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Shayaris (In Hindi...)

1.
Tumhare dil ne dastak dee
Lo hum aa gaye,
Tumhare isi ada pe
Hum toh ghayal ho gaye

2.
Aankhon ke saamne rehta hain
Bus tera he chehra
Tere liye he bani hoon
Saja lena tum ab sehra!

3.
Paani ke ek boondh ki tarah
Tum mere dil se beh gaye
Lekin inn aankhon par
Hazaron boondh chod gaye!

4.
Yeh nigahe badi tez hain
Ek din tumhe khoj lengi,
Na behne dena aansu inse
Yeh hamari jaan le lengi!

5.
Kal ka kya bharosa
Kyu na taqdeer ko aaj he aazma le
Aaj he mein khush raho yaro
Kya pata, kal ho na ho!

poem by Kavita Iyer
Added by Poetry Lover
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Dah Dee Dah

yeah, yeah, yeah.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Yeah, yeah, yeah.
(woo ahh)
Dah dee dah, dah dah dah dee dah.
Dah dee dah, dah dah dah dee dah.
(by ya dah)
(woo ahh)
Dah dee dah, dah dah dah dee dah.
Dah dee dah, dah dah dah dee dah.
(uh)
Sexy thing,
I can do anything, cuz constantly,
(constantly)
I'm think of how to get you next to me.
(next to me)
Maybe it's their playing your mentality.
(ohh)
Ooh...
Dah dee dah, dah dah dah dee dah.
(by ya dah)
Dah dee dah, dah dah dah dee dah.
(mmm i can't explain)
Dah dee dah, dah dah dah dee dah.
(why i feel this way)
Dah dee dah, dah dah dah dee dah.
(i don't know, loving you)
Sexy thing, (yeah, yeah)
You can't hide the feelings that are deep inside.
(deep inside)
I can see it pouring through them pretty eyes.
(pretty eyes)
How much longer can you hide it, this disguise.
(not much)
Ooh...
You givin' this feelin',
(this feelin')
You're gonna be yearnin',
(gonna be yearnin')
I hope you know i'm what you need.
(i'm what you need. i'm what you need)
Just lemme tell ya,
(lemme tell ya)
There's no one for ya.
(uh uh)
There's no one for ya but me.
(no, no...)
No, no
Dah dee dah, dah dah dah dee dah.

[...] Read more

song performed by Alicia Keys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah

Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
Zip-A-Dee-A
Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
Zip-A-Dee-A
Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
Zip-A-Dee-A
My oh my, what a wonderful day
Plenty of sunshine heading my way
Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
Zip-A-Dee-A
Zip-Zip-Zip Oooh, Zip
Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
Zip-A-Dee-A
My oh my, what a wonderful day
Plenty of sunshine heading my way
Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
Zip-A-Dee-A
Mister bluebird on my shoulder
It's the truth
It's factual
Everything is satisfactual
Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
Zip-A-Dee-A
Wonderful feeling
Wonderful day
Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
(Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah)
Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-A
(Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-A)
Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
(Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah)
Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-A
(Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-A)
Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
Zip-A-Dee-A
Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
Zip-A-Dee-A
Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
Zip-A-Dee-A
Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
Zip
Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
(Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah)
Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-A
(Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-A)
Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah
(Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah)
Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-A
(Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-A)
Zip-Zip-Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah

[...] Read more

song performed by Paula Abdul
Added by Lucian Velea
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Beating On Your Drum With A Conscious Done

Beating with a meaning when you come,
Thumping on your drum!
Bummy dee bum dee bum.
Beating with a meaning when you come,
Thumping on your drum!
Bummy dee bum dee bum.
Bummy dee bum dee bum.

Bummy dee bummy dee bummy dum!

When you come.
Beating on your drum with a conscious done.
Know your parade has faded.
When you come.
Know each beat you keep is overdone.
No one there is left to feel,
The zest and zeal you hope appeals.

Bummy dee bummy dee bummy dum!
Bummy dee bummy dee bummy dum!
Bummy dee bummy dee bummy dum!
Bummy dee the dummies when all dummies have gone.
Bummy dee the dummies when the dummies run!

Bummy dee bummy dee bummy dum!
Bummy dee bummy dee bummy dum!
Bummy dee bummy dee bummy dum!
Bummy dee the dummies when all dummies have gone.
Bummy dee the dummies when the dummies run!
Bummy dee the dummies with the honey and the money.

When you come.
Beating on your drum with a conscious done.
Know your parade has faded.
When you come.
Know each beat you keep is overdone.
No one there is left to feel,
The zest and zeal you hope appeals.

Bummy dee bummy dee bummy dum!
Bummy dee the dummies when the dummies run!
Bummy dee the dummies with the honey and the money.

Bummy dee bummy dee bummy dum!
Bummy dee the dummies when the dummies run!
Bummy dee the dummies with the honey and the money.

Beating on your drum with a conscious done.
Bummy dee the dummies with the honey and the money.
Beating on your drum with a conscious done

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Hooray Hooray

=================================================
Boney M - Hooray! Hooray! (It's A Holi-holiday)
=================================================
Diggy di di doo diggy diggy di doo (hi dee hi dee ho)
Diggy di di doo diggy diggy di di (hi dee hi dee ho)
Diggy di di doo diggy diggy di di (hi dee hi dee ho)
Diggy di di doo diggy diggy di doo (hi dee hi dee ho)
Theres place I know where we should go (hi dee hi dee ho)
Wont you take me there, your lady fair (hi dee hi dee ho)
Theres a brook nearby, the grass grows high (hi dee hi dee ho)
Where we both can hide side by side (hi dee hi dee ho)
Hooray, hooray, its a holi-holiday
What a world of fun for everyone, holi-holiday
Hooray, hooray, its a holi-holiday
Sing a summer song, skip along, holi-holiday
Its a holi-holiday
Theres a country fair not far from there (hi dee hi dee ho)
On a carousels the ding-dong bell (hi dee hi dee ho)
On the loop-di-loop well swing and swoop (hi dee hi dee ho)
And what else well do is up to you (hi dee hi dee ho)
Hooray, hooray, its a holi-holiday
What a world of fun for everyone, holi-holiday
Hooray, hooray, its a holi-holiday
Sing a summer song, skip along, holi-holiday
Its a holi-holiday
Well, Im game, fun is the thing Im after
Now lets all live it up today, get set for love and laughter
Well, lets go, time isnt here for wasting
Life is so full of sweet sweet things, Id like to do some tasting
Hooray, hooray, its a holi-holiday
What a world of fun for everyone, holi-holiday
Hooray, hooray, its a holi-holiday
Sing a summer song, skip along, holi-holiday
Its a holi-holiday
On the country side well take a ride (hi dee hi dee ho)
Where the stars all shine and lots of time (hi dee hi dee ho)
Back of your old car we might get far (hi dee hi dee ho)
In the summer breeze we feel at ease (hi dee hi dee ho)
Hooray, hooray, its a holi-holiday
What a world of fun for everyone, holi-holiday
Hooray, hooray, its a holi-holiday
Sing a summer song, skip along, holi-holiday
Its a holi-holiday, its a holi-holiday

song performed by Boney M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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Boathouse

