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No nation is fit to sit in judgement upon any other nation.

Woodrow Wilson in speech in New York (20 April 1915)
Added by Lucian Velea
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When You Rush To Judgement

You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
None.

You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
Not a one.

Oh, oh, oh...
When you rush to judgement,
Your emotions are your worst enemy.
When you rush to judgement,
Your emotions are your worst enemy.
When you rush to judgement,
Your emotions are your worst enemy.
When you rush to judgement.
Oh, oh, oh...
When you rush to judgement.
To pass your judgements,
When you rush to judgement.

You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
None.

You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
Not a one.

When you rush to judgement,
You have no idea.
No idea.
None.
When you rush to judgement,
No one has an idea...
What they've done.
When you rush to judgement,
What one does...
Affects more than one.
When you rush to judgement.
When you rush to judgement.

You have no idea,
What you've done.
You have no idea...
None.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Ghost - Book IV

Coxcombs, who vainly make pretence
To something of exalted sense
'Bove other men, and, gravely wise,
Affect those pleasures to despise,
Which, merely to the eye confined,
Bring no improvement to the mind,
Rail at all pomp; they would not go
For millions to a puppet-show,
Nor can forgive the mighty crime
Of countenancing pantomime;
No, not at Covent Garden, where,
Without a head for play or player,
Or, could a head be found most fit,
Without one player to second it,
They must, obeying Folly's call,
Thrive by mere show, or not at all
With these grave fops, who, (bless their brains!)
Most cruel to themselves, take pains
For wretchedness, and would be thought
Much wiser than a wise man ought,
For his own happiness, to be;
Who what they hear, and what they see,
And what they smell, and taste, and feel,
Distrust, till Reason sets her seal,
And, by long trains of consequences
Insured, gives sanction to the senses;
Who would not (Heaven forbid it!) waste
One hour in what the world calls Taste,
Nor fondly deign to laugh or cry,
Unless they know some reason why;
With these grave fops, whose system seems
To give up certainty for dreams,
The eye of man is understood
As for no other purpose good
Than as a door, through which, of course,
Their passage crowding, objects force,
A downright usher, to admit
New-comers to the court of Wit:
(Good Gravity! forbear thy spleen;
When I say Wit, I Wisdom mean)
Where (such the practice of the court,
Which legal precedents support)
Not one idea is allow'd
To pass unquestion'd in the crowd,
But ere it can obtain the grace
Of holding in the brain a place,
Before the chief in congregation
Must stand a strict examination.
Not such as those, who physic twirl,
Full fraught with death, from every curl;

[...] Read more

poem by Charles Churchill
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Fit In

Written by kim wilde
Fit in, fit in
Im spending nights just dreaming
And playing the music loud
Theyre banging on the ceiling
Theyre praying that Ill soon be out
I almost thought of leaving
Get away from the glares and their unfriendly stares
And now Im all alone
And the telephone teases and dares
Ill get away from them all (oh oh)
So pride comes before a fall
But Im not for giving in
Fit in, fit in
Theyre kicking up a storm in ...
Some strange place they know out of town
Why wont I go along there
Its crazy theyre all doing it now
But right now its the last place
That I wanna see - its my way to be free
And Im getting bored
Of the way they expect me to be
You gotta be, you gotta be
Ill get away from them all (oh oh)
So pride comes before a fall
But Im not for giving in
Fit in, fit in
Fit in, fit in
Im holding on so tightly
But I dont want to take any more
cos what they say just bites me
And gets to me down to the core
A ring and kids invite me
Or a house and a home
And a car and a phone
And a video
Wont they ever leave it alone
You gotta ring, you gotta ring
Ill get away from them all (oh oh)
So pride comes before a fall
But Im not for giving in
I wont fit in, fit in
I dont fit in, fit in
I dont fit in, fit in
I dont fit in, fit in
Oh no, I dont fit in, fit in

song performed by Kim Wilde
Added by Lucian Velea
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Hudibras: Part 3 - Canto II

THE ARGUMENT

The Saints engage in fierce Contests
About their Carnal interests;
To share their sacrilegious Preys,
According to their Rates of Grace;
Their various Frenzies to reform,
When Cromwel left them in a Storm
Till, in th' Effigy of Rumps, the Rabble
Burns all their Grandees of the Cabal.

