Gorgon or the Wonderful Year
|S+t+| Fame dispos'd to cunnycatch the world,
Vproar'd a wonderment of Eighty Eight:
The Earth addreading to be ouerwhurld,
What now auailes, quoth She, my ballance weight ?
The Circle smyl'd to see the Center feare :
The wonder was, no wonder fell that yeare.
Wonders enhaunse their powre in numbers odd:
The fatall yeare of yeares is Ninety Three :
Parma hath kist; De-maine entreates the rodd:
Warre wondreth, Peace and Spaine in Fraunce to see.
Braue Eckenberg, the dowty Bassa shames :
The Christian Neptune, Turkish Vulcane tames.
Nauarre wooes Roome: Charlmaine giues Guise the Phy:
Weepe Powles, thy Tamberlaine voutsafes to dye.
L'enuoy.
The hugest miracle remaines behinde ,
The second Shakerley Rash-Swash to binde.
poem by Gabriel Harvey
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Related quotes
A New Year's Gift
We are prevented; you whose Presence is
A Publick New-yeares gift, a Common bliss
To all that Love or Feare, give no man leave
To vie a Gift but first he shall receave;
Like as the Persian Sun with golden Eies
First shines upon the Priest and Sacrifice.
Ile on howere; May this yeare happier prove
Than all the Golden Age when Vertue strove
With nothing but with Vertue; may it bee
Such as the Dayes of Saturnes Infancy.
May every Tide and Season joyntly fitt
All your Intents and your Occasions hitt:
May every Grayne of Sand within your Glass
Number a fresh content before it pass.
And when success comes on, stand then each howre
Like Josuah's Day, & grow to three or fowre:
At last when this yeare rounds and wheeles away,
Bee still the next yeare like the old yeares Day.
poem by William Strode
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Sonnet LX
THey that in course of heauenly spheares are skild,
To euery planet point his sundry yeare:
in which her circles voyage is fulfild,
as Mars in three score yeares doth run his spheare
So since the winged God his planet cleare,
began in me to moue, one yeare is spent:
the which doth longer vnto me appeare,
then al those fourty which my life outwent.
Then by that count, which louers books inuent,
the spheare of Cupid fourty yeares containes:
which I haue wasted in long languishment,
that seemd the longer for my greater paines.
But let me loues fayre Planet short her wayes
this yeare ensuing, or else short my dayes.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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Sonnet LXII
THe weary yeare his race now hauing run,
The new begins his compast course anew:
with shew of morning mylde he hath begun,
betokening peace and plenty to ensew,
So let vs, which this chaunge of weather vew,
chaunge eeke our mynds and former liues amend
the old yeares sinnes forepast let vs eschew,
and fly the faults with which we did offend.
Then shall the new yeares ioy forth freshly send,
into the glooming world his gladsome ray:
and all these stormes which now his beauty blend,
shall turne to caulmes and tymely cleare away.
So likewise loue cheare you your heauy spright,
and chaunge old yeares annoy to new delight.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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Frendly Caueat to the Second Shakerley of Powles
SLumbring I lay in melancholy bed,
Before the dawning of the sanguin light:
When Eccho Shrill, or some Familiar Spright
Buzzed an Epitaph into my hed.
Magnifique Mindes, bred of Gargantuas race,
In grisly weedes His Obsequies waiment,
Whose Corps on Powles, whose mind triumph'd on Kent,
Scorning to bate Sir Rodomont an ace.
I mus'd awhile: and hauing mus'd awhile,
Iesu, (quoth I) is that Gargantua minde
Conquerd, and left no Scanderbeg behinde ?
Vowed he not to Powles A Second bile?
What bile, or kibe? (quoth that same early Spright)
Haue you forgot the Scanderbegging wight?
Glosse.
Is it a Dreame? or is the Highest minde,
That euer haunted Powles, or hunted winde,
Bereaft of that same sky-surmounting breath,
That breath, that taught the Timpany to swell?
He, and the Plague contended for the game:
The hawty man extolles his hideous thoughtes,
And gloriously insultes vpon poore soules,
That plague themselues: for faint harts plague themselues.
The tyrant Sicknesse of base-minded slaues
Oh how it dominer's in Coward Lane?
So Surquidry rang-out his larum bell,
When he had girn'd at many a dolefull knell.
The graund Dissease disdain'd his toade Conceit,
And smiling at his tamberlaine contempt,
Sternely struck-home the peremptory stroke.
He that nor feared God, nor dreaded Diu'll,
Nor ought admired, but his wondrous selfe:
Like Iunos gawdy Bird, that prowdly stares
On glittring fan of his triumphant taile:
Or like the ugly Bugg, that scorn'd to dy,
And mountes of Glory rear'd in towring witt:
Alas: but Babell Pride must kisse the pitt.
