bright they are burnished, as if in an arsenal hanging;
That is because I have done it myself, and not left it to others.
Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage;
So I take care of my arms, as you of your pens and your inkhorn.
Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, invincible army,
Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest and his matchlock,
Eighteen shillings a month, together with diet and pillage,
And, like Caesar, I know the name of each of my soldiers!"
This he said with a smile, that danced in his eyes, as the sunbeams
Dance on the waves of the sea, and vanish again in a moment.
Alden laughed as he wrote, and still the Captain continued:
"Look! you can see from this window my brazen howitzer planted
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Courtship of Miles Standish
I
MILES STANDISH
In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims
To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,
Clad in doublet and hose, and boots of Cordovan leather,
Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain.
Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him, and pausing
Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare,
Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber, --
Cutlass and corselet of steel, and his trusty sword of Damascus,
Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystical Arabic sentence,
While underneath, in a corner, were fowling-piece, musket, and matchlock.
Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,
Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;
Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already
Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November.
Near him was seated John Alden, his friend and household companion,
Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine by the window:
Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion,
Having the dew of his youth, and the beauty thereof, as the captives
Whom Saint Gregory saw, and exclaimed, "Not Angles, but Angels."
Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the Mayflower.
Suddenly breaking the silence, the diligent scribe interrupting,
Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth.
"Look at these arms," he said, "the war-like weapons that hang here
Burnished and bright and clean, as if for parade or inspection!
This is the sword of Damascus I fought with in Flanders; this breastplate,
Well I remember the day! once save my life in a skirmish;
Here in front you can see the very dint of the bullet
Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish arcabucero.
Had it not been of sheer steel, the forgotten bones of Miles Standish
Would at this moment be mould, in their grave in the Flemish morasses."
Thereupon answered John Alden, but looked not up from his writing:
"Truly the breath of the Lord hath slackened the speed of the bullet;
He in his mercy preserved you, to be our shield and our weapon!"
Still the Captain continued, unheeding the words of the stripling:
"See, how bright they are burnished, as if in an arsenal hanging;
That is because I have done it myself, and not left it to others.
Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage;
So I take care of my arms, as you of your pens and your inkhorn.
Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, invincible army,
Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest and his matchlock,
Eighteen shillings a month, together with diet and pillage,
And, like Caesar, I know the name of each of my soldiers!"
This he said with a smile, that danced in his eyes, as the sunbeams
Dance on the waves of the sea, and vanish again in a moment.
Alden laughed as he wrote, and still the Captain continued:
"Look! you can see from this window my brazen howitzer planted
[...] Read more
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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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 Bride of Abydos
"Had we never loved so kindly,
Had we never loved so blindly,
Never met or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted." — Burns
TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE LORD HOLLAND,
THIS TALE IS INSCRIBED,
WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF REGARD AND RESPECT,
BY HIS GRATEFULLY OBLIGED AND SINCERE FRIEND,
BYRON.
THE BRIDE OF ABYDOS
CANTO THE FIRST.
I.
Know ye the land where cypress and myrtle
Are emblems of deeds that are done in their clime,
Where the rage of the vulture, the love of the turtle,
Now melt into sorrow, now madden to crime?
Know ye the land of the cedar and vine,
Where the flowers ever blossom, the beams ever shine;
Where the light wings of Zephyr, oppress'd with perfume,
Wax faint o'er the gardens of Gúl in her bloom; [1]
Where the citron and olive are fairest of fruit,
And the voice of the nightingale never is mute;
Where the tints of the earth, and the hues of the sky,
In colour though varied, in beauty may vie,
And the purple of Ocean is deepest in dye;
Where the virgins are soft as the roses they twine,
And all, save the spirit of man, is divine?
'Tis the clime of the East; 'tis the land of the Sun —
Can he smile on such deeds as his children have done? [2]
Oh! wild as the accents of lovers' farewell
Are the hearts which they bear, and the tales which they tell.
II.
Begirt with many a gallant slave,
Apparell'd as becomes the brave,
Awaiting each his lord's behest
To guide his steps, or guard his rest,
[...] Read more
Sister Helen
"Why did you melt your waxen man
Sister Helen?
To-day is the third since you began."
"The time was long, yet the time ran,
Little brother."
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Three days to-day, between Hell and Heaven!)
"But if you have done your work aright,
Sister Helen,
You'll let me play, for you said I might."
"Be very still in your play to-night,
Little brother."
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
Third night, to-night, between Hell and Heaven!)
"You said it must melt ere vesper-bell,
Sister Helen;
If now it be molten, all is well."
"Even so,--nay, peace! you cannot tell,
Little brother."
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
O what is this, between Hell and Heaven?)
"Oh the waxen knave was plump to-day,
Sister Helen;
How like dead folk he has dropp'd away!"
"Nay now, of the dead what can you say,
Little brother?"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
What of the dead, between Hell and Heaven?)
"See, see, the sunken pile of wood,
Sister Helen,
Shines through the thinn'd wax red as blood!"
"Nay now, when look'd you yet on blood,
Little brother?"
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
How pale she is, between Hell and Heaven!)
"Now close your eyes, for they're sick and sore,
Sister Helen,
And I'll play without the gallery door."
"Aye, let me rest,--I'll lie on the floor,
Little brother."
(O Mother, Mary Mother,
What rest to-night, between Hell and Heaven?)
"Here high up in the balcony,
Sister Helen,
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poem by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
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The House Of Dust: Complete
I.
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.
'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.
We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .
Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.
Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.
Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.
II.
[...] Read more
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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The Triumph of Life
Swift as a spirit hastening to his task
Of glory & of good, the Sun sprang forth
Rejoicing in his splendour, & the mask
Of darkness fell from the awakened Earth.
The smokeless altars of the mountain snows
Flamed above crimson clouds, & at the birth
Of light, the Ocean's orison arose
To which the birds tempered their matin lay,
All flowers in field or forest which unclose
Their trembling eyelids to the kiss of day,
Swinging their censers in the element,
With orient incense lit by the new ray
Burned slow & inconsumably, & sent
Their odorous sighs up to the smiling air,
And in succession due, did Continent,
Isle, Ocean, & all things that in them wear
The form & character of mortal mould
Rise as the Sun their father rose, to bear
Their portion of the toil which he of old
Took as his own & then imposed on them;
But I, whom thoughts which must remain untold
Had kept as wakeful as the stars that gem
The cone of night, now they were laid asleep,
Stretched my faint limbs beneath the hoary stem
Which an old chestnut flung athwart the steep
Of a green Apennine: before me fled
The night; behind me rose the day; the Deep
Was at my feet, & Heaven above my head
When a strange trance over my fancy grew
Which was not slumber, for the shade it spread
Was so transparent that the scene came through
As clear as when a veil of light is drawn
O'er evening hills they glimmer; and I knew
That I had felt the freshness of that dawn,
Bathed in the same cold dew my brow & hair
And sate as thus upon that slope of lawn
Under the self same bough, & heard as there
The birds, the fountains & the Ocean hold
Sweet talk in music through the enamoured air.
And then a Vision on my brain was rolled.
As in that trance of wondrous thought I lay
This was the tenour of my waking dream.
Methought I sate beside a public way
Thick strewn with summer dust, & a great stream
Of people there was hurrying to & fro
Numerous as gnats upon the evening gleam,
All hastening onward, yet none seemed to know
Whither he went, or whence he came, or why
He made one of the multitude, yet so
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poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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The Holy Grail
From noiseful arms, and acts of prowess done
In tournament or tilt, Sir Percivale,
Whom Arthur and his knighthood called The Pure,
Had passed into the silent life of prayer,
Praise, fast, and alms; and leaving for the cowl
The helmet in an abbey far away
From Camelot, there, and not long after, died.
