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Trial by Jury

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

THE LEARNED JUDGE
THE PLAINTIFF
THE DEFENDANT
COUNSEL FOR THE PLAINTIFF
USHER
FOREMAN OF THE JURY
ASSOCIATE
FIRST BRIDESMAID

SCENE - A Court of Justice, Barristers, Attorney, and Jurymen
discovered.

CHORUS

Hark, the hour of ten is sounding:
Hearts with anxious fears are bounding,
Hall of Justice, crowds surrounding,

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poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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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

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poem by Samuel Butler
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The Siege of Corinth

In the year since Jesus died for men,
Eighteen hundred years and ten,
We were a gallant company,
Riding o'er land, and sailing o'er sea
Oh ! but we went merrily !
We forded the river, and clomb the high hill,
Never our steeds for a day stood still;
Whether we lay in the cave or the shed,
Our sleep fell soft on the hardest bed:
Whether we couch'd in our rough capote,
On the rougher plank of our gliding boat.
Or stretch'd on the beach, or our saddles spread
As a pillow beneath the resting head,
Fresh we woke upon the morrow:
All our thoughts and words had scope,
We had health, and we had hope,
Toil and travel, but no sorrow.
We were of all tongues and creeds; ---
Some were those who counted beads,
Some of mosque, and some of church;

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poem by Byron (1816)
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Voice breach the wall of silence

Voice breach the wall of silence
A baby's cry
The mother
Collection from around the
Wearing hats questions
Uttered after a long silence
Why?
Headers reversed
Tongues bridled
Eyes froze
Deaf silence
The child cries
Yell
Treacherously killed, however, the occupier
Humility
Stop the child from crying
Dry tears
Carry Stone
Cried a high
Not to cry

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poem by Mohammed AlBalushi
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Down, Wanton, Down!

Down, wanton, down! Have you no shame
That at the whisper of Love's name,
Or Beauty's, presto! up you raise
Your angry head and stand at gaze?

Poor bombard-captain, sworn to reach
The ravelin and effect a breach--
Indifferent what you storm or why,
So be that in the breach you die!

Love may be blind, but Love at least
Knows what is man and what mere beast;
Or Beauty wayward, but requires
More delicacy from her squires.

Tell me, my witless, whose one boast
Could be your staunchness at the post,
When were you made a man of parts
To think fine and profess the arts?

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poem by Robert Graves
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Ultimate goal of woman

What is ultimate goal of woman in life?
To serve the man folks and stay nicely as wife?
To rear the children and push the link
Survive the test without any blink

What best can be done by female individually?
How can that be executed successfully?
To be of some utility is source of great concern
Everybody is facing it turn by turn’

It is Almighty’s choice to send us as male or female
It is our duty to succeed, excel or fail
Gender preference may always be there
But it is compulsory to stay as and where you are

Oh Dear, you got what others could not
Motherhood, a sense of pride without being fought
What a glow and charm on mother's face?
Almost attained and won the marathon race

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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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O'Hara, J.P.

James Patrick O'Hara the Justice of Peace,
He bossed the P.M. and he bossed the police;
A parent, a deacon, a landlord was he—
A townsman of weight was O’Hara, J.P.

He gave out the prizes, foundation-stones laid,
He shone when the Governor’s visit was paid;
And twice re-elected as Mayor was he—
The flies couldn’t roost on O’Hara, J.P.

Now Sandy M‘Fly, of the Axe-and-the-Saw,
Was charged with a breach of the licensing law—
He sold after hours whilst talking too free
On matters concerning O’Hara, J.P.

And each contradicted the next witness flat,
Concerning back parlours, side-doors, and all that;
‘Twas very conflicting, as all must agree—
‘Ye’d better take care!’ said O’Hara, J.P.

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poem by Henry Lawson
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Grave Retrospective

Possessions' progression obsession
poor more, more than best less, must draw
conclusions mistaken, impression
that wealth over health sets the score
for worth on our earth where aggression's
too often condoned by the law,
where success seems a sterile succession
of trangressions that ravage rapports.

This seems tantamount to retrogression
where blunderbuss plunder makes war
where arrogant ego expression
is excuse for abuse all abhor.
Who lusts for a trophy procession
to celebrate, victory's roar,
finds vain remains reign, dispossession,
cyclic atrophy squanders life's store.

Where vice is held virtue, concession
signals weakness, destruction in store,

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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Pharsalia - Book X: Caesar In Egypt

When Caesar, following those who bore the head,
First trod the shore accursed, with Egypt's fates
His fortunes battled, whether Rome should pass
In crimson conquest o'er the guilty land,
Or Memphis' arms should ravish from the world
Victor and vanquished: and the warning shade
Of Magnus saved his kinsman from the sword.

First, by the crime assured, his standards borne
Before, he marched upon the Pharian town;
But when the people, jealous of their laws,
Murmured against the fasces, Caesar knew
Their minds were adverse, and that not for him
Was Magnus' murder wrought. And yet with brow
Dissembling fear, intrepid, through the shrines
Of Egypt's gods he strode, and round the fane
Of ancient Isis; bearing witness all
To Macedon's vigour in the days of old.
Yet did nor gold nor ornament restrain
His hasting steps, nor worship of the gods,

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poem by Marcus Annaeus Lucanus
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Don Juan: Canto The Seventh

O Love! O Glory! what are ye who fly
Around us ever, rarely to alight?
There's not a meteor in the polar sky
Of such transcendent and more fleeting flight.
Chill, and chain'd to cold earth, we lift on high
Our eyes in search of either lovely light;
A thousand and a thousand colours they
Assume, then leave us on our freezing way.

And such as they are, such my present tale is,
A non-descript and ever-varying rhyme,
A versified Aurora Borealis,
Which flashes o'er a waste and icy clime.
When we know what all are, we must bewail us,
But ne'ertheless I hope it is no crime
To laugh at all things- for I wish to know
What, after all, are all things- but a show?

They accuse me--Me--the present writer of
The present poem--of--I know not what--

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poem by Byron
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