En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Coeur De Lion

I.

RICHARD the Lion-hearted, crowned serene
With the true royalty of perfect man;
Seated in stone above the praise or ban
Of these mixed crowds who come gaping lean
As if to see what the word 'king' might mean
In those old times. Behold! what need that rim
Of crown 'gainst this blue sky, to signal him
A monarch, of the monarchs that have been,
And, perhaps, are not?--Read his destinies
In the full brow o'er-arching kingly eyes,
In the strong hands, grasping both rein and sword,
In the close mouth, so sternly beautiful:--
Surely, a man who his own spirit can rule;
Lord of himself, therefore his brethren's lord.

II.

'O Richard, O mon roi.' So minstrels sighed.
The many-centuried voice dies fast away
Amidst the turmoil of our modern day.
How know we but these green-wreathed legends hide
An ugly truth that never could abide
In this our living world's far purer air?--
Nevertheless, O statue, rest thou there,
Our Richard, of all chivalry the pride;
Or if not the true Richard, still a type
Of the old regal glory, fallen, o'er-ripe,
And giving place to better blossoming:
Stand--imaging the grand heroic days;
And let our little children come and gaze,
Whispering with innocent awe--'This was a King.'

poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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King Richard The Third

(1452—1485)

He was the last king of the House of York and last of the
Plantagenet dynasty. His deafeat at the battle of Bosworth
Field was the decisive battle of the War of the Roses.When
his brother Edward IV died in 1483, Richard was named Lord
Protector of the realm for Edward's son and successor, the
12-year-old King Edward V.The young king and his brother
were murdered in the Tower of London, on the orders of
Richard.

Shakespeare falsified Richard's memory
Appeasing his Tudor monarch's royal line
Claiming him unfit to be king, a bloody tyrant
With crown stolen on bloody Bosworth Field.

Richard was not born before his time
Hunchback, withered hand, dragging foot
But was of pleasing appearance, tall, strong
No withered hand, hunchback nor deformed limb.

He was a goodly king for his own dark times
Reigning two years, a brave warrior of the rose
Brother of a king, uncle to two young princes
Murdered, smothered in the Tower of London.

Betrayed by Baron Stanley on Bosworth Field
The turncoat traitor for the Tudor cause
Leading his Welsh army bringing King Richard down
Butchered, and buried naked in a farmer's dung heap.

poem by Colin Ian Jeffery
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Richard Cory

Say that richard cory
Owns one-half of this here town
With political connections
To spread his wealth around
Born into society, a banker's only child
He had everything a man could want
Power, grace and style
But i, i work in his factory
And i curse the life that i'm livin'
And i curse my poverty
And i wish that i could be
Yeah, hey i wish that i could be
Lord, i wish that i could be, richard cory
The paper's print his picture
Everywhere he go
Richard cory at the opera
Richard cory at the show
And the rumours of his parties
And orgies on his yacht
Heart and soul he must be happy
With everything that he has got
But i, i work in his factory
And i curse the life i'm livin'
And i curse my poverty
And i wish that i could be
Yeah, wish that i could be
Lord, i wish that i could be, richard cory
He freely give to charity and had the common touch
They were grateful for his patronage
And thanked him very much
So my mind was filled with wonder
When the evenin' headlines read
That richard cory went home last night
And put a bullet through his head, hu
But i, i, work in his factory
And i don't dig the life i'm livin'
I curse my poverty
And i wish that i could be
And i wish that i could be
Well, i wish that i could be, richard cory
Yeah, i wish that i could be
Lord, i wish that i could be
Yeah, i wish that i could be
Yes, oh i wish that i could be
Just like richard cory

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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King Richard II: Good king, great king, and yet not greatly good,
An if my word be sterling yet in England,
Let it command a mirror hither straight,
That it may show me what a face I have,
Since it is bankrupt of his majesty.

line from Richard II, Act IV, Scene 1, script by William Shakespeare (1595)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Richard Cory