And one, a fellow-monk among the rest,
Ambrosius, loved him much beyond the rest,
And honoured him, and wrought into his heart
A way by love that wakened love within,
To answer that which came: and as they sat
Beneath a world-old yew-tree, darkening half
The cloisters, on a gustful April morn
That puffed the swaying branches into smoke
Above them, ere the summer when he died
The monk Ambrosius questioned Percivale:
`O brother, I have seen this yew-tree smoke,
Spring after spring, for half a hundred years:
For never have I known the world without,
Nor ever strayed beyond the pale: but thee,
When first thou camest--such a courtesy
Spake through the limbs and in the voice--I knew
For one of those who eat in Arthur's hall;
For good ye are and bad, and like to coins,
Some true, some light, but every one of you
Stamped with the image of the King; and now
Tell me, what drove thee from the Table Round,
My brother? was it earthly passion crost?'
`Nay,' said the knight; `for no such passion mine.
But the sweet vision of the Holy Grail
Drove me from all vainglories, rivalries,
And earthly heats that spring and sparkle out
Among us in the jousts, while women watch
Who wins, who falls; and waste the spiritual strength
Within us, better offered up to Heaven.'
To whom the monk: `The Holy Grail!--I trust
We are green in Heaven's eyes; but here too much
We moulder--as to things without I mean--
Yet one of your own knights, a guest of ours,
Told us of this in our refectory,
But spake with such a sadness and so low
We heard not half of what he said. What is it?
The phantom of a cup that comes and goes?'
`Nay, monk! what phantom?' answered Percivale.
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poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson
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Endymion: Book IV
Muse of my native land! loftiest Muse!
O first-born on the mountains! by the hues
Of heaven on the spiritual air begot:
Long didst thou sit alone in northern grot,
While yet our England was a wolfish den;
Before our forests heard the talk of men;
Before the first of Druids was a child;--
Long didst thou sit amid our regions wild
Rapt in a deep prophetic solitude.
There came an eastern voice of solemn mood:--
Yet wast thou patient. Then sang forth the Nine,
Apollo's garland:--yet didst thou divine
Such home-bred glory, that they cry'd in vain,
"Come hither, Sister of the Island!" Plain
Spake fair Ausonia; and once more she spake
A higher summons:--still didst thou betake
Thee to thy native hopes. O thou hast won
A full accomplishment! The thing is done,
Which undone, these our latter days had risen
On barren souls. Great Muse, thou know'st what prison
Of flesh and bone, curbs, and confines, and frets
Our spirit's wings: despondency besets
Our pillows; and the fresh to-morrow morn
Seems to give forth its light in very scorn
Of our dull, uninspired, snail-paced lives.
Long have I said, how happy he who shrives
To thee! But then I thought on poets gone,
And could not pray:--nor can I now--so on
I move to the end in lowliness of heart.----
"Ah, woe is me! that I should fondly part
From my dear native land! Ah, foolish maid!
Glad was the hour, when, with thee, myriads bade
Adieu to Ganges and their pleasant fields!
To one so friendless the clear freshet yields
A bitter coolness, the ripe grape is sour:
Yet I would have, great gods! but one short hour
Of native air--let me but die at home."
Endymion to heaven's airy dome
Was offering up a hecatomb of vows,
When these words reach'd him. Whereupon he bows
His head through thorny-green entanglement
Of underwood, and to the sound is bent,
Anxious as hind towards her hidden fawn.
"Is no one near to help me? No fair dawn
Of life from charitable voice? No sweet saying
To set my dull and sadden'd spirit playing?
No hand to toy with mine? No lips so sweet
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poem by John Keats
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Fingal - Book II
ARGUMENT.
The ghost of Crugal, one of the Irish heroes who was killed in battle, appearing to Connal, foretells the defeat of Cuthullin in the next battle, and earnestly advises him to make peace with Swaran. Connal communicates the vision; but Cuthullin is inflexible; from a principle of honor he would not be the first to sue for peace, and he resolved to continue the war. Morning comes; Swaran proposes dishonorable terms to Cuthullin, which are rejected. The battle begins, and is obstinately fought for some time, until, upon the flight of Grumal, the whole Irish army gave way. Cuthullin and Connal cover their retreat. Carril leads them to a neighboring hill, whither they are soon followed by Cuthullin himself; who descries the fleet of Fingal making towards their coast; but night coming on, he lost sight of it again. Cuthullin, dejected after his defeat, attributes his ill success to the death of Ferda, his friend, whom he had killed some time before. Carril, to show that ill success did not always attend those who innocently killed their friends, introduces the episode of Connal and Galvina.
Connal lay by the sound of the mountain-stream, beneath the aged tree. A stone, with its moss, supported his head. Shrill, through the heath of Lena, he heard the voice of night. At distance from the heroes he lay; the son of the sword feared no foe! The hero beheld, in his rest, a dark-red stream of fire rushing down from the hill. Crugal sat upon the beam, a chief who fell in fight. He fell by the hand of Swaran, striving in the battle of heroes. His face is like the beam of the setting moon. His robes are of the clouds of the hill. His eyes are two decaying flames.
Dark is the wound of his breast! "Crugal," said the mighty Connal, "son of Dedgal famed on the hill of hinds! Why so pale and sad, thou breaker of shields? Thou hast never been pale for fear! What disturbs the departed Crugal?" Dim, and in tears he stood, and stretched his pale hand over the hero. Faintly he raised his feeble voice, like the gale of the reedy Lego.
"My spirit, Connal, is on my hills; my course on the sands of Erin. Thou shalt never talk with Crugal, nor find his lone steps in the heath. I am light as the blast of Cromla. I move like the shadow of mist! Connal, son of Colgar, I see a cloud of death: it hovers dark over the plains of Lena. The Sons of green Erin must fall. Remove from the field of ghosts." Like the darkened moon he retired, in the midst of the whistling blast. "Stay," said the mighty Connal " stay, my dark-red friend. Lay by that beam of heaven, son of windy Cromla! What cave is thy lonely house? What green-headed hill the place of thy repose? Shall we not hear thee in the storm? in the noise of the mountain-stream? when the feeble Sons of the wind come forth, and, scarcely seen, pass over the desert?"
The soft-voiced Connal rose, in the midst of his sounding arms. He struck his shield above Cuthullin. The son of battle waked. "Why," said the ruler of the car, "comes Connal through my night? My spear might turn against the sound, and Cuthullin mourn the death of his friend. Speak, Connal; son of Colgar, speak; thy counsel is the sun of heaven!" "Son of Semo!" replied the chief, "the ghost of Crugal came from his cave. The stars dim twinkled through his form His voice was like the sound of a distant stream He is a messenger of death! He speaks of the dark and narrow house! Sue for peace, O chief of Erin!, or fly over the heath of Lena!"
"He spoke to Connal," replied the hero, "though stars dim twinkled through his form. Son of Colgar, it was the wind that murmured across thy car. Or if it was the form of Crugal, why didst thou not force him to my sight? Hast thou inquired where is his cave? the house of that son of wind? My sword might find that voice, and force his knowledge from Crugal. But small is his knowledge, Connal; he was here to-day. He could not have gone beyond our hills! who could tell him there of our fall?" "Ghosts fly on clouds, and ride on winds," said Connal's voice of wisdom. "They rest together in their caves, and talk of mortal men."
"Then let them talk of mortal men; of every man but Erin's chief. Let me be forgot in their cave. I will not fly from Swaran! If fall I must, my tomb shall rise amidst the fame of future times. The hunter shall shed a tear on my stone: sorrow shall dwell around the high-bosomed Bragéla. I fear not death; to fly I fear! Fingal has seen me victorious! Thou dim phantom of the hill, show thyself to me! come on thy beam of heaven, show me my death in thine hand! yet I will not fly, thou feeble son of the wind! Go, son of Colgar, strike the shield. It hangs between the spears. Let my warriors rise to the sound in the midst of the battles of Erin. Though Fingal delays his coming with the race of his stormy isles, we shall fight; O Colgar's son, and die in the battle of heroes!"