THE learned write, an insect breeze
Is but a mungrel prince of bees,
That falls before a storm on cows,
And stings the founders of his house;
From whose corrupted flesh that breed
Of vermin did at first proceed.
So e're the storm of war broke out,
Religion spawn'd a various rout
Of petulant Capricious sects,
The maggots of corrupted texts,
That first run all religion down,
And after ev'ry swarm its own.
For as the Persian Magi once
Upon their mothers got their sons,
That were incapable t' enjoy
That empire any other way;
So PRESBYTER begot the other
Upon the good old Cause, his mother,
Then bore then like the Devil's dam,
Whose son and husband are the same.
And yet no nat'ral tie of blood
Nor int'rest for the common good
Cou'd, when their profits interfer'd,
Get quarter for each other's beard.
For when they thriv'd, they never fadg'd,
But only by the ears engag'd:
Like dogs that snarl about a bone,
And play together when they've none,
As by their truest characters,
Their constant actions, plainly appears.
Rebellion now began, for lack
Of zeal and plunders to grow slack;
The Cause and covenant to lessen,
And Providence to b' out of season:
For now there was no more to purchase
O' th' King's Revenue, and the Churches,
But all divided, shar'd, and gone,
That us'd to urge the Brethren on;
Which forc'd the stubborn'st for the Cause,

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
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Judgement Day

Its my life, get off my ass, get outta my face
Man, I dont see no problem
Kickin back, aint kickin you, no, no
Anyway, if I make em, then I solve em
Oh, thats right, yeah, whew
Makin plans s a waste, aint no future here
Got no face, got no religion
Oh tell me why should I care or even, why should I try?
I just slide, slide on by, never bad enough to crucify me
Cry! put it out until judgement day
Ill bear the cross on judgement day
I do most anything, keep em doing anything, cos
Sometimes I just wanna do nothin
Nothin lost, tell me, how can I lose
When Im startin off with nothin
Oh tell me why should I care or even, why try?
I just slide, slide on by, never bad enough to crucify me
Oh! put it out until judgement day
Ill bear that same old cross on judgement day
Oh! hey!
(solo)
Hey man, anythings alright. yeah!
Wow! put it out until judgement day
Ill bear the cross on judgement day
Put it out, put it out until judgement day
Ill bear the cross on judgement day
Oh! whoa, yeah, on judgement day
Oh! whoa, yeah, on judgement day
Wow!

song performed by Van Halen
Added by Lucian Velea
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A Preface

To all to whom this little book may come--
Health for yourselves and those you hold most dear!
Content abroad, and happiness at home,
And--one grand Secret in your private ear: --
Nations have passed away and left no traces,
And History gives the naked cause of it--
One single, simple reason in all cases;
They fell because their peoples were not fit.

Now, though your Body be mis-shapen, blind,
Lame, feverish, lacking substance, power or skill,
Certain it is that men can school the Mind
To school the sickliest Body, to her will--
As many have done, whose glory blazes still
Like mighty flames in meanest lanterns lit:
Wherefore, we pray the crippled, weak and ill--
Be fit--be fit! In mind at first be fit!

And, though your Spirit seem uncouth or small,
Stubborn as clay or shifting as the sand,
Strengthen the Body, and the Body shall
Strengthen the Spirit till she take command;
As a bold rider brings his horse in hand
At the tall fence, with voice and heel and bit,
And leaps while all the field are at a stand.
Be fit--be fit! In body next be fit!

Nothing on earth--no Arts, no Gifts, no Graces--
No Fame, no Wealth--outweighs the wont of it.
This is the Law which every law embraces--
Be fit--be fit! In mind and body be fit!

The even heart that seldom slurs its beat--
The cool head weighing what that heart desires--
The measuring eye that guides the hands and feet--
The Soul unbroken when the Body tires--
These are the things our weary world requires
Far more than superfluities of wit;
Wherefore we pray you, sons of generous sires,
Be fit--be fit! For Honour's sake be fit.

There is one lesson at all Times and Places--
One changeless Truth on all things changing writ,
For boys and girls, men, women, nations, races--
Be fit -- be fit! And once again, be fit!

poem by Rudyard Kipling
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XI. Guido

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

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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S[t]alking Mirror Sestina - CV in hand

CV in hand through contest I would stalk,
ILLEgitimate undertaking I admit,
Lightly through the rhyme scheme let me walk,
I subtle sense within sestina fit,
Stalking pseudo is not hard to talk,
Away for those with golden goblet lit

CV of charming nymph will o’ wisp lit
ILLEgible to most seems simple stalk,
Lightly pen traces, hears the table talk,
I see the comments – praises all admit,
Stalking may be fun - together fit,
Away from prying eyes will life-lines walk.

