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William Shakespeare

Soothsayer: Beware the ides of March.

classic line from Julius Caesar, Act I, Scene 2 by (1599)Report problemRelated quotes
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Ides of March

The Ides of March come.
Seven days preceding the 15th day
Of every other month.
What significance did the Romans give this?
And 'why' is the 13th of October their 'ides'?
Outside of poetic expression,
What value does 'ides' have?
And whose ides come to visit you and when?
Will they be in March, May, or July?
And then...
Will you notice them?

My mother use to say,
When I was a child and extremely naïve...
'The Ides of March will soon be upon you.'
I thought she meant 'eyes'!
Needless to say,
I was glad when March came and went away!
Not realizing then...
Every other month from March also had 'ides'.
I still want to know,
What importance do these 'ides' have and why?

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People of america
I bring you a great army
To preserve peace
In our empire
Throw them to the lions
Darling, let us go to the banouet hall...
There will be a great feast tonight!
Who are these christians?
What is this strange religion?
I ve heard it said they turn the other cheek
Ha ha ha ha
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Thumbs down
10 pieces of gold for every man
Hail caesar hail caesar
Grapes from sicily
Silks from asia minor
All the tea in china
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Who are these christians?
Turn the other cheek...
Ha ha ha ha ha
Two thumbs down
The christians are restless
Why not let them worship their god?
No one believes in the old gods
How tiresome...attending the rituals
Paying lip service to the portents
Burning incense at their shrine
No one believes in the old gods
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
Throw them to the lions
The roman empire the glory of rome
Hail all hail
Caesar...caesar...beware beware the ides of march
Who is this man?
Caesar...he is but a soothsayer...he is old
And his brain is addled... pay him no mind!
Throw him to the lions! ha ha ha ha ha ha
Hail caesar! emperor of rome hail caesar!
Caesar...caesar...beware the ides of march
Eh? ! who is this man?
Caesar...he is but an old soothsayer...addled in his brain
Pay him no mind
Throw him to the lions! ha ha ha ha
Throw him to the lions!
No one believes in the old gods...
The empire is tired...caesar will rest now.
We depart for my chambers
Come darling
Yes caesar
Caesar will rest now
Hail rome hail caesar hail
Put him in the fiery pit
Ha ha ha ha!

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Hate That Dare Not Speak Its Name

The hate that dare not speak its name,
the hate that Muslims feel for Jews,
has now become the very same
that Nazis demonstrated––views
that Christian nations held for ages.
to trash the people that God chose
according to the Bible's pages.
Too many nation states oppose
the peaceful coexistence prophets
promised would occur when swords
would no more generate large profits,
but turned into plowshares. Their words
sometimes disguise their targets whom
they don't call Jews, but they describe
as Zionists, preparing doom
for members of the Jewish tribe.

Haman's sons all live, brought back
to life no longer hung on gallows,
and now are ready to attack
all Jews, and roast them like marshmallows,
as they once did in Spain to those
they called New Jews although they had
converted––could not change their nose,
whose length has always proved they're bad,
and many of them would be burned
alive on sacrificial pyres,
as Christian as the priests who turned
against them, claiming they were liars.

The hate that Haman felt towards
the Jews of Shushan had no name,
based on the theory Jews had hoards
of gold. Ahasuerus' dame,
Queen Esther, saved them then, but we
must make sure that the hate that hides
behind deception now will be
exposed. 'Beware the Ides
of March! ' ignored by Julius, proved
to be correct. We must beware,
lest men by hateful lies are moved
to do what hate makes bad men dare.

Though we’re all forced to live with Haman,
we must not ever compromise
with hate, but make it speak its name, an
attitude that lives on lies,
and kills with its deceptive lyin’,
conflating with its hateful fury
all Jewish foes as friends of Zion
to justify its hate of Jewry.