The sound spreads wide. The heroes rise, like the breaking of a blue-rolling wave. They stood on the heath, like oaks with all their branches round them, when they echo to the stream of frost, and their withered leaves are rustling to the wind! High Cromla's head of clouds is gray. Morning trembles on the half-enlightened ocean. The blue mist swims slowly by, and hides the Sons of Inis-fail!
"Rise ye," said the king of the dark-brown shields, "ye that came from Lochlin's waves. The sons of Erin have fled from our arms; pursue them over the plains of Lena! Morla, go to Cormac's hall. Bid them yield to Swaran, before his people sink to the tomb, and silence spread over his isle." They rose, rustling like a flock of sea-fowl, when the waves expel them from the shore. Their sound was like a thousand streams, that meet in Cona's vale, when after a stormy night, they turn their dark eddies beneath the pale light of the morn.
As the dark shades of autumn fly over the hills of grass, so gloomy, dark, successive came the chiefs of Lochlin's echoing woods. Tall as the stag of Morven, moved stately before them the king. His shining shield is on his side, like a flame on the heath at night, when the world is silent and dark, and the traveller sees some ghosts sporting in the beam! Dimly gleam the hills around, and show indistinctly their oaks! A blast from the troubled ocean removed the settled mist. The Sons of Erin appear, like a ridge of rocks on the coast; when mariners, on shores unknown, are trembling at veering winds!
"Go, Morla, go," said the king of Lochlin, "offer peace to these. Offer the terms we give to kings, when nations bow down to our swords. When the valiant are dead in war; when virgins weep on the field!" Tall Morla came, the son of Swaran, and stately strode the youth along! He spoke to Erin's blue-eyed chief, among the lesser heroes. "Take Swaran's peace," the warrior spoke, "the peace he gives to kings when nations bow to his sword. Leave Erin's streamy plains to us, and give thy spouse and dog. Thy spouse, high-bosomed heaving fair! Thy dog that overtakes the wind! Give these to prove the weakness of thine arm, live then beneath our power!"
"Tell Swaran, tell that heart of pride, Cuthullin never yields! I give him the dark-rolling sea; I give his people graves in Erin. But never shall a stranger have the pleasing sunbeam of my love. No deer shall fly on Lochlin's hills, before swift-footed Luäth." "Vain ruler of the car," said Morla, " wilt thou then fight the king? the king whose ships of many groves could carry off thine isle! So little is thy green-hilled Erin to him who rules the stormy waves!" " In words I yield to many, Morla. My sword shall yield to none. Erin shall own the sway of Cormac while Connal and Cuthullin live! O Connal, first of mighty men, thou hearest the words of Morla. Shall thy thoughts then be of peace, thou breaker of the shields? Spirit of fallen Crugal, Why didst thou threaten us with death? The narrow house shall receive me in the midst of the light of renown. Exalt, ye sons of Erin, exalt the spear and bend the bow; rush on the foe in darkness, as the spirits of stormy nights!"
Then dismal, roaring fierce and deep, the gloom of battle poured along, as mist that is rolled on a valley when storms invade the silent sunshine of heaven. Cuthullin moves before me in arms, like an angry ghost before a cloud, when meteors enclose him with fire; when the dark winds are in his hand. Carril, far on the heath, bids the horn of battle sound. He raises the voice of song, and pours his soul into the minds of the brave.
"Where," said the mouth of the song, "where is the fallen Crugal? He lies forgot on earth; the hall of shells is silent. Sad is the spouse of Crugal. She is a stranger in the hall of her grief. But who is she that, like a sunbeam, flies before the ranks of the foe? It is Degrena, lovely fair, the spouse of fallen Crugal. Her hair is on the wind behind. Her eye is red; her voice is shrill. Pale, empty, is thy Crugal now! His form is in the cave of the hill. He comes to the ear of rest; he raises his feeble voice, like the humming of the mountain-bee, like the collected flies of the eve! But Degrena falls like a cloud of the morn; the sword of Lochlin is in her side. Cairbar, she is fallen, the rising thought of thy youth! She is fallen, O Cairbar! the thought of thy youthful hours!"
Fierce Cairbar heard the mournful sound. He rushed along like ocean's whale. He saw the death of his daughter: he roared in the midst of thousands. His spear met a son of Lochlin! battle spreads from wing to wing! As a hundred winds in Lochlin's groves, as fire in the pines of a hundred hills, so loud, so ruinous, so vast, the ranks of men are hewn down. Cuthullin cut off heroes like thistles; Swaran wasted Erin. Curach fell by his hand, Cairbar of the bossy shield! Morglan lies in lasting rest! Ca-olt trembles as he dies! His white breast is stained with blood! his yellow hair stretched in the dust of his native land! He often had spread the feast where he fell. He often there had raised the voice of the harp, when his dogs leapt round for joy, and the youths of the chase prepared the bow!
Still Swaran advanced, as a stream that bursts from the desert. The little hills are rolled in its course, the rocks are half-sunk by its side. But Cuthullin stood before him, like a hill, that catches the clouds of heaven. The winds contend on its head of pines, the hail rattles on its rocks. But, firm in its strength, it stands, and shades the silent vale of Cona. So Cuthullin shaded the sons of Erin, and stood in the midst of thousands. Blood rises like the fount of a rock from panting heroes around. But Erin falls on either wing, like snow in the day of the sun.
O sons of Erin," said Grumal, "Lochlin conquers in the field. Why strive we as reeds against the wind? Fly to the hill of dark-brown hinds." He fled like the stag of Morven; his spear is a trembling beam of light behind him. Few fled with Grumal, chief of the little soul: they fell in the battle of heroes on Lena's echoing heath. High on his car of many gems the chief of Erin stood. He slew a mighty son of Lochlin, and spoke in haste to Connal. "O Connal, first of mortal men, thou hast taught this arm of death! Though Erin's Sons have fled, shall we not fight the foe? Carril, son of other times, carry my friends to that bushy hill. Here, Connal, let us stand like rocks, and save our flying friends."
Connal mounts the car of gems. They stretch their shields, like the darkened moon, the daughter of the starry skies, when she moves a dun circle through heaven, and dreadful change is expected by men. Sith-fadda panted up the hill, and Stronnal, haughty steed. Like waves behind a whale, behind them rushed the foe. Now on the rising side of Cromla stood Erin's few sad sons: like a grove through which the flame had rushed, hurried on by the winds of the stormy night; distant, withered, dark, they stand, with not a leaf to shake in the vale.
Cuthullin stood beside an oak. He rolled his red eye in silence, and heard the wind in his bushy hair; the scout of ocean came, Moran the son of Fithil "The ships," he cried, "the ships of the lonely isles. Fingal comes, the first of men, the breaker of the shields! The waves foam before his black prows! His masts with sails are like groves in clouds!" — "Blow," said Cuthullin, "blow, ye winds that rush along my isle of mist. Come to the death of thousands, O king of resounding Selma! Thy sails, my friend, are to me the clouds of the morning; thy ships the light of heaven; and thou thyself a pillar of fire that beams on the world by night. O Connal, first of men, how pleasing in grief are our friends! But the night is gathering around. Where now are the ships of Fingal? Here let us pass the hours of darkness; here wish for the moon of heaven."
The winds came down on the woods. The torrents rush from the rocks. Rain gathers round the head of Cromla. The red stars tremble between the flying clouds. Sad, by the side of a stream, whose sound is echoed by a tree, sad by the side of a stream the chief of Erin sits. Connal, son of Colgar, is there, and Carril of other times. "Unhappy is the hand of Cuthullin," said the son of Semo, "unhappy is the hand of Cuthullin since he slew his friend! Ferda, son of Damman, I loved thee as myself!"