I would rather be at the boathouse, out of the daily grind
Id sooner be down at the boathouse, what a way to unwind
Now I dont wanna know how it feels to be set back
So Im leavin here on a one-way track
Id rather be in mosquito alley, out of my right hand lane
You should see my mosquiot tally, all that moves is fair game
Now I dont wanna know how it feels not to be loose
So Im leavin here on the first caboose
So Im leavin here on the first caboose
I cant sleep by a gentle ocean, I cant sleep my a water fall
I cant sleep by a lovely river. I cant sleep. I cant sleep
Dee dee dee, dee dee dee, dee dee dee dee
I would rather sleep at the boathouse, what more can I say
Id soon eat down at the boathouse, let it carry me away
Now I dont wanna know how it feels to step aside
So Im leavin here on a wicked ride
Or I could be back at the alehouse, with a flagon or two
A few blocks south of the jailhouse, with a hole in my shoe
Now I dont wanna know how it feels to stop a truck
So Im leavin here and wishin you good luck
Im leavin here and wishin you good luck
I cant sleep by a gentle ocean, I cant sleep my a water fall
I cant sleep by a lovely river. I cant sleep. I cant sleep
Dee dee dee, dee dee dee, dee dee dee dee
Id rather be in mosquito alley, keepin spiders in line
Id sooner be down at the boathouse, what a way to unwind
Now I dont wanna know how it feels not to be loose
So Im leavin here on the first caboose
Im leavin here on the first caboose
Dee dee dee, dee dee dee, dee dee dee dee

song performed by Gordon Lightfoot
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hippo's Hope

There once was a hippo who wanted to fly --
Fly-hi-dee, try-hi-dee, my-hi-dee-ho.
So he sewed him some wings that could flap through the sky --
Sky-hi-dee, fly-hi-dee, why-hi-dee-go.
He climbed to the top of a mountain of snow --
Snow-hi-dee, slow-hi-dee, oh-hi-dee-hoo.
With the clouds high above and the sea down below --
Where-hi-dee, there-hi-dee, scare-hi-dee-boo.
(Happy ending)
And he flipped and he flapped and he bellowed so loud --
Now-hi-dee, loud-hi-dee, proud-hi-dee-poop.
And he sailed like an eagle, off into the clouds --
High-hi-dee, fly-hi-dee, bye-hi-dee-boop.
(Unhappy ending)
And he leaped like a frog and he fell like a stone --
Stone-hi-dee, lone-hi-dee, own-hi-dee-flop.
And he crashed and he drowned and broke all his bones --
Bones-hi-dee, moans-hi-dee, groans-hi-dee-glop.
(Chicken ending)
He looked up at the sky and looked down at the sea --
Sea-hi-dee, free-hi-dee, whee-hi-dee-way.
And he turned and went home and had cookies and tea --
That's hi-dee, all hi-dee, I have to say.

poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
Added by Poetry Lover
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Rockin Robin

(thomas)
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Tweet, tweet, twiddley de
He rocks in the treetops all the day long
Hoppin and a-boppin and a-singing this song
Every little bird, every little bee
Loves to hear the robin go tweet-tweet-tweet
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Yeah go rockin robin, really gonna rock tonight
Every little swallow, every chick-a-dee
Every little bird in the old oak tree
Wise old owl, big black crow
Put out their wings singing go bird go
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Yeah go rockin robin, really gonna rock tonight
The chief bird standing at the birdbath stand
Taught him how to do the bop and it was grand
Start goin steady and bless my soul,
He out-bopped the buzzard and the oriole
He rocks in the treetops all the day long
Hoppin and a-boppin and a-singing this song
Every little bird, every little bee
Loves to hear the robin go tweet-tweet-tweet
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Yeah go rockin robin, really gonna rock tonight
Break
The chief bird standing at the birdbath stand
Taught him how to do the bop and it was grand
Start goin steady and bless my soul,
He out-bopped the buzzard and the oriole
He rocks in the treetops all the day long
Hoppin and a-boppin and a-singing this song
Every little bird, every little bee
Loves to hear the robin go tweet-tweet-tweet
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Rockin robin, tweet, twiddley dee
Yeah go rockin robin, really gonna rock tonight
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Twiddley dee, twiddley diddley dee
Tweet, tweet, twiddley de

song performed by Hollies
Added by Lucian Velea
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Na Tum Jano Na Hum

Beparavah hey ab TUM humse kuch is tarhaa..
Na TUM jano Na HUM...

ye fasalaa hey kuch dooriye ka par anE KA koi nhi or RASTA..
Ruthe hey aaj tum humse, kese manaye aaj HUM TUM KO...
Na TUM jano Na HUM...

Bepanha the mohhobat tumse..
Begarzz bana diya ek pal me hum E...
ab chen nahi na koi sahara bus ab tuhe mera KINara...

Beparavah hey ab TUM humse kuch is tarhaa..
Na TUM jano Na HUM...

bethye hey ab intzar karke ab mout ka..
NA AYE TUM AGAR TO KOI GUM NAHI, SAHI YA GAALAT AB KUCH NAHI..
JANE NAHI KOI PAAS NAHI TU MERE KARIB NAHI....INZAR HEY TERA AKHARI BAAR
Na TUM jano Na HUM...

Beparavah hey ab TUM humse kuch is tarhaa..
Na TUM jano Na HUM..

poem by Sandeep Jahaal
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Soul

Nao acredites no que ves
segue o teu caminho como s
a culpa nao tua
lena, lena (a culpa nao tua)
nao acredites no que ves
segue o teu caminho como s
a culpa nao tua (a culpa nao tua) a culpa nao tua
Nao acredites em tudo o que ves, lena
tu bem tentas mas sera que vale a pena
a vida ensinou-te a respeitar as leis da rua
a verdade nua e crua mas a culpa nao tua
o teu pai nunca foi pai a tua mae nao ta presente
nao te deixes enganar porque toda a gente mente
tu sabes bem olhas a volta nao ves ningum
nao ha amigos nesta vida quem te da 50 tira 100
quanto mais tentas sair mais aprisionada estas
boa entre pessoas mas tarde pra voltar a tras
acordas a pensar onde foi que erraste
o que fizeste sera que tudo nao passa dum teste
Lena, Lena
e tudo o que tu qerias era estudar desenhar
nao te vao parar enquanto conseguires sonhar
olha pro cu, ve o teu futuro na lua
minha amiga, a culpa nao tua
Lena,
nao acredites no que ves
segue o teu caminho como s
a culpa n tua
lena, lena (a culpa nao tua)
nao acredites no que ves
segue o teu caminho como s
a culpa nao tua (a culpa nao tua) a culpa nao tua
Que te passa Lena?
nao te deixes abater mantem-te serena
tens de encontrar uma saida para o teu dilema
tu iluminas qualquer sala quando entras em cena
desde que s pequena , lena
a unica coisa q o teu pai te deu foi a vida
e derrepente estas num beco sem saida
esqece o teu passado o caminho em frente
nao ah duvidas , tu sempre foste diferente
o mais importante pra ti sao os teus papels
tu consegues sempre tudo o qe tu qeres
as vezes o mais facil fugir e nao olhar pra tras
mas estudar , e procurar, um pouco de paz
e quando passas pelo Cuerpo de Vigo
lembras-te do teu pai e tudo o qe passo contigo
e nesta puta yoh, no ya amigos
e tentas esqecer todos os peliglos
nao vale a pena, a vida muito pequena