Ed Rothstein writes in the NYT about 'State of Deception: The Power of Nazi Propaganda, ' a major new exhibition at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum ('Nazis' 'Terrible Weapon, ' Aimed at Minds and Heart, ' NYT, February 24,2009) :

The most haunting image in 'State of Deception: The Power of Nazi Propaganda, ' a major new exhibition at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum here, may be the first one you see after the introductory videos. At the end of a darkened corridor is a black-and-white photograph on a black background. Underneath, with unornamented simplicity, is a single word: Hitler. It is a campaign poster from 1932, when the Nazi Party was already the second largest in the German Parliament. The mass rallies, the storm troopers, the frenzied rhetoric of this electrifying speaker: all are condensed into this silent face, which is deliberately unsettling, starkly divided into light and shade, mixing comfort with ferocity, transparency with subterranean energies. It is chilling because we know what that face unleashed, and as we make our way through the exhibition, we feel almost physically assailed. A muscular fist smashes into the face of a cringing, sweating Jew (1928) . An enormous
itler is superimposed on a crowd of ecstatic Germans raising hands in salute as red gothic letters shout, 'Ja! ' (1934) .. The exhibition points out that the Nazis financed anti-Semitic broadcasts by Haj Amin al-Husseini, 'an Arab nationalist and prominent Muslim religious leader.' Now no sponsorship seems needed. Major Middle East media outlets have asserted that Jews use children's blood to bake matzos. In recent weeks we have heard that Jews are following the nefarious plot outlined in the Protocols to exterminate all gentiles, this from the poet and former member of the Lebanese Parliament Ghassan Matar. An Egyptian cleric, Safwat Higazi, has described Jews being 'as smooth as a viper': 'Dispatch those son of apes and pigs to the Hellfire.' And an Egyptian cleric with strong ties to the West, Sheikh Yusuf al-Qaradhawi, has described Jews as 'a profligate, cunning arrogant band of people': 'Oh Allah, count their numbers, and kill them, down to the very last one.' The ex
ent of these visions (chronicled by the Middle East Media Research Institute) , the historical distortions they codify and the readiness with which they are taught to children and are secularized into political action suggest that the strongest contemporary analogy to Nazi propaganda may be one the exhibition leaves unmentioned.

© 2009 Gershon Hepner 2/24/09

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The Ides of March

Fear grandeurs, O soul.
And if you cannot overcome
your ambitions, pursue them with hesitation
and caution. And the more you advance,
the more inquisitive, careful you must be.

And when you reach your peak, Caesar at last;
when you assume the form of a famous man,
then above all beware when you go out in the street,
a conspicuous ruler with followers,
if by chance from the mob approaches
some Artemidorus, bringing a letter
and says hastily 'Read this immediately,
these are grave matters that concern you,'
do not fail to stop; do not fail to push aside
all those who salute and kneel
(you can see them later); let even the Senate
itself wait, and immediately recognise
the grave writings of Artemidorus.

Greek Original:

Μάρτι&# 945;ι Ειδοί
Τα μεγαλεία να φοβάσαι, ω ψυχή.
Και τες φιλοδοξί& #949;ς σου να υπερνική& #963;εις
αν δεν μπορείς, με δισταγμό και προφυλάξ& #949;ις
να τες ακολουθε& #943;ς. Κι όσο εμπροστά προβαίνε& #953;ς,
τόσο εξεταστι& #954;ή, προσεκτι& #954;ή να είσαι.

Κ_ 3; όταν θα φθάσεις στην ακμή σου, Καίσαρ πια·
έτσι περιωνύμ& #959;υ ανθρώπου σχήμα όταν λάβεις,
τ&# 972;τε κυρίως πρόσεξε σαν βγεις στον δρόμον έξω,
εξου&# 963;ιαστής περίβλεπ& #964;ος με συνοδεία,
αν τύχει και πλησιάσε& #953; από τον όχλο
καν 41;νας Αρτεμίδω& #961;ος, που φέρνει γράμμα,
κ&# 945;ι λέγει βιαστικά «Διάβασε αμέσως τούτα,
εί&# 957;αι μεγάλα πράγματα που σ' ενδιαφέρ& #959;υν»,
μη λείψεις να σταθείς· μη λείψεις τους διαφόρου& #962;
που χαιρετού& #957; και προσκυνο& #973;ν να τους παραμερί& #963;εις
(του 62; βλέπεις πιο αργά· ας περιμένε& #953; ακόμη
κ' η Σύγκλητο& #962; αυτή, κ' ευθύς να τα γνωρίσει& #962;
τα σοβαρά γραφόμεν& #945; του Αρτεμιδώ& #961;ου.

