En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Conscience

QUHEN halie Kirk first flurist in Ȝouthheid,
Prelatis wer chosin of all perfectioun;
For Conscience than the brydill had to leid,
And Conscience maid the hale electioun,
Syne eftir that come schrewit correctioun,
And thocht that Conscience had our large ane weid,
And of his habite out cuttit thay ane skreid.

And fra Conscience the Con thay clip away,
And maid of Conscience Science and na mair;
Bot ȝit the Kirk stude weill, full mony day, 10
For it wes rewlit be mene of wit and layre;
Syn eftir that Sciens began to payr,
And thocht at Sciens was our lang ane jaip,
The Sci away fast can thay rub and scraip;

And fra Sci of Science wes adew,
Than left thai nocht bot this sillab Ens,
Quhilk in our language singnifies that schrew
Riches and geir, that gart all grace go hens;
For Sciens baith and faythfull Consciens
Sa corruptit ar with this warldis gude,
That falset joukis in everie clerkis hude.

O hungrie Ens! cursit with cairis calde,
All kynd of folk constrenis thow to wirk;
For thé that thief Judas his Maister said;
For thé Symon infectit Halie Kirk;
To poysoun Justice thow dois nevir irk;
Thow fals Ens, go hens, thou monsture peralous,
God send Defens with Conscience in till ws!

poem by Gavin Douglas
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Robin and Malkin

Robene sat on gud grene hill,
Kepand a flok of fe;
Mirry Makyne said him till,
"Robene, thow rew on me;
I haif the luvit lowd and still,
Thir yeiris two or thre;
My dule in dern bot gif thow dill,
Dowtless but dreid I de."

Robene answerit, "Be the rude,
Nathing of lufe I knaw,
Bot keipis my scheip undir yone wid,
Lo quhair they raik on raw:
Quhat hes marrit the in thy mude,
Makyne, to me thow schaw;
Or quhat is lufe, or to be lude?
Fane wald I leir that law."

"At luvis lair gife thow will leir,
Tak thair ane a b c;
Be heynd, courtass, and fair of feir,
Wyse, hardy, and fre;
So that no denger do the deir,
Quhat dule in dern thow dre;
Preiss the with pane at all poweir,
Be patient and previe."

Robene anserit hir agane,
"I wait nocht quhat is luve;
But I haif mervell in certane
Quhat makis the this wanrufe:
The weddir is fair, and I am fane,
My scheip gois haill aboif;
And we wald play us in this plane,
Thay wald us bayth reproif."

"Robene, tak tent unto my taill,
And wirk all as I reid,
And thow sall haif my hairt all haill,
Eik and my maidenheid.
Sen God sendis bute for baill
And for murnyng remeid,
In dern with the bot gif I daill,
Dowtles I am bot deid."

"Makyne, to morne this ilk a tyde,
And ye will meit me heir,--
Peraventure my scheip may gang besyd,
Quhill we haif liggit full neir;
Bot mawgre haif I and I byd,
Fra thay begin to steir;
Quhat lyis on hairt I will nocht hyd;
Makyn, than mak gud cheir."

"Robene, thow reivis me roif and rest;
I luve bot the allane."
"Makyne, adew, the sone gois west,
The day is neir hand gane."
"Robene, in dule I am so drest,
That lufe wilbe my bane."
"Ga lufe, Makyne, quhair evir thow list,
For lemman I lue nane."

"Robene, I stand in sic a styll;
I sicht, and that full sair."
"Makyne, I haif bene heir this quhyle;
At hame God gif I wair."
"My huny, Robene, talk ane quhyle,
Gif thow will do na mair."
"Makyne, sum uthir man begyle,
For hamewart I will fair."

Robene on his wayis went
Als licht as leif of tre;
Mawkin murnit in hir intent,
And trowd him nevir to se.
Robene brayd attour the bent;
Than Mawkyne cryit on hie,
"Now ma thow sing, for I am schent!
Quhat alis lufe at me?"

Mawkyne went hame withowttin faill,
Full wery eftir cowth weip.
Than Robene in a ful fair daill
Assemblit all his scheip.
Be that sum pairte of Mawkynis aill
Outthrow his hairt cowd creip;
He fallowit hir fast thair till assaill,
And till hir tuke gude keip.

"Abyd, abyd, thow fair Makyne,
A word for ony thing;
For all my luve it sal be thyne,
Withowttin depairting.
All haill thy harte for till haif myne
Is all my cuvating;
My scheip to morne quhill houris nyne
Will neid of no keping."

