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Pleasure is a by-product of doing something that is worth doing. Therefore, do not seek pleasure as such. Pleasure comes of seeking something else, and comes by the way.

quote by A. Lawrence Lowell
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Example of Vertu : Cantos I.-VII.

Here begynneth the boke called the example of vertu.

The prologe.

Whan I aduert in my remembraunce
The famous draughtes of poetes eloquent
Whiche theyr myndes dyd well enhaunce
Bokes to contryue that were expedyent
To be remembred without Impedyment
For the profyte of humanyte
This was the custume of antyquyte.
I now symple and moost rude
And naked in depured eloquence
For dulnes rethoryke doth exclude
Wherfore in makynge I lake intellygence
Also consyderynge my grete neglygence
It fereth me sore for to endyte
But at auenture I wyll now wryte.
As very blynde in the poetys art
For I therof can no thynge skyll
Wherfore I lay it all a part
But somwhat accordynge to my wyll
I wyll now wryte for to fulfyll
Saynt Powles wordes and true sentement
All that is wryten is to oure document
O prudent Gower in langage pure
Without corrupcyon moost facundyous
O noble Chauser euer moost sure
Of frutfull sentence ryght delycyous
O vertuous Lydgat moche sentencyous
Unto you all I do me excuse
Though I your connynge do now vse
Explicit prologus.

Capitulum Primsi.
In Septembre in fallynge of the lefe
Whan phebus made his declynacyon
And all the whete gadred was in the shefe
By radyaunt hete and operacyon
Whan the vyrgyn had full domynacyon
And Dyane entred was one degre
Into the sygne of Gemyne
Whan the golden sterres clere were splendent
In the firmament puryfyed clere as crystall
By imperyall course without incombrement
As Iuppyter and Mars that be celestyall
With Saturne and Mercury that wer supernall
Myxt with venus that was not retrograte
That caused me to be well fortunate
In a slombrynge slepe with slouth opprest

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poem by Stephen Hawes
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

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poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Quatrains Of Life

What has my youth been that I love it thus,
Sad youth, to all but one grown tedious,
Stale as the news which last week wearied us,
Or a tired actor's tale told to an empty house?

What did it bring me that I loved it, even
With joy before it and that dream of Heaven,
Boyhood's first rapture of requited bliss,
What did it give? What ever has it given?

'Let me recount the value of my days,
Call up each witness, mete out blame and praise,
Set life itself before me as it was,
And--for I love it--list to what it says.

Oh, I will judge it fairly. Each old pleasure
Shared with dead lips shall stand a separate treasure.
Each untold grief, which now seems lesser pain,
Shall here be weighed and argued of at leisure.

I will not mark mere follies. These would make
The count too large and in the telling take
More tears than I can spare from seemlier themes
To cure its laughter when my heart should ache.

Only the griefs which are essential things,
The bitter fruit which all experience brings;
Nor only of crossed pleasures, but the creed
Men learn who deal with nations and with kings.

All shall be counted fairly, griefs and joys,
Solely distinguishing 'twixt mirth and noise,
The thing which was and that which falsely seemed,
Pleasure and vanity, man's bliss and boy's.

So I shall learn the reason of my trust
In this poor life, these particles of dust
Made sentient for a little while with tears,
Till the great ``may--be'' ends for me in ``must.''

My childhood? Ah, my childhood! What of it
Stripped of all fancy, bare of all conceit?
Where is the infancy the poets sang?
Which was the true and which the counterfeit?

I see it now, alas, with eyes unsealed,
That age of innocence too well revealed.
The flowers I gathered--for I gathered flowers--
Were not more vain than I in that far field.

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poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Was It Worth It?