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Beware The Scam

Beware the scam my friends
Beware the scam
The one where you are
Asked 'support an orphanage'

Even through the medium
Of poetry beware the scam
There are ways and means these days
To ignite a sham

We have to learn to reap
Reap what we sow
Not expect handouts
From anyone although

Temptation prays at
Heaven's golden page
Beware the scam my friends
Hold still your gaze

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Beware The Wrath

beware the wrath of the man
whose degree is written
in the callouses and bruises

on his time worn hands...
who gave it all, and then some,
never quitting, nor looking back.

whose family his world,
whose faith in the others
who worked and walked beside....

whose life you've destroyed
with unthinking greed,
who now has no identity

other than a number....
beware the wrath of the man
who built your home!

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The Rain of March

The Fitful Showers of March

The rain of March, the rain of March
Came again
Came slanting down in full force
With pattering sound on the tin roof
Splashes of cold water wetted everything
The dry sand all around shone with a dazzle
The woodland paths softened with the tears
Of the blue sky.

For whom the sky wept?
The little leaves on the boughs
Quenched their thirst
Who washed all their heat and pain
The rain of March, the rain of March
Came again.

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When the Month of March Comes

When the month of March comes I am astounded
by the summer that is still lingering,
the sparkle, colour and fragrance of flower upon flower,
the fine splendour

of every cup that still opens for the sun,
birds that frisk about in the branches
with days keeping the intensity of summer
while I perceive the first signs of autumn

in the colours of leave upon leave
that starts to fall one by one
and summer is almost finished
while thunder still reports in the late afternoons

with rain pouring down
and one by one the days of summer are curtailed.

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Beware the Devil

Beware the devil hidden from sight

In darkened shadows late at night

For Satan lurks, he lies in wait

For hapless souls to make mistakes

And when they do, all hope is gone

For the devil your soul will work upon

He will dissect your mind, chill your heart

Your dreams and wishes he will tear apart

Bleak thoughts he will place in your brain

He will weaken your body, cause you pain

With fiery flames he will corrupt your soul

And with his evil will take control

He will fit you out in colours dark

Alone in a place so bleak and stark

He will taunt you, twist you round

Till no trace of sanity can be found

There you will remain, weary and cold

As you shake with fear at what will unfold

Then Satan speaks with evil ire

Tempts you into hells own fire

Those shining flames flickering bright

Consume you into an endless night

Evil now reigns, and goodness is taken

A nightmare from which you will never awaken

So beware the devil hidden out of sight

In darkest shadows late at night

For Satan waits, his evil to spawn

Tread carefully, you have been warned!

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Beware: The Dog

Beware the dog because he's lurking the streets.
Do not let him get between your sheets.
He will do his business, and leave his seed behind.
He will leave you losing your mind.
Thoughts of how cute and sweet he was that night,
Will leave you thinking what you did was right.
He will make you feel as if you were the only one.
When in reality he was headed to the next when ya'll were done.
He's a stray, he belongs to no one.
He's dirty and trashy and sleeps where ever.
A house dog, never.
A street dog, forever.
His eyes will lie; tell you that you have his heart,
But truth is you don't even have a part.
You can take him in and clean him up,
But before you know it he's back rolling in the dirt.
Old dog, new tricks they don't mix.
New dog, old tricks still don't make a fix.
A dog is a dog no matter what the breed.
They're only after what they want and not what they need.
Sweet girl, bad dog that's trouble from the start.
Don't give him nothing especially not your heart.
They lie, they cheat, and sleep around,
But they'll come home when they're covered in fleas.
Beware the dog, because he's lurking the streets.

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The Wind Of March

Up from the sea, the wild north wind is blowing
Under the sky's gray arch;
Smiling, I watch the shaken elm-boughs, knowing
It is the wind of March.

Between the passing and the coming season,
This stormy interlude
Gives to our winter-wearied hearts a reason
For trustful gratitude.

Welcome to waiting ears its harsh forewarning
Of light and warmth to come,
The longed-for joy of Nature's Easter morning,
The earth arisen in bloom.

In the loud tumult winter's strength is breaking;
I listen to the sound,
As to a voice of resurrection, waking
To life the dead, cold ground.

Between these gusts, to the soft lapse I hearken
Of rivulets on their way;
I see these tossed and naked tree-tops darken
With the fresh leaves of May.

This roar of storm, this sky so gray and lowering
Invite the airs of Spring,
A warmer sunshine over fields of flowering,
The bluebird's song and wing.