L'enuoy .
Powles steeple, and a hugyer thing is downe:
Beware the next Bull-beggar of the towne.
poem by Gabriel Harvey
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The Writers Postscript: or a Frendly Caueat to the Second Shakerley of Powles
Slumbring I lay in melancholy bed,
Before the dawning of the sanguin light:
When Eccho Shrill, or some Familiar Spright
Buzzed an Epitaph into my hed.
Magnifique Mindes, bred of Gargantuas race,
In grisly weedes His Obsequies waiment,
Whose Corps on Powles, whose mind triumph'd on Kent,
Scorning to bate Sir Rodomont an ace.
I mus'd awhile: and hauing mus'd awhile,
Iesu, (quoth I) is that Gargantua minde
Conquerd, and left no Scanderbeg behinde ?
Vowed he not to Powles A Second bile?
What bile, or kibe? (quoth that same early Spright)
Haue you forgot the Scanderbegging wight?
Glosse.
Is it a Dreame? or is the Highest minde,
That euer haunted Powles, or hunted winde,
Bereaft of that same sky-surmounting breath,
That breath, that taught the Timpany to swell?
He, and the Plague contended for the game:
The hawty man extolles his hideous thoughtes,
And gloriously insultes vpon poore soules,
That plague themselues: for faint harts plague themselues.
The tyrant Sicknesse of base-minded slaues
Oh how it dominer's in Coward Lane?
So Surquidry rang-out his larum bell,
When he had girn'd at many a dolefull knell.
The graund Dissease disdain'd his toade Conceit,
And smiling at his tamberlaine contempt,
Sternely struck-home the peremptory stroke.
He that nor feared God, nor dreaded Diu'll,
Nor ought admired, but his wondrous selfe:
Like Iunos gawdy Bird, that prowdly stares
On glittring fan of his triumphant taile:
Or like the ugly Bugg, that scorn'd to dy,
And mountes of Glory rear'd in towring witt:
Alas: but Babell Pride must kisse the pitt.
L'enuoy.
Powles steeple, and a hugyer thing is downe:
Beware the next Bull-beggar of the towne.
- - - - - - Fata immatura vagantur.
poem by Gabriel Harvey
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The Miracle
Words and music by queen
Every drop of rain that falls in sahara desert says it all
Its a miracle
All gods creations great and small
The golden gate and the taj mahal
Thats a miracle
Test tube babies being born
Mothers,fathers dead and gone
Its a miracle
Were having a miracle on earth
Mother nature does it all for us
The wonders of this world go on
The hanging gardens of babylon
Captain cook and cain and able
Jimi hendrix to the tower of babel
Its a miracle its a miracle its a miracle
Its a miracle
The one thing were all waiting for is peace on earth - an end
To war
Its a miracle we need - the miracle
The miracle were all waiting for today
If every leaf on every tree could tell a story that would be a
Miracle
If every child on every street had clothes to wear and food to
Eat
Thats a miracle
If all gods people could be free to live in perfect harmony
Its a miracle
Were having a miracle on earth
Mother nature does it all for us
Open hearts and surgery
(wonders of this world go on)
Sunday mornings with a cup of tea
Super powers always fighting
But mona lisa just keeps on smiling
Its a miracle its a miracle its a miracle
(wonders of this world go on)
Its a miracle its a miracle its a miracle
Its a miracle
The one thing (the one thing) were all waiting for (were all
Waiting for)
Is peace on earth (peace on earth) and an end to war (an end
To war)
Its a miracle we need - the miracle
The miracle peace on earth and end to war today
That time will come one day youll see when we can all be
Friends
That time will come one day youll see when we can all be
Friends
That time will come one day youll see when we can all be
Friends
That time will come one day youll see when we can all be
Friends
song performed by by Queen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Prayse Of The Needle
To all dispersed sorts of arts and trades
I write the needles prayse (that never fades).
So long as children shall be got or borne,
So long as garments shall be made or worne,
So long as hemp or flax, or sheep shall bear
Their linen woolen fleeces yeare by yeare,
So long as silk-wormes, with exhausted spoile,
Of their own entrails for man's gaine shall toyle,
Yea till the world be quite dissolv'd and past,
So long at least, the needles' use shall last.
poem by John Taylor
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Amyntor From Beyond The Sea To Alexis. A Dialogue
Amyntor.
Alexis! ah Alexis! can it be,
Though so much wet and drie
Doth drowne our eye,
Thou keep'st thy winged voice from me?
Alexis.
Amyntor, a profounder sea, I feare,
Hath swallow'd me, where now
My armes do row,
I floate i'th' ocean of a teare.
Lucasta weepes, lest I look back and tread
Your Watry land againe.