(tennant/lowe)
--------------------
Well I dont know why I was dreaming about you
But I do know that I was dancing without you
Then you smiled, and I was lost
You fall in love, why count the cost?
All I gave to you
All you made me do
I react when I hear people ask
Was it worth it?
Yes its worth living for
Was it worth it?
Yes its worth giving more
If Id had my way this would have happened much sooner
But until that day it was only a rumour
All at once you changed my life
And led me in to paradise
Where I had to do
What I wanted to
I react when I hear people ask
Was it worth it?
Yes its worth living for
Was it worth it?
Yes its worth giving more
I reserve the right to live
My life this way, and I dont give
A damn when I hear people say
Ill pay the price that others pay
cause its worth it
Yes its worth living for
cause its worth it
Yes its worth living for
All I gave to you
All you made me do
I react when I hear people ask
Was it worth it?
Yes its worth living for
Was it worth it?
Yes its worth giving more
And I reserve (what? )
The right to live (where? )
My life this way (how? )
I couldnt give
A damn when I (what? )
Hear people say (who? )
Ill pay the price
That others pay
cause its worth it
Yes its worth living for
cause its worth it

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song performed by Pet Shop Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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With Rose In Hand

Prayer is worth more than a rose
in my hand where love grows
for God and all he knows
The rose has a thorn
which Jesus felt on the crown he had worn.
the rose is red as the blood from his head
when he was crucifed before we were born.

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poem by Meg Harrison
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Hide & Seek

When i'm looking here and there,
And i'm searchin' everywhere to find your love
But you play so hard to get
And i haven't found out yet where you are.
You'll never find
Just what you got.
Here i come.
Ready or not.
Hide and seek.
It's just a game we play.
Hide and seek.
Swear i gotta find you.
Sneakin' up behind you.
Hide and seek.
When i tried so hard to see
How you keep this mystery around our love
Every simple breath you take
Always makes the love we make seem so new
You're up to your
Old tricks again.
I close my eyes
And count to ten.
Hide and seek.
It's just a game we play.
Hide and seek.
Swear i gotta find you.
Sneakin' up behind you.
Hide and seek.
Hi hi hi hide.
You'll never find just what you got.
Here i come.
Ready or not.
Hide and seek.
It's just a game we play.
Hide and seek.
Swear i gotta find you.
Sneakin' up behind you.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
It's just a game we play.
Hide and seek.
Swear i gotta find you.
Sneakin' up behind you.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Swear i gotta find you.

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song performed by New Edition
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hide And Seek

When I'm looking here and there,
And I'm searchin' everywhere to find your LOVE
But you play so hard to get
And I haven't found out yet where you are.
You'll never find
Just what you got.
Here I come.
Ready or not.
Hide and seek.
It's just a game we play.
Hide and seek.
Swear I gotta find you.
Sneakin' up behind you.
Hide and seek.
When I tried so hard to see
How you keep this mystery around our LOVE
Every simple breath you take
Always makes the love we make seem so new
You're up to your
Old tricks again.
I close my eyes
And count to ten.
Hide and seek.
It's just a game we play.
Hide and seek.
Swear I gotta find you.
Sneakin' up behind you.
Hide and seek.
Hi hi hi hide.
You'll never find just what you got.
Here I come.
Ready or not.
Hide and seek.
It's just a game we play.
Hide and seek.
Swear I gotta find you.
Sneakin' up behind you.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
It's just a game we play.
Hide and seek.
Swear I gotta find you.
Sneakin' up behind you.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Swear I gotta find you.

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song performed by New Edition
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hide & Seek

When Im looking here and there,
And Im searchin everywhere to find your love
But you play so hard to get
And I havent found out yet where you are.
Youll never find
Just what you got.
Here I come.
Ready or not.
Hide and seek.
Its just a game we play.
Hide and seek.
Swear I gotta find you.
Sneakin up behind you.
Hide and seek.
When I tried so hard to see
How you keep this mystery around our love
Every simple breath you take
Always makes the love we make seem so new
Youre up to your
Old tricks again.
I close my eyes
And count to ten.
Hide and seek.
Its just a game we play.
Hide and seek.
Swear I gotta find you.
Sneakin up behind you.
Hide and seek.
Hi hi hi hide.
Youll never find just what you got.
Here I come.
Ready or not.
Hide and seek.
Its just a game we play.
Hide and seek.
Swear I gotta find you.
Sneakin up behind you.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Its just a game we play.
Hide and seek.
Swear I gotta find you.
Sneakin up behind you.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Hide and seek.
Swear I gotta find you.