"Robene, thow hes hard soung and say,
In gestis and storeis auld,
'The man that will nocht quhen he may
Sall haif nocht quhen he wald.'
I pray to Jesu every day
Mot eik thair cairis cauld,
That first preissis with the to play,
Be firth, forrest, or fauld."

"Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry,
The wedder is warme and fair,
And the grene woid rycht neir us by
To walk attour all quhair;
Thair ma na janglour us espy,
That is to lufe contrair;
Thairin, Makyne, bath ye and I
Unsene we ma repair."

"Robene, that warld is all away
And quyt brocht till ane end,
And nevir agane thairto perfay
Sall it be as thow wend;
For of my pane thow maid it play,
And all in vane I spend;
As thow hes done, sa sall I say,
Murne on, I think to mend."

"Mawkyne, the howp of all my heill,
My hairt on the is sett,
And evirmair to the be leill,
Quhill I may leif but lett;
Nevir to faill, as utheris feill,
Quhat grace that evir I gett."
"Robene, with the I will nocht deill;
Adew, for thus we mett."

Malkyne went hame blyth annewche,
Attour the holttis hair;
Robene murnit, and Makyne lewche;
Scho sang, he sichit sair;
And so left him, bayth wo and wrewche,
In dolour and in cair,
Kepand his hird under a huche,
Amangis the holtis hair.

poem by Robert Henryson
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Sonnet: On Conscience

The modern man ignores his conscience,
And does much things against it if need be;
And thereby forgets God, believing Science,
And tries to be worldly-wise mostly.

God-given conscience is always right;
At times, man's judgement goes wildly amiss;
His inner voice guides man to see God's light;
His perspective of worldly things and bliss.

One can be blind of eyes and reach Heaven;
When blind to conscience, you can't see God;
Love God by serving His unfortunate men,
For souled are we to glorify the clod.
Blest is the man who acts per conscience;
You can't serve God and men by just man's science.

poem by John Celes
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Remember This Lack of Conscience - 'For Maya Angelou'.

When time goes past and dithers not
One sees the blame that gathers moss
To feel akin with woe as one
I'll forgive myself and you to soldier on

Remember this lack of conscience when we meet
I was violated, raped and beaten within to provide a treat

Remember this lack of conscience when I get out
To see through with vision all I espy

Remember this lack of conscience which will know no bounds
To hideously transform love profound

Remember this lack of conscience when I am free
You will lose and you know me

Remember this lack conscience less you forget
That freedom is precious and not a threat

Remember this lack of conscience when the bars are bent
I will slip out into the depths of crass to vent

Remember this lack of conscience to come
The Devil has a new spawn and drum

Remember this lack of conscience gathering
To prove nothing but give a battering

Remember this lack of conscience wild
It has no remorse just like a child

Remember this lack of conscience like the Hawk
Which draws blood, looks on and gawks

Remember this lack of conscience with the Demon within
It's a Golem to clear the the Evil and get even

Remember this lack of conscience when you renege
The death of love can be ones grave

Remember this lack of conscience and tremor not
No fruit you bear or shall ever to care

Remember this lack of conscience that prevails
The trial is over and you have failed

Remember this lack of conscience and grow
To a woman that a man can know

Remember this lack of conscience that forgave
and now with Love sends you away

For Maya Angelou - ' Remember This Lack of Conscience'.

poem by Azriel Dreams
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Robin and Makyne

ROBIN sat on gude green hill,
   Kepand a flock of fe:
Mirry Makyne said him till
   'Robin, thou rew on me:
I haif thee luvit, loud and still,
   Thir yeiris twa or thre;
My dule in dern bot gif thou dill,
   Doutless but dreid I de.'

Robin answerit 'By the Rude
   Na thing of luve I knaw,
But keipis my scheip undir yon wud:
   Lo, quhair they raik on raw.
Quhat has marrit thee in thy mude,
   Makyne, to me thou shaw;
Or quhat is luve, or to be lude?
   Fain wad I leir that law.'

'At luvis lair gif thou will leir
   Tak thair ane A B C;
Be heynd, courtass, and fair of feir,
   Wyse, hardy, and free:
So that no danger do thee deir
   Quhat dule in dern thou dre;
Preiss thee with pain at all poweir
   Be patient and previe.'

