The glories of our blood and state, Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armour against fate, Death lays his icy hand on kings. Scepter and crown must tumble down, And, in the dust, be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
quote by James Shirley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
From Ajax Dirge
The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armor against fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings.
Scepter and crown
Must tumble down
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Some men with swords may reap the field
And plant fresh laurels where they kill,
But their strong nerves at last must yield;
They tame but one another still.
Early or late
They stoop to fate
And must give up their murmuring breath,
When they, pale captives, creep to death.
The garlands wither on your brow,
Then boast no more your mighty deeds;
Upon death’s purple altar now
See where the victor-victim bleeds.
Your heads must come
To the cold tomb;
Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.
poem by James Shirley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Glories of our Blood and State
The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings.
Sceptre and crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Some men with swords may reap the field,
And plant fresh laurels where they kill;
But their strong nerves at last must yield,
They tame but one another still.
Early or late,
They stoop to fate,
And must give up their murmuring breath,
When they, pale captives, creep to death.
The garlands wither on your brow,
Then boast no more your mighty deeds;
Upon death's purple altar now,
See where the victor-victim bleeds.
Your heads must come
To the cold tomb;
Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.
poem by James Shirley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Death the Leveller
The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against Fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings:
Sceptre and Crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crookèd scythe and spade.
Some men with swords may reap the field,
And plant fresh laurels where they kill:
But their strong nerves at last must yield;
They tame but one another still:
Early or late
They stoop to fate,
And must give up their murmuring breath
When they, pale captives, creep to death.
The garlands wither on your brow,
Then boast no more your mighty deeds!
Upon Death's purple altar now
See where the victor-victim bleeds.
Your heads must come
To the cold tomb:
Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet and blossom in their dust.
poem by James Shirley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Death's Final Conquest
The glories of our birth and state
Are shadows, not substantial things;
There is no armour against fate:
Death lays his icy hands on kings;
Sceptre and crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
Some men with swords reap the field,
And plant fresh laurels where they kill;
But their strong nerves at last must yield;
They tame but one another still:
Early or late
They stoop to fate,
And must give up their murmuring breath,
When they, pale captives, creep to death.
The garlands wither on your brow,
Then boast no more your mighty deeds;
Upon death's purple altar now,
See where the victor victim bleeds:
All heads must come
To the cold tomb,
Only the actions of the just
Smell sweet and blossom in the dust.
poem by James Shirley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Crown And The Ring (Lament Of The Kings)
From a battle I've come
To a battle I ride
Blazing up to the sky
Chains of fate
Hold a firey stride
I'll see you again when I die
High and mighty alone we are kings
Whirlwinds of fire we ride
Providence brought us the crown and the ring
Covered with blood and our pride
Heroes await me
My enemies ride fast
Knowing not this ride's their last
Saddle my horse as I drink my last ale
Bow string and steel will prevail
High and mighty alone we are kings
Whirlwinds of fire we ride
Providence brought us the crown and the ring
Covered with blood and our pride
Odin I await thee
Your true son am I
I hail you now as I die
I pledge you my sword and to no man I kneel
Ours is the kingdom of steel
High and mighty alone we are kings
Whirlwinds of fire we ride
Providence brought us the crown and the ring
Covered with blood and our pride
song performed by by Manowar from Kings Of Metal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
To Them That Mourn
Lift up your heads: in life, in death,
God knoweth his head was high.
Quit we the coward's broken breath
Who watched a strong man die.
If we must say, 'No more his peer
Cometh; the flag is furled.'
Stand not too near him, lest he hear
That slander on the world.
The good green earth he loved and trod
Is still, with many a scar,
Writ in the chronicles of God,
A giant-bearing star.
He fell: but Britain's banner swings
Above his sunken crown.
Black death shall have his toll of kings
Before that cross goes down.
Once more shall move with mighty things
His house of ancient tale,
Where kings whose hands were kissed of kings
Went in: and came out pale.
O young ones of a darker day,
In art's wan colours clad,
Whose very love and hate are grey -
Whose very sin is sad.
Pass on: one agony long-drawn
Was merrier than your mirth,
When hand-in-hand came death and dawn,
And spring was on the earth.
poem by G.K. Chesterton from The Wild Knight and Other Poems (1900)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
Vote! | Copy!
(V – 1988) Fighting Fate
Oh, things out of control we call real fate
For factors far unknown too decide our state!
But things there are we must not see as mere fate;
Such things if controlled can oh, alter our state!
No thunder or tyrant is ever such fate
If faced with courage and soon held to checkmate!
Oh, thou art the architect of thy own fate!
So fight well with will and thus safeguard thy state!
At times we may fall to some strange, cruel fate;
By them should never our will still abate!
With arrows of resolve and faith, fight thy fate!