"How, Cuthullin, son of Semo, how fell the breaker of the shields? Well I remember," said Connal, "the son of the noble Damman. Tall and fair, he was like the rainbow of heaven. Ferda from Albion came, the chief of a hundred hills. In Muri's hall he learned the sword, and won the friendship of Cuthullin. We moved to the chase together: one was our bed in the heath."
Deugala was the spouse of Cairbar, chief of the plains of Ullin. She was covered with the light of beauty, but her heart was the house of pride. She loved that sunbeam of youth, the son of the noble Damman. "Cairbar," said the white-armed Deugala, "give me half of the herd. No more I will remain in your halls. Divide the herd, dark Cairbar!" "Let Cuthullin," said Cairbar, "divide my herd on the hill.
His breast is the seat of justice. Depart, thou light of beauty!" I went and divided the herd. One snow-white bull remained. I gave that bull to Cairbar. The wrath of Deugala rose!
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poem by James Macpherson
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Peter Bell, A Tale
PROLOGUE
There's something in a flying horse,
There's something in a huge balloon;
But through the clouds I'll never float
Until I have a little Boat,
Shaped like the crescent-moon.
And now I 'have' a little Boat,
In shape a very crescent-moon
Fast through the clouds my boat can sail;
But if perchance your faith should fail,
Look up--and you shall see me soon!
The woods, my Friends, are round you roaring,
Rocking and roaring like a sea;
The noise of danger's in your ears,
And ye have all a thousand fears
Both for my little Boat and me!
Meanwhile untroubled I admire
The pointed horns of my canoe;
And, did not pity touch my breast,
To see how ye are all distrest,
Till my ribs ached, I'd laugh at you!
Away we go, my Boat and I--
Frail man ne'er sate in such another;
Whether among the winds we strive,
Or deep into the clouds we dive,
Each is contented with the other.
Away we go--and what care we
For treasons, tumults, and for wars?
We are as calm in our delight
As is the crescent-moon so bright
Among the scattered stars.
Up goes my Boat among the stars
Through many a breathless field of light,
Through many a long blue field of ether,
Leaving ten thousand stars beneath her:
Up goes my little Boat so bright!
The Crab, the Scorpion, and the Bull--
We pry among them all; have shot
High o'er the red-haired race of Mars,
Covered from top to toe with scars;
Such company I like it not!
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poem by William Wordsworth
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The Dream
'TWAS summer eve; the changeful beams still play'd
On the fir-bark and through the beechen shade;
Still with soft crimson glow'd each floating cloud;
Still the stream glitter'd where the willow bow'd;
Still the pale moon sate silent and alone,
Nor yet the stars had rallied round her throne;
Those diamond courtiers, who, while yet the West
Wears the red shield above his dying breast,
Dare not assume the loss they all desire,
Nor pay their homage to the fainter fire,
But wait in trembling till the Sun's fair light
Fading, shall leave them free to welcome Night!
So when some Chief, whose name through realms afar
Was still the watchword of succesful war,
Met by the fatal hour which waits for all,
Is, on the field he rallied, forced to fall,
The conquerors pause to watch his parting breath,
Awed by the terrors of that mighty death;
Nor dare the meed of victory to claim,
Nor lift the standard to a meaner name,
Till every spark of soul hath ebb'd away,
And leaves what was a hero, common clay.
Oh! Twilight! Spirit that dost render birth
To dim enchantments; melting Heaven with Earth,
Leaving on craggy hills and rumning streams
A softness like the atmosphere of dreams;
Thy hour to all is welcome! Faint and sweet
Thy light falls round the peasant's homeward feet,
Who, slow returning from his task of toil,
Sees the low sunset gild the cultured soil,
And, tho' such radliance round him brightly glows,
Marks the small spark his cottage window throws.
Still as his heart forestals his weary pace,
Fondly he dreams of each familiar face,
Recalls the treasures of his narrow life,
His rosy children, and his sunburnt wife,
To whom his coming is the chief event
Of simple days in cheerful labour spent.
The rich man's chariot hath gone whirling past,
And those poor cottagers have only cast
One careless glance on all that show of pride,
Then to their tasks turn'd quietly aside;
But him they wait for, him they welcome home,
Fond sentinels look forth to see him come;
The fagot sent for when the fire grew dim,
The frugal meal prepared, are all for him;
For him the watching of that sturdy boy,
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poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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The Loves of the Angels
'Twas when the world was in its prime,
When the fresh stars had just begun
Their race of glory and young Time
Told his first birth-days by the sun;
When in the light of Nature's dawn
Rejoicing, men and angels met
On the high hill and sunny lawn,-
Ere sorrow came or Sin had drawn
'Twixt man and heaven her curtain yet!
When earth lay nearer to the skies
Than in these days of crime and woe,
And mortals saw without surprise
In the mid-air angelic eyes
Gazing upon this world below.
Alas! that Passion should profane
Even then the morning of the earth!
That, sadder still, the fatal stain
Should fall on hearts of heavenly birth-
And that from Woman's love should fall
So dark a stain, most sad of all!
One evening, in that primal hour,
On a hill's side where hung the ray
Of sunset brightening rill and bower,
Three noble youths conversing lay;
And, as they lookt from time to time
To the far sky where Daylight furled
His radiant wing, their brows sublime
Bespoke them of that distant world-
Spirits who once in brotherhood
Of faith and bliss near ALLA stood,
And o'er whose cheeks full oft had blown
The wind that breathes from ALLA'S throne,
Creatures of light such as still play,
Like motes in sunshine, round the Lord,
And thro' their infinite array
Transmit each moment, night and day,
The echo of His luminous word!
Of Heaven they spoke and, still more oft,
Of the bright eyes that charmed them thence;
Till yielding gradual to the soft
And balmy evening's influence-
The silent breathing of the flowers-
The melting light that beamed above,
As on their first, fond, erring hours,-
Each told the story of his love,
The history of that hour unblest,
When like a bird from its high nest
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poem by Thomas Moore
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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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That warm island submerged -那 一 座 温 暖 的 岛 沉 没 了
Translation:
[ That warm island submerged ]那 一 座 温 暖 的 岛 沉 没 了 - mulberry grove has done to 2001.10.24 13: 39 starseven0starseven0 Feng Wen the Shu
The black wave is pursuing that white-feathered bird. The white-feathered bird is unable to eliminate the terror the air, white-feathered bird's chest soon submerges in disappointed jet black Tao. That warm incomparable island, eternal submersion. That most beautiful island -- she is the brown black hair, in the eye has the children is candid -- newly passes the spring the Tai Qing breath -- blue green grass such clear fragrant candidness. This island gold and greens, most lovable island -- she is white-feathered bird's mother. That is noble, loves to the tree, the bird, the insect happy song white-feathered bird. Deep move these small lives' white-feathered birds. Now the black wave is dreadful, wants to swallow the white-feathered bird perishes. A poisonous snake, soon embezzles the lamb which goes all out to struggle. Goes all out the white-feathered bird which revolts, the forehead soon submerges in cold bone black Tao.
Suddenly, the big detonation, the big detonation, the black wave has put out the white-feathered bird. Most loves mother's son has been saved, in the world the best youth has been saved, the thunderclap writings, the electricity sword anxious thorn, compared to a steel and iron stronger was black wave to crush, was saved compared to a rose more enchanting white-feathered bird. The happiest music was saved. Is any magic weapon, has avoided your eternal submersion -- dear white-feathered bird, ' is the weapon, is the invincible spirit with the weapon which loves -- is truth this invincible weapon, arouses the white-feathered bird to give birth the courage, vigor -- this courage, the vigor, formidable to the death, truth mercy granting, turned into the startling thunderclap, the fire dodged the weapon, the scrap compared to a steel and iron stronger has been black wave, has rescued bird's arrogant -- this world non- price valuable -- that the white-feathered bird which is seized by the poisonous snake.' This truth is any, the dear white-feathered bird, forever arrived the life land center white-feathered bird, asks you to tell me to tell me. ' After I am seized by the dark night wave a while, the truth wants me, must exactly I crazily shout, I must exactly, have exactly.