Closely behind, the Gulf's warm breezes follow
This northern hurricane,
And, borne thereon, the bobolink and swallow
Shall visit us again.

And, in green wood-paths, in the kine-fed pasture
And by the whispering rills,
Shall flowers repeat the lesson of the Master,
Taught on his Syrian hills.

Blow, then, wild wind! thy roar shall end in singing,
Thy chill in blossoming;
Come, like Bethesda's troubling angel, bringing
The healing of the Spring.

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William Baldwin

Beware the cat

This little book Bevvare the Cat
moste pleasantly compil'd:
In time obscured was and so,
siince that hath been exilde.

Exilde, because perchaunce at first,
it shewed the toyes and drifts:
Of such as then by wiles and willes,
maintained Popish shifts.

Shifts, such as those in such a time,
delighted for to vse:
Wherby ful many simple soules,
they did ful sore abuse.

Abuse? yea sure and that with spight
when as the Cat gan tel:
Of many pranks of popish preests,
bothe foolish mad and fel.

Fel sure & vaine, if iudgement right
appeere to be in place:
And so as fel in pleasant wise,
this fixion shewes their grace.

Grace? nay sure vngratiousnes,
of such and many mo:
which may be tolde in these our daies
to make vs laugh also.

Also to laugh? nay rather weep,
to see such shifts now vsed:
And that in euery sorte of men,
true vertue is abused.

Abused? yea, and quite downe cast,
let vs be sure of that:
And therfore now as hath been said,
I say beware the Cat.

The Cat ful pleasantly wil shew,
some sleights that now are wrought
And make some laugh, which vnto mirth
to be constrainde are loght.

Lothe? yea, for ouer passing greef,
that much bereues their minde:
For such disorder as in states,
of euery sorte they finde.

Finde? yea, who can now boste but that
the Cat wil him disclose?
Therfore in midst of mirth (I say)
beware the Cat to those.

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Beware the Antichrist

Heed this warning: Beware the Antichrist!
We know from Christ’s revelation to Man,
that the ‘End Times’ officially began in 1948
with Israel reclaiming their ancestral land.

Be aware and be not deceived.
For this evil soul shall rise up - from obscurity.
Out from the descendants of Dan
the World will take notice of Satan’s emissary.

Although the Antichrist should be easy to spot,
this individual will be viewed as ‘Heaven sent’;
for his initial proclamations of false peace
will be supported by a one-world government.

Napoleon and Hitler would have been impressed,
for his lavish promises are lies - full of finesse.
He will have no time or regard for women;
power ultimately will be his true mistress.

Eventually he’ll claim to be ‘God’
while appearing to survive a fatal injury.
From only the Devil himself,
the Antichrist received his earthly authority.

Yes, he will be voted into power
and will place the ‘Mark of the Beast’ upon thee.
So don’t be surprised when he demands…
worship from thee, upon your bended knee.

His reign of terror will be spectacular
and will probably lead us into World War III -
culminating in the ‘Battle of Armageddon’
and another ungodly event in Man’s brief history.

Will we face our ultimate destruction
from our earthly lust for power and authority?
Will mankind’s existence end from us forgetting
‘that absolute power corrupts absolutely’?

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http: //

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The Ides of March [Make It Mandatory]

Cast: Ryan Gosling, George Clooney

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The Ides of March

Cast: Paul Giamatti, George Clooney, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Ryan Gosling, Evan Rachel Wood, Marisa Tomei, Jeffrey Wright, Max Minghella, Danny Mooney, Lauren Mae Shafer, Wendy Aaron

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Et Tu?

The Ides of March had come
but its Sun was not yet cold
when Spurinna reminded me
what his augury had foretold

Some good men tried to warn me
About the risks I take-
But Caesar has no need of guards
I look Death in the face.

Calpurnia asked me not to go
Based on her silly dream
But the Parthian war won’t be derailed
By some Republican’s scheme

The supplicants surround me with petitions,
Bur I, impatient, moved to turn away.
Casca grabbed the draping of my toga
and bared me, awkwardly, to start the fray.

The first dagger found my flesh
and left a superficial wound.
I wrested the dagger from his hands
and swept the blade to clear some room.