Oh, give no space ever to stand or to wait!
So bow not or falter before any fate;
Oh, fear and despair will thy fate aggravate!
Grim panic and anguish will strengthen our fate;
They make us, oh, lick a time unduly late!
So well in advance to, oh, face any fate
Thou equip thyself and thus secure thy state!
Challenges of life are challenges of fate –
So meeting them well, oh, means living life great!
While Yet These Tears
While yet these tears have power to flow
For hours for ever past away;
While yet these swelling sighs allow
My faltering voice to breathe a lay;
While yet my hand can touch the chords,
My tender lute, to wake thy tone;
While yet my mind no thought affords,
But one remembered dream alone,
I ask not death, whate'er my state:
But when my eyes can weep no more,
My voice is lost, my hand untrue.
And when my spirit's fire is o'er,
Nor can express the love it knew,
Come, Death, and cast thy shadows o'er my fate!
poem by Louise Labe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Blood Of The Kings
Brothers the battle is raging
Choose your side
Sing with us the BATTLE HYMNS
into glory ride
hail to england
the sign of the hammer's our gide
Forever we're fighting the world Side by side
On a crusade
The world we bring
Four Kings of Metal
Four Metal Kings
Death to the false ones
Dance on a string
'Till the blood on your sword is the blood of a king
'Till the blood on your HAND is the blood of a king
Our armies in England
song performed by by Manowar from Kings Of Metal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
On the Tombs in Westminster Abbey
MORTALITY, behold and fear!
What a change of flesh is here!
Think how many royal bones
Sleep within this heap of stones:
Here they lie had realms and lands,
Who now want strength to stir their hands:
Where from their pulpits seal'd with dust
They preach, 'In greatness is no trust.'
Here 's an acre sown indeed
With the richest, royall'st seed
That the earth did e'er suck in
Since the first man died for sin:
Here the bones of birth have cried--
'Though gods they were, as men they died.'
Here are sands, ignoble things,
Dropt from the ruin'd sides of kings;
Here 's a world of pomp and state,
Buried in dust, once dead by fate.
poem by Francis Beaumont
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Tumble Down The Years
She took my hand and said lets go together
You and me against the world
And so we stuck it out through still and stormy weather
And so we tumbled down the years
I took her hand and said lets go together
Just you and me against the world
Lets go together
Stay together
Well tumble down the years
And well come to find the key behind it all
We never stopped to see if we were still in step
We never checked each others eyes
To see who lived in there behind them
And down the years we disappeared
Lets go together
Say no together
Well tumble down the years
Lets try together
Lets lie together
Well tumble down the years
And though we never found the key behind it all
I think we came to know the meaning of the fall
Lets go together
We said forever
You and me against the world
Hold on together
And damn the river
Well tumble down the years
Well tumble down the years
Well tumble down the years
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
France
Unhappy State! with horrors still to strive:
Thy Hugo dead, thy Boulanger alive;
A Prince who'd govern where he dares not dwell,
And who for power would his birthright sell
Who, anxious o'er his enemies to reign,
Grabs at the scepter and conceals the chain;
While pugnant factions mutually strive
By cutting throats to keep the land alive.
Perverse in passion, as in pride perverse
To all a mistress, to thyself a curse;
Sweetheart of Europe! every sun's embrace
Matures the charm and poison of thy grace.
Yet time to thee nor peace nor wisdom brings:
In blood of citizens and blood of kings
The stones of thy stability are set,
And the fair fabric trembles at a threat.
poem by Ambrose Bierce
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Vanity of Vanities
Be ye happy, if ye may,
In the years that pass away.
Ye shall pass and be forgot,
And your place shall know you not.
Other generations rise,
With the same hope in their eyes
That in yours is kindled now,
And the same light on their brow.
They shall see the selfsame sun
That your eyes now gaze upon,
They shall breathe the same sweet air,
And shall reck not who ye were.
Yet they too shall fade at last
In the twilight of the past,
They and you alike shall be
Lost from the world's memory.
Then, while yet ye breathe and live,
Drink the cup that life can give.
Be ye happy, if ye may,
In the years that pass away,
Ere the golden bowl be broken,
Ere ye pass and leave no token,
Ere the silver cord be loosed,
Ere ye turn again to dust.
`And shall this be all,' ye cry,
`But to eat and drink and die?
If no more than this there be,
Vanity of vanity!'
Yea, all things are vanity,
And what else but vain are ye?
Ye who boast yourselves the kings
Over all created things.
Kings! whence came your right to reign?
Ye shall be dethroned again.
Yet for this, your one brief hour,
Wield your mockery of power.
Dupes of Fate, that treads you down
Wear awhile your tinsel crown
Be ye happy, if ye may,
In the years that pass away.
poem by Robert Fuller Murray
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Psalm VIII: O Lord, Our Lord
O Lord, our Lord, how wondrous great
Is thine exalted name!