CV few APe, divine, her verse I’d walk
ILLEgal act for gaol or goal bright lit?
Lightly linking her name to my fit
I root acrostic in sestina stalk,
Stalking talking balking not – admit,
Away with critics and their jealous talk.

CV masks beauty more than my trite talk.
ILLEcebrous attractive and alluring walk,
Lightly stroking peerless miss admit,
I find no other muse as charming lit,
Stalk king if she queen Stork to nest add stalk
A way I’d find to offer homage fit.

CV seems perfect. Could another fit?
ILLEcebrum around swan neck would talk
Lightly of love I bear for stem and stalk,
I cannot stem, so, in pursuit I walk,
Stalking close by inspiration lit,
Away she’ll never slip all must admit.

CV in hand my errors I’ll admit
ILLEist I’m never, should hat fit,
Lightly I’d wear it, with her smile love-lit,
I vaunt her emblem, on none else would talk,
Stalking kitten purring I, cat, walk,
Away from idols past – she bloom, I stalk!

All here admit one Muse should stalk,
a perfect fit, eyes lovely lit,
Her praise I talk, with trophy walk.

.............................

Her praise I talk, with trophy walk,
a perfect fit, eyes lovely lit,

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Paradise Lost: Book 10

Mean while the heinous and despiteful act
Of Satan, done in Paradise; and how
He, in the serpent, had perverted Eve,
Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit,
Was known in Heaven; for what can 'scape the eye
Of God all-seeing, or deceive his heart
Omniscient? who, in all things wise and just,
Hindered not Satan to attempt the mind
Of Man, with strength entire and free will armed,
Complete to have discovered and repulsed
Whatever wiles of foe or seeming friend.
For still they knew, and ought to have still remembered,
The high injunction, not to taste that fruit,
Whoever tempted; which they not obeying,
(Incurred what could they less?) the penalty;
And, manifold in sin, deserved to fall.
Up into Heaven from Paradise in haste
The angelick guards ascended, mute, and sad,
For Man; for of his state by this they knew,
Much wondering how the subtle Fiend had stolen
Entrance unseen. Soon as the unwelcome news
From Earth arrived at Heaven-gate, displeased
All were who heard; dim sadness did not spare
That time celestial visages, yet, mixed
With pity, violated not their bliss.
About the new-arrived, in multitudes
The ethereal people ran, to hear and know
How all befel: They towards the throne supreme,
Accountable, made haste, to make appear,
With righteous plea, their utmost vigilance
And easily approved; when the Most High
Eternal Father, from his secret cloud,
Amidst in thunder uttered thus his voice.
Assembled Angels, and ye Powers returned
From unsuccessful charge; be not dismayed,
Nor troubled at these tidings from the earth,
Which your sincerest care could not prevent;
Foretold so lately what would come to pass,
When first this tempter crossed the gulf from Hell.
I told ye then he should prevail, and speed
On his bad errand; Man should be seduced,
And flattered out of all, believing lies
Against his Maker; no decree of mine
Concurring to necessitate his fall,
Or touch with lightest moment of impulse
His free will, to her own inclining left
In even scale. But fallen he is; and now
What rests, but that the mortal sentence pass
On his transgression,--death denounced that day?
Which he presumes already vain and void,

[...] Read more

poem by John Milton
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The Very Last Day

Everybody's gunna pray,
On the very last day,
When they hear that bell,
Ring the world away,
Everybody's gunna pray to the heavens on the judgement day.
Well you sing the great King David,
Andy you preach about the wisdom of Saul,
But the judgement falls on all mankind,
When the trumpet sounds are called,
All people live the same,
When The Lord he calls your name,
Get ready brothers for that day,
Everybody's gunna pray,
On the very last day,
When they hear that bell,
Ring the world away,
Everybody's gunna pray to the heavens on the judgement day.
Well someday soon all men will stand,
His words will be heeded in all the land,
Then men shall know and men shall see,
We all are brothers and we all are free,
Mankind was made of clay,
Each of us in the very same way,
Get ready brothers for that day
Everybody's gunna pray,
On the very last day,
When they hear that bell,
Ring the world away,
Everybody's gunna pray to the heavens on the judgement day.
When the law is given and the law is known,
The tale is told and the seed is sown,
From dust we came and to dust we'll go,
We know, The Lord once told us so,
Each brother take his hand,
Heed the meaning of The Lords command,
Get ready brother for that day
Everybody's gunna pray,
On the very last day,
When they hear that bell,
Ring the world away,
Everybody's gunna pray to the heavens on the judgement day,
Judgement day
Judgement day
Judgement day

song performed by Hollies
Added by Lucian Velea
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Judgement Day