Robin answerit hir agane,
   'I wat nocht quhat is lufe;
But I haif mervel in certaine
   Quhat makis thee this wanrufe:
The weddir is fair, and I am fain;
   My scheip gois haill aboif;
And we wald prey us in this plane,
   They wald us baith reproif.'

'Robin, tak tent unto my tale,
   And wirk all as I reid,
And thou sall haif my heart all haill,
   Eik and my maiden-heid:
Sen God sendis bute for baill,
   And for murnyng remeid,
In dern with thee bot gif I daill
   Dowtles I am bot deid.'

'Makyne, to-morn this ilka tyde
   And ye will meit me heir,
Peraventure my scheip may gang besyde,
   Quhyle we haif liggit full neir;
But mawgre haif I, and I byde,
   Fra they begin to steir;
Quhat lyis on heart I will nocht hyd;
   Makyn, then mak gude cheir.'

'Robin, thou reivis me roiff and rest;
   I luve bot thee allane.'
'Makyne, adieu! the sone gois west,
   The day is neir-hand gane.'
'Robin, in dule I am so drest
   That luve will be my bane.'
'Ga luve, Makyne, quhair-evir thow list,
   For lemman I luve nane.'

'Robin, I stand in sic a styll,
   I sicht and that full sair.'
'Makyne, I haif been here this quhyle;
   At hame God gif I wair.'
'My huny, Robin, talk ane quhyll,
   Gif thow will do na mair.'
'Makyn, sum uthir man begyle,
   For hamewart I will fair.'

Robin on his wayis went
   As light as leif of tre;
Makyne murnit in hir intent,
   And trowd him nevir to se.
Robin brayd attour the bent:
   Then Makyne cryit on hie,
'Now may thow sing, for I am schent!
   Quhat alis lufe at me?'

Makyne went hame withowttin fail,
   Full wery eftir cowth weip;
Then Robin in a ful fair daill
   Assemblit all his scheip.
Be that sum part of Makynis aill
   Out-throw his hairt cowd creip;
He fallowit hir fast thair till assaill,
   And till her tuke gude keip.

'Abyd, abyd, thow fair Makyne,
   A word for ony thing;
For all my luve, it sall be thyne,
   Withowttin departing.
All haill thy hairt for till haif myne
   Is all my cuvating;
My scheip to-morn, quhyle houris nyne,
   Will neid of no keping.'

'Robin, thow hes hard soung and say,
   In gestis and storeis auld,
The man that will nocht quhen he may
   Sall haif nocht quhen he wald.
I pray to Jesu every day,
   Mot eik thair cairis cauld
That first preissis with thee to play
   Be firth, forrest, or fauld.'

'Makyne, the nicht is soft and dry,
   The weddir is warme and fair,
And the grene woid rycht neir us by
   To walk attour all quhair:
Thair ma na janglour us espy,
   That is to lufe contrair;
Thairin, Makyne, baith ye and I,
   Unsene we ma repair.'

'Robin, that warld is all away,
   And quyt brocht till ane end:
And nevir agane thereto, perfay,
   Sall it be as thow wend;
For of my pane thow maid it play;
   And all in vane I spend:
As thow hes done, sa sall I say,
   "Murne on, I think to mend."'

'Makyne, the howp of all my heill,
   My hairt on thee is sett;
And evirmair to thee be leill
   Quhill I may leif but lett;
Never to faill as utheris feill,
   Quhat grace that evir I gett.'
'Robin, with thee I will nocht deill;
   Adieu! for thus we mett.'

Makyne went hame blyth anneuche
   Attour the holttis hair;
Robin murnit, and Makyne leuche;
   Scho sang, he sichit sair:
And so left him baith wo and wreuch,
   In dolour and in cair,
Kepand his hird under a huche
   Amangis the holttis hair.

poem by Robert Henryson
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The Testament of Cressida (excerpt)

...
Thus chydand with her drerie destenye,
Weiping, scho woik the nicht fra end to end;
Bot all in vane; hir dule, hir cairfull cry,
Micht not remeid, nor yit hir murning mend.
Ane lipper lady rais, and till hir wend,
And said, "Quhy spurnis thow aganis the wall,
To sla thyself, and mend nathing at all?

"Sen thy weiping dowbillis bot thy wo,
I counsall the mak vertew of ane neid;
To leir to clap thy clapper to and fro,
And leir efter the law of lipper leid."
Thair was na buit, bot furth with thame scho yeid,
Fra place to place, quhill cauld and hounger sair
Compellit hir to be ane rank beggair.

