The Naked Truth
Morality is a disease
That brings the Faithful to their knees,
They think my bum should feel the birch
For smoking cigarettes in Church,
So I respond by being crude
And singing carols in the nude.
It makes them livid, but don't they see
I just can't stand hypocrisy! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Related quotes
Smile Please
A smiling face is on earth like star
A frown cant bring out the beauty that you are
Love within and youll begin smiling...
Therere brighter days ahead
Dont mess your face up with better tears
cause life is gonna be what it is
Its okay, please dont delay from smiling...
Therere brighter days ahead
Bum
Bum bum di ti bum
Bum bum di ti bum
Bum bum di ti bum
Di ti bum
Bum bum di ti bum
Bum bum di ti bum
Bum bum di ti bum
A smiling face you dont have to see
cause its as joyful as a christmas tree
Love within and youll begin smiling...
Therere brighter days ahead
Loves not competing its on your side
Youre in life picture so why must you cry
So for a friend please begin to smile - please
Therere brighter days ahead
Bum
Bum bum di ti bum
Bum bum di ti bum
Bum bum di ti bum
Please smile for me
Bum
Bum bum di ti bum
Bum bum di ti bum
Bum bum di ti bum
Please smile for me
Bum - smile
Bum
Bum bum di ti bum
Bum bum di ti bum
Bum bum di ti bum
song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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Best Man
I was getting fed up
With all your dipping out with every girl around town
You know what I'm talking 'bout
Cause you've been caught
And I forgave you many times
But now I slipped up
And while your friend was around
I gave him a taste of my love
I know that I broke your trust for a night of lust
But don't let that break us up
1 - Charge it to the game baby
I know what's going on when you say your alone
And you won't pick up the phone
Charge it to the game baby
You can't even hate
Don't get up in my face
Cause your boy got a taste
2 - He is your best man, your best friend
I guess you didn't know that I had him
I know that you hate that
It's like that
You were the best but yet he ain't so bad
Repeat 2
I needed a shoulder to cry on
But I got more than a shoulder that night
I know that you're mad and you're angry
Who gives a damn?
You didn't treat me right
You know that I love you
More than anything, you are the center of my life
It was just tit for tat, a little pay back
Let it go and leave it like that
Repeat 1
Repeat 2 (2x)
So many times you broke my heart
I never thought that it would heal
So I decided to return the pain
You always make me feel
Now I won't try to justify
What I did but I'll tell you why
If you think someone else is in my life
Then maybe you'll treat me right, yeah
Bum, bum, bum
Bum, bum, bum
Bum, bum, bum, bum
Bum, bum, bum
Bum, bum, bum
Bum, bum, bum, bum, bum
Bum, bum, bum
Bum, bum, bum
[...] Read more
song performed by Faith Evans
Added by Lucian Velea
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Many People Hate To Make A Ripple
Not many people beating on their own drum.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Not many people making music they hum.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Cause many people hate to make a ripple.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Many people hate to make a ripple.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Clinging on a moan and a whine all the time.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Complaining to their neighbors and their neighbors don't mind.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Cause many people hate to make a ripple.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Many people hate to make a ripple.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Not many people beating on their own drum.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Not many people making music they hum.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Cause many people hate to make a ripple.
Bumma dum bum.
Bumma dum bum.
Cause many people hate to make a ripple.
Bumma dum bum.
[...] Read more
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Little Drummer Boy
Rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum
Come they told me
Pa rum pum pum pum (ba bum)
A new born king to see (ba bum)
Pa rum pum pum pum (ba bum)
Our finest gifts we bring
Pa rum pum pum pum (ba bum)
Rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum (ba bum)
Little (little) baby
Pa rum pum pum pum (ba bum)
I am a poor boy too
Pa rum pum pum pum (ba bum)
I have no gift to bring
Pa rum pum pum pum (ba bum)
(ooohh)
Thats fit to give our king
Pa rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum
Then he smiled
Smiled at me!
Mary nodded
Pa rum pum pum pum (ba bum)
The ox and lamb kept time
Pa rum pum pum pum
I played my drum for him
Pa rum pum pum pum
I played my best for him
Pa rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum
Rum pum pum pum (ba bum)
Me and my drum...
Rum bum bum bum
Rum bum bum bum
Rum bum bum bum
Me and my drum (oh)
Rum bum bum bum
Rum bum bum bum
Rum bum bum bum
Me and my (me and my, me and my...)