They say that Richard Cory owns one half of this whole town
With political connections to spread his wealth around
Born into society, a banker's only child
He had everything a man could want: power, grace, and style
But I work in his factory
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Richard Cory
The papers print his picture almost everywhere he goes
Richard Cory at the opera, Richard Cory at a show
And the rumor of his parties and the orgies on his yacht!
Oh he surely must be happy with everything he's got
But I, I work in his factory
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Richard Cory
He freely gave to charity, he had the common touch
And they were grateful for his patronage and they thanked him very much
So my mind was filled with wonder when the evening headlines read:
"Richard Cory went home last night and put a bullet through his head"
But I, I work in his factory
And I curse the life I'm living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Oh I wish that I could be
Richard Cory

song performed by by Simon & Garfunkel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Richard Cory

They say that richard cory owns one half of this whole town,
With political connections to spread his wealth around.
Born into society, a bankers only child,
He had everything a man could want: power, grace, and style.
But I work in his factory
And I curse the life Im living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard cory.
The papers print his picture almost everywhere he goes:
Richard cory at the opera, richard cory at a show.
And the rumor of his parties and the orgies on his yacht!
Oh, he surely must be happy with everything hes got.
But I work in his factory
And I curse the life Im living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard cory.
He freely gave to charity, he had the common touch,
And they were grateful for his patronage and thanked him very much,
So my mind was filled with wonder when the evening headlines read:
Richard cory went home last night and put a bullet through his head.
But I work in his factory
And I curse the life Im living
And I curse my poverty
And I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be,
Oh, I wish that I could be
Richard cory.

song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Richard Coeur de Lion

Richard the First, Coeur-de-Lion,
Is a name that we speak of with pride,
Though he only lived six months in England
From his birth to the day that he died.

He spent all his time fighting battles,
Dressed up in most rigid attire,
For he had his suits made by the Blacksmith,
And his underwear knitted of wire.

He married a lady from Flanders,
Berengaria's what they called her;
She turned out a good wife to Richard,
In spite of a name like that there.

For when he came home from his fighting
She'd bandage the wounds in his sconce,
And every time a snake bit him
She'd suck out the poison at once.

In their 'ouse they'd a minstrel called Blondel
To amuse them at t'end of the day'
And the King had but one thing against him...
He had nobbut one tune he could play.

The Queen saw nowt wrong with the number
And would have it again and again,
And when Richard said: "Put a sock in it!"
She'd give 'im a look full of pain.

The King got fed up at the finish,
And were so sick of 'earing it played,
That he packed his spare suit on a wagon
And went off and joined the Crusade.

He got fighting the moment he landed,
And though Saracen lads did their best,
He cut off their heads in such numbers,
That the hatmakers lodged a protest.

The Sultan, whose name were Saladin,
Thought he'd best try this business to stem,
So he rode up to Richard and told him
He mustn't do that there to them.

Said Richard: "Oh! Who's going to stop me?"
Said Saladin: "I will-and quick!"
So the King poked his sword at the Sultan,
Who, in turn, swiped his skimpter at Dick.

They fought all that day without ceasing;
They fought till at last they both saw
That each was a match for the other,
So they chucked it and called it a draw.

As Richard rode home in the moonlight
He heard someone trying to croon,
And there by the roadside stood Blondel,
Still playing his signature tune.

He'd worked out his passage from England
In search of his Master and Lord,
And had swum the last part of the journey
'Cos his tune got 'im thrown overboard.

This meeting filled Richard with panic:
He rode off and never drew rein
Till he got past the Austrian border
And felt he could breathe once again.

He hid in a neighbouring Castle,
But he hadn't been there very long
When one night just outside his window
Stood Blondel, still singing his song.

This 'ere took the heart out of Richard;
He went home dejected and low,
And the very next fight he got into
He were killed without striking a blow.

poem by Marriott Edgar
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Psalm 113

From this time forth and forevermore
Our Lord is worthy of all praise
Blessed be the name of Christ our King
Into His holiness we all shall gaze

From the rising of the sun to its going down
His name shall be praised forever
His glory is high above the heavens
And His praise shall not end, no never

Who is like unto the Lord our God
He is glorious in majesty
He shall come victoriously in the sky above
And surely every eye shall see

That He rides upon a horse with a crown on His head
And a two-edged sword in His hand
He rides victoriously, this Lion of Judah
He rides all across the land.