Suddenly my tears flow copiously, heart rat-a-tat, from poisonous snake's stomach, rebound my chest. When my affection exhaling, I love you, I have loved has hated all people, I love you, after my tree grass flower-and-bird insect, suddenly rises the giant which is indomitable spirit, I broken am unable to withstand in mind ruins. The giant lifts up high the thunder, the hand grasps the electricity sword. I tremble am trembling for a very long time, in the strong winds small leaf is trembling. By now the truth bestowed for mine love heat flow 周 留 whole body,1,100 loves ropes -- silver light glistens the love rope, recaptures me from the black wave mouth, recaptures from poisonous Shekou, when the black wave is nipping me once more, by now my body was revolving, was revolving, was revolving. That meteor sends out the sun immediately glory, the rise, the rise, The rise, is revolving, is revolving, is revolving, likes all around oneself revolving. The brightest star winks focuses, revolves around the sun.' The white-feathered bird sings like this. Listens, ' was the great truth has rescued me, did not have the truth, I could submerge. The truth helped me to defeat the death. Restored me free and infinite is carefree. Is the truth bestows for me this lovable little darling.' Is the white-feathered bird in Le Chang. Quickly looks, that beaming white-feathered bird, brings to be saved young man's little darling, in the day is hovering, tornado same liking, sings from this to hit departs, departs, surely a pigeon, departs from the sunlight deep place, hovers, hovers, the dear white-feathered bird, my heart turned into surely a pigeon, hovers in March blue day white clouds
[ Runs away marriage ] the early morning to listen to that to the cuckoo, in field jetty head Qi Huanjiao. A pair of magpie commended the cuckoo said, ' gathers the cordiality in the bird the bird, is willing you to grow old together.' Afternoon listens to that to the magpie bird, climbs Qi Huanjiao in the bamboo grove. Then to the cuckoo commended the magpie said, ' gathers the cordiality in the bird the bird, is willing you to grow old together.' The father, why do you have to lose me this deceased person pit, my poor sentiment elder brother setting up around this my this cane, sentiment elder brother is in each province youth's youth, why are you called the militiaman to detain me with the gun to enter your gate. Living disperses the cane tree family booklet. Why do you have to lose me this deceased person pit. Compels me to remarry for Chou the wealthy person living corpse.
The mother, you quite cruel-heartedly does obeisance the view world sound like the pilgrim, your soft knife has killed daughter's heart, you just knelt under the daughter foot, daughter's hurried to help up mother, the daughter to see mother the eye class water splash to be a go-between the line. The daughter foot one is soft, the heart trembles, the daughter also horse glances flows the water splash to be a go-between the line. Sentiment elder brother, my mother along daddy's wish, I is not willing to see mother's sadness, has to be suitable mother's wish, has to usher in this Chou wealthy person's courtyard by the daddy. The early morning listens to that to the cuckoo, in field jetty head Qi Huanjiao. A pair of magpie commended the cuckoo said, ' gathers the cordiality in the bird the bird, is willing you to grow old together.' This wealth host family is not the person day, this wealth host family's money 800 years cannot use up, but this wealthy person does not have the sentiment, you knew the younger sister most treasures your affection. How is called the younger sister to manage, how manages. My daddy is does not get up the gambling debt, changed money with me the account also.
My daddy life is concerned about face-saving, is concerned about face-saving, unexpectedly in order to own good reputation ruin the daughter. Afternoon listens to that to the magpie bird, climbs Qi Huanjiao in the bamboo grove. Then to the cuckoo commended the magpie said, ' gathers the cordiality in the bird the bird, is willing you to grow old together.' The younger sister sees that to fall in love to the cuckoo intimate, remembered the before younger sister to enter the bamboo grove to climb, selected the small oil lamp to meet you to go me home. The at that time I the daddy like you, day in day out every one with a your group. The at that time I the daddy have not stained gamble this abuse. At that time younger sister arrogant, is merry, this black 水 寨 person who doesn't praise, who doesn't praise your me is an inborn pair of phoenix. The early morning listens to that to the cuckoo, in field jetty head Qi Huanjiao. A pair of magpie commended the cuckoo said, ' gathers the cordiality in the bird the bird, is willing you to grow old together.'
Afternoon listens to that to the magpie bird, climbs Qi Huanjiao in the bamboo grove. Then to the cuckoo commended the magpie said, ' gathers the cordiality in the bird the bird, is willing you to grow old together.' The cuckoo, I did not dare to want to get down, did not dare to want to get down. How do I to result in me sentiment elder brother, how do I have a face see me sentiment elder brother. The magpie, my daddy is pig iron, what wants to make to have to make what, who also pulls this pig iron not curved. My daddy in order to gamble on defends the credit, is living disperses daughter's family booklet, my daddy was considered as emperor which on gambled. At that time younger sister arrogant, is merry, this black 水 寨 person who doesn't praise, who doesn't praise your me is an inborn pair of phoenix. I like hating to occur simultaneously, like hating daddy any matter all to want to struggle first. Right, the cuckoo, my daddy does gambles this misdemeanor works as first, before my daddy likes helping the person also to work as first. The early morning listens to that to the cuckoo, in field jetty head Qi Huanjiao.
A pair of magpie commended the cuckoo said, ' gathers the cordiality in the bird the bird, is willing you to grow old together.' Otherwise before how is my daddy sure to specially to like me sentiment elder brother. At that time younger sister arrogant, is merry, this black 水 寨 person who doesn't praise, who doesn't praise your me is an inborn pair of phoenix. At that time younger sister arrogant, is merry, this black 水 寨 person who doesn't praise, who doesn't praise your me is an inborn pair of phoenix. I inherited my daddy to like struggling the first temperament, I loved me mother in 远 远 近 近 the border, I was in the loyal son daughter first. The early morning listens to that to the cuckoo, in field jetty head Qi Huanjiao.
A pair of magpie commended the cuckoo said, ' gathers the cordiality in the bird the bird, is willing you to grow old together.' Afternoon listens to that to the magpie bird, climbs Qi Huanjiao in the bamboo grove. Then to the cuckoo commended the magpie said, ' gathers the cordiality in the bird the bird, is willing you to grow old together. Cuckoo, when I was thinking when I have been suitable mother's heart, my heart extremely is happy, therefore I hear your Qi Huanming. When I thought I brought to sentiment elder brother to be obsolete, I heard your uneven wail. You said how is called me to manage, how manages, sometimes I as soon as was thinking my mother, the daddy, I alone on with fantasy in mother, the daddy speaks. Sometimes I as soon as was thinking my sentiment elder brother, I alone on speaks with fantasy in sentiment elder brother. At that time younger sister arrogant, is merry, this black 水 寨 person who doesn't praise, who doesn't praise your me is an inborn pair of phoenix. Who doesn't praise your me is an inborn pair of phoenix. This black 水 寨 person who doesn't praise, at that time younger sister arrogant, merry, at that time younger sister arrogant, is merry, this black 水 寨 person who doesn't praise, who doesn't praise your me is an inborn pair of phoenix. Has very many times, I on the life in the fantasy, that wealthy person came back me not to know. That wealthy person after is common I in to speak, often puts out a hand the daddy which pulls in my illusion, mother, pulls in my illusion sentiment elder brother, for this my sober Bai Xingai that wealthy person - 活 阎 王 many ear and the area around it, 活 阎 王 said I intentionally pay no attention to his this household head. 活 阎 王 meets the person to say my brain malfunctioned.