Drum...
song performed by Vanessa Williams
Added by Lucian Velea
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Smokin The Herb Again
Yo yo yo, yo, yo yo what
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Damn, I really wish I could find my sack man
Must have got eaten by pac-man
If I had it I could smoke again
Smoke with my friends to the very end
But now Im trying to comprehend
Whens the next time that Ill smoke again
I need to know, please tell when will we smoke again
I got a buddy, his name is ted
Hes got a problem going through his head
He doesnt know how to puff puff give
But I like so Ill teach him and Ill let him live
Everyday we teach him right
When he divides, we have to fight
But at the end of the trying day
We says its ok and we puff away
Just the other night, I saw you, you were smokin not sharing and being tight
But thats ok, you are my friend, well smoking until the very end
The lessons that we put out, we order you to try it out
Its nice to smoke, yea thats what were all about
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Hey, ho, hey ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho
I smoke, you smoke, we smoke, they smoke, smoking everywhere
I smoke, you smoke, we smoke, they smoke, smoking all together
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
song performed by Incubus
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Rain
(rock the joint)
Me i'm supa fly (uh-huh)
Supa dupa fly (uh-huh)
Supa dupa fly
{singing} i can't stand the rain!
(uh) me i'm supa fly (uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window
Supa dupa fly (uh-huh)
Supa dupa fly
{singing} i can't stand the rain!
(uh) me i'm supa fly (uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window
Supa dupa fly (uh-huh)
Supa dupa fly
{singing} i can't stand the rain!
(uh-huh) me i'm supa fly (uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window
When the rain hits my window
I take and {inhale, cough} me some indo
Me and timbaland, ooh, we sang a jangle
We so tight, that you get our styles tango
Sway on dosie-do like you loco
{singing} can we get kinky tonight?
Like coco, so-so
You don't wanna play with my yo-yo
I smoke my hydro on the dee-low
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (against my window)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (against my window)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (against my window)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (say what?)
Yeah..
Beep beep, who got the keys to the jeep? v-r-rrrrrrrooooom!
(uh-huh) i'm drivin to the beach
Top down, loud sounds, see my peeps (uhh)
Give them pounds, now look who it be (who it be)
It be me me me and timothy (me me!)
Look like it's bout to rain, what a shame (uh-huh)
I got the armor-all to shine up the stain
Oh missy, try to maintain
Icky-icky-icky-icky-icky-icky-icky..
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
(uh-huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (say what? uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (uh-huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (yeah)
[...] Read more
song performed by Missy Elliott
Added by Lucian Velea
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Whatever
Im liking you too much
Dont take advantage of
My tender heart and everything about me
In giving you my trust
Im giving you my love
So do take care, please be gentle with my heart
cause everything I do is bout you, baby
Baby, I dont wanna be apart, ooh
Ive been loving you from the start
Heres my heart, heres my heart
Everything I do is all about you, baby
Whatever you do, whatever you think
I look in your eyes
You dont know how my heart aches
Whatever you say, whatever could mean
Youre breaking my heart
I want it all the time, I want it every night
I cant stop thinking, cant stop thinking about you
Im burning with desire, my heart and soul on fire
So do take care, please be careful with my heart
(bum, bum, bum) anything you do, I crave it, baby, baby, baby
(bum, bum, bum) I cant get you out a my mind
(bum, bum, bum) loving you I cant deny youre in my heart
(bum, bum, bum) deep inside, everything I do is all about you, baby
Whatever you do, whatever you think
I look in your eyes
You dont know how my heart aches
Whatever you say, whatever could mean
Youre breaking my heart
I maybe a fool for you, baby
Well, I cant help myself
Maybe Im too in love
What else can I do but go crazy
For your love, boy, Id give anything
(bum, bum, bum)
(bum, bum, bum)
(ho?h?h
Whatever you do, whatever you think
I look in your eyes
You dont know how my heart aches
Whatever you say, whatever could mean
Youre breaking my heart
Whatever you do, whatever you think
I look in your eyes
You dont know how my heart aches
Whatever you say, whatever could mean
Youre breaking my heart
Whatever you do, whatever you think
I look in your eyes
You dont know how my heart aches
[...] Read more
song performed by En Vogue
Added by Lucian Velea
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Come Back To Me My Love
Orbison/melson
Bum bum bum da de da oh oh oh yeah yeah
Bum bum bum da de da ah come back to me my love
Come back to me
16 years ago today early one sunday morn
Just before the break of day a cute little girl was born
From that very moment on her lifes been gay and free
Laughing eyes and loving ways as sweet as she could be
Bum bum bum da de da oh oh oh yeah yeah
Bum bum bum da de da ah come back to me my love
Come back to me
We had a quarrel I cant forget the night I made her cry
Her tender heart just fell apart as she said good-bye
Now today is her birthday my babys sweet 16
But someone else is in my place to hold my every dream
Bum bum bum da de da oh oh oh yeah yeah
Bum bum bum da de da ah come back to me my love
Come back to me
song performed by Roy Orbison
Added by Lucian Velea
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XI. Guido
You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Father O. S. A.