[...] Read more

song performed by Incubus
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Beat Goes On

Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
Wait till you have reached the age
Blah blah
History has turned the page
Blah blah
We still want to hear a brand new thing
Uh huh
We still need a song to sing
Uh huh
And the beat goes on (6x)
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
Love is a thirsting, lasting on my mind
From tomorrow until the end of time
And the beat goes on (4x)
And the beat goes
And the beat goes
And the beat goes on
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
We still move to a rhythm just like this
We still dream of sharing our first kiss
And the beat goes on (4x)
Drums keep pounding rhythm to the brain
La-dee-da-dee-dee
La-dee-da-dee-da
Well our kids are turning faster everyday (everyday)
We still want to dance the night away
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on
And the beat goes on...
(to fade)

song performed by Britney Spears
Added by Lucian Velea
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Movement Vii - Crises

(mary dee and shantys home)
Mary dee (alone in bedroom)
The world youre coming into,
Is no easy place to enter.
Every day is haunted
By the echoes of the past.
Funny thoughts and wild; wild dreams
Will find their way into your mind.
The clouds that hang above us,
May be full of rain and thunder.
But in time they slide away
To find the sun still there.
Lazy days and wild. wild flowers
Will bring some joy into your heart.
And I will always love you,
Ill welcome you into this world.
Mary dee and boy solo
You-re mine and I will love you.
Shanty
]where-s my dinner?
Ive been working hard all day
And a man can work up quite an appetite that way.
Whats for dinner?
Something nourishing and hot?
I could tackle quite a lot of you know what
And all Ive got to say to you is why no dinner?
Ive got nothing on my plate.
Its expected of a mate.
Whyd ya have to make me wait?
Wheres my...
Mary dee
This is the way we put out the candle.
Farewell to childhood.
Deep in the wild wood a fire goes out,
And what are we left with
Now we are grown up?
Shanty
This is the way we pull up the anchor.
Goodbye to romance.
Out on the ocean a good ship is lost,
And what are we left with
Now we are grown up?
Mary dee
Time to be thinking of real life feelings.
I must get on.
Shanty
Time to be buying those little trinkets
I cant afford.
Lord knows
I want to give her the best.

[...] Read more

song performed by Paul McCartney
Added by Lucian Velea
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Simplistically Breezy

Keeping it realistic.
Untwisted from statistics!
I've got my charm and focus going.
Watching those whose minds flow,
Unknowing...
Their balled fists keeps them animalistic.

I've got to keep it realistic...
Tired of being analystic,
About who did what to whom and where?
Why that was done in others affairs?
I am staying on top of what I maintain.
Trying to rise above those misfits...
Unchanged.
Who seem encouraged to go ballistically insane!

Dah deedee dah dah doo!
Dah dee dah.
Dah dee dah,
Dah dee dah...
Dah deedee dah dah doo!
Dah dee dah...
Dee dee dah dah dah doo!

Simplistically breezy.

Dah deedee dah dah doo!
Dah dee dah.
Dah dee dah,
Dah dee dah...
Dah deedee dah dah doo!
Dah dee dah...
Dee dee dah dah dah doo!

Keeping it realistic...
Without hatchets to bury or bones to pick.
Removed from rat races,
And those who sniff conflicts.
I've learned my lessons...
And have found for me what fits!
I'm through with that kind of messing around,
And those who take those 'trips'.

Dah deedee dah dah doo!
Dah dee dah.
Dah dee dah,
Dah dee dah...
Dah deedee dah dah doo!
Dah dee dah..
Dee dee dah dah dah doo!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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The Cōuercyon of Swerers

The fruytfull sentence & the noble werkes
To our doctryne wryten in olde antyquyte
By many grete and ryght notable clerkes
Grounded on reason & hyghe auctoryte
Dyde gyue vs example by good moralyte
To folowe the trace of trouthe and ryghtwysnes
Leuynge our synne and mortall wretchednes
By theyr wrytynge dothe vnto vs appere
The famous actes of many a champyon
In the courte of fame renowned fayre and clere
And some endyted theyr entencyon
Cloked in coloure harde in construccyon
Specyally poetes vnder cloudy fygures
Coueryd the trouthe of all theyr scryptures
So hystoryagraphes all the worthy dedes
Of kynges and knyghtes dyde put in wrytynge
To be in mynde for theyr memoryall medes
How sholde we nowe haue ony knowledgynge
Of thynges past/but by theyr endytynge
Wherfore we ought to preyse them doubteles
That spente theyr tyme in suche good besynes
Amonge all other my good mayster Lydgate
The eloquent poete and monke of bery
Dyde bothe contryue/and also translate
Many vertuous bookes to be in memorye
Touchynge the trouthe well and sentencyously
But syth that his dethe was intollerable
I praye god rewarde hym in lyfe perdurable
Amonge all thynges nothynge so prouffytable
As is scyence with the sentencyous scrypture
For worldly rychesse is often transmutable
As dayly dothe appere well in vre
Yet scyens a bydeth and is moost sure
After pouerte to attayne grete rychesse
Scyens is cause of promocyon doubtles
I lytell or nought expert in poetrye
Remembrynge my youth so lyght and frayle
Purpose to compyle here full breuyatly
A lytell treatyse wofull to bewayle
The cruell swerers whiche do god assayle
On euery syde his swete body to tere
With terryble othes as often as they swere
But also for drede plonged in neclygence
My penne doth quake to presume to endyte
But hope at laste to recure this scyence
Exorteth me ryght hardely to wryte
To deuoyde ydlenesse by good appetyte
For ydlenesse the grete moder of synne
Euery vyce is redy to lette ynne
I with the same ryght gretely infecte

[...] Read more

poem by Stephen Hawes
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Temora - Book I

ARGUMENT.

Cairbar, the son of Borbar-duthul, lord of Atha, in Connaught, the most Potent chief of the race of the Fir-bolg, having murdered, at Temora, the royal palace, Cormac, the son of Artho, the young king of Ireland, usurped the throne. Cormac was lineally descended from Conar, the son of Trenmor, the great-grandfather of Fingal, king of those Caledonians who inhabited the western coast of Scotland. Fingal resented the behavior of Cairbar, and resolved to pass over into Ireland with an army, to re-establish the royal family on the Irish throne. Early intelligence of his designs coming to Cairbar, he assembled some of his tribes in Ulster, and at the same time ordered his brother Cathmor to follow him speedily with an army from Temora. Such was the situation of affairs when the Caledonian invaders appeared on the coast of Ulster.