That samin tyme of Troy the garnisoun,
Quhilk had to chiftane worthie Troylus,
Throw jeopardie of weir had strikken down
Knichtis of Grece in number marvellous:
With greit tryumphe and laude victorious
Agane to Troy richt royallie they raid,
The way quhair Cresseid with the lipper baid.

Seing that companie, thai come all with ane stevin;
Thay gaif ane cry, and schuik coppis gude speid;
Said, "Worthie lordis, for Goddis lufe of hevin,
To us lipper part of your almous deid."
Than to thair cry nobill Troylus tuik heid,
Having pietie, neir by the place can pas
Quhair Cresseid sat, not witting quhat scho was.

Than upon him scho kest up baith her ene,
And with ane blenk it come into his thocht
That he sumtime hir face befoir had sene;
But scho was in sic plye he knew hir nocht;
Yit than hir luik into his mynd it brocht
The sweit visage and amorous blenking
Of fair Cresseid, sumtyme his awin darling.

Na wonder was, suppois in mynd that he
Tuik hir figure sa sone, and lo! now quhy!
The idole of ane thing in cace may be
Sa deip imprentit in the fantasy,
That it deludis the wittis outwardly,
And sa appeiris in forme and lyke estait
Within the mynd, as it was figurait.

Ane spark of lufe than till his hart culd spring,
And kendlit all his bodie in ane fyre,
With hait fevir ane sweit and trimbling
Him tuik, quhill he was reddie to expyre;
To beir his scheild his breist began to tyre;
Within ane quhyle he changit mony hew,
And, nevertheles, not ane ane uther knew.

For knichtlie pietie and memoriall
Of fair Cresseid, ane gyrdill can he tak,
Ane purs of gold, and mony gay jowall,
And in the skirt of Cresseid doun can swak:
Than raid away, and not ane word he spak,
Pensive in hart, quhill he come to the toun,
And for greit cair oft syis almaist fell doun.

The lipper folk to Cresseid than can draw,
To se the equall distributioun
Of the almous; but quhan the gold they saw,
Ilk ane to uther prevelie can roun,
And said, "Yone lord hes mair affectioun,
How ever it be, unto yone lazarous,
Than to us all; we knaw be his almous."

"Quhat lord is yone," (quod scho), "have ye na feill,
Hes done to us so greit humanitie?"
"Yes," (quod a lipper man), "I knaw him weill;
Schir Troylus it is, gentill and fre."
Quhen Cresseid understude that it was he,
Stiffer than steill thair stert ane bitter stound
Throwout hir hart, and fell doun to the ground.

Quhen scho, ouircome with siching sair and sad,
With many cairfull cry and cald "Ochane!
Now is my breist with stormie stoundis stad,
Wrappit in wo, ane wretch full will of wane:"
Than swounit scho oft or scho culd refrane,
And ever in hir swouning cryit scho thus:
"O, fals Cresseid, and trew knicht Troylus!

"Thy lufe, thy lawtie, and thy gentilnes
I countit small in my prosperitie;
Sa elevait I was in wantones,
And clam upon the fickill quheill sa hie;
All faith and lufe I promissit to the
Was in the self fickill and frivolous:
O, fals Cresseid, and trew knicht Troilus!

"For lufe of me thow keipt gude continence,
Honest and chaist in conversatioun;
Of all wemen protectour and defence
Thou was, and helpit thair opinioun:
My mynd in fleschelie foull affectioun
Was inclynit to lustis lecherous:
Fy, fals Cresseid! O, trew knicht Troylus!

"Lovers, be war, and tak gude heid about
Quhome that ye lufe, for quhome ye suffer paine;
I lat yow wit, thair is richt few thairout
Quhome ye may traist to have trew lufe agane:
Preif quhen ye will, your labour is in vaine;
Thairfoir, I reid ye tak thame as ye find,
For thay ar sad as widdercock in wind,

"Becaus I knaw the greit unstabilnes,
Brukkil as glas, into my self, I say,
Traisting in uther als greit unfaithfulnes,
Als unconstant, and als untrew of fay;
Thocht sum be trew, I wait richt few are thay;
Quha findis treuth, lat him his lady ruse:
Nane but my self, as now, I will accuse."