I meet the martial arts, that 活 阎 王 hits only me, asks the person to aim at my chest with the gun, bundled me gets up. The early morning listens to that to the cuckoo, in field jetty head Qi Huanjiao. A pair of magpie commended the cuckoo said, ' gathers the cordiality in the bird the bird, is willing you to grow old together.' The younger sister sees that to fall in love to the cuckoo intimate, remembered the before younger sister to enter the bamboo grove to climb, selected the small oil lamp to meet you to go me home. I just rubbed broke the bunch of my rope, you looked I am hit cut and bruised, I had to escape this living hell. In this world, I am do not dare to go home see my mother, sees me to injury like this, my mother does not irritate also fine the big sickness. My wound also is flowing the blood, I have already spread haemostatics to the wound. I already should suffer the evil person hungry three nights which is cut to pieces three days.
Endures, endures, if not were thinking must implicate me the daddy and mother, I really want to put a flare this living hell 烧 完 . Endures, endures, endures this wonderful huge shame, that incessant sea cannot clean in my mind the shame. Quickly runs away, quickly runs away, in the sky has resounded the startling thunderclap, weakly to extremely me, suddenly cheered the storm to rip open has imprisoned me the jail. I have become god of god of freedom the freedom, quick, quickly runs away to mine sentiment elder brother, quick, quick, quick, quick, quickly overtakes the footsteps which that fire dodges, listens, listens, the angry thunder greatly exploded in the sky, I have thrown down and broken in this room all antiques jade carving, the rumour suddenly in each place sound, the fire glistened more and more quickly, in my wilderness 逃 奔 , the cloud layer, was jumping over the pressure to be lower, suddenly a big thunderclap greatly exploded in the top of the head, free, the liberation joyful thunder greatly exploded in my mind, The big detonation, my heart finally lived, my heart thump rat-a-tat jumped not good frightens very much, in my wilderness was dashing, the electric light dashed about wildly on Ono.
The storm comes, the storm comes, listens, the might invincible storm has swayed all, the earth also had to swing as if by the storm turns. At that time younger sister arrogant, is merry, this black 水 寨 person who doesn't praise, who doesn't praise your me is an inborn pair of phoenix. At that time younger sister arrogant, is merry, this black 水 寨 person who doesn't praise, who doesn't praise your me is an inborn pair of phoenix. At that time younger sister arrogant, is merry, this black 水 寨 person who doesn't praise, who doesn't praise your me is an inborn pair of phoenix. I barefoot, in the lightning is running, the bang rumble, in the big detonation thunderclap is running, excited, trembles, also happy fears my crazy corona head, my positive image is escaping the reins the wild horse, dashes about wildly, dashes about wildly, dashes about wildly to that chaotic rain in dark deep place, god of the my this freedom is holding the mood which takes the blame and to infinite is happy crazily yearned for, flew this hump under, I was making a pilgrimage to a famous mountain temple fly, in that storm had a lamp, I knew that was a lamp which my sentiment elder brother selected, my sentiment elder brother was looking at the written thing.
My this rain person, is flying to mine sentiment elder brother, flies, flies, I am shouting loudly, I am shouting loudly, I 悲 喜 交 加 the tear, I 悲 喜 交 加 the tear, collected into the delightful storm, collected into the delightful storm, my unprecedented love was bringing complete universe calm wild with joy, was bringing throughout history calm wild with joy, my unprecedented love, was bringing complete universe calm wild with joy, was bringing throughout history calm wild with joy, my this rain person, was flying to mine sentiment elder brother, flew,
Flies the first draft to 2,002,11,4,4 finalizes a manuscript to 2002,11,4,7, [ 牛 郎 and 织 女 ] narrative poem Feng Wen the Shu - mulberry grove makes the first draft to 2,007, the Yuan,9,11,40 finalizes a manuscript to 2007, the Yuan,10,5,12
If commits suicide by fire the phoenix regenerates from the ashes, your that if the katydid, the blue cicada, the cuckoo trembles the heart to confuse the soul singing sound, causes me regenerates from pain and in the lonely grave. Expels the cold eternal universe dark night fiery dawn positive -- your this 织 女 , just and your six elder sisters swim in the lake, either the leap or steps on, pursues the entertainment, you and eldest sister water play. That mysterious water buffalo teaches I steals 织 女 clothes, very quick, I want 织 女 to throw embroider the ball to me, very quick, my this poor king had found 织 女 , may the stabbing pain young girls heart, cover the young girls not to be able to look my non- Qian Wushi. By now, my heart crazily jumped awfully, the blood has caught fire, I had to leap the universe to be wild with joy 绝 顶 , I went out the flowering shrubs which that hid, under the shore weeping willow's thick patch of grass which the dynasty swayed fly, stole 织 女 Bai Ruxue women's clothing. Let me stretch out the arms, Russia 织 女 the hug, I vainly hoped for I with 织 女 , 男 耕 女 织 am good. I must arrive outside Wan Zhongshan the Qingshui Jiang to go immediately, when - 织 女 swims while God most my daughter, steals its upper and lower garments, causes it to be unable the great power, then tries moves 织 女 the heart of a young woman.
That mysterious water buffalo only then tells me, said the God seven females, Chang Yong in that continually Qingshui Jiang's big lake, but this time roll of thunder, cloud burst, but who can know, in this moment my mind pain startling thunderclap, also must 凶 猛 than the space startling thunderclap, this beautiful hope is my weekend, arouses in my mind the long crazy painful startling thunderclap, wants the scrap as if my chest, I calm endure am dying to my big bombing. '
The revenge, the revenge, I must to your this pain revenge, ' in I dazzling electric light roar. I seized in my mind to spit 连 珠 the great thunder tiger's tail, ' now you must repay owe my debt, this debt -- was you has given me to die with deeply grieved, this moment, you had to turn heavy Gan Mi immediately the huge life and are happy, otherwise, I had to hang you on the universe big tree show the audiences '. I very good have used painful this great thing, with mine infinite pain, heavily created 蜜 甜 to be able to press turns the great ship the happy song, waits for big lake which I found 织 女 swims, after has stolen 织 女 the clothing, 织 女 was unable to fly the heavenly palace, by now I had to use this happy happy song moved 织 女 looking upon with favor, this time, after I recited this songer, my eye turned has burst into tears the spring, my mind 转 流 tear spring. ' This I intend to have by no means with the dark cloud female celestial match rain, truly is my revelry and proud, turned into the bead tears immediately, leaves my eye, the mind, has been in flood the universe, is more vast than the storm. After I create mine boundless pain distress Cheng Zheizhi to be happy heavily to Taishan's this happy song, by now, I got a light from another light dodge the female celestial to say like this. The thunder sound writings, unceasingly the big storm, three days, this might king's anger has not rested, although the beautiful hope has taken to me 1,000 deaths, but I still was longing for mystical distant place Gan Huang 织 女 , hopes to spin 织 女 very quickly becomes my forever mandarin duck companion wild goose partner's forever home to return to, the forever affiliation consoles, listens to the water buffalo to say, 织 女 was best, is beautiful 丽 都 , lively, temperate female celestial, my heart has flown black Wan Zhongshan, is inquiring to that day in star 织 女 arrives the world in the big lake to swim for a long time.