They are too many that surround me.
Too many of their thrusts strike home
Brutus my son, “Et Tu, Brute”
I cover my face to die alone.

Bleeding, powerless, dying,
No one must see me as I lay.
My dignity must be preserved
for I am uncommon clay.

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From A Moving Train

Written by gerry beckley, 1998
Found on human nature.
Ive seen the ides of march
And Ive seen the fall of rome
Ive seen all kinds of stuff
But I never see my home
If my life-line is
These million miles of track
One thing I know by now
There is no turning back
From a moving train
From a moving train
From a moving train
From a moving train
If every venture was
A path to no avail
Id still be rolling down
This never ending trail
If we had a destination
In our sights
We would be helpless as
We passed it in the night
From a moving train (hear the engine running)
From a moving train (you can get on board)
From a moving train (hear the motor humming)
From a moving train (see, youve gotta see the light)
And if by chance you find a woman
That you might love along the way
You better hold her tight
Tell her everythings alright
Or she might jump along the way
From a moving train (hear the engine running)
From a moving train (you can get on board)
From a moving train (hear the motor humming)
From a moving train (see, youve gotta see the light)
From a moving train (hear the engine running)
From a moving train (you can get on board)
From a moving train (hear the motor humming)
From a moving train (see, youve gotta see the light)

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Nyc Man

It can only lead to trouble if you break my heart
If you accidentally crush it on the ides of march
Id prefer you were straight forward
You dont have to go through all of that
Im a new york city man, baby, and say go and that is that
New york city man, you just say go and that is that
Im a new york city man, you just say go and that is that
Its far too complicated to make up a lie
That youd have to remember and really why
I wouldnt want to be around you
If you didnt want to have me around
Im a m-a-n-n man, you blink your eyes and Ill be gone
M-a-n-n man, you blink your eyes, honey, I love you, Ill be gone
New york city man, you blink your eyes and Ill be gone
Brutus made a pretty speech but caesar was betrayed
Lady macbeth went crazy but macbeth ended slain
Ophelia and desdamona dead leaving hamlet in a play
But Im no lear with blinded eyes, say go and I am gone
The stars have shut their eyes up tight
The earth has changed its course
A kingdom sits on a black knights back
As he tries to mount a white jeweled horse
While a clock full of butterflies on the hour
Releases a thousand moths
You say leave and Ill be gone
Without any remorse
No letters faxes phones or tears
Theres a difference between bad and worse
Im a new york city man, blink your eyes and Ill be gone
New york city - man, m-a-n, you blink your eyes and Ill be gone
New york city, I love you, new york city man
New york city, how I love you, blink your eyes and Ill be gone
Just a little grain of sand
New york city, ooohhh, how I love you
New york city, baby, blink your eyes and Ill be gone
Oh, how I love you

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Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

The Blind Girl Of Castel-Cuille. (From The Gascon of Jasmin)

At the foot of the mountain height
Where is perched Castel Cuille,
When the apple, the plum, and the almond tree
In the plain below were growing white,
This is the song one might perceive
On a Wednesday morn of Saint Joseph's Eve:

'The roads should blossom, the roads should bloom,
So fair a bride shall leave her home!
Should blossom and bloom with garlands gay,
So fair a bride shall pass to-day!'

This old Te Deum, rustic rites attending,
Seemed from the clouds descending;
When lo! a merry company
Of rosy village girls, clean as the eye,
Each one with her attendant swain,
Came to the cliff, all singing the same strain;
Resembling there, so near unto the sky,
Rejoicing angels, that kind Heaven has sent
For their delight and our encouragement.
Together blending,
And soon descending
The narrow sweep
Of the hillside steep,
They wind aslant
Towards Saint Amant,
Through leafy alleys
Of verdurous valleys
With merry sallies
Singing their chant:

'The roads should blossom, the roads should bloom,
So fair a bride shall leave her home!
Should blossom and bloom with garlands gay,
So fair a bride shall pass to-day!

It is Baptiste, and his affianced maiden,
With garlands for the bridal laden!

The sky was blue; without one cloud of gloom,
The sun of March was shining brightly,
And to the air the freshening wind gave lightly
Its breathings of perfume.

