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Quotes about Te Deum

Laudate Dominum

Halleluja, homines,
Gaudete de domino,
Qui donat vita omnes, quod amat nos!
Halleluja, mi deus,
Tu vivis omnipotens,
Tu es semper benignus, tu amas nos!
Pater noster in clis
Totum orbem terr regnat
Et vincit diabolum timorem et ominum hominum
Oh laudate dominum!
Prdicate deum
Amate creatorem,
Qui creavit mundum
Oh laudate dominum!
Ecce, et te vult Jesus liberare,
Ducere per vitam amicus, gaude tu!
Amici, dimittie
Mente malam pravamque!
Anima accipite salvam fidem!
Jesus Christus in cruce

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Carpae Deum

Silence,
Filled to the brim with unspoken words
Menacing,
Burning,
Unspeakable...
Kiss of fire soothe me!!!
I smile for the last time
To the universe behind your eyes
Letting The Final Minute slither towards us
As it lifts it's ugly head,
Judging with it's icy gaze,
Ready,
Imminent,
Unstoppable...
I taste your lips letting you go,
Perhaps for the last time.
Smiling silently, forcing my tears inward
I turn around and walk away.
My heart frozen motionless in a chocke-hold
Like the streets around me,

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Canto IV

THE ARGUMENT

Alas ! The Poëms curious Model
Is Alter’d quite i'th’ Poets Noddle !
So Nature oft, for want of Tools,
Decrees Wise men, produces Fools :
To tell you True, my Muse and I
Design’d at first, the Victory
To Master Dean ; how’t came about
I cannot tell ; but now the Rout
Is His : yet so, The Fancy’s righer
To end in Pot, commence in Pitcher !
Such was the Project ! such th’ Event !
But listen to the Argument !
The Chanter’s Dream : A Chapter called ;
Fine Speeches made ; The Pulpit mawled ;
This Counter-Scuffle, I dare stand in’t,
The Goddess Discord had a hand in’t :
The Prelates foes ; The Changers friends ;
The Canto, and the Poëme ends.

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Byron

Canto the Eleventh

I
When Bishop Berkeley said "there was no matter,"
And proved it -- 't was no matter what he said:
They say his system 't is in vain to batter,
Too subtle for the airiest human head;
And yet who can believe it? I would shatter
Gladly all matters down to stone or lead,
Or adamant, to find the world a spirit,
And wear my head, denying that I wear it.

II
What a sublime discovery 't was to make the
Universe universal egotism,
That all's ideal -- all ourselves! -- I'll stake the
World (be it what you will) that that's no schism.
Oh Doubt! -- if thou be'st Doubt, for which some take thee;
But which I doubt extremely -- thou sole prism
Of the Truth's rays, spoil not my draught of spirit!
Heaven's brandy, though our brain can hardly bear it.

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poem by from Don Juan (1824)Report problemRelated quotes
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Bastard Born

Why do you clothe me with scarlet of shame?
Why do you point with your finger of scorn?
What is the crime that you hissingly name
When you sneer in my ears, "Thou bastard born?"

Am I not as the rest of you,
With a hope to reach, and a dream to live?
With a soul to suffer, a heart to know
The pangs that the thrusts of the heartless give?"

I am no monster! Look at me --
Straight in my eyes, that they do not shrink!
Is there aught in them you can see
To merit this hemlock you make me drink?

This poison that scorches my soul like fire,
That burns and burns until love is dry,
And I shrivel with hate, as hot as a pyre,
A corpse, while its smoke curls up to the sky?

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A Te Deum

Now let me praise the Lord,
The Lord, the Maker of all!
I will praise Him on timbrel and chord;
Will praise Him, whatever befall.

For the Heavens are His, and the Earth,
His are the wind and the wave;
His the begetting, the birth,
And His the jaws of the grave.

'Tis He that hath made us, not we;
We were dust and slime of the ground:
He breathed on the dark, and we see;
He flooded the silence with sound.

Shall I pick and choose for His praise?
Shall I thank Him for good, not ill?
He is the Ancient of Days,
And He hews the rocks as He will.

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The Matin-song of Friar Tuck

I.
If souls could sing to heaven's high King
As blackbirds pipe on earth,
How those delicious courts would ring
With gusts of lovely mirth!
What white-robed throng could lift a song
So mellow with righteous glee
As this brown bird that all day long
Delights my hawthorn tree.
Hark! That's the thrush
With speckled breast
From yon white bush
Chaunting his best,
Te Deum! Te Deum laudamus!

II.
If earthly dreams be touched with gleams
Of Paradisal air,
Some wings, perchance, of earth may glance
Around our slumbers there;

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Edmundi Trotii Epitaphium

Charissimo Filio
Edmundo Trotio
Posuimus Pater & Mater
Frustra superstites.
Legite Parentes, vanissimus hominum ordo,
Figuli Filiorum, Substructores Hominum,
Fartores Opum, Longi Speratores,
Et nostro, si fas, sapite infortunio.
Fruit Edmundus Trottuis.
E quatuor masculae stirpis residuus,
Statura justa, Forma virili, specie eximic,
Medio juventutis Robore simul & Flore,
Alpectu, In cessu, sermone juxta amabilis,
Et siquid ultra Cineri pretium addit.
Honesta Diciplina domi imbutus,
Peregre profectus
Generosis Artibus Animum
Et exercitiis Corpus firmaverat.
Circaeam Insulam, Scopulos Sirenum
Praeternavigavit,

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Knyghthode and Bataile

A XVth Century Verse Paraphrase of Flavius Vegetius Renatus' Treatise 'DE RE MILITARI'


Proemium.
Salue, festa dies
i martis,
Mauortis! auete
Kalende. Qua Deus
ad celum subleuat
ire Dauid.


Hail, halyday deuout! Alhail Kalende
Of Marche, wheryn Dauid the Confessour
Commaunded is his kyngis court ascende;
Emanuel, Jhesus the Conquerour,
This same day as a Tryumphatour,
Sette in a Chaire & Throne of Maiestee,
To London is comyn. O Saviour,
Welcome a thousand fold to thi Citee!

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Charles Baudelaire

Beacons

Reubens, river of forgetfulness, garden of sloth,
Pillow of wet flesh that one cannot love,
But where life throngs and seethes without cease
Like the air in the sky and the water in the sea.

Leonardo da Vinci, sinister mirror,
Where these charming angels with sweet smiles
Charged with mystery, appear in shadows
Of glaciers and pines that close off the country.

Rembrandt, sad hospital full of murmurs
Decorated only with a crucifix,
Where tearful prayers arise from filth
And a ray of winter light crosses brusquely.

Michelangelo, a wasteland where one sees Hercules
Mingling with Christ, and rising in a straight line
Powerful phantoms that in the twilight
Tear their shrouds with stretching fingers.

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