The glories of thy heav'nly state
Let men and babes proclaim.
When I behold thy works on high
The moon that rules the night,
And stars that well adorn the sky,
Those moving worlds of light.
Lord, what is man, or all his race,
Who dwells so far below,
That thou should visit him with grace,
And love his nature so?
That thine eternal Son should bear
To take a mortal form;
Made lower than His angels are,
To save a dying worm?
Yet while He lived on earth unknown,
And men would not adore,
The obedient seas and fishes own
His Godhead and his power.
The waves lay spread beneath His feat;
And fish, at his command,
Bring their large shoals to Peter's net,
Bring tribute to his hand.
Those lesser glories of the son
Shone through the fleshly cloud;
Now, we behold Him on His throne,
And men confess Him God.
Let Him be crowned with majesty,
Who bowed His head to death;
And be His honors sounded high,
By all things that have breath.
Jesus, our Lord, how wondrous great
Is thine exalted name!
The glories of thy heavenly state
Let the whole earth proclaim.
poem by Isaac Watts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wandering Singers
WHERE the voice of the wind calls our wandering feet,
Through echoing forest and echoing street,
With lutes in our hands ever-singing we roam,
All men are our kindred, the world is our home.
Our lays are of cities whose lustre is shed,
The laughter and beauty of women long dead;
The sword of old battles, the crown of old kings,
And happy and simple and sorrowful things.
What hope shall we gather, what dreams shall we sow?
Where the wind calls our wandering footsteps we go.
No love bids us tarry, no joy bids us wait:
The voice of the wind is the voice of our fate.
poem by Sarojini Naidu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
At The Front Row
What is after the sixth number
Surpasses the seventh number
He who must lick the honey in the rock
Must care less on the fate of the axe
Many request to be made kings
They like the garments of kings
They want to be called his majesty
But the clout to serve is not in them
Many wants the crowns on their heads
Yet they detest the process of making the crown
Many never realised the crown is heavy
He who must wear the beaded cap
Must be skilful in in serving
Although the front row looks sweet
The front row may be tempting
He who must lead
Must be ready to forgo all
There must be no veil
The front row is without facade
poem by Babatunde Aremu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wavering
So many why
And a lot how
But you should know
There’s an inevitable fact lays in your hand
So many question
And a lot deny
But you should accept
There’s a fate runs in your blood
So many demand
And a lot wonder
But you should always
Put your feet on the ground
So many regret
And a lot fake
But you should face
The truth is begging you to understand
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No Need For The Lord
Men who think they have it all, are still affected by Adam’s fall,
Those men you see everywhere, living their life without a care.
They see no need for The Lord, who in their life goes ignored.
Unlike men, like you and me, they have no thought on eternity.
They say all that is ahead for us, is death and a return to dust.
They all believe this life will end, but that afterlife is all pretend.
If dust is the last place we go, why does Truth annoy them so?
If there is no afterlife at all, why do unbelievers hem and haw?
They say all have the same fate, as all bodies just disintegrate,
Hopelessly dealing with daily strife, only having this present life.
Saying all things start and end; but not so with Christ my friend,
Jesus Christ is eternal friend; like Him man’s being has no end.
Death may be an earthy fate, but all men have an eternal state,
For some it’s death some it’s life; it all depends on Jesus Christ.
If you believe He rose again, you my friend, can be born-again,
Born into God’s eternal family, to live with Jesus Christ eternally.
If you do not believe this is true, eternal darkness will greet you,
When you step into eternal death, upon your last earthly breath.
I simply do not understand why, some unbelievers balk and cry,
Ignoring all of the written history, about the only King of Eternity.
Nobody forces them to believe, as they choose to be deceived.
I simply will remain in The Truth, as they continue their reproof.
Is it all simply Satan’s spite, as he is wrong and Christ is right?
Friend one day they all will see, when they’re cast into eternity.
(Copyright ©05/2006)
The Judge's Prayer
‘Sentenced to death;
May God have mercy on your soul
Now may you die by hanging...’
The African judge
Holds the gravel of wrath
And sits on the crown of revenge
Where love stiffens into blood thirst
And blood pours into the hands
of an empty soul.
The judge makes a prayer
That covers his own fate!
poem by Timothy muggaga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Fate Worse Than Death
What is a fate worse than death you ask,
Simple,
Losing you,
Without you my heart would cease to beat,
My blood would run cold,
And I would become a lifeless doll,
Trying to get over you would be like trying to hide in an open area,
Not many things in life are worth dying for,
But you are someone I would easily fall victim to.
More than anything else however losing you…
Would be a fate worse than death.
poem by Silver Akira
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!