[...] Read more

song performed by New Edition
Added by Lucian Velea
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Committing Suicide is a Fad

We have met the enemy, and they are us.
—Walt Kelley, Pogo
†

In major national newspapers
very soon, you will see my ad:
thanks to years of research
and cutting-edge technology
a wonderful product, I’ve made,

for committing suicide.
And I say
“Committing suicide is a fad.”
I’m Dr. Bulggard.

My idea’s going to shake the world.
Since many people seem to commit suicide
of one sort or another, I thought,
there must be a big demand out there.
So I commissioned a marketing survey
and the stats we got were astounding;
nothing fell within the gray.

And all companies in this business
had only but one thing in common:
ever-rising growth!
Cigarettes, junk food, or the like,
that makes them each multibillionaires.

I say my product compares,
at anytime is better than theirs!

I wonder in this rapid age of technology,
we do everything faster,
why then does suicide remain so neglected?
In the matter of efficiency and fastness,
it seems sheer carelessness!

Let’s examine the inefficient ways
of committing suicide we see at present.
People smoke,
and know they may get cancer.
They take drugs
and know they may end up worse than dead.
They eat junk food
and know they may have a heart attack.
They don’t walk or exercise
although they’re forty pounds overweight.
Just keep counting…

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poem by Amrit Rathi
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Pharsalia - Book IX: Cato

Yet in those ashes on the Pharian shore,
In that small heap of dust, was not confined
So great a shade; but from the limbs half burnt
And narrow cell sprang forth and sought the sky
Where dwells the Thunderer. Black the space of air
Upreaching to the poles that bear on high
The constellations in their nightly round;
There 'twixt the orbit of the moon and earth
Abide those lofty spirits, half divine,
Who by their blameless lives and fire of soul
Are fit to tolerate the pure expanse
That bounds the lower ether: there shall dwell,
Where nor the monument encased in gold,
Nor richest incense, shall suffice to bring
The buried dead, in union with the spheres,
Pompeius' spirit. When with heavenly light
His soul was filled, first on the wandering stars
And fixed orbs he bent his wondering gaze;
Then saw what darkness veils our earthly day
And scorned the insults heaped upon his corse.
Next o'er Emathian plains he winged his flight,
And ruthless Caesar's standards, and the fleet
Tossed on the deep: in Brutus' blameless breast
Tarried awhile, and roused his angered soul
To reap the vengeance; last possessed the mind
Of haughty Cato.

He while yet the scales
Were poised and balanced, nor the war had given
The world its master, hating both the chiefs,
Had followed Magnus for the Senate's cause
And for his country: since Pharsalia's field
Ran red with carnage, now was all his heart
Bound to Pompeius. Rome in him received
Her guardian; a people's trembling limbs
He cherished with new hope and weapons gave
Back to the craven hands that cast them forth.
Nor yet for empire did he wage the war
Nor fearing slavery: nor in arms achieved
Aught for himself: freedom, since Magnus fell,
The aim of all his host. And lest the foe
In rapid course triumphant should collect
His scattered bands, he sought Corcyra's gulfs
Concealed, and thence in ships unnumbered bore
The fragments of the ruin wrought in Thrace.
Who in such mighty armament had thought
A routed army sailed upon the main
Thronging the sea with keels? Round Malea's cape
And Taenarus open to the shades below
And fair Cythera's isle, th' advancing fleet

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poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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Beowulf

LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!
Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,
from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
awing the earls. Since erst he lay
friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:
for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,
till before him the folk, both far and near,
who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,
gave him gifts: a good king he!
To him an heir was afterward born,
a son in his halls, whom heaven sent
to favor the folk, feeling their woe
that erst they had lacked an earl for leader
so long a while; the Lord endowed him,
the Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown.
Famed was this Beowulf: far flew the boast of him,
son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.
So becomes it a youth to quit him well
with his father's friends, by fee and gift,
that to aid him, aged, in after days,
come warriors willing, should war draw nigh,
liegemen loyal: by lauded deeds
shall an earl have honor in every clan.
Forth he fared at the fated moment,
sturdy Scyld to the shelter of God.
Then they bore him over to ocean's billow,
loving clansmen, as late he charged them,
while wielded words the winsome Scyld,
the leader beloved who long had ruled….
In the roadstead rocked a ring-dight vessel,
ice-flecked, outbound, atheling's barge:
there laid they down their darling lord
on the breast of the boat, the breaker-of-rings,
by the mast the mighty one. Many a treasure
fetched from far was freighted with him.
No ship have I known so nobly dight
with weapons of war and weeds of battle,
with breastplate and blade: on his bosom lay
a heaped hoard that hence should go
far o'er the flood with him floating away.
No less these loaded the lordly gifts,
thanes' huge treasure, than those had done
who in former time forth had sent him
sole on the seas, a suckling child.
High o'er his head they hoist the standard,
a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,
gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,
mournful their mood. No man is able

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poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Paradise Regained

THE FIRST BOOK

I, WHO erewhile the happy Garden sung
By one man's disobedience lost, now sing
Recovered Paradise to all mankind,
By one man's firm obedience fully tried
Through all temptation, and the Tempter foiled
In all his wiles, defeated and repulsed,
And Eden raised in the waste Wilderness.
Thou Spirit, who led'st this glorious Eremite
Into the desert, his victorious field
Against the spiritual foe, and brought'st him thence 10
By proof the undoubted Son of God, inspire,
As thou art wont, my prompted song, else mute,
And bear through highth or depth of Nature's bounds,
With prosperous wing full summed, to tell of deeds
Above heroic, though in secret done,
And unrecorded left through many an age:
Worthy to have not remained so long unsung.
Now had the great Proclaimer, with a voice
More awful than the sound of trumpet, cried
Repentance, and Heaven's kingdom nigh at hand 20
To all baptized. To his great baptism flocked
With awe the regions round, and with them came
From Nazareth the son of Joseph deemed
To the flood Jordan--came as then obscure,
Unmarked, unknown. But him the Baptist soon
Descried, divinely warned, and witness bore
As to his worthier, and would have resigned
To him his heavenly office. Nor was long
His witness unconfirmed: on him baptized
Heaven opened, and in likeness of a Dove 30
The Spirit descended, while the Father's voice
From Heaven pronounced him his beloved Son.
That heard the Adversary, who, roving still
About the world, at that assembly famed
Would not be last, and, with the voice divine
Nigh thunder-struck, the exalted man to whom
Such high attest was given a while surveyed
With wonder; then, with envy fraught and rage,
Flies to his place, nor rests, but in mid air
To council summons all his mighty Peers, 40
Within thick clouds and dark tenfold involved,
A gloomy consistory; and them amidst,
With looks aghast and sad, he thus bespake:--
"O ancient Powers of Air and this wide World
(For much more willingly I mention Air,
This our old conquest, than remember Hell,
Our hated habitation), well ye know
How many ages, as the years of men,

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poem by John Milton
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Griselda: A Society Novel In Verse - Chapter IV

How shall I take up this vain parable
And ravel out its issue? Heaven and Hell,
The principles of good and evil thought,
Embodied in our lives, have blindly fought
Too long for empire in my soul to leave
Much for its utterance, much that it can grieve.
A soldier on the battlefield of life,
I have grown callous to the signs of strife,
And feel the wounds of others and my own
With scarce a tremor and without a groan.
I have seen many perish in their sins,
Known much of frailty and inconsequence,
And if I laughed once, now I dare not be
Other than sad at man's insanity.
Therefore, in all humility of years,
Colder and wiser for hopes drowned in tears,
And seeking no more quarries for my mirth,
Who most need pity of the sons of earth,
I dip in kindlier ink my chastened pen,
And fill of my lost tale what leaves remain.