Quhen this was said, with paper scho sat doun,
And on this maneir maid hir testament:
"Heir I beteiche my corps and carioun
With wormis and with taidis to be rent;
My cop and clapper, and myne ornament,
And all my gold, the lipper folk sall have,
Quhen I am deid, to burie me in grave.

"This royall ring, set with this rubie reid,
Quhilk Troylus in drowrie to me send,
To him agane I leif it quhan I am deid,
To mak my cairfull deid unto him kend:
Thus I conclude schortlie, and mak ane end;
My spreit I leif to Diane, quhair scho dwellis,
To walk with hir in waist woddis and wellis.

"O, Diomeid! thow hes baith broche and belt
Quhilk Troylus gave me in takning
Of his trew lufe,"--and with that word scho swelt;
And sone ane lipper man tuik of the ring,
Syne buryit hir withouttin tarying:
To Troylus furthwith the ring he bair,
And of Cresseid the deith he can declair.

Quhen he had hard hir greit infirmitie,
Hir legacie and lamentatioun,
And how scho endit in sic povertie,
He swelt for wo, and fell doun in ane swoun;
For greit sorrow his hart to birst was boun:
Siching full sadlie, said, "I can no moir;
Scho was untrew, and wo is me thairfoir!"

Sum said he maid ane tomb of merbell gray,
And wrait hir name and superscriptioun,
And laid it on hir grave, quhair that scho lay,
In goldin letteris, conteining this ressoun:
"Lo, fair ladyis, Cresseid of Troyis toun,
Sumtyme countit the flour of womanheid,
Under this stane, late lipper, lyis deid!"

Now, worthie wemen, in this ballet schort,
Made for your worschip and instructioun,
Of cheritie I monische and exhort,
Ming not your lufe with fals deceptioun;
Beir in your mynd this schort conclusioun
Of fair Cresseid, as I have said befoir:
Sen scho is deid, I speik of hir no moir.

poem by Robert Henryson
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Fate and Conscience

In one corner sat my conscience
In the other stood my fate
My conscience it called out to me
Asking to negotiate
But fate refused to listen
And I lay right there between
The nagging of my conscience
And the seductiveness of dreams
When fate began to listen
And conscience ceased to rail
Against all of my weaknesses
Asssuming I would fail
Then peace fell full amongst us
And these players took their place
As artefacts of reason - not fundamental to the soul
And I stood tall amongst them
And finally felt whole.

poem by David Keig
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Justice is conscience, not a personal conscience but the conscience of the whole of humanity. Those who clearly recognize the voice of their own conscience usually recognize also the voice of justice.

quote by Alexander Solzhenitsyn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Conscience And Remorse

'GOOD-BYE,' I said to my conscience —
'Good-bye for aye and aye,'
And I put her hands off harshly,
And turned my face away;
And conscience smitten sorely
Returned not from that day.
But a time came when my spirit
Grew weary of its pace;
And I cried: 'Come back, my conscience;
I long to see thy face.'
But conscience cried: 'I cannot;
Remorse sits in my place.'

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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A Certain Man

A certain man wishes to be a prince
Of this earth; he also wants to be
A saint and master of the being-world.
Conscience cannot exist in the first:
The second cannot exist without conscience.
Therefore he, who has enough conscience
To be disturbed but not enough to be
Compelled, can neither reject the one
Nor follow the other...

poem by Jean Toomer
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We take nothing to the grave with us, but a good or evil conscience... It is true, terrors of conscience cast us down; and yet without terrors of conscience we cannot be raised up again.

quote by Samuel Rutherford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If we want to improve the world we cannot do it with scientific knowledge but with ideals. Confucius, Buddha, Jesus and Gandhi have done more for humanity than science has done. We must begin with the heart of man — with his conscience — and the values of conscience can only be manifested by selfless service to mankind.

quote by Albert Einstein
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Freedom is inseparable from conscience. And even if it is true that all the ideas developed by the social consciousness are the product of evolution, conscience at least has nothing to do with the historic process. Conscience, both as a sense and as a concept, is a priori immanent in man, and shakes the very foundations of the society that has emerged from our ill-conceived civilisation.

quote by Andrei Tarkovsky
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I speak of that justice which is based solely upon human conscience, the justice which you will rediscover deep in the conscience of every man, even in the conscience of the child, and which translates itself into simple equality. This justice, which is so universal but which nevertheless, owing to the encroachments of force and to the influence of religion, has never as yet prevailed in the world of politics, of law, or of economics, should serve as a basis for the new world. Without it there is no liberty, no republic, no prosperity, no peace! It should therefore preside at all our resolutions in order that we may effectively cooperate in establishing peace.

quote by Mikhail Bakunin
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Conscience –

The ‘Inner Voice’ in-built by God,
In every human being born,
That tells what’s wrong and what is right,
And helps in moral decisions!