Amyn. I'd through the raine;
Such showrs are quickly over-spread.
Conceive how joy, after this short divorce,
Will circle her with beames,
When, like your streames,
You shall rowle back with kinder force,
And call the helping winds to vent your thought.
Alex. Amyntor! Chloris! where
Or in what sphere
Say, may that glorious fair be sought?
Amyn. She's now the center of these armes e're blest,
Whence may she never move,
Till Time and Love
Haste to their everlasting rest.
Alex. Ah subtile swaine! doth not my flame rise high
As yours, and burne as hot?
Am not I shot
With the selfe same artillery?
And can I breath without her air?--Amyn.
Why, then,
From thy tempestuous earth,
Where blood and dearth
Raigne 'stead of kings, agen
Wafte thy selfe over, and lest storms from far
Arise, bring in our sight
The seas delight,
Lucasta, that bright northerne star.
Alex. But as we cut the rugged deepe, I feare
The green god stops his fell
Chariot of shell,
And smooths the maine to ravish her.
Amyn. Oh no, the prince of waters' fires are done;
He as his empire's old,
And rivers, cold;
His queen now runs abed to th' sun;
But all his treasure he shall ope' that day:
Tritons shall sound: his fleete
In silver meete,
And to her their rich offrings pay.
Alex. We flye, Amyntor, not amaz'd how sent
By water, earth, or aire:
Or if with her
By fire: ev'n there
I move in mine owne element.
poem by Richard Lovelace
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Roome Is A Taker, Poets Say
Roome is a taker, Poets say,
And lawyers are so too, you see
Roome is a taker by my fate,
No learned man can disagree,
And roome shall take, beleeue well me,
At least till something, no where be.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Sonnet 7
Sweet Thames I honour thee, not for thou art
The chiefest River of the fairest Ile,
Nor for thou dost admirers eies beguile,
But for thou hold'st the keeper of my heart,
For on thy waves, (thy Christal-billow'd waves),
My fairest faire, my silver Swan is swimming:
Against the sunne his pruned feathers trimming:
Whilst Neptune his faire feete with water laves,
Neptune, I feare not thee, nor yet thine eie,
And yet (alas) Apollo lov'd a boy,
And Cyparissus was Silvanus joy.
No, no, I feare none but faire Thetis, I
For if she spie my Love, (alas) aie me,
My mirth is turn'd to extreame miserie.
poem by Richard Barnfield
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Sonnet IIII
NEw yeare forth looking out of Ianus gate,
Doth seeme to promise hope of new delight:
and bidding th'old Adieu, his passed date
bids all old thoughts to die in dumpish spright.
And calling forth out of sad Winters night,
fresh loue, that long hath slept in cheerlesse bower:
wils him awake, and soone about him dight
his wanton wings and darts of deadly power.
For lusty spring now in his timely howre,
is ready to come forth him to receiue:
and warnes the Earth with diuers colord flowre,
to decke hir selfe, and her faire mantle weaue.
Then you faire flowre, in who[m] fresh youth doth raine,
prepare your selfe new loue to entertaine.
poem by Edmund Spenser
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Nakama 仲 間
Nakama, what a word!
So many meanings
big difference it makes
of good and bad
it's all that it takes
to feel acceptance.
The unconditionally
friendly feel of peace
when enter into:
own circle
family circle
neighbours circle
work circle
nature circle
earth circle
universe circle
am I a part of them?
If yes, then
there's the biggest
source
of happiness:
a bow: -Arigatou,
nakama desu.
poem by Elena Sandu
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Is Happiness Still Possible..
Possible, possible, happiness possible
When heard a broadcasted chat plausible
A topic discussed on wonders and wonderment
Seven wonders one by one dealt first
Then one wondered at birth and death
The next in awe of ocean's depth
Other one on seasons and rain
Next on food.. digetion and indigestion
Wonderment else's was a beetle in mango fruit
Whereas strangely next was a spectral ghost
A devotional heart wondered at infant's smile
An exploring mind noted all archaeological
One atlast on water-discovery aghast in Mars
No sooner I wondered at those knowledgeable villagers
Than that Mars-man innocently cracked
'So that water-problem on earth solved'...
You're laughing, laughing as I was
Innocent irrelevance, like a joke it was
And in whole radio-man summed up to say
'Seven more wonders in an array..
Five senses, hands and legs are they
Ruled but by the top wonder 'mind' ay'
Is happiness still possible...?