The poem opens in the morning. Cairbar is represented as retired from the rest of the army, when one of his scouts brought him news of the landing of Fingal. He assembles a council of his chiefs. Foldath, the chief of Moma, haughtily despises the enemy; and is reprimanded warmly by Malthos. Cairbar, after hearing their debate, orders a feast to be prepared, to which, by his bard Olla, he invites Oscar, the son of Ossian; resolving to pick a quarrel with that hero, and so have some pretext for killing him. Oscar came to the feast; the quarrel happened; the followers of both fought, and Cairbar and Oscar fell by mutual wounds. The noise of the battle reached Fingal's army. The king came on to the relief of Oscar, and the Irish fell back to the army of Cathmor, who was advanced to the banks of the river Lubar, on the heath of Moi-lena. Fingal, after mourning over his grandson, ordered Ullin, the chief of his bards, to carry his body to Morven, to be there interred. Night coming on, Althan, the son of Conachar, relates to the king the particulars of the murder of Cormac. Fillan, the son of Fingal, is sent to observe the motions of Cathmor, by night, which concludes the action of the first day. The scene of this book is a plain, near the hill of Mora, which rose on the borders of the heath of Moi-lena in Ulster.

THE blue waves of Erin roll in light. The mountains are covered with day. Trees shake their dusky heads in the breeze. Gray torrents pour their noisy streams. Two green hills, with aged oaks, surround a narrow plain. The blue course of a stream is there. On its banks stood Cairbar of Atha. His spear supports the king: the red eye of his fear is sad. Cormac rises in his soul, with all his ghastly wounds. The gray form of the youth appears in darkness. Blood pours from his airy side. Cairbar thrice threw his spear on earth. Thrice he stroked his beard. His steps are short. He often stops. He tosses his sinewy arms. He is like a cloud in the desert, varying its form to every blast. The valleys are sad around, and fear, by turns, the shower! The king at length resumed his soul. He took his pointed spear. He turned his eye to Moi-lena. The scouts of blue ocean came. They came with steps of fear, and often looked behind. Cairbar knew that the mighty were near. He called his gloomy chiefs.

The sounding steps of his warriors came. They drew at once their swords. There Morlath stood with darkened face. Hidalla's long hair sighs in the wind. Red-haired Cormar bends on his spear, and rolls his sidelong-looking eyes. Wild is the look of Malthos, from beneath two shaggy brows. Foldath stands, like an oozy rock, that covers its dark sides with foam. His spear is like Slimora's fir, that meets the wind of heaven. His shield is marked with the strokes of battle. His red eye despises danger. These, and a thousand other chiefs, surrounded the king of Erin, when the scout of ocean came, Mor-annal, from streamy Moi-lena, His eyes hang forward from his face. His lips are trembling pale!

"Do the chiefs of Erin stand," he said, "silent as the grove of evening? Stand they, like a silent wood, and Fingal on the coast? Fingal, who is terrible in battle, the king of streamy Morven!" "Hast thou seen the warrior?" said Cairbar with a sigh. "Are his heroes many on the coast? Lifts he the spear of battle? or comes the king in peace?" "In peace be comes not, king of Erin; I have seen his forward spear. It is a meteor of death. The blood of thousands is on its steel. He came first to the shore, strong in the gray hair of age. Full rose his sinewy limbs, as he strode in his might. That sword is by his side, which gives no second wound. His shield is terrible, like the bloody moon, ascending through a storm. Then came Ossian, king of songs. Then Morni's son, the first of men. Connal leaps forward on his spear. Dermid spreads his dark-brown locks. Fillan bends his bow, the young hunter of streamy Moruth. But who is that before them, like the terrible course of a stream? It is the son of Ossian, bright between his locks! His long hair falls on his back. His dark brows are half enclosed in steel. His sword hangs loose on his side. His spear glitters as he moves. I fled from his terrible eyes, king of high Temora!"

"Then fly, thou feeble man," said Foldath's gloomy wrath. "Fly to the gray streams of thy land, son of the little soul! Have not I seen that Oscar? I beheld the chief in war. He is of the mighty in danger: but there are others who lift the spear. Erin has many sons as brave, king of Temora of groves. Let Foldath meet him in his strength. Let me stop this mighty stream. My spear is covered with blood. My shield is like the wall of Tura!"

"Shall Foldath alone meet the foe?" replied the dark-browed Malthos? "Are they not on our coast, like the waters of many streams? Are not these the chiefs who vanquished Swaran, when the sons of green Erin fled? Shall Foldath meet their bravest hero? Foldath of the heart of pride! Take the strength of the people! and let Malthos come. My sword is red with slaughter, but who has heard my words?"

"Sons of green Erin," said Hidalla, "let not Fingal hear your words. The foe might rejoice, and his arm be strong in the land. Ye are brave, O warriors! Ye are tempests in war. Ye are like storms, which meet the rocks without fear, and overturn the woods! But let us move in our strength, slow as a gathered cloud! Then shall the mighty tremble; the spear shall fall from the hand of the valiant. We see the cloud of death, they will say, while shadows fly over their face. Fingal will mourn in his age. He shall behold his flying fame. The steps of his chiefs will cease in Morven. The moss of years shall grow in Selma!"

Cairbar heard their words in silence, like the cloud of a shower: it stands dark on Cromla, till the lightning bursts its side. The valley gleams with heaven's flame; the spirits of the storm rejoice. So stood the silent king of Temora; at length his words broke forth. "Spread the feast on Moi-lena. Let my hundred bards attend. Thou red-haired Olla, take the harp of the king. Go to Oscar, chief of swords. Bid Oscar to our joy. To-day we feast and hear the song; to-morrow break the spears! Tell him that I have raised the tomb of Cathol; that bards gave his friend to the winds. Tell him that Cairbar has heard of his fame, at the stream of resounding Carun. Cathmor, my brother, is not here. He is not here with his thousands, and our arms are weak. Cathmor is a foe to strife at the feast! His soul is bright as that sun! But Cairbar must fight with Oscar, chiefs of woody Temora, His words for Cathol were many! the wrath of Cairbar burns! He shall fall on Moi-lena. My fame shall rise in blood!"

Their faces brightened round with joy. They spread over Moi-lena. The feast of shells is prepared. The songs of bards arise. The chiefs of Selma heard their joy. We thought that mighty Cathmor came. Cathmor, the friend of strangers! the brother of red-haired Cairbar. Their souls were not the same. The light of heaven was in the bosom of Cathmor. His towers rose on the banks of Atha: seven paths led to his halls. Seven chiefs stood on the paths, and called the stranger to the feast! But Cathmor dwelt in the wood, to shun the voice of praise!

Olla came with his songs. Oscar went to Cairbar's feast. Three hundred warriors strode along Moi-lena of the streams. The gray dogs bounded on the heath: their howling reached afar. Fingal saw the departing hero. The soul of the king was sad. He dreaded Cairbar's gloomy thoughts, amidst the feast of shells. My son raised high the spear of Cormac. A hundred bards met him with songs. Cairbar concealed, with smiles, the death that was dark in his soul. The feast is spread. The shells resound. Joy brightens the face of the host. But it was like the parting beam of the sun, when he is to hide his red head in a storm!

Cairbar rises in his arms. Darkness gathers on his brow. The hundred harps cease at once. The clang of shields is heard. Far distant on the heath Olla raised a song of wo. My son knew the sign of death; and rising seized his spear. "Oscar," said the dark-red Cairbar, "I behold the spear of Erin. The spear of Temora glitters in thy hand, son of woody Morven! It was the pride of a hundred kings. The death of heroes of old. Yield it, son of Ossian, yield it to car-borne Cairbar!"