The laws of lands may change a lot;
The guidelines may be different;
The ethics too metamorphose;
But Conscience keeps the truth standard!

The modern man has ‘conscience rot’!
His faith in science has grown mammoth;
He thinks all things are human made –
Believing in mere human strength!

The world cannot ignore conscience;
No man can do much, without God;
If laws are made for human rights,
They shan’t be anti-God /Nature!

Man better heed to conscience first;
All things he does will turn out fine;
Ethical dilemmas vanish,
And soul of man will stay most pure!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-21-2010

poem by John Celes
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A Conscience Mind

A conscience mind is a sober mind
And a sober mind keeps you complete
As it will try to keep your soul honest
And will try to keep you from deceit.
It will tell and show you right from wrong
Everyday and every moment of your life
While dictating the actions you should take
So to keep you away for evil and strife.
The ethical and moral principles in your brain
That will enter you though your thoughts
And some ideals will want to lead you astray
From the goodness your conscience has sought.
A conscience mind it will let you sleep
While a evil mind will keep you sleepless and awake
As it will remind you of the evils you had done
And also the guilt you gave through sins you did take.
I wonder though Is it a devil or an angel
That stands besides us to whisper into our ear
That will lead us from sin or away from evil
I wander what voice is it that you or I do hear.
A conscience mind is the greatest mind
More precious than riches or wealth we might find
As it will help us lead us to either to heaven or hell
So GOD bless us all with our conscience mind.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
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(Indifference Poem) Blood Stain On My Conscience

Your nothing but a but blood stain on my conscience.
Get angry
and send your messenger.
A non existent threat.
How much you want to bet.
Your still a cheating fool
still a cheating fool.

Your nothing but a blood stain on my conscience.
I still remember the way back when.
How could I ever forget.
I took you in as my own blood.
You were a mere child.
Now you claim to be a man.
Yet you do not take a stand.
How is it
that you create so much hate.
Ripping
and tearing at every ones insides.
Twisting
and manipulating.

Your nothing but a blood stain on my conscience.
Walk in my shadow
because I'm already gone.
What is done
is done.
War of words.
Sounds quite absurd.
But let me tell you they can hurt.
They can destroy.
Good or bad
doesn't matter in my world.
Again I'm on the edge
looking into pure blackness.
Jump with foolishness.
Sorry but I won't.

Your nothing but a blood stain on my conscience.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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On Conscience Bridge

On conscience bridge
extraordinary voices sing of
foul deeds and dark desires
of murder as a currency
rape as petty cash
On conscience bridge
tortured ghosts gather
to scream their torment
and to celebrate depravity
On conscience bridge
where i declared my love for you.

poem by Jack Lashbrook
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The Inner Voice - Conscience

Laws on earth can be made, unmade;
Laws can be bettered or worsened by change;
Laws may be just or unjust and never perfect;
Laws can be changed for comfort and convenience.

Laws may change from time to time;
Laws cannot reflect truth always;
Laws depend on the constituent makers;
Laws can never be ideal for all times!

But the inner Voice -the Conscience is static;
It always speaks the truth irrevocably;
It is not transmutable anytime;
It can never lie ever even by chance.

The Inner Voice scores over laws always;
One's conscience always tells what is right;
Freedom of man's conscience is paramount;
Laws to stifle the Inner Voice are simply futile!

Laws are needed but must be just and fair;
Laws aren't needed to fetter the conscience;
Laws are man-made and transmutable;
Conscience is God-given, remaining the same in everyone!

Obey the laws when they are fair and just;
Heed to your Conscience, God's law-maker within!

Copyright by Dr John Celes 14-02-12

poem by John Celes
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The Aeneid (excerpts)

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Laude, honor, prasingis, thankis infynite
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To the, and thi dulce ornate fresch endite,
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Mast reverend Virgill, of Latyne poetis prince,
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Gemme of ingine and fluide of eloquence,
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Thow peirles perle, patroun of poetrie,
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Rois, register, palme, laurer, and glory,
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Chosin cherbukle, cheif flour and cedir tree,
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Lanterne, leidsterne, mirrour, and a per se