Years passed. Griselda from my wandering sight
Had waned and vanished, like a meteor bright,
Leaving no pathway in my manhood's heaven
Save only memories vaguely unforgiven
Of something fair and sad, which for a day
Had lit its zenith and had gone its way.
Rome and the Prince, the tale that I had heard,
Griselda's beauty--all that once had stirred
My curious thought to wonder and regret,
In the vexed problem of her woman's fate,
Had yielded place to the world's work--day cares,
The wealth it covets and the toil it dares.
I was no more a boy, when idle chance
And that light favour which attends romance
Brought me once more within the transient spell
Of other days, and dreams of Lady L.

'Twas in September--(I have always found
That month in my life's record dangerous ground,
Whether it be due to some unreasoned stress
Of the mad stars which dog our happiness,
Or whether, since in truth most things are due
To natural causes, if our blindness knew,
To the strong law of Nature's first decay,
Warning betimes of time that cannot stay,
And summer perishing, and hours to come,
Lit by less hope in the year's martyrdom;
And so we needs must seize at any cost
Fleet pleasure's hem lest all our day be lost)--

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poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Say Something

I'm over here
Looking at you
You're over there
Watching me too
Both painting pictures of
Of how we'll kiss and hug
So what we gonna do
(So what ya gonna do? What ya gonna do)
Tell me why we're standing here
The moment's passion's all so clear
You've got my mind blown
And baby, I'm ready to go
But uh
If it's worth your while
Say something, say something
If it's worth your while
Say something good to me
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey
If it's worth your while
Do something good to me
(Let's make it)
Hot as you can stand it
Something like volcanic
You know it seems organic
Just like the stars and planets
Yeah, we are
So what you gonna do
(So what ya gonna do? What ya gonna do)
Tell me why we're still in here
There's nothing for us to fear
I could tell with my eyes closed
Now baby, I'm ready to go
But uh
If it's worth your while
Say something, say something
If it's worth your while
Say something good to me
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey
If it's worth your while
Do something good to me
If it's worth your while
Say something, say something
If it's worth your while
Say something good to me, baby
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey
If it's worth your while
Do something good to me

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song performed by Mariah Carey
Added by Lucian Velea
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Say Somethin'

I'm over here
Looking at you
You're over there
Watching me too
Both painting pictures of
Of how we'll kiss and hug
So what we gonna do?
(So what ya gonna do? What ya gonna do?)
Tell me why we're standing here
The moment's passion's all so clear
You've got my mind blown
And baby, I'm ready to go
But uhh
If it's worth your while
Say something, say something
If it's worth your while
Say something good to me
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey
If it's worth your while
Do something good to me
(Let's make it)
Hot as you can stand it
Something like volcanic
You know it seems organic
Just like the stars and planets
Yeah, we are
So what you gonna do?
(So what ya gonna do? What ya gonna do?)
Tell me why we're still in here
There's nothing for us to fear
I could tell with my eyes closed
Now baby, I'm ready to go
But uhh
If it's worth your while
Say something, say something
If it's worth your while
Say something good to me
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey
If it's worth your while
Do something good to me.
If it's worth your while
Say something, say something
If it's worth your while
Say something good to me, baby
Hey, hey, hey
Hey, hey
If it's worth your while
Do something good to me.

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song performed by Mariah Carey
Added by Lucian Velea
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Cui Bono

1.

Why should we care for storms that rave and rend,
Safe at our household hearth?
Unknowing whence we came, or where we wend,
Why should we ache and toil, and waste and spend,
Treading from no beginning to no end,
An uncrowned martyr's path?