"Shall I yield," Oscar replied, "the gift of Erin's injured king; the gift of fair-haired Cormac, when Oscar scattered his foes? I came to Cormac's halls of joy, when Swaran fled from Fingal. Gladness rose in the face of youth. He gave the spear of Temora. Nor did he give it to the feeble: neither to the weak in soul. The darkness of thy face is no storm to me: nor are thine eyes the flame of death. Do I fear thy clanging shield? Tremble I at Olla's song? No Cairbar, frighten the feeble; Oscar is a rock!"

"Wilt thou not yield the spear?" replied the rising pride of Cairbar." Are thy words so mighty, because Fingal is near? Fingal with aged locks, from Morven's hundred groves! He has fought with little men. But he must vanish before Cairbar, like a thin pillar of mist before the winds of Atha!" — "Were he who fought with little men, near Atha's haughty chief, Atha's chief would yield green Erin to avoid his rage! Speak not of the mighty, O Cairbar! Turn thy sword on me. Our strength is equal: but Fingal is renowned! the first of mortal men!"

Their people saw the darkening chiefs. Their crowding steps are heard. Their eyes roll in fire. A thousand swords are half unsheathed. Red-haired Olla raised the song of battle. The trembling joy of Oscar's soul arose: the wonted joy of his soul when Fingal's horn was heard. Dark as the swelling wave of ocean before the rising winds, when it bends its head near the coast, came on the host of Cairbar!

Daughter of Toscar! why that tear? He is not fallen yet. Many were the deaths of his arm before my hero fell!

Behold they fall before my son, like groves in the desert; when an angry ghost rushes through night, and takes their green heads in his hand! Morlath falls. Maronnan dies. Conachar trembles in his blood. Cairbar shrinks before Oscar's sword! He creeps in darkness behind a stone. He lifts the spear in secret, he pierces my Oscar's side! He falls forward on his shield, his knee sustains the chief. But still his spear is in his hand! See, gloomy Cairbar falls! The steel pierced his forehead, and divided his red hair behind. He lay like a shattered rock, which Cromla shakes from its shaggy side, when the green-valleyed Erin shakes its mountains from sea to sea!

But never more shall Oscar rise! He leans on his bossy shield. His spear is in his terrible hand. Erin's sons stand distant and dark. Their shouts arise, like crowded streams. Moi-lena echoes wide. Fingal heard the sound. He took the spear of Selma. His steps are before us on the heath. He spoke the words of wo. "I hear the noise of war. Young Oscar is alone. Rise, sons of Morven: join the hero's sword!"

Ossian rushed along the heath. Fillan bounded over Moi-lena. Fingal strode in his strength. The light of his shield is terrible. The sons of Erin saw it far distant. They trembled in their souls. They knew that the wrath of the king arose: and they foresaw their death. We first arrived. We fought. Erin's chiefs withstood our rage. But when the king came, in the sound of his course, what heart of steel could stand? Erin fled over Moi-lena. Death pursued their flight. We saw Oscar on his shield. We saw his blood around. Silence darkened on every face. Each turned his back and wept. The king strove to hide his tears. His gray beard whistled in the wind. He bends his head above the chief. His words are mixed with sighs.

"Art thou fallen, O Oscar! in the midst of thy course? the heart of the aged beats over thee! He sees thy coming wars! The wars which ought to come he sees! They are cut off from thy fame! When shall joy dwell at Selma? When shall grief depart from Morven? My sons fall by degrees: Fingal is the last of his race. My fame begins to pass away. Mine age will be without friends. I shall sit a gray cloud in my hall. I shall not hear the return of a son, in his sounding arms. Weep, ye heroes of Morven! never more shall Oscar rise!"

And they did weep, O Fingal! Dear was the hero to their souls. He went out to battle, and the foes vanished. He returned in peace, amidst their joy. No father mourned his son slain in youth: no brother his brother of love. They fell without tears, for the chief of the people is low! Bran is howling at his feet: gloomy Luath is sad; for he had often led them to the chase; to the bounding roe of the desert!

When Oscar saw his friends around, his heaving breast arose. "The groans," he said, "of aged chiefs; the howling of my dogs; the sudden bursts of the song of grief, have melted Oscar's soul. My soul, that never melted before. It was like the steel of my sword. Ossian, carry me to my hills! Raise the stones of my renown. Place the horn of a deer: place my sword by my side; The torrent hereafter may raise the earth: the hunter may find the steel, and say, 'This has been Oscar's sword, the pride of other years!'" "Fallest thou, son of my fame? shall I never see thee, Oscar? When others hear of their sons, shall I not hear of thee? The moss is on thy four gray stones. The mournful wind is there. The battle shall be fought without thee. Thou shalt not pursue the dark-brown hinds. When the warrior returns from battles, and tells of other lands; 'I have seen a tomb,' he will say, 'by the roaring stream, the dark dwelling of a chief. He fell by car-borne Oscar, the first of mortal men.' I, perhaps, shall hear his voice. A beam of joy will rise in my soul."

Night would have descended in sorrow, and morning returned in the shadow of grief. Our chiefs would have stood, like cold-dropping rocks on Moi-lena, and have forgot the war; did not the king disperse his grief, and raise his mighty voice. The chiefs, as new-wakened from dreams, lift up their heads around.

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poem by James Macpherson
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School V/s College

Na hoti ye B. Tech, na hoti ye MD ki sheetey
Yaad aate hain yaaro, lamhe wo beetein

School ki wo masti yaad aati hai har pal
Yaad aata hain mujhko beet gaya jo kal

School mein jaate the padne hum saare
College mein jaate hain attendance ke maare

Teacher ko maante the tab hum guru
School mein jaate hi padhai shuru

Yahaan to chalti hai humari sarkar
Dooston ke sang maani kabhi na haar

School mein padte waqt hota tha competition
Yahaan aakar puchhte hain kab aayega math ka solution

School mein pocket mein hota tha pencil n rubber
Yahaan to class notes ki bhi nahi hai khabar

School mein jaate the hum sab padne, ghar pe sab kuch batana hain
College mein jana to girl friend dekhne ka ek bahana hain

School mein jaate waqt, har roj hote the paise
Yahaan purse to hain, lekin nahi hain paise

School mein hamesha jaane se pahle bag check kia
Yahaan to jo marji mila, wahe kagaj utha lia

Pen jeb mein hua nhi, ungli se kaam chalaya hai
Jisne ki hain college mein masti sukh to usne hi paaya hai

School mein hoti thi full attendance, yahhan to 60 ke liye bhi rote hain
Par sach bataun yaaro college mein hi sapne poore hote hain

poem by Ankit Gupta
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Lovin' You (Easy)