When one beholds the dusky hedges blossom,
A rustic bridal, oh! how sweet it is!
To sounds of joyous melodies,
That touch with tenderness the trembling bosom,
A band of maidens
Gayly frolicking,
A band of youngsters
Wildly rollicking!
With fingers pressing,
Till in the veriest
Madness of mirth, as they dance,
They retreat and advance,
Trying whose laugh shall be loudest and merriest;
While the bride, with roguish eyes,
Sporting with them, now escapes and cries:
'Those who catch me
Married verily
This year shall be!'

And all pursue with eager haste,
And all attain what they pursue,
And touch her pretty apron fresh and new,
And the linen kirtle round her waist.

Meanwhile, whence comes it that among
These youthful maidens fresh and fair,
So joyous, with such laughing air,
Baptiste stands sighing, with silent tongue?
And yet the bride is fair and young!
Is it Saint Joseph would say to us all,
That love, o'er-hasty, precedeth a fall?
O no! for a maiden frail, I trow,
Never bore so lofty a brow!
What lovers! they give not a single caress!
To see them so careless and cold to-day,
These are grand people, one would say.
What ails Baptiste? what grief doth him oppress?

It is, that half-way up the hill,
In yon cottage, by whose walls
Stand the cart-house and the stalls,
Dwelleth the blind orphan still,
Daughter of a veteran old;
And you must know, one year ago,
That Margaret, the young and tender,
Was the village pride and splendor,
And Baptiste her lover bold.
Love, the deceiver, them ensnared;
For them the altar was prepared;
But alas! the summer's blight,
The dread disease that none can stay,
The pestilence that walks by night,
Took the young bride's sight away.

All at the father's stern command was changed;
Their peace was gone, but not their love estranged.
Wearied at home, erelong the lover fled;
Returned but three short days ago,
The golden chain they round him throw,
He is enticed, and onward led
To marry Angela, and yet
Is thinking ever of Margaret.

Then suddenly a maiden cried,
'Anna, Theresa, Mary, Kate!
Here comes the cripple Jane!' And by a fountain's side
A woman, bent and gray with years,
Under the mulberry-trees appears,
And all towards her run, as fleet
As had they wings upon their feet.

It is that Jane, the cripple Jane,
Is a soothsayer, wary and kind.
She telleth fortunes, and none complain.
She promises one a village swain,
Another a happy wedding-day,
And the bride a lovely boy straightway.
All comes to pass as she avers;
She never deceives, she never errs.

But for this once the village seer
Wears a countenance severe,
And from beneath her eyebrows thin and white
Her two eyes flash like cannons bright
Aimed at the bridegroom in waistcoat blue,
Who, like a statue, stands in view;
Changing color as well he might,
When the beldame wrinkled and gray
Takes the young bride by the hand,
And, with the tip of her reedy wand
Making the sign of the cross, doth say:--
'Thoughtless Angela, beware!
Lest, when thou weddest this false bridegroom,
Thou diggest for thyself a tomb!'
And she was silent; and the maidens fair
Saw from each eye escape a swollen tear;
But on a little streamlet silver-clear,
What are two drops of turbid rain?
Saddened a moment, the bridal train
Resumed the dance and song again;
The bridegroom only was pale with fear;--
And down green alleys
Of verdurous valleys,
With merry sallies,
They sang the refrain:--

'The roads should blossom, the roads should bloom,
So fair a bride shall leave her home!
Should blossom and bloom with garlands gay,
So fair a bride shall pass to-day!'

And by suffering worn and weary,
But beautiful as some fair angel yet,
Thus lamented Margaret,
In her cottage lone and dreary;--

'He has arrived! arrived at last!
Yet Jane has named him not these three days past;
Arrived! yet keeps aloof so far!
And knows that of my night he is the star!
Knows that long months I wait alone, benighted,
And count the moments since he went away!
Come! keep the promise of that happier day,
That I may keep the faith to thee I plighted!
What joy have I without thee? what delight?
Grief wastes my life, and makes it misery;
Day for the others ever, but for me
Forever night! forever night!
When he is gone 't is dark! my soul is sad!
I suffer! O my God! come, make me glad.
When he is near, no thoughts of day intrude;
Day has blue heavens, but Baptiste has blue eyes!
Within them shines for me a heaven of love,
A heaven all happiness, like that above,
No more of grief! no more of lassitude!
Earth I forget,--and heaven, and all distresses,
When seated by my side my hand he presses;
But when alone, remember all!
Where is Baptiste? he hears not when I call!
A branch of ivy, dying on the ground,
I need some bough to twine around!
In pity come! be to my suffering kind!
True love, they say, in grief doth more abound!
What then--when one is blind?