(Ohhhh, yeah yeah yeah yeah)
[Chorus: singers]
You can turn your back and then walk away
(You can turn your back and then walk away)
Soon be comin the judgement day
(Ahh, soon there be comin the judgement day)
[Xzibit - starts over Chorus]
Yes, uhh, breathe with me
C'mon.. listen, yo
I know you're fed up, feel like you can't get up
Have faith, stay strong, keep your head up
Yo, it only gets worse; we in a world
where your status and your bank account determine your worth
There's no time to rehearse, the clock been tickin
cause we all started dyin at birth, I speak the truth and it hurts
It felt like I was dyin of thirst
'til I was blessed with my voice, I move mountains with verse
The worst thing you ever seen in your life, "The Passion of Christ"
Pregnant chicks buyin rock, hittin the pipe
It ain't like I ain't tried to tell ya; misery love company
Keepin the wrong company brings failure
Cause people use people like paraphenalia
With a scam, with a scheme, with a dream to sell ya
But I ain't got nothin but love for all my soldiers and thugs
To all of my women, we gotta keep livin, c'mon
[Chorus: singers]
You can turn your back and then walk away
(Ohh, don't turn your back and then walk away y'all)
Soon be comin the judgement day
(Soon there be comin judgement day)
[Xzibit - starts over Chorus]
Yeah! C'mon
Mr. X to the Z had to raise the stakes
Had to touch my people like T.D. Jakes
On the ground like a nigga flippin crumbs to cake
I won't stop like an eighteen wheeler with no brakes
Bein dipped in her-on so each CD's weight
Niggaz be fake, they speak what they can't create (create)
You won't, see me break, I'm built for a tough frame
One-eighty-five and I'm still on huff
I was only 15, tryin to pass that rock
Never got caught, just sat down, collected my thoughts
This is bullshit, I ain't got a plane or a boat
I'm just another nigga sellin some coke, y'know?
Had to grab life right by the throat, murder I wrote
My callin for ballin wasn't pedalin dope
It was oversea convoys, bangin out cuts
No police or government agency lockin me up, so what?
[Chorus: singers]
You can turn your back and then walk away

[...] Read more

song performed by Xzibit
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Who Wonders About Spellings?

who wonders about spellings?
judgement made and judgment passed
a word application flags judgement

as an incorrect spelling
but a rolling stone gathers no moss
search the word online

a kiwi familiar with both
British and American spellings
instantly searches in mind

both judgement and judgment
occur with seemingly equal frequency
one English the other American?

Dictionary English
Dictionary American
Program setting in computer?

What a bother!
If both are OK
on differing sides of pond?

Yes Yes you guess
you could...
updat your dictionary?

by adding
the 'judgement'
spelling

but doing
so might
lend

it will it will
assistance...
to spelling

inconsistencies
a certain probability
yes yes a 'judgment call'

your wondering
why the two spellings?
now your saying

you would have to say
British spelling is judgement

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Hudibras: Part 2 - Canto II

THE ARGUMENT

The Knight and Squire, in hot dispute,
Within an ace of falling out,
Are parted with a sudden fright
Of strange alarm, and stranger sight;
With which adventuring to stickle,
They're sent away in nasty pickle.

'Tis strange how some mens' tempers suit
(Like bawd and brandy) with dispute,
That for their own opinions stand last
Only to have them claw'd and canvast;
That keep their consciences in cases,
As fiddlers do their crowds and bases,
Ne'er to be us'd, but when they're bent
To play a fit for argument;
Make true and false, unjust and just,
Of no use but to be discust;
Dispute, and set a paradox
Like a straight boot upon the stocks,
And stretch it more unmercifully
Than HELMONT, MONTAIGN, WHITE, or TULLY,
So th' ancient Stoicks, in their porch,
With fierce dispute maintain'd their church;
Beat out their brains in fight and study,
To prove that Virtue is a Body;
That Bonum is an Animal,
Made good with stout polemic brawl;
in which some hundreds on the place
Were slain outright; and many a face
Retrench'd of nose, and eyes, and beard,
To maintain what their sect averr'd;
All which the Knight and Squire, in wrath,
Had like t' have suffered for their faith,
Each striving to make good his own,
As by the sequel shall be shown.