poem by Frank McEleny
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He Is Worthy

From this time forth and forevermore
Our Lord is worthy of all praise
Blessed be the name of Christ our King
Into His holiness we all shall gaze

From the rising of the sun to its going down
His name shall be praised forever
His glory is high above the heavens
And His praise shall not end, no never

Who is like unto the Lord our God
He is glorious in majesty
He shall come victoriously in the sky above
And surely every eye shall see

That He rides upon a horse with a crown on His head
And a two-edged sword in His hand
He rides victoriously, this Lion of Judah
He rides all across the land.

poem by Frank McEleny
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Philip, My King

Look at me with thy large brown eyes,
Philip, my king!
Round whom the enshadowing purple lies
Of babyhood's royal dignities.
Lay on my neck thy tiny hand
With love's invisible scepter laden;
I am thine Esther to command
Till thou shalt find a queen-handmaiden,
Philip, my king.

O the day when thou goest a-wooing,
Philip, my king!
When those beautiful lips are suing,
And some gentle heart's bars undoing,
Thou dost enter, love-crowned, and there
Sittest love-glorified. Rule kindly,
Tenderly, over thy kingdom fair,
For we that love, ah! we love so blindly,
Philip, my king.

Up from thy sweet mouth, - up to thy brow,
Philip, my king!
The spirit that there lies sleeping now
May rise like a giant and make men bow
As to one heaven-chosen among his peers.
My Saul, than thy brethren taller and fairer,
Let me behold thee in future years! -
Yet thy head needeth a circlet rarer,
Philip, my king.

- A wreath not of gold, but palm. One day,
Philip, my king!
Thou too must tread, as we trod, a way
Thorny and cruel and cold and gray:
Rebels within thee, and foes without,
Will snatch at thy crown. But march on, glorious,
Martyr, yet monarch! till angels shout,
As thou sittest at the feet of God victorious,
'Philip, the king!'

poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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King Richard II: You may my glories and my state depose, but not my griefs; still am I king of those.

line from Richard II, Act IV, Scene 1, script by William Shakespeare (1595)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Serious Richard

I was so lost and you were so profound
You taught me how to fly with my feet still on the ground
And you told me to be what it is that I was
No matter what all of the businessmen said
Serious richard why do you frown like you do
Why do you think the whole world is after you
Well youre probably right and its probably true about me too
cause sometimes the world aint sweet
Oh these days when was it ever
Maybe its just this city hurts
Oh richard I love you worse
Serious richard
I often recall the time in the doorway in paris
The time of the broken sinks and the broken hearts
And the broken weeds that we tore apart
Thinking they were flowers thinking they were art
We were so smart richard
We liked our love we loved to live
Out in the streets we knew how to give
We were alive happy to be alive
You dont know my memory lingers
Or the message of your fingers
Serious richard where did you go
I never thought an ending we would ever know
Now its so cold without your love

song performed by by Vonda Shepard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nobody's ever called me Sir Richard. Occasionally in America, I hear people saying Sir Richard and think there's some Shakespearean play taking place. But nowhere else anyway.

quote by Richard Branson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Be Thou My Vision

Be thou my vision, oh lord of my heart
Nought be all else to me, save that thy art
Thou my best thought in the day and the night
Waking or sleeping, thou presence my light
Be thou my wisdom, be thou my true word
I ever with thee and thou with me lord
Thou my great father and I thy true son
Thou in me dwelling and I with thee one
Be thou my breastplate, my sword for the fight
Be thou my armour and be thou my might
Thou my soul shelter, and thy my high tower
Raise thou me heavenwards, oh power of my power
Riches I need not, nor mans empty praise
Thou mine inheritance through all of my days
Thou and thou only though first in my heart
High king of heaven my treasure thou art
Oh high king of heaven, when battle is done
Grant heavens joy to me, bright heaven sun
Christ of my own heart, whatever befall
Still be my vision, though ruler of all
Da, da, da, da, da, etc.

song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sweet empty sky of June without a stain,