'Who knows? perhaps I am forsaken!
Ah! woe is me! then bear me to my grave!
O God! what thoughts within me waken!
Away! he will return! I do but rave!
He will return! I need not fear!
He swore it by our Saviour dear;
He could not come at his own will;
Is weary, or perhaps is ill!
Perhaps his heart, in this disguise,
Prepares for me some sweet surprise!
But some one comes! Though blind, my heart can see!
And that deceives me not! 't is he! 't is he!'

And the door ajar is set,
And poor, confiding Margaret
Rises, with outstretched arms, but sightless eyes;
'T is only Paul, her brother, who thus cries:--
'Angela the bride has passed!
I saw the wedding guests go by;
Tell me, my sister, why were we not asked?
For all are there but you and I!'

'Angela married! and not send
To tell her secret unto me!
O, speak! who may the bridegroom be?'
'My sister, 't is Baptiste, thy friend!'

A cry the blind girl gave, but nothing said;
A milky whiteness spreads upon her cheeks;
An icy hand, as heavy as lead,
Descending, as her brother speaks,
Upon her heart, that has ceased to beat,
Suspends awhile its life and heat.
She stands beside the boy, now sore distressed,
A wax Madonna as a peasant dressed.

At length, the bridal song again
Brings her back to her sorrow and pain.

'Hark! the joyous airs are ringing!
Sister, dost thou hear them singing?
How merrily they laugh and jest!
Would we were bidden with the rest!
I would don my hose of homespun gray,
And my doublet of linen striped and gay;
Perhaps they will come; for they do not wed
Till to-morrow at seven o'clock, it is said!'

'I know it!' answered Margaret;
Whom the vision, with aspect black as jet,
Mastered again; and its hand of ice
Held her heart crushed, as in a vice!
'Paul, be not sad! 'T is a holiday;
To-morrow put on thy doublet gay!
But leave me now for a while alone.'
Away, with a hop and a jump, went Paul,
And, as he whistled along the hall,
Entered Jane, the crippled crone.

'Holy Virgin! what dreadful heat!
I am faint, and weary, and out of breath!
But thou art cold,--art chill as death;
My little friend! what ails thee, sweet?'
'Nothing! I heard them singing home the bride;
And, as I listened to the song,
I thought my turn would come erelong,
Thou knowest it is at Whitsuntide.
Thy cards forsooth can never lie,
To me such joy they prophesy,
Thy skill shall be vaunted far and wide
When they behold him at my side.
And poor Baptiste, what sayest thou?
It must seem long to him;--methinks I see him now!'
Jane, shuddering, her hand doth press:
'Thy love I cannot all approve;
We must not trust too much to happiness;--
Go, pray to God, that thou mayst love him less!'
'The more I pray, the more I love!
It is no sin, for God is on my side!'
It was enough; and Jane no more replied.

Now to all hope her heart is barred and cold;
But to deceive the beldame old
She takes a sweet, contented air;
Speak of foul weather or of fair,
At every word the maiden smiles!
Thus the beguiler she beguiles;
So that, departing at the evening's close,
She says, 'She may be saved! she nothing knows!'

Poor Jane, the cunning sorceress!
Now that thou wouldst, thou art no prophetess!
This morning, in the fulness of thy heart,
Thou wast so, far beyond thine art!

Now rings the bell, nine times reverberating,
And the white daybreak, stealing up the sky,
Sees in two cottages two maidens waiting,
How differently!

Queen of a day, by flatterers caressed,
The one puts on her cross and crown,
Decks with a huge bouquet her breast,
And flaunting, fluttering up and down,
Looks at herself, and cannot rest,
The other, blind, within her little room,
Has neither crown nor flower's perfume;
But in their stead for something gropes apart,
That in a drawer's recess doth lie,
And, 'neath her bodice of bright scarlet dye,
Convulsive clasps it to her heart.

The one, fantastic, light as air,
'Mid kisses ringing,
And joyous singing,
Forgets to say her morning prayer!

The other, with cold drops upon her brow,
Joins her two hands, and kneels upon the floor,
And whispers, as her brother opes the door,
'O God! forgive me now!'