Mmm
Yeah, yeah, hey, yeah
Ba dee ah ba ba by ah (Woo, hoo...)
Ba dee ah ba ba by ah
Remember the story from way back when
It was a day I remember back in the beginning, hoo,
yeah, yeah
Remember kissing after dark, walks through the park
Show or at the mall, or watch you play big ball, mmm
Easy lover lovin you, I do
Like to spend time with you
Spend every summer day with you
I think back and I wanna tell you how
You make me happy, make me smile
Feel so right about how lovin you
Easy like Sunday morning (So easy)
Nothin like bein with you (You, you, you, you, yeah)
Easy like Sunday morning (Sunday morning)
Groovin like summertime (Summertime, yeah, sing)
Ba dee ah ba ba by ah (Ba dee ah ba ba)
Ba dee ah ba ba by ah (Yeah, yeah, sing)
Ba dee ah ba ba by ah (Ooh, ooh, ooh)
Somethin about what were sharin
So sweet, so rare, somethin so dear, mmm
Said I feel I know you and I love who you are
Where youre goin, when youre comin, what youre
doin
It dont matter at all, oh, no
Easy lover lovin you, I do
Each mornin wakin next to you
Wake each and every day with you
I think back and I wanna tell you how
You make me happy, make me smile
Feel so right about how lovin you, you, you, you,
you, you, yeah
Easy like Sunday morning (Sunday mornin)
Nothin like bein with you (You make it so easy)
Easy like Sunday morning (Woo...woo...woo...)
Groovin like summertime (Summertime, yeah, sing)
Ba dee ah ba ba by ah (Ooh, ooh, sing)
Ba dee ah ba ba by ah (Easy, yeah, yeah)
Ba dee ah ba ba by ah (Mmm, mmm, yeah)
Im caught up in the sky, makes me wanna fly
Far away just like summertime
Makes my temperature rise like Sunday morning
Lookin in your eyes, got me mesmerized
Gon float away
Thats just why I feel so right about lovin you
Easy like Sunday morning (You make it so easy)
Nothin like bein with you (Nothin like being with

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song performed by En Vogue
Added by Lucian Velea
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Kuch Dur Tak Hi Sahi

Kuch dur tak hi sahi
Hum sang to chale.
Kuch pal hi sahi
Tumhare labo pe
mera naam to raha

Aarso gujr rahe the
Bethe mahfil mein tanha
khud se poochte the
aapne ghar ka raasta
Tum mile to
Shayad darpan dekha
Pahli bar.
Aaparachit khud se
Parichay hua
Pahli bar.

Kuch dur tak hi sahi
Hum sang to chale.
Kuch pal hi sahi
Tumhare labo pe
mera naam to raha

Yo to har mausam
patjhad hi raha
jivan ka
Kuch der hi sahi
Thahari to bahar
Humare yahan.

Kuch dur tak hi sahi
Hum sang to chale.
Kuch pal hi sahi
Tumhare labo pe
mera naam to raha

Sadiya beet gayi
Aur sanse chalti rahi
Tum aaye toh
saso ke is door ko
jivan ka naam mila
pehli baar.

Kuch dur tak hi sahi
Hum sang to chale.
Kuch pal hi sahi
Tumhare labo pe
mera naam to raha

Yo to virano

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poem by Anjali Kakati
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Fingal - Book IV

ARGUMENT.

The action of the poem being suspended by night, Ossian takes the opportunity to relate his own actions at the lake of Lego, and his courtship of Everallin, who was the mother of Oscar, and had died some time before the expedition of Fingal into Ireland. Her ghost appears to him, and tells him that Oscar, who had been sent, the beginning of the night, to observe the enemy, was engaged with an advanced party, and almost overpowered. Ossian relieves his son; and an alarm is given to Fingal of the approach of Swaran. The king rises, calls his army together, and, as he had promised the preceding night, devolves the command on Gaul the son of Morni, while he himself, after charging his sons to behave gallantly and defend his people, retires to a hill, from whence he could have a view of the battle. The battle joins; the poet relates Oscar's great actions. But when Oscar, in conjunction with his father, conquered in one wing, Gaul, who was attacked by Swaran in person, was on the point of retreating in the other. Fingal sends Ullin his bard to encourage them with a war song, but notwithstanding Swaran prevails; and Gaul and his army are obliged to give way. Fingal descending from the hill, rallies them again; Swaran desists from the pursuit, possesses himself of a rising ground, restores the ranks, and waits the approach of Fingal. The king, having encouraged his men, gives the necessary orders, and renews the battle. Cuthullin, who, with his friend Connal, and Carril his bard, had retired to the cave of Tura, hearing the noise, came to the brow of the hill, which overlooked the field of battle, where he saw Fingal engaged with the enemy. He, being hindered by Connal from joining Fingal, who was himself upon the point of obtaining a complete victory, sends Carril to congratulate that hero on success.

Who comes with her songs from the hill, like the bow of the showery Lena? It is the maid of the voice of love: the white-armed daughter of Toscar! Often hast thou heard my song; often given the tear of beauty. Hast thou come to the wars of thy people? to hear the actions of Oscar? When shall I cease to mourn, by the streams of resounding Cona? My years have passed away in battle. My age is darkened with grief!

"Daughter of the hand of snow, I was not so mournful and blind; I was not so dark and forlorn, when Everallin loved me! Everallin with the dark-brown hair, the white-bosomed daughter of Branno. A thousand heroes sought the maid, she refused her love to a thousand. The sons of the sword were despised: for graceful in her eyes was Ossian. I went, in suit of the maid, to Lego's sable surge. Twelve of my people were there, the sons of streamy Morven! We came to Branno, friend of strangers! Branno of the sounding mail! 'From whence,' he said, 'are the arms of steel? Not easy to win is the maid, who has denied the blue-eyed sons of Erin. But blest be thou, O son of Fingal! Happy is the maid that waits thee! Though twelve daughters of beauty were mine, thine were the choice, thou son of fame!'

"He opened the hall of the maid, the dark-haired Everallin. Joy kindled in our manly breasts. We blest the maid of Branno. Above us on the hill appeared the people of stately Cormac. Eight were the heroes of the chief. The heath flamed wide with their arms. There Colla; there Durra of wounds; there mighty Toscar, and Tago; there Fresta the victorious stood; Dairo of the happy deeds; Dala the battle's bulwark in the narrow way! The sword flamed in the hand of Cormac. Graceful was the look of the hero! Eight were the heroes of Ossian. Ullin, stormy son of war. Mullo of the generous deeds. The noble, the graceful Scelacha. Oglan, and Cerdan the wrathful. Dumariccan's brows of death. And why should Ogar be the last; so wide-renowned on the hills of Ardven?

"Ogar met Dala the strong face to face, on the field of heroes. The battle of the chiefs was like wind, on ocean's foamy waves. The dagger is remembered by Ogar; the weapon which he loved. Nine times he drowned it in Dala's side. The stormy battle turned. Three times I broke on Cormac's shield: three times he broke his spear. But, unhappy youth of love! I cut his head away. Five times I shook it by the lock. The friends of Cormac fled. Whoever would have told me, lovely maid, when then I strove in battle, that blind, forsaken, and forlorn, I now should pass the night; firm ought his mail to have been; unmatched his arm in war."

On Lena's gloomy heath the voice of music died away. The inconstant blast blew hard. The high oak shook its leaves around. Of Everallin were my thoughts, when in all the light of beauty she came; her blue eyes rolling in tears. She stood on a cloud before my sight, and spoke with feeble voice! "Rise, Ossian, rise, and save my son; save Oscar, prince of men. Near the red oak of Luba's stream he fights with Lochlin's sons." She sunk into her cloud again. I covered me with steel. My spear supported my steps; my rattling armor rung. I hummed, as I was wont in danger, the songs of heroes of old. Like distant thunder Lochlin heard. They fled; my son pursued.