Written by dennis deyoung
Lead vocals by dennis deyoung
Father
Youre a sad old man
Your tawdry vest is gray
Memories
Of a former man
Are all your words convey
Father
Oh cant you see
The tarnished robe you wear
A crown
For fools
The people laugh
You never seem to hear
Father
Youre lifes a ship
Thats never been to sea
The bottle
That surrounds your life
Youll sail eternally
[keyboard solo]
Children
Please understand
A man must stand alone
And face a world
Hell never know
And never call his own
Ba ba bum bum
Ba ba bum bum
Ba ba bum bum
Ba ba bum bum
Ba ba bum bum
Ba ba bum bum
Ba ba bum bum
Ba ba bum bum
[continue echo]
Father
Father
Father
Father
Father
Father
[continue echo]
song performed by Styx
Added by Lucian Velea
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Do Not Wanna Bum
Do not wanna bum...
Cigarettes or money.
Do not wanna bum...
Gloom, keep it sunny.
Do not wanna bum,
From those in a slump.
Or she said he said,
Stuff to dump!
Do not wanna bum...
From boo hoo doers.
Do not wanna bum...
From folks near sewers.
Do not wanna bum...
From a sweetened tongue,
With game to run!
Penny pinch and do it deeper.
Keep your head from weeping teachers.
Or those with nothing else to do.
But share bad news to give to you.
Refuse to sing duets...
With those who moan,
In times that test!
And choose not to bum...
Cigarettes or money.
Refuse the gloom that comes.
Try to keep it sunny.
You don't wanna bum...
From those in a slump.
Or pick up stuff they wanna dump!
Do not wanna bum.
Say no!
Do not wanna bum.
Say no!
Do not wanna bum.
Say no!
Say no not me I'm not the one!
To bum.
Say no!
I'm not gonna bum.
Say no!
I'm not gonna bum.
Say no!
And do your best not to be undone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Hind And The Panther, A Poem In Three Parts : Part II.
“Dame,” said the Panther, “times are mended well,
Since late among the Philistines you fell.
The toils were pitched, a spacious tract of ground
With expert huntsmen was encompassed round;
The inclosure narrowed; the sagacious power
Of hounds and death drew nearer every hour.
'Tis true, the younger lion 'scaped the snare,
But all your priestly calves lay struggling there,
As sacrifices on their altars laid;
While you, their careful mother, wisely fled,
Not trusting destiny to save your head.
For, whate'er promises you have applied
To your unfailing Church, the surer side
Is four fair legs in danger to provide;
And whate'er tales of Peter's chair you tell,
Yet, saving reverence of the miracle,
The better luck was yours to 'scape so well.”
“As I remember,” said the sober Hind,
“Those toils were for your own dear self designed,
As well as me; and with the selfsame throw,
To catch the quarry and the vermin too,—
Forgive the slanderous tongues that called you so.
Howe'er you take it now, the common cry
Then ran you down for your rank loyalty.
Besides, in Popery they thought you nurst,
As evil tongues will ever speak the worst,
Because some forms, and ceremonies some
You kept, and stood in the main question dumb.
Dumb you were born indeed; but, thinking long,
The test, it seems, at last has loosed your tongue:
And to explain what your forefathers meant,
By real presence in the sacrament,
After long fencing pushed against a wall,
Your salvo comes, that he's not there at all:
There changed your faith, and what may change may fall.
Who can believe what varies every day,
Nor ever was, nor will be at a stay?”
“Tortures may force the tongue untruths to tell,
And I ne'er owned myself infallible,”
Replied the Panther: “grant such presence were,
Yet in your sense I never owned it there.
A real virtue we by faith receive,
And that we in the sacrament believe.”
“Then,” said the Hind, “as you the matter state,
Not only Jesuits can equivocate;
For real, as you now the word expound,
From solid substance dwindles to a sound.
Methinks, an Æsop's fable you repeat;
You know who took the shadow for the meat:
Your Church's substance thus you change at will,
[...] Read more
poem by John Dryden
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II
THE ARGUMENT
The Saints engage in fierce Contests
About their Carnal interests;
To share their sacrilegious Preys,
According to their Rates of Grace;
Their various Frenzies to reform,
When Cromwel left them in a Storm
Till, in th' Effigy of Rumps, the Rabble
Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal.
THE learned write, an insect breeze
Is but a mungrel prince of bees,
That falls before a storm on cows,
And stings the founders of his house;
From whose corrupted flesh that breed
Of vermin did at first proceed.