2.

Is it worth while to suffer, when we might,
Like happier men, be blest
With that dull blindness that desires no light,
That peaceful soul that feels no need to fight,
Nor thirsts for liberty, and truth, and right,
But lives its life at rest?

3.

Is it worth while to work, and strive, and learn —
To sow where none may reap?
Is it worth while to rage, and fret, and yearn
For nameless treasure that we cannot earn?
Is it worth while in fever- fires to burn,
While wise men eat and sleep?

4.

Is it worth while to care for praise or blame,
This little time we live,
When purest deeds are oftenest put to shame?
To pant for noble strife and lofty fame,
When gold seems better than a stainless name,
Or all the world can give?

5.

Is it worth while for friendship's gift to sue,
For friendship's joys to crave?
When sordid tests, that bring us ruth and rue,
And sorrowful years, alone discern the clue
That tells us what is false and what is true,
And what we lose or save?

6.

To open wide our sanctuary door
Some welcome guest to greet,
To find, perchance, when we have shown our store,

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poem by Ada Cambridge
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Three Women

My love is young, so young;
Young is her cheek, and her throat,
And life is a song to be sung
With love the word for each note.

Young is her cheek and her throat;
Her eyes have the smile o' May.
And love is the word for each note
In the song of my life to-day.

Her eyes have the smile o' May;
Her heart is the heart of a dove,
And the song of my life to-day
Is love, beautiful love.

Her heart is the heart of a dove,
Ah, would it but fly to my breast
Where love, beautiful love,
Has made it a downy nest.

Ah, would she but fly to my breast,
My love who is young, so young;
I have made her a downy nest
And life is a song to be sung.

1
I.
A dull little station, a man with the eye
Of a dreamer; a bevy of girls moving by;
A swift moving train and a hot Summer sun,
The curtain goes up, and our play is begun.
The drama of passion, of sorrow, of strife,
Which always is billed for the theatre Life.
It runs on forever, from year unto year,
With scarcely a change when new actors appear.
It is old as the world is-far older in truth,
For the world is a crude little planet of youth.
And back in the eras before it was formed,
The passions of hearts through the Universe stormed.

Maurice Somerville passed the cluster of girls
Who twisted their ribbons and fluttered their curls
In vain to attract him; his mind it was plain
Was wholly intent on the incoming train.
That great one eyed monster puffed out its black breath,
Shrieked, snorted and hissed, like a thing bent on death,

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poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Task: Book III. -- The Garden

As one who, long in thickets and in brakes
Entangled, winds now this way and now that
His devious course uncertain, seeking home;
Or, having long in miry ways been foil’d,
And sore discomfited, from slough to slough
Plunging, and half despairing of escape;
If chance at length he finds a greensward smooth
And faithful to the foot, his spirits rise,
He chirrups brisk his ear-erecting steed,
And winds his way with pleasure and with ease:
So I, designing other themes, and call’d
To adorn the Sofa with eulogium due,
To tell its slumbers, and to paint its dreams,
Have rambled wide. In country, city, seat
Of academic fame (howe’er deserved),
Long held, and scarcely disengaged at last.
But now with pleasant pace a cleanlier road
I mean to tread. I feel myself at large,
Courageous, and refresh’d for future toil,
If toil awaits me, or if dangers new.

Since pulpits fail, and sounding boards reflect
Most part an empty ineffectual sound,
What chance that I, to fame so little known,
Nor conversant with men or manners much,
Should speak to purpose, or with better hope
Crack the satiric thong? ‘Twere wiser far
For me, enamour’d of sequester’d scenes,
And charm’d with rural beauty, to repose,
Where chance may throw me, beneath elm or vine,
My languid limbs, when summer sears the plains;
Or, when rough winter rages, on the soft
And shelter’d Sofa, while the nitrous air
Feeds a blue flame, and makes a cheerful hearth;
There, undisturb’d by Folly, and apprised
How great the danger of disturbing her,
To muse in silence, or at least confine
Remarks that gall so many to the few,
My partners in retreat. Disgust conceal’d
Is ofttimes proof of wisdom, when the fault
Is obstinate, and cure beyond our reach.