I called him like a distant stream. "Oscar, return over Lena. No further pursue the foe," I said, "though Ossian is behind thee." He came! and pleasant to my ear was Oscar's sounding steel. "Why didst thou stop my hand," he said, "till death had covered all? For dark and dreadful by the stream they met thy son and Fillin. They watched the terrors of the night. Our swords have conquered some. But as the winds of night pour the ocean over the white sands of Mora, so dark advance the sons of Lochlin, over Lena's rustling heat! The ghosts of night shriek afar: I have seen the meteors of death. Let me awake the king of Morven, he that smiles in danger! He that is like the sun of heaven, rising in a storm!"

Fingal had started from a dream, and leaned on Trenmor's shield! the dark-brown shield of his fathers, which they had lifted of old in war. The hero had seen, in his rest, the mournful form of Agandecca. She came from the way of the ocean. She slowly, lonely, moved over Lena. Her face was pale, like the mist of Cromla. Dark were the tears of her cheek. She often raised her dim hand from her robe, her robe which was of the clouds of the desert: she raised her dim hand over Fingal, and turned away silent eyes! "Why weeps the daughter of Starno?" said Fingal with a sigh; "why is thy face so pale, fair wanderer of the clouds?" She departed on the wind of Lena. She left him in the midst of the night. She mourned the sons of her people, that were to fall by the hand of Fingal.

The hero started from rest. Still he beheld her in his soul. The sound of Oscar's steps approached. The king saw the gray shield on his side: for the faint beam of the morning came over the waters of Ullin. "What do the foes in their fear?" said the rising king of Morven: "or fly they through ocean's foam, or wait they the battle of steel? But why should Fingal ask? I hear their voice on the early wind! Fly over Lena's heath: O Oscar, awake our friends!"

The king stood by the stone of Lubar. Thrice he reared his terrible voice. The deer started from the fountains of Cromla. The rocks shook, on all their hills. Like the noise of a hundred mountain-streams, that burst, and roar, and foam! like the clouds, that gather to a tempest on the blue face of the sky! so met the sons of the desert, round the terrible voice of Fingal. Pleasant was the voice of the king of Morven to the warriors of his land. Often had he led them to battle; often returned with the spoils of the foe.

"Come to battle," said the king, "ye children of echoing Selma! Come to the death of thousands! Comhal's son will see the fight. My sword shall wave on the hill, the defence of my people in war. But never may you need it, warriors; while the son of Morni fights, the chief of mighty men! He shall lead my battle, that his fame may rise in song! O ye ghosts of heroes dead! ye riders of the storm of Cromla! receive my falling people with joy, and bear them to your hills. And may the blast of Lena carry them over my seas, that they may come to my silent dreams, and delight my soul in rest. Fillan and Oscar of the dark-brown hair! fair Ryno, with the pointed steel! advance with valor to the fight. Behold the son of Morni! Let your swords be like his in strife: behold the deeds of his hands. Protect the friends of your father. Remember the chiefs of old. My children, I will see you yet, though here you should fall in Erin. Soon shall our cold pale ghosts meet in a cloud, on Cona's eddying winds."

Now like a dark and stormy cloud, edged round with the red lightning of heaven, flying westward from the morning's beam, the king of Selma removed. Terrible is the light of his armor; two spears are in his hand. His gray hair falls on the wind. He often looks back on the war. Three bards attend the son of fame, to bear his words to the chiefs high on Cromla's side he sat, waving the Lightning of his sword, and as he waved we moved.

Joy rises in Oscar's face. His cheek is red. His eye sheds tears. The sword is a beam of fire in his hand. He came, and smiling, spoke to Ossian. "O ruler of the fight of steel! my father, hear thy son! Retire with Morven's mighty chief. Give me the fame of Ossian. If here I fall, O chief, remember that breast of snow, the lonely sunbeam of my love, the white-handed daughter of Toscar! For, with red cheek from the rock, bending over the stream, her soft hair flies about her bosom, as she pours the sigh for Oscar. Tell her I am on my hills, a lightly-bounding son of the wind; tell her, that in a cloud I may meet the lovely maid of Toscar." "Raise, Oscar, rather raise my tomb. I will not yield the war to thee. The first and bloodiest in the strife, my arm shall teach thee how to fight. But remember, my son, to place this sword, this bow, the horn of my deer, within that dark and narrow house, whose mark is one gray stone! Oscar, I have no love to leave to the care of my son. Everallin is no more, the lovely daughter of Branno!"

Such were our words, when Gaul's loud voice came growing on the wind. He waved on high the sword of his father. We rushed to death and wounds. As waves, white bubbling over the deep, come swelling, roaring on; as rocks of ooze meet roaring waves; so foes attacked and fought. Man met with man, and steel with steel. Shields sound and warriors fall. As a hundred hammers on the red son of the furnace, so rose, so rung their swords!

Gaul rushed on, like a whirlwind in Ardven. The destruction of heroes is on his sword. Swaran was like the fire of the desert in the echoing heath of Gormal! How can I give to the song the death of many spears? My sword rose high, and flamed in the strife of blood. Oscar, terrible wert thou, my best, my greatest son! I rejoiced in my secret soul, when his sword flamed over the slain. They fled amain through Lena's heath. We pursued and slew. As stones that bound from rock to rock; as axes in echoing woods; as thunder rolls from hill to hill, in dismal broken peals; so blow succeeded to blow, and death to death, from the hand of Oscar and mine.

But Swaran closed round Morni's son, as the strength of the tide of Inistore. The king half rose from his hill at the sight. He half-assumed the spear. "Go, Ullin, go, my aged bard," began the king of Morven. "Remind the mighty Gaul of war. Remind him of his fathers. Support the yielding fight with song; for song enlivens war." Tall Ullin went, with step of age, and spoke to the king of swords. "Son of the chief of generous steeds! high-bounding king of spears! Strong arm in every perilous toil! Hard heart that never yields! Chief of the pointed arms of death! Cut down the foe; let no white sail bound round dark Inistore. Be thine arm like thunder, thine eyes like fire, thy heart of solid rock. Whirl round thy sword as a meteor at night: lift thy shield like the flame of death. Son of the chief of generous steeds, cut down the foe! Destroy!" The hero's heart beat high. But Swaran came with battle. He cleft the shield of Gaul in twain. The sons of Selma fled.

Fingal at once arose in arms. Thrice he reared his dreadful voice. Cromla answered around. The sons of the desert stood still. They bent their blushing faces to earth, ashamed at the presence of the king. He came like a cloud of rain in the day of the sun, when slow it rolls on the hill, and fields expect the shower. Silence attends its slow progress aloft; but the tempest is soon to rise. Swaran beheld the terrible king of Morven. He stopped in the midst of his course. Dark he leaned on his spear, rolling his red eyes around. Silent and tall he seemed as an oak on the banks of Lubar, which had its branches blasted of old by the lightning of heaven. It bends over the stream: the gray moss whistles in the wind: so stood the king. Then slowly he retired to the rising heath of Lena. His thousands pour round the hero. Darkness gathers on the hill!