So e're the storm of war broke out,
Religion spawn'd a various rout
Of petulant Capricious sects,
The maggots of corrupted texts,
That first run all religion down,
And after ev'ry swarm its own.
For as the Persian Magi once
Upon their mothers got their sons,
That were incapable t' enjoy
That empire any other way;
So PRESBYTER begot the other
Upon the good old Cause, his mother,
Then bore then like the Devil's dam,
Whose son and husband are the same.
And yet no nat'ral tie of blood
Nor int'rest for the common good
Cou'd, when their profits interfer'd,
Get quarter for each other's beard.
For when they thriv'd, they never fadg'd,
But only by the ears engag'd:
Like dogs that snarl about a bone,
And play together when they've none,
As by their truest characters,
Their constant actions, plainly appears.
Rebellion now began, for lack
Of zeal and plunders to grow slack;
The Cause and covenant to lessen,
And Providence to b' out of season:
For now there was no more to purchase
O' th' King's Revenue, and the Churches,
But all divided, shar'd, and gone,
That us'd to urge the Brethren on;
Which forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause,
[...] Read more
poem by Samuel Butler
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi
Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sex & The Church
Though the idea of compassion
Is said to be
The union of christ
And his bride, the christian
Its all very puzzling
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
All the great mystic religions
Put strong emphasis, on
Redeame this spiritual qualities
Of sex of sex
Chrstianity
Has been pretty modern
About sex
Of sex of sex of sex of sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
I think there is a union
Between the flesh and the spirit
Its sex and the church
Sex and the church
All religions mother
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Give me youre freedom of spirit
And the joys of the flesh
Of sex sex sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
Sex and the church
And the church
And the church
Sex sex
Sex and the church
[...] Read more
song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hes Misstra Know-it-all
Hes a man
With a plan
Got a counterfeit dollar in his hand
Hes misstra know-it-all
Playin hard
Talkin fast
Makin sure that he wont be the last
Hes misstra know-it-all
Makes a deal
With a smile
Knowin all the time that his lies a mile
Hes misstra know-it-all
Must be seen
Theres no doubt
Hes the coolest one with the biggest mouth
Hes misstra know-it-all
If you tell him hes livin fast
He will say what do you know
If you had my kind of cash
Youd have more than one place to go oh
Oou... oou... oou oou... oou...
Any place
He will play
His only concern is how much youll pay
Hes misstra know-it-all
If he shakes
On a bet
Hes the kind of dude that wont pay his debt
Hes misstra know-it-all
When you say that hes livin wrong
Hell tell you he knows hes livin right
And youd be a stronger man
If you took misstra know-lt-alls advice oh oh
Oou... oou... oou oou... oou...
Hes the man
With a plan
Got a counterfeit dollar in his hand
Hes misstra know-it-all
Take my work
Please beware
Of a man that just dont give a care no
Hes misstra know-it-all (look out hes coming)
Dum bum bum ba bum bum,
Dum bum bum ba bum bum
Bum bum bum bum bum say
Hes misstra know-it-all
Can this line
Take his hand
Take your hat off to the man whos got the plan
Hes misstra know-it-all
[...] Read more
song performed by Stevie Wonder
Added by Lucian Velea
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VII. Pompilia
I am just seventeen years and five months old,
And, if I lived one day more, three full weeks;
'T is writ so in the church's register,
Lorenzo in Lucina, all my names
At length, so many names for one poor child,
—Francesca Camilla Vittoria Angela
Pompilia Comparini,—laughable!
Also 't is writ that I was married there
Four years ago: and they will add, I hope,
When they insert my death, a word or two,—
Omitting all about the mode of death,—
This, in its place, this which one cares to know,
That I had been a mother of a son
Exactly two weeks. It will be through grace
O' the Curate, not through any claim I have;
Because the boy was born at, so baptized
Close to, the Villa, in the proper church:
A pretty church, I say no word against,
Yet stranger-like,—while this Lorenzo seems
My own particular place, I always say.
I used to wonder, when I stood scarce high
As the bed here, what the marble lion meant,
With half his body rushing from the wall,
Eating the figure of a prostrate man—
(To the right, it is, of entry by the door)
An ominous sign to one baptized like me,
Married, and to be buried there, I hope.
And they should add, to have my life complete,
He is a boy and Gaetan by name—
Gaetano, for a reason,—if the friar
Don Celestine will ask this grace for me
Of Curate Ottoboni: he it was
Baptized me: he remembers my whole life
As I do his grey hair.
All these few things
I know are true,—will you remember them?