And then the orphan, young and blind,
Conducted by her brother's hand,
Towards the church, through paths unscanned,
With tranquil air, her way doth wind.
Odors of laurel, making her faint and pale,
Round her at times exhale,
And in the sky as yet no sunny ray,
But brumal vapors gray.

Near that castle, fair to see,
Crowded with sculptures old, in every part,
Marvels of nature and of art,
And proud of its name of high degree,
A little chapel, almost bare
At the base of the rock, is builded there;
All glorious that it lifts aloof,
Above each jealous cottage roof,
Its sacred summit, swept by autumn gales,
And its blackened steeple high in air,
Round which the osprey screams and sails.

'Paul, lay thy noisy rattle by!'
Thus Margaret said. 'Where are we? we ascend!'
'Yes; seest thou not our journey's end?
Hearest not the osprey from the belfry cry?
The hideous bird, that brings ill luck, we know!
Dost thou remember when our father said,
The night we watched beside his bed,
'O daughter, I am weak and low;
Take care of Paul; I feel that I am dying!'
And thou, and he, and I, all fell to crying?
Then on the roof the osprey screamed aloud;
And here they brought our father in his shroud.
There is his grave; there stands the cross we set;
Why dost thou clasp me so, dear Margaret?
Come in! The bride will be here soon:
Thou tremblest! O my God! thou art going to swoon!'

She could no more,--the blind girl, weak and weary!
A voice seemed crying from that grave so dreary,
'What wouldst thou do, my daughter?'--and she started,
And quick recoiled, aghast, faint-hearted;
But Paul, impatient, urges evermore
Her steps towards the open door;
And when, beneath her feet, the unhappy maid
Crushes the laurel near the house immortal,
And with her head, as Paul talks on again,
Touches the crown of filigrane
Suspended from the low-arched portal,
No more restrained, no more afraid,
She walks, as for a feast arrayed,
And in the ancient chapel's sombre night
They both are lost to sight.

At length the bell,
With booming sound,
Sends forth, resounding round.
Its hymeneal peal o'er rock and down the dell.
It is broad day, with sunshine and with rain;
And yet the guests delay not long,
For soon arrives the bridal train,
And with it brings the village throng.

In sooth, deceit maketh no mortal gay,
For lo! Baptiste on this triumphant day,
Mute as an idiot, sad as yester-morning,
Thinks only of the beldame's words of warning.

And Angela thinks of her cross, I wis;
To be a bride is all! The pretty lisper
Feels her heart swell to hear all round her whisper,
'How beautiful! how beautiful she is!'.

But she must calm that giddy head,
For already the Mass is said;
At the holy table stands the priest;
The wedding ring is blessed; Baptiste receives it;
Ere on the finger of the bride he leaves it,
He must pronounce one word at least!
'T is spoken; and sudden at the grooms-man's side
''T is he!' a well-known voice has cried.
And while the wedding guests all hold their breath,
Opes the confessional, and the blind girl, see!
'Baptiste,' she said, 'since thou hast wished my death,
As holy water be my blood for thee!'
And calmly in the air a knife suspended!
Doubtless her guardian angel near attended,
For anguish did its work so well,
That, ere the fatal stroke descended,
Lifeless she fell!

At eve instead of bridal verse,
The De Profundis filled the air;
Decked with flowers a simple hearse
To the churchyard forth they bear;
Village girls in robes of snow
Follow, weeping as they go;
Nowhere was a smile that day,
No, ah no! for each one seemed to say:--

'The road should mourn and be veiled in gloom,
So fair a corpse shall leave its home!
Should mourn and should weep, ah, well-away!
So fair a corpse shall pass to-day!'

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March The Mad Scientist

What would you like for christmas ---
A new polarity?
Youre binary, and desperate to deal
In high figures
That lick us with their hotter flame ---
Lick each and everyone the same.
And march, the mad scientist,
Rings a new change
In ever-dancing colours.
He rings it here and he rings it...
But no one stops to see
The change of fate and the fate of change
That slips into his pocket ---
So he locks it all away from view
And shares not what he thought you knew.
And april is summer-bound,
And februarys blue.
And no one stops to see the colours.

song performed by Jethro TullReport problemRelated quotes
Added by Lucian Velea
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