The Sun had long since, in the lap
Of THETIS, taken out his nap,
And, like a lobster boil'd, the morn
From black to red began to turn,
When HUDIBRAS, whom thoughts and aking,
'Twixt sleeping kept all night and waking,
Began to rub his drowsy eyes,
And from his couch prepar'd to rise,
Resolving to dispatch the deed
He vow'd to do with trusty speed.
But first, with knocking loud, and bawling,
He rouz'd the Squire, in truckle lolling;

[...] Read more

poem by Samuel Butler
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Joshua Fit The Battle

(arranged and adapted by elvis presley)
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
Jericho jericho
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
And the walls come tumbling down
God knows that
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
Jericho jericho
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
And the walls come tumbling down
Good morning sister mary
Good morning brother john
Well I wanna stop and talk with you
Wanna tell you how I come along
I know youve heard about joshua
He was the son of nun
He never stopped his work until
Until the work was done
God knows that
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
Jericho jericho
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
And the walls come tumbling down
You may talk about your men of gideon
You may brag about your men of saul
Theres none like good old joshua
At the battle of jericho
Up to the walls of jericho
He marched with spear in hand
Go blow them ram horns, joshua cried
cause the battle is in my hands
God knows that
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
Jericho jericho
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
And the walls come tumbling down
You may talk about your men of gideon
You may brag about your king of saul
There none like joshua
At the battle of jericho
They tell me, great God that joshuas spear
Was well nigh twelve feet long
And upon his hip was a double edged sword
And his mouth was a gospel horn
Yet bold and brave he stood
Salvation in his hand
Go blow them ram horns joshua cried
cause the devil cant do you no harm
Joshua fit the battle of jericho
Jericho jericho

[...] Read more

song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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Joshua Fit The Battle (take 1)

Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
Jericho Jericho
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
And the walls come tumbling down
God knows that
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
Jericho Jericho
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
And the walls come tumbling down
Good morning sister Mary
Good morning brother John
Well I wanna stop and talk with you
Wanna tell you how I come along
I know you've heard about Joshua
He was the son of Nun
He never stopped his work until
Until the work was done
God knows that
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
Jericho Jericho
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
And the walls come tumbling down
You may talk about your men of Gideon
You may brag about your men of Saul
There's none like good old Joshua
At the battle of Jericho
Up to the walls of Jericho
He marched with spear in hand
Go blow them ram horns, Joshua cried
'Cause the battle is in my hands
God knows that
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
Jericho Jericho
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
And the walls come tumbling down
You may talk about your men of Gideon
You may brag about your king of Saul
There none like Joshua
At the battle of Jericho
They tell me, great God that Joshuas spear
Was well nigh twelve feet long
And upon his hip was a double edged sword
And his mouth was a gospel horn
Yet bold and brave he stood
Salvation in his hand
Go blow them ram horns Joshua cried
'Cause the devil can't do you no harm
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho
Jericho Jericho
Joshua fit the battle of Jericho

[...] Read more

song performed by Elvis Presley
Added by Lucian Velea
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David

My thought, on views of admiration hung,
Intently ravish'd and depriv'd of tongue,
Now darts a while on earth, a while in air,
Here mov'd with praise and mov'd with glory there;
The joys entrancing and the mute surprize
Half fix the blood, and dim the moist'ning eyes;
Pleasure and praise on one another break,
And Exclamation longs at heart to speak;
When thus my Genius, on the work design'd
Awaiting closely, guides the wand'ring mind.

If while thy thanks wou'd in thy lays be wrought,
A bright astonishment involve the thought,
If yet thy temper wou'd attempt to sing,
Another's quill shall imp thy feebler wing;
Behold the name of royal David near,
Behold his musick and his measures here,
Whose harp Devotion in a rapture strung,
And left no state of pious souls unsung.