Because time flies. The surgeon cared for me,
To count my wounds,—twenty-two dagger-wounds,
Five deadly, but I do not suffer much—
Or too much pain,—and am to die to-night.
Oh how good God is that my babe was born,
—Better than born, baptized and hid away
Before this happened, safe from being hurt!
That had been sin God could not well forgive:
He was too young to smile and save himself.
When they took two days after he was born,
My babe away from me to be baptized
And hidden awhile, for fear his foe should find,—
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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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V. Count Guido Franceschini
Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!
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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Ancient Banner
In boundless mercy, the Redeemer left,
The bosom of his Father, and assumed
A servant's form, though he had reigned a king,
In realms of glory, ere the worlds were made,
Or the creating words, 'Let there be light'
In heaven were uttered. But though veiled in flesh,
His Deity and his Omnipotence,
Were manifest in miracles. Disease
Fled at his bidding, and the buried dead
Rose from the sepulchre, reanimate,
At his command, or, on the passing bier
Sat upright, when he touched it. But he came,
Not for this only, but to introduce
A glorious dispensation, in the place
Of types and shadows of the Jewish code.
Upon the mount, and round Jerusalem,
He taught a purer, and a holier law,—
His everlasting Gospel, which is yet
To fill the earth with gladness; for all climes
Shall feel its influence, and shall own its power.
He came to suffer, as a sacrifice
Acceptable to God. The sins of all
Were laid upon Him, when in agony
He bowed upon the cross. The temple's veil
Was rent asunder, and the mighty rocks,
Trembled, as the incarnate Deity,
By his atoning blood, opened that door,
Through which the soul, can have communion with
Its great Creator; and when purified,
From all defilements, find acceptance too,
Where it can finally partake of all
The joys of His salvation.
But the pure Church he planted,—the pure Church
Which his apostles watered,—and for which,
The blood of countless martyrs freely flowed,
In Roman Amphitheatres,—on racks,—
And in the dungeon's gloom,—this blessed Church,
Which grew in suffering, when it overspread
Surrounding nations, lost its purity.
Its truth was hidden, and its light obscured
By gross corruption, and idolatry.
As things of worship, it had images,
And even painted canvas was adored.
It had a head and bishop, but this head
Was not the Saviour, but the Pope of Rome.
Religion was a traffic. Men defiled,
Professed to pardon sin, and even sell,
The joys of heaven for money,—and to raise
Souls out of darkness to eternal light,
For paltry silver lavished upon them.
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poem by Anonymous Americas
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I. The Ring and the Book
Do you see this Ring?
'T is Rome-work, made to match
(By Castellani's imitative craft)
Etrurian circlets found, some happy morn,
After a dropping April; found alive
Spark-like 'mid unearthed slope-side figtree-roots
That roof old tombs at Chiusi: soft, you see,
Yet crisp as jewel-cutting. There's one trick,
(Craftsmen instruct me) one approved device
And but one, fits such slivers of pure gold
As this was,—such mere oozings from the mine,
Virgin as oval tawny pendent tear
At beehive-edge when ripened combs o'erflow,—
To bear the file's tooth and the hammer's tap:
Since hammer needs must widen out the round,
And file emboss it fine with lily-flowers,
Ere the stuff grow a ring-thing right to wear.
That trick is, the artificer melts up wax
With honey, so to speak; he mingles gold
With gold's alloy, and, duly tempering both,
Effects a manageable mass, then works:
But his work ended, once the thing a ring,
Oh, there's repristination! Just a spirt
O' the proper fiery acid o'er its face,
And forth the alloy unfastened flies in fume;
While, self-sufficient now, the shape remains,
The rondure brave, the lilied loveliness,
Gold as it was, is, shall be evermore:
Prime nature with an added artistry—
No carat lost, and you have gained a ring.
What of it? 'T is a figure, a symbol, say;
A thing's sign: now for the thing signified.
Do you see this square old yellow Book, I toss
I' the air, and catch again, and twirl about
By the crumpled vellum covers,—pure crude fact
Secreted from man's life when hearts beat hard,
And brains, high-blooded, ticked two centuries since?
Examine it yourselves! I found this book,
Gave a lira for it, eightpence English just,
(Mark the predestination!) when a Hand,
Always above my shoulder, pushed me once,
One day still fierce 'mid many a day struck calm,
Across a Square in Florence, crammed with booths,
Buzzing and blaze, noontide and market-time,
Toward Baccio's marble,—ay, the basement-ledge
O' the pedestal where sits and menaces
John of the Black Bands with the upright spear,
'Twixt palace and church,—Riccardi where they lived,
His race, and San Lorenzo where they lie.
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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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