O Lord, the hope of Israel, all they that forsake
Thee shall be ashamed ; and they that depart from
Thee, shall be written in the earth, because they have
forsaken the Lord, the fountain of living waters.
Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed ; save me,
and I shall be saved, for Thou art my health, and my
great deliverer.
I said in the cutting off of my days, I shall go to
the gates of the grave ; I have deprived myself of the
residue of my years.
I said, I shall not see the Lord, even the Lord in the
land of the living : I shall behold man no more with
the inhabitants of the world.
O Lord ! by Thee doth man live, and from Thee is
the life of my spirit : therefore wilt Thou recover me,
and make me to live.
Thou hast in love to my soul delivered it from the
pit of corruption ; for Thou hast cast all my sins
behind Thy back.
For Thy name's sake hast Thou put off thine anger ;
for Thy praise hast Thou refrained from me, that I
should not be cut off.
For the grave cannot praise Thee, death cannot
celebrate Thee : they that go down into the pit, cannot
hope for Thy truth.
The living, the living, he shall praise Thee, as I do
this day : the father to the children shall make known
Thy truth.
O Lord ! Thou hast been merciful, Thou hast
brought back my life from corruption : Thou hast
redeemed me from my sin.
They that follow after lying vanities, forsake their
own mercy.
Therefore shall Thy songs be with me, and my
prayer unto the God of my life.
I will go unto the altar of my God, unto God, the
joy of my youth ; and in Thy fear will I worship
towards Thy holy temple.
I will sacrifice unto Thee with the voice of thanks-
giving ; I will pay that which I have vowed ; sal-
vation is of the Lord.

poem by Henry Vaughan
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The Glory Now Descending

I have seen the heavens descending
And the beauty of Christ arise
For there is no comprehending
As His glory fills the skies

Are the eyes of your heart full of wonder?
Has perfect love cast out all fear?
Can you hear the heavenly thunder?
As our Lord and God draws near

Lift up your eyes and see the King
As the angels blow their horn
Let every man and woman sing
For the day that He was born

For on that day when He came to earth
The angels did rejoice
And all who bowed now gladly serve
And make a joyful noise

For if glory filled the earth and sky
On the day that He was born
And all hell shook when He was crucified
And the veil was surely torn

Then what glory now descending
As He comes back for His own?
And every heart depending
For the trumpet it has blown

Close your eyes and open your heart
And the King of glory will come in
It was His plan right from the start
To conquer hell and death and sin

O the glory of the risen King
Who is coming for His own
And every child of God will sing
Around God's holy throne

Come Lord Jesus take your place
Rule and reign forevermore
We'll eternally gaze into your face
As we all worship and adore

poem by Frank McEleny
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Pool Hall Richard

(rod stewart, ron wood)
Sweatin hard, I didnt get a shower
All I did was stand around and get too hot
Knowin all the people walkin on my side
Losin all my money and Im killin time
Ol bill he come a-runnin like hes gettin some
Makes you kind of jealous but it sure is fun
I dont mind but he wants my lady too
You know the crowd gets bigger
As the word goes round
Pool hall king was playin back in town
Minnesota fats standin up at the back
Tryin to hide himself in a plastic mack
You ought to hear the silence
When the kid walks in
His reputations bigger than gasoline
I dont mind but hes tryin to fill my lady too, ha ha
Pool hall richard
Youre far too wicked we know, ha
Pool hall richard
Kid youre wicked, we know
You broke my heart
Same as you ... could ever do
With your yellow carnation
And your pink satin shoe
You make me jealous, but I worship you
One day soon Im gonna beat you clean
Wipe that smile right off your chin
Everybody gonna drive from miles around
Cuein up to see me take away your crown
Then youll never never ever take my lady then
Get out
Pool hall richard
Youre far too wicked we know, ha
Pool hall richard
Kid youre wicked, we know
You broke my heart
Same as you ... could ever do
Dig this
Bam goes the brown, thats another one down
Know they play much better when the sun goes down
Bang goes the green, youre so obscene
Your hands are dirty but your scent is clean
Bam goes the blue, lock away your cue
The pool hall king is hustlin you
Bam goes the 8-ball, didnt see it spin at all
This kid can play, oh yeah
Bam goes the brown, ooh another one down
Know they play much better when the sun goes down
Bang goes the green, youre so obscene
Your hands are dirty, your scent is clean
Damn the pink, one more to sink
Gonna beat you someday
cause youre makin me sick
Down on the black, at the back of the pack
Aw, you nearly missed, you aint so hot
Pool hall richard
Kid youre wicked, we know
You broke my heart
Same as you ... could ever do
Youre breakin my heart
But youre stealin my tart, no no no
Shut up

song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psalm 123

I lift my eyes unto my King
I lift my voice to you and sing
And all my heart to you I bring
O you who dwell in heaven