Yes you say...'possible, possible'
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Maine
Relaxing on my* hands and knees
Relaxing on my* face
Reclining in the bear-trap of its tender warm embrace
Glazed with coniferous green
Glazed with excitement and dread
Exhausted from oversleep
Awake but still in bed
The shaving razors rusty but the sting brings you exactly back to
Maine
Is** the world that went south
Maine
Is** a punch in the mouth
Maine
At the top of the chart
Has crushed my evil heart
Maine
Is the devil you know
Maine
Is the heaven below
Maine
At the top of the chart
Has crushed my evil heart
I love you anyway (I love you anyway)
I promise theres no other state (theres no other state)
But only if you stay away (but only if you leave)
And leave me to my ugly state*** (me to my ugly state)
And give me back my evil heart so I can see you as you are in
Maine
Is the world that went south
Maine
Is a punch in the mouth
Maine
At the top of the chart
Has crushed my evil heart
Maine
Is the poison you love
Maine
Is the hell from above
Maine
At the top of the chart
Has crushed my evil heart
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem in Maths
Count your blessings, God-given;
Add them one by one, each day;
Subtract your pessimism;
Divide time for all your works;
Multiply your joys in life;
Get success in earthly stay,
By praying to the Lord.
Numbers are infinitesimal;
Numbers are so magical;
Numbers can have decimal;
Numbers rule the modern world.
Numbers are abstract / real;
Numbers can amuse us all;
Numbers are the ‘bricks’ of Maths!
Numberless, world is dismal.
They can count your hair, these days;
They can count the stars, some ways;
Man’s progression in Maths is base,
For putting man on Moon, or Mars?
Numbers make computers work;
Hypotheses form the science;
Integers are wonders too;
A genius in mathematics
Is a MATHEMAGICIAN!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 7-22-2007
poem by John Celes
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Weight Of The World
I used to carry the weight of the world
On my back
I never trusted my friends or my girl
Can you imagine that
I used to shuffle my feet
When I walked I hung my head down low
Kept to myself all my private thoughts
But when I met you girl.
I dropped the weight of the world
Weight of the world
I dropped the weight of the world
Weight of the world.
I knew some people used to dance all night
But not me
I never knew if it was wrong or right
To be so free
I used to close my eyes
And try to hide from the light of love
Spent all my time with the darkness inside
But when I met you girl.
I dropped the weight of the world
Weight of the world
I dropped the weight of the world
Weight of the world.
I was alone for all of my life
I was alone for all of my life
I was alone for all of my life
I was alone for all of my life
Until you came my way
I dropped the weight of the world
Weight of the world
I dropped the weight of the world
Weight of the world.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fame
As recorded by david bowie
Fame, makes a man take things over.
Fame, let's him lose, hard to swallow.
Fame, puts you there where things are hollow.
Fame.
Fame,
It's not your brain, it's just a flame,
That burns your change to keep you insane.
Fame.
Fame, what you like is in the limo.
Fame, what you get is no tomorrow.
Fame, what you need you have to borrow.
Fame.
Fame,
Now it's mine, it's just his line
To bind your time it drives you to crime.
Fame.
Is it any wonder
I reject you first?
Fame, fame, fame, fame.
Is it any wonder
You are too cool to fool?
Fame.
Fame,
Bully for you,
Chilly for me,
Got to get a raincheck on pain.
Fame.
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame,
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame,
Fame, fame, fame, - fame.
What's your name?
(fame, fame)
(fame, fame)
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fame
As recorded by david bowie
Fame, makes a man take things over.
Fame, let's him lose, hard to swallow.
Fame, puts you there where things are hollow.
Fame.
Fame,
It's not your brain, it's just a flame,
That burns your change to keep you insane.
Fame.
Fame, what you like is in the limo.
Fame, what you get is no tomorrow.
Fame, what you need you have to borrow.
Fame.
Fame,
Now it's mine, it's just his line
To bind your time it drives you to crime.
Fame.
Is it any wonder
I reject you first?
Fame, fame, fame, fame.
Is it any wonder
You are too cool to fool?
Fame.
Fame,
Bully for you,
Chilly for me,
Got to get a raincheck on pain.
Fame.
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame,
Fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame, fame,
Fame, fame, fame, - fame.
What's your name?
(fame, fame)
(fame, fame)
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Numbers..
Numbers are cruel,
When the heart beats ninety per minute,
when pressure is, down very down,
High very high, fluctuating.
Numbers are cruel,
when wearing spectacles,
power can not be adjusted,
must buy a new pair.
Numbers are cruel,
when using Glucometer,
higher the reading,
must control the eating.
Numbers are cruel,
when one has thousand,
sometimes in negatives and
the other has millions.
Numbers are cruel,
when one is young and fresh,
and the other is old and in mess,
bigger the number, wiser.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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A Child
Little wisp of wonderment,
All the world your doll!
Hugging it in huge content,
Little wisp of wonderment;
Life has only laughter sent—
Everything is droll:
Little wisp of wonderment,
All the world your doll.
poem by Arthur Henry Adams
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