I have dreamed of by now heavily happy 织 女 , I have seized the smooth element arm which runs swiftly 织 女 , lets me lie down in your bosom, after I just like this said, the sudden dream broke, after happy has had the new pain, by now in my mind, was born a new painful tiger, this painful tiger, continued puts out the new 连 珠 great thunder, in that universe the thunderclap, the storm has not stopped, this, compared to in the nature big thunder also 凶 猛 my mind pain thunder, formerly also wanted wild 凶 猛 than, inexhaustible death, Has seized my mind, a wolf has seized a lamb as if, my mind, calm is enduring the inexhaustible death to my big bombing. By now, I longed for dissipated immediately surpasses me to endure patiently the limit the pain, but I 无 计 可 施 , only easily to use sang to summon me 织 女 , ' 织 女 , 织 女 ...... '
With the similar tonality, my lover's fine reputation is a strongman as if, can lift the body which I pitiful not helps, causes it not to submerge in the universe bottomless misery abyss, I on use to sing like this to summon my lover -- 织 女 , 织 女 ...... By now my lover's fine reputation was happy, the mysterious medicinal ointment, pastes in the mind which I broken is unable to withstand, the beautiful paper-cut window decoration pastes on the glass, reduced my pain, I on use to sing like this to summon my lover -- 织 女 , 织 女 ...... My lover 甘 美 the mysterious fine reputation, pastes in the mind which I broken is unable to withstand, the beautiful paper-cut window decoration pastes on the glass, reduced my pain, I on like this continuous with sing to summon my lover -- 织 女 , 织 女 ...... Had not known for a long time, that beautiful mercy small dream god has closed my eye, I had forgotten I receive painful this capital punishment, hovers in is peaceful, tranquil, delightful dream god state, the white pigeon hovers in the blue sky. New day has come, after the storm opens expands the heart the most beautiful weather, Lin Yejian the bird calls happily, is cheerful, may everywhere have the flowered tree to hang the tear, sighs woefully own many children, has been taken away by the storm the life. I ran swiftly that broken old thatched hut, I happy was calling, ' I free, I was free, That has gone into seclusion to in the earth under rock fire to dodge, comes out in a big hurry, I must use the fire to dodge make the place to ride, I must fly immediately to me 织 女 the side go, by now, I faced under the earth the rock loudly to yell, tend sheep the female dynasty pure white flock of sheep loudly to yell. My water buffalo is carrying me and my son, flew upwards, flies upwards that Baihe River's big wave to block the way, might the water buffalo Russia Russia get sick by now, was unable to fly a wave to inundate the cloud the Milky Way, cried, cried, I loudly wept bitterly, tear Tao collected into roars the milky way, let the milky way be more majestic. Listens, listens, could not open tearful eyes me which feels pain, by now heard to swing the soul happy immortal to be happy - ' comes, to let us be Liang for you, helped your fathers and sons to go to the heavenly palace to see 织 女 , ' surely only glistened the silver light green green magpie simultaneous like this sprinkled to me 甘 美 yelling, the timely rain. ' Lives, lives, ' I loudly cheer, under was the wave which the anger eats delicacies, I am pulling the son which just the academic society walked, in feather soft, was warm can run on the horse-drawn vehicle happy magpie bridge to front, to front, to front.
Acrobat in steel wire to front, to front, to front, ' Lingers with the heavenly palace compares, between my spouse, the world also has many misery, pitiful, alone, unfortunate person, I must arrive the world to help the distressed. The love is not a matter which my life only must do, ' by now, I 织 女 like this said to flower month equally sweet E. ' I lift both hands to approve you greatly rescue the misery the enterprise, ' opens the mouth nine to smile 织 女 said like this with the thrush bird sweet voice. ' Thank you to help me to frustrate your father, your father wanted me to become lost, but you gave my chicken feather, the change big cockerel, in each road fork, in each road fork, referred to the road for me, enable me to return to your side, your father deceived on me the danger danger Pine height thousand feet, the result I has not plunged to death and starves to death, was you beforehand gives my cloth to do 软 梯 , helped me to get down the tree, your father put the fire, had to burn me dies, you which had the foreknowledge gives me a big crab, Was this big crab has dug a water pool, I hid in the water pool, I have not only then thrown oneself burn down die. ' I to 织 女 said. ' Don't such said that, rescues you rescues I, ' 织 女 this soft and gentle words are bringing thousand barrels honey as if, took root in on my mind earth, 枸 tree's seed, took root on the earth, how do you speak, sing are also sweeter than ours honey, the envy honeybee said like this to me, ' the present, we might be loaf, looked, our this honeybee family, already yours speech and the song, collected in our spatial honey barrel, regarded as the match honey. We do not need in the wind to come in again the rain, when is severely cold or the intense summer heat, is the pollen, is tired out from the press.' '
Is I is flawless 织 女 , gives the sacred infinite sentiment I, this infinite sentiment and 织 女 thousand time of loves delight, in my mind, turned a super honeybee, therefore, my speech and the song honey has only then died you, lets you regenerate in the servant dream - you wants to be my family the servant. Really strange, is really strange, is not really has this matter.' After I said like this, honeybee queen and her subjects nods in abundance. I and 织 女 am charmed am not having to the high benevolent nature, the mystical nature has given me the life by the significance, the wisdom and the inexhaustible creativity is my spirit eternal life strut, is my first propelling force. ' With the nature compared to, your father too was small 渺 . You to my value, exceed your father's royal crown, but congealed your my painstaking care my happy song, exceeds the world all royal crowns.' I sit facing each other in front of ours thatched hut window 织 女 said like this. I 织 女 long live, I 织 女 long live, after I cheer like this, to 织 女 , around that Lin Niaoye sends out happy calls, that fog locks in the mountain valley newly passes cuckoo miserable crying out in grief. ' I am forming in one's mind to give to the beautiful nature the song, lets us arrive nature there to sojourn for a long time. ' I to am loving 织 女 said. ' Right, I also like this thought, on the belt you newly do the song makes the gift, gives to the nature.' I and 织 女 pray for heavenly blessing the nature, hopes the nature forever freely, the health, is cheerful happy Makes the lamp oil - god lamp with yours belief Feng Wen the Shu - mulberry grove does ' Selects the lamp to come, makes the lamp oil with yours belief, the hope which the enthusiasm and conquers the lamp lights, that swing which opens to your body inside is weeping and wailing don't again in the wave crest heavy load sad ship, ' lives in seclusion under the earth bursts into tears in the spring prophet to shout like this with the rock magma stress. ' lamp comes, makes the lamp oil with yours belief, the hope which the enthusiasm and conquers the lamp lights, that swing which opens to your body inside is weeping and wailing don't again in the wave crest heavy load sad ship, ' lives in seclusion under the earth bursts into tears in the spring prophet to shout like this with the rock magma stress. ' lamp comes, makes the lamp oil with your immortal belief, the hope which the enthusiasm and conquers the lamp lights, looked, but also does not need that rigid steel fork on the waist to hang all over the cask to patrol the sea green eyebrow 狼 眼 demon to break your chest to pull out your heart to make the food and wine, looked, you both do not have the shield and not to have the copper hammer the heart to expose in front of the demon eye, that demon face up is drinking, then just put in compared to a earth on mountain peak bigger demon the hand the space in the star kingdom, picked 99 stars sea equally big eyes to drink, This demon disliked food and wine insufficient, your 103 despair heart weeping and wailing, waits on the child compared to on liquor to smile without doubt shouted can cause the demon murderous intention, that just drank the next 108 barrels liquors the eye to shut hits the sleepy demon to approach as if own 100 that to sit the eye 103 hearts which finally forcefully opened arrow of on the desire inflamed cries to feel pain, the situation extremely was dangerous, by now, that demon picture grasped a peanut equally to grasp 103 hearts which the angry glare looked at each other, put on inside the gold table white jade plate, This demon unexpectedly must set up a tablet, will commemorate must make the food and wine in a moment 103 hearts, this demon will be grinding ink, by now ' went out bursts into tears the spring prophet to say like this, suddenly will draw out a