I place my hand into thy hand
On you alone I surely stand
To follow you and what you've planned
Is all I've ever wanted

So come Lord Jesus take your place
Within my heart I am amazed
Into thy holiness I gaze
And fall into thy mercy

They circle us, the strong, the proud
I hear the lion roar so loud
They would kill but they are not allowed
To touch the Lord's anointed

poem by Frank McEleny
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Psalm 150

Praise the Lord of the morning
When the sun rises from its sleep
Praise the Lord for His excellent greatness
For His beauty makes me weep

Praise the Lord when the darkness falls
And the moon rises high above
Praise the Lord for His majestic glory
And His everlasting love

Praise the Lord in the winter
When the snow falls on the ground
Praise the Lord for His glorious presence
When we stand upon holy ground

Praise the Lord of the summer
When the days are warm and long
Praise the Lord for His magnificent splendor
And the saints shall sing a new song

Praise the Lord of the springtime
When the blossoms on the tree
Praise the Lord for His holiness
And for the Blood that set us free

Praise the Lord of the Autumn
When the leaves fall to the ground
Praise the Lord for His faithfulness
And that His grace abounds

Praise the Lord when your happy
And there's a smile upon your face
Praise the Lord for His mercy
And for His saving grace

Praise the Lord when you're in despair
And your pierced by a fiery dart
Praise the Lord for HIs loving kindness
That restores your broken heart

Praise the Lord with your last breath
As you lie upon your bed
Praise the Lord for His promises
To raise you from the dead

Praise the Lord for all eternity
As you gather around His throne
Praise the Lord for His incredible beauty
As you worship Him alone

Let trumpet, harp and timbrel praise
And dance before the King
Let all with breath praise the Lord
And with their voices sing

Hallelujah to the King of Kings
We worship and bow down
We sing to you forever more
And we will crown Him with many crowns

poem by Frank McEleny
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Psalm 149

Praise God, all his saints or, The saints judging the world.

All ye that love the Lord, rejoice,
And let your songs be new;
Amidst the church with cheerful voice
His later wonders show.

The Jews, the people of his grace,
Shall their Redeemer sing;
And Gentile nations join the praise,
While Zion owns her King.

The Lord takes pleasure in the just,
Whom sinners treat with scorn;
The meek that lie despised in dust
Salvation shall adorn.

Saints should be joyful in their King,
E'en on a dying bed;
And like the souls in glory sing;
For God shall raise the dead.

Then his high praise shall fill their tongues
Their hands shall wield the sword;
And vengeance shall attend their songs,
The vengeance of the Lord.

When Christ the judgment-seat ascends,
And bids the world appear,
Thrones are prepared for all his friends
Who humbly loved him here.

Then shall they rule with iron rod
Nations that dared rebel;
And join the sentence of their God
On tyrants doomed to hell.

The royal sinners bound in chains
New triumphs shall afford:
Such honor for the saints remains;
Praise ye, and love the Lord!

poem by Isaac Watts
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Psalm 24

Who shall ascend this holy hill
And who shall stand in this place
He with a heart that is purer than gold
And he who shall fall on his face

Lift up your head oh ye gates
And the King of glory shall come in
It is this generation that will seek your face
A generation that will turn against sin

The Lord is strong and mighty in battle
And the earth and all its fullness, the King's
It was founded upon the seas and the oceons
And the whole earth bows down and sings

Come in oh Lord of glory and might
Come now to my heart and fill
With majesty, glory, honor and praise
As we ascend thy most holy hill

poem by Frank McEleny
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