Domestic Happiness, thou only bliss
Of Paradise that has survived the fall!
Though few now taste thee unimpair’d and pure,
Or tasting long enjoy thee! too infirm,
Or too incautious, to preserve thy sweets
Unmix’d with drops of bitter, which neglect
Or temper sheds into thy crystal cup;
Thou art the nurse of Virtue, in thine arms

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poem by William Cowper
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Was It All Worth It

Words and music by queen
What is there left for me to do in this life
Did I achieve what I had set in my sights
Am I a happy man or is this sinking sand
Was it all worth it was it all worth it
Yeah now hear my story let me tell you about it
We bought a drum kit blew my own trumpet
Played the circuit thought we were perfect
Was it all worth it
Giving all my heart and soul and staying up all night
Was it all worth it
Living breathing rocknroll a godforsaken life
Was it all worth it was it all worth it all these years
Put down our money without counting the cost
It didnt matter if we won if we lost
Yes we were vicious yes we could kill
Yes we were hungry yes we were brill
We served a purpose like a bloody circus
We were so dandy we love you madly
Was it all worth it
Living breathing rocknroll this godforsaken life
Was it all worth it was it all worth it
When the hurly burlys done
We went to bali saw God and dali
So mystic surrealistic
Was it all worth it yeah yeah
Giving all my heart and soul staying up all night
Was it all worth it
Living breathing rocknroll this never ending fight
Was it all worth it was it all worth it
Yes it was a worthwhile experience
It was worth it

song performed by Queen
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Rosciad

Unknowing and unknown, the hardy Muse
Boldly defies all mean and partial views;
With honest freedom plays the critic's part,
And praises, as she censures, from the heart.

Roscius deceased, each high aspiring player
Push'd all his interest for the vacant chair.
The buskin'd heroes of the mimic stage
No longer whine in love, and rant in rage;
The monarch quits his throne, and condescends
Humbly to court the favour of his friends;
For pity's sake tells undeserved mishaps,
And, their applause to gain, recounts his claps.
Thus the victorious chiefs of ancient Rome,
To win the mob, a suppliant's form assume;
In pompous strain fight o'er the extinguish'd war,
And show where honour bled in every scar.
But though bare merit might in Rome appear
The strongest plea for favour, 'tis not here;
We form our judgment in another way;
And they will best succeed, who best can pay:
Those who would gain the votes of British tribes,
Must add to force of merit, force of bribes.
What can an actor give? In every age
Cash hath been rudely banish'd from the stage;
Monarchs themselves, to grief of every player,
Appear as often as their image there:
They can't, like candidate for other seat,
Pour seas of wine, and mountains raise of meat.
Wine! they could bribe you with the world as soon,
And of 'Roast Beef,' they only know the tune:
But what they have they give; could Clive do more,
Though for each million he had brought home four?
Shuter keeps open house at Southwark fair,
And hopes the friends of humour will be there;
In Smithfield, Yates prepares the rival treat
For those who laughter love, instead of meat;
Foote, at Old House,--for even Foote will be,
In self-conceit, an actor,--bribes with tea;
Which Wilkinson at second-hand receives,
And at the New, pours water on the leaves.
The town divided, each runs several ways,
As passion, humour, interest, party sways.
Things of no moment, colour of the hair,
Shape of a leg, complexion brown or fair,
A dress well chosen, or a patch misplaced,
Conciliate favour, or create distaste.
From galleries loud peals of laughter roll,
And thunder Shuter's praises; he's so droll.
Embox'd, the ladies must have something smart,

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poem by Charles Churchill
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