pen from the sleeve, will out to kill the demon to that darkness in which loudly will roar to throw, will throw like the youth David's stone to giant song advantage Asia, only will see in an instant the thunderclap writings, will have the household utensils to bump the garrulous sound, this pen unexpectedly will change to makes the copper hammer which 103 shields and 103 pairs will glisten, will appear in the numerous hearts hand, this moment, will kill the sound writings, Suddenly,1,000 凶 恶 bigger demons rush, the demon is every time overthrown by the copper hammer, has the new 100 demons to come to reenforce, By now, was killing in the inextricably involved universe battlefield Russia 甫 to transmit the intense armed force drum sound, accompanied majestically is shocking hills the thunderclap, the more exciting armed force bugle call, that crazy dance fire dodged on the combat tank suddenly rolled down for the numerous hearts increase strength swings the chest the aid stress - ' to select the lamp to come, made the lamp oil with your immortal belief, the hope which the enthusiasm and conquered the lamp lights, and had to win the will with the desperately spirit to make your lamp the spirit, 话 音 刚 落 , that decision victory and defeat already 103 lamp bowls which lights, Illuminates this dark vast boundless battlefield, in each lamp suddenly jumps out the invincible wise brave warrior which 10,000 grasps the thunderclap, originally the will which and had to win the oneself desperately spirit compels into on the very 凶 猛 numerous hearts the lamp bowl, compelled into like Sun Wukong 昊 昊 the magical powers secret inside own memory rock, in each lamp suddenly jumped out the invincible wise brave warrior which 10,000 grasped the thunderclap, originally by now obtained brave warrior's aid on the very 凶 猛 numerous hearts which in the god lamp jumped out, simply was like the tiger adds the wing, by now, Only sees 1.03 million great is identical when to the demon chest throws, likes athlete's discus to throw after the hill, only sees at the same time which the dazzling electric light as soon as dodges,1.03 million big detonations great identical time scrap 1.03 million demons chests, the thunderclap rumbling rumbling has been disturbing the earth, throws oneself the rosefinch star by the thunder vibration sea water alienation, the Xuanwu star, the black dragon star, the white tiger star... This time, calmly carefreely and the brave warriors has changed in the grand fight holiday numerous hearts - has changed big -- with giant is same than numerous hearts the demon and the brave warrior compares, that demons simply are the ant equally diminutive ant - and the brave warrior compare with the giant same numerous hearts, By now, the war already was near the end, is killed by the copper hammer the demon, at least some 90,000, then by the great thunder scrap demon, some 9.27 million, only some several demons runs away to that twilight horizon, was having the demon which 90,000 fears trembled to kneel is lifting both hands to the numerous hearts and the brave warriors surrenders, some hearts closely pursued the demon which that ran away, Selects the lamp to come, makes the lamp oil with yours belief
poem by Starseven0 Starseven0
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The Undying One- Canto III
'THERE is a sound the autumn wind doth make
Howling and moaning, listlessly and low:
Methinks that to a heart that ought to break
All the earth's voices seem to murmur so.
The visions that crost
Our path in light--
The things that we lost
In the dim dark night--
The faces for which we vainly yearn--
The voices whose tones will not return--
That low sad wailing breeze doth bring
Borne on its swift and rushing wing.
Have ye sat alone when that wind was loud,
And the moon shone dim from the wintry cloud?
When the fire was quench'd on your lonely hearth,
And the voices were still which spoke of mirth?
If such an evening, tho' but one,
It hath been yours to spend alone--
Never,--though years may roll along
Cheer'd by the merry dance and song;
Though you mark'd not that bleak wind's sound before,
When louder perchance it used to roar--
Never shall sound of that wintry gale
Be aught to you but a voice of wail!
So o'er the careless heart and eye
The storms of the world go sweeping by;
But oh! when once we have learn'd to weep,
Well doth sorrow his stern watch keep.
Let one of our airy joys decay--
Let one of our blossoms fade away--
And all the griefs that others share
Seem ours, as well as theirs, to bear:
And the sound of wail, like that rushing wind
Shall bring all our own deep woe to mind!
'I went through the world, but I paused not now
At the gladsome heart and the joyous brow:
I went through the world, and I stay'd to mark
Where the heart was sore, and the spirit dark:
And the grief of others, though sad to see,
Was fraught with a demon's joy to me!
'I saw the inconstant lover come to take
Farewell of her he loved in better days,
And, coldly careless, watch the heart-strings break--
Which beat so fondly at his words of praise.
She was a faded, painted, guilt-bow'd thing,
Seeking to mock the hues of early spring,
When misery and years had done their worst
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poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Isabella or The Pot of Basil
I.
Fair Isabel, poor simple Isabel!
Lorenzo, a young palmer in Love's eye!
They could not in the self-same mansion dwell
Without some stir of heart, some malady;
They could not sit at meals but feel how well
It soothed each to be the other by;
They could not, sure, beneath the same roof sleep
But to each other dream, and nightly weep.
II.
With every morn their love grew tenderer,
With every eve deeper and tenderer still;
He might not in house, field, or garden stir,
But her full shape would all his seeing fill;
And his continual voice was pleasanter
To her, than noise of trees or hidden rill;
Her lute-string gave an echo of his name,
She spoilt her half-done broidery with the same.
III.
He knew whose gentle hand was at the latch,
Before the door had given her to his eyes;
And from her chamber-window he would catch
Her beauty farther than the falcon spies;
And constant as her vespers would he watch,
Because her face was turn'd to the same skies;
And with sick longing all the night outwear,
To hear her morning-step upon the stair.
IV.
A whole long month of May in this sad plight
Made their cheeks paler by the break of June:
"To morrow will I bow to my delight,
"To-morrow will I ask my lady's boon."--
"O may I never see another night,
"Lorenzo, if thy lips breathe not love's tune."--
So spake they to their pillows; but, alas,
Honeyless days and days did he let pass;
V.
Until sweet Isabella's untouch'd cheek
Fell sick within the rose's just domain,
Fell thin as a young mother's, who doth seek
By every lull to cool her infant's pain:
"How ill she is," said he, "I may not speak,
"And yet I will, and tell my love all plain:
"If looks speak love-laws, I will drink her tears,
"And at the least 'twill startle off her cares."
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poem by John Keats
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King Arthur's Tomb
Hot August noon: already on that day
Since sunrise through the Wiltshire downs, most sad
Of mouth and eye, he had gone leagues of way;
Ay and by night, till whether good or bad
He was, he knew not, though he knew perchance
That he was Launcelot, the bravest knight
Of all who since the world was, have borne lance,
Or swung their swords in wrong cause or in right.
Nay, he knew nothing now, except that where
The Glastonbury gilded towers shine,
A lady dwelt, whose name was Guenevere;
This he knew also; that some fingers twine,
Not only in a man's hair, even his heart,
(Making him good or bad I mean,) but in his life,
Skies, earth, men's looks and deeds, all that has part,
Not being ourselves, in that half-sleep, half-strife,
(Strange sleep, strange strife,) that men call living; so
Was Launcelot most glad when the moon rose,
Because it brought new memories of her. "Lo,
Between the trees a large moon, the wind lows
"Not loud, but as a cow begins to low,
Wishing for strength to make the herdsman hear:
The ripe corn gathereth dew; yea, long ago,
In the old garden life, my Guenevere
"Loved to sit still among the flowers, till night
Had quite come on, hair loosen'd, for she said,
Smiling like heaven, that its fairness might
Draw up the wind sooner to cool her head.
"Now while I ride how quick the moon gets small,
As it did then: I tell myself a tale
That will not last beyond the whitewashed wall,
Thoughts of some joust must help me through the vale,
"Keep this till after: How Sir Gareth ran
A good course that day under my Queen's eyes,
And how she sway'd laughing at Dinadan.
No. Back again, the other thoughts will rise,
"And yet I think so fast 'twill end right soon:
Verily then I think, that Guenevere,
Made sad by dew and wind, and tree-barred moon,
Did love me more than ever, was more dear
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poem by William Morris
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