Him to the wond'ring world but newly shewn,
Celestial poetry pronounc'd her own;
A thousand hopes, on clouds adorn'd with rays,
Bent down their little beauteous forms to gaze;
Fair-blooming Innocence with tender years,
And native Sweetness for the ravish'd ears,
Prepar'd to smile within his early song,
And brought their rivers, groves, and plains along;
Majestick Honour at the palace bred,
Enrob'd in white, embroider'd o'er with red,
Reach'd forth the scepter of her royal state,
His forehead touch'd, and bid his lays be great;
Undaunted Courage deck'd with manly charms,
With waving-azure plumes, and gilded arms,
Displaid the glories, and the toils of fight,
Demanded fame, and call'd him forth to write.
To perfect these the sacred spirit came,
By mild infusion of celestial flame,
And mov'd with dove-like candour in his breast,
And breath'd his graces over all the rest.
Ah! where the daring flights of men aspire
To match his numbers with an equal fire;
In vain they strive to make proud Babel rise,
And with an earth-born labour touch the skies.
While I the glitt'ring page resolve to view,
That will the subject of my lines renew;
The Laurel wreath, my fames imagin'd shade,
Around my beating temples fears to fade;
My fainting fancy trembles on the brink,
And David's God must help or else I sink.

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poem by Thomas Parnell
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An Essay on Criticism

Part I

INTRODUCTION. That it is as great a fault to judge ill as to write ill, and a more dangerous one to the public. That a true Taste is as rare to be found as a true Genius. That most men are born with some Taste, but spoiled by false education. The multitude of Critics, and causes of them. That we are to study our own Taste, and know the limits of it. Nature the best guide of judgment. Improved by Art and rules, which are but methodized Nature. Rules derived from the practice of the ancient poets. That therefore the ancients are necessary to be studied by a Critic, particularly Homer and Virgil. Of licenses, and the use of them by the ancients. Reverence due to the ancients, and praise of them.

'Tis hard to say if greater want of skill
Appear in writing or in judging ill;
But of the two less dangerous is th'offence
To tire our patience than mislead our sense:
Some few in that, but numbers err in this;
Ten censure wrong for one who writes amiss;
A fool might once himself alone expose;
Now one in verse makes many more in prose.

'Tis with our judgments as our watches, none
Go just alike, yet each believes his own.
In Poets as true Genius is but rare,
True Taste as seldom is the Critic's share;
Both must alike from Heav'n derive their light,
These born to judge, as well as those to write.
Let such teach others who themselves excel,
And censure freely who have written well;
Authors are partial to their wit, 'tis true,
But are not Critics to their judgment too?

Yet if we look more closely, we shall find
Most have the seeds of judgment in their mind:
Nature affords at least a glimm'ring light;
The lines, tho' touch'd but faintly, are drawn right:
But as the slightest sketch, if justly traced,
Is by ill col'ring but the more disgraced,
So by false learning is good sense defaced:
Some are bewilder'd in the maze of schools,
And some made coxcombs Nature meant but fools:
In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:
Each burns alike, who can or cannot write,
Or with a rival's or an eunuch's spite.
All fools have still an itching to deride,
And fain would be upon the laughing side.
If Mævius scribble in Apollo's spite,
There are who judge still worse than he can write.

Some have at first for Wits, then Poets pass'd;
Turn'd Critics next, and prov'd plain Fools at last.
Some neither can for Wits nor Critics pass,
As heavy mules are neither horse nor ass.
Those half-learn'd witlings, numerous in our isle,
As half-form'd insects on the banks of Nile;
Unfinish'd things, one knows not what to call,

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poem by Alexander Pope
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Paradise Lost: Book X