Fingal, like a beam of heaven, shone in the midst of his people. His heroes gather around him. He sends forth the voice of his power. "Raise my standards on high; spread them on Lena's wind, like the flames of a hundred hills! Let them sound on the wind of Erin, and remind us of the fight. Ye sons of the roaring streams, that pour from a thousand hills be near the king of Morven! attend to the words of his power! Gaul, strongest arm of death! O Oscar, of the future fights! Connal, son of the blue shields of Sora! Dermid, of the dark-brown hair! Ossian, king of many songs, be near your father's arm!" We reared the sunbeam of battle; the standard of the king! Each hero exulted with joy, as, waving, it flew on the wind. It was studded with gold above, as the blue wide shell of the nightly sky. Each hero had his standard too, and each his gloomy men!

"Behold," said the king of generous shells, "how Lochlin divides on Lena! They stand like broken clouds on a hill, or a half-consumed grove of oaks, when we see the sky through its branches, and the meteor passing behind! Let every chief among the friends of Fingal take a dark troop of those that frown so high: nor let a son of the echoing groves bound on the waves of Inistore!"

"Mine," said Gaul, "be the seven chiefs that came from Lano's lake." "Let Inistore's dark king," said Oscar, "come to the sword of Ossian's son." "To mine the king of Iniscon," said Connal, heart of steel!" Or Mudan's chief or I," said brown-haired Dermid, "shall sleep on clay-cold earth." My choice, though now so weak and dark, was Terman's battling king; I promised with my hand to win the hero's dark-brown shield, "Blest and victorious be my chiefs," said Fingal of the mildest look. "Swaran, king of roaring waves, thou art the choice of Fingal!"

Now, like a hundred different winds that pour through many vales, divided, dark the sons of Selma advanced. Cromla echoed around! How can I relate the deaths, when we closed in the strife of arms? O, daughter of Toscar, bloody were our hands! The gloomy ranks of Lochlin fell like the banks of roaring Cona! Our arms were victorious on Lena: each chief fulfilled his promise. Beside the murmur of Branno thou didst often sit, O maid! thy white bosom rose frequent, like the down of the swan when slow she swims on the lake, and sidelong winds blow on her ruffled wing. Thou hast seen the sun retire, red and slow behind his cloud: night gathering round on the mountain, while the unfrequent blast roared in the narrow vales. At length the rain beats hard: thunder rolls in peals. Lightning glances on the rocks! Spirits ride on beams of fire! The strength of the mountain streams comes roaring down the hills. Such was the noise of battle, maid of the arms of snow! Why. daughter of Toscar, why that tear? The maids of Lochlin have cause to weep! The people of their country fell. Bloody were the blue swords of the race of my heroes! But I am sad, forlorn, and blind: no more the corn ion of heroes! Give, lovely maid to me thy tears. I have seen the tombs of all my friends!

It was then, by Fingal's hand, a hero fell, to his grief! Gray-haired he rolled in the dust. He lifted his faint eyes to the king. "And is it by me thou hast fallen," said the son of Comhal, "thou friend of Agandecca? I have seen thy tears for the maid of my love in the halls of the bloody Starno! Thou hast been the foe of the foes of my love, and hast thou fallen by my hand? Raise Ullin, raise the grave of Mathon, and give his name to Agandecca's song. Dear to my soul hast thou been, thou darkly-dwelling maid of Ardven!"

Cuthullin, from the cave of Cromla, heard the noise of the troubled war. He called to Connal, chief of swords: to Carril of other times. The gray-haired heroes heard his voice. They took their pointed spears. They came, and saw the tide of battle, like ocean's crowded waves, when the dark wind blows from the deep, and rolls the billows through the sandy vale! Cuthullin kindled at the sight. Darkness gathered on his brow. His hand is on the sword of his fathers: his red-rolling eyes on the foe. He thrice attempted to rush to battle. He thrice was stopped by Connal. "Chief of the isle of mist," he said, "Fingal subdues the foe. Seek not a part of the fame of the king; himself is like the storm!"

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poem by James Macpherson
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Tentacles of Time

Sadho Ye Murdon Ka Gaon
Peer Mare, Pygambar Mari Hain
Mari Hain Zinda Jogi
Raja Mari Hain, Parja Mari Hain
Mari Hain Baid Aur Rogi
Chanda Mari Hain, Suraj Mari Hain
Mari Hain Dharni Akasa
Chaudan Bhuvan Ke Chaudhry Mari Hain
In Hun Ki Ka Asa
Nauhun Mari Hain, Dus Hun Mari Hain
Mari Hain Sahaj Athasi
Tethis Koti Devata Mari Hain
Badi Kaal Ki Bazi
Naam Anam Anant Rehat Hai
Duja Tatva Na Hoi
Kahe Kabir Suno Bhai Sadho
Bhatak Maro Mat Koi

English Translation

Oh Sadhu This is the Village of the Dead

The Saints Have Died, The God-Messengers Die
The Life-Filled Yogis Die Too |
The Kings Die, The Subjects Die
The Healers and the Sick Die Too ||

The Moon Dies, The Sun Dies
The Earth and Sky Die Too |
Even the Caretakers of the Fourteen Worlds Die
Why Hope For Any of These ||

The Nine Die, The Ten Die
The Eighty Eight Die Easily Too |
The Thirty Three Crore Devatas Die
It's a Big Game of Time ||

The Un-Named Naam Lives Without Any End
There is No Other Truth ||
Says Kabir Listen Oh Sadhu
Don't Get Lost and Die ||

poem by Kabir
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The Cap And Bells; Or, The Jealousies: A Faery Tale -- Unfinished

I.
In midmost Ind, beside Hydaspes cool,
There stood, or hover'd, tremulous in the air,
A faery city 'neath the potent rule
Of Emperor Elfinan; fam'd ev'rywhere
For love of mortal women, maidens fair,
Whose lips were solid, whose soft hands were made
Of a fit mould and beauty, ripe and rare,
To tamper his slight wooing, warm yet staid:
He lov'd girls smooth as shades, but hated a mere shade.

II.
This was a crime forbidden by the law;
And all the priesthood of his city wept,
For ruin and dismay they well foresaw,
If impious prince no bound or limit kept,
And faery Zendervester overstept;
They wept, he sin'd, and still he would sin on,
They dreamt of sin, and he sin'd while they slept;
In vain the pulpit thunder'd at the throne,
Caricature was vain, and vain the tart lampoon.

III.
Which seeing, his high court of parliament
Laid a remonstrance at his Highness' feet,
Praying his royal senses to content
Themselves with what in faery land was sweet,
Befitting best that shade with shade should meet:
Whereat, to calm their fears, he promis'd soon
From mortal tempters all to make retreat,--
Aye, even on the first of the new moon,
An immaterial wife to espouse as heaven's boon.

IV.
Meantime he sent a fluttering embassy
To Pigmio, of Imaus sovereign,
To half beg, and half demand, respectfully,
The hand of his fair daughter Bellanaine;
An audience had, and speeching done, they gain
Their point, and bring the weeping bride away;
Whom, with but one attendant, safely lain
Upon their wings, they bore in bright array,
While little harps were touch'd by many a lyric fay.

V.
As in old pictures tender cherubim
A child's soul thro' the sapphir'd canvas bear,
So, thro' a real heaven, on they swim
With the sweet princess on her plumag'd lair,
Speed giving to the winds her lustrous hair;

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poem by John Keats
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