Thus they in lowliest plight repentant stood
Praying, for from the Mercie-seat above
Prevenient Grace descending had remov'd
The stonie from thir hearts, and made new flesh
Regenerat grow instead, that sighs now breath'd
Unutterable, which the Spirit of prayer
Inspir'd, and wing'd for Heav'n with speedier flight
Then loudest Oratorie: yet thir port
Not of mean suiters, nor important less
Seem'd thir Petition, then when th' ancient Pair
In Fables old, less ancient yet then these,
Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha to restore
The Race of Mankind drownd, before the Shrine
Of Themis stood devout. To Heav'n thir prayers
Flew up, nor missed the way, by envious windes
Blow'n vagabond or frustrate: in they passd
Dimentionless through Heav'nly dores; then clad
With incense, where the Golden Altar fum'd,
By thir great Intercessor, came in sight
Before the Fathers Throne: Them the glad Son
Presenting, thus to intercede began.
See Father, what first fruits on Earth are sprung
From thy implanted Grace in Man, these Sighs
And Prayers, which in this Golden Censer, mixt
With Incense, I thy Priest before thee bring,
Fruits of more pleasing savour from thy seed
Sow'n with contrition in his heart, then those
Which his own hand manuring all the Trees
Of Paradise could have produc't, ere fall'n
From innocence. Now therefore bend thine eare
To supplication, heare his sighs though mute;
Unskilful with what words to pray, let mee
Interpret for him, mee his Advocate
And propitiation, all his works on mee
Good or not good ingraft, my Merit those
Shall perfet, and for these my Death shall pay.
Accept me, and in mee from these receave
The smell of peace toward Mankinde, let him live
Before thee reconcil'd, at least his days
Numberd, though sad, till Death, his doom (which I
To mitigate thus plead, not to reverse)
To better life shall yeeld him, where with mee
All my redeemd may dwell in joy and bliss,
Made one with me as I with thee am one.
To whom the Father, without Cloud, serene.
All thy request for Man, accepted Son,
Obtain, all thy request was my Decree:
But longer in that Paradise to dwell,
The Law I gave to Nature him forbids:
Those pure immortal Elements that know

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poem by John Milton
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Absalom and Achitophel

In pious times, e'er Priest-craft did begin,
Before Polygamy was made a sin;
When man, on many, multiply'd his kind,
E'r one to one was, cursedly, confind:
When Nature prompted, and no law deny'd
Promiscuous use of Concubine and Bride;
Then, Israel's monarch, after Heaven's own heart,
His vigorous warmth did, variously, impart
To Wives and Slaves; And, wide as his Command,
Scatter'd his Maker's Image through the Land.
Michal, of Royal blood, the Crown did wear,
A Soyl ungratefull to the Tiller's care;
Not so the rest; for several Mothers bore
To Godlike David, several Sons before.
But since like slaves his bed they did ascend,
No True Succession could their seed attend.
Of all this Numerous Progeny was none
So Beautifull, so brave as Absalon:
Whether, inspir'd by some diviner Lust,
His father got him with a greater Gust;
Or that his Conscious destiny made way
By manly beauty to Imperiall sway.
Early in Foreign fields he won Renown,
With Kings and States ally'd to Israel's Crown
In Peace the thoughts of War he could remove,
And seem'd as he were only born for love.
What e'er he did was done with so much ease,
In him alone, 'twas Natural to please.
His motions all accompanied with grace;
And Paradise was open'd in his face.
With secret Joy, indulgent David view'd
His Youthfull Image in his Son renew'd:
To all his wishes Nothing he deny'd,
And made the Charming Annabel his Bride.
What faults he had (for who from faults is free?)
His Father could not, or he would not see.
Some warm excesses, which the Law forbore,
Were constru'd Youth that purg'd by boyling o'r:
And Amnon's Murther, by a specious Name,
Was call'd a Just Revenge for injur'd Fame.
Thus Prais'd, and Lov'd, the Noble Youth remain'd,
While David, undisturb'd, in Sion raign'd.
But Life can never be sincerely blest:
Heaven punishes the bad, and proves the best.
The Jews, a Headstrong, Moody, Murmuring race,
As ever try'd th' extent and stretch of grace;
God's pamper'd people whom, debauch'd with ease,
No King could govern, nor no God could please;
(Gods they had tri'd of every shape and size
That Gods-smiths could produce, or Priests devise.)

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poem by John Dryden
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Judgement Of A Word

Global internet on line
American spelling machine?
When searching online

will flag British judgement
as spelling incorrect
will insist on US judgment

yet is this judgement correct?
Both judgment and judgement
occur with equal frequency set?

One spelling English one American
what a bother when both are correct?
Will you your online dictionary update?

Your own personal ‘judgment call' abridgment?
This choice spelling inconsistencies will assist?
Still wondering why the two spellings resist?

To this question trade English American
politics dark flavours a colonial twist?
War of 1812 sabres parent British patron.

Oxford English Dictionary preferred
judgement a war of words is absurd.
1812 fosters nationalism independent.

Judgement remained form sanctioned
in the Bible in new Revised Version.
Older English spelling recommended.

Shakespeare plays judgment US spelt.
Judgement rules British English text.
Rule is spell consistently either is best.

poem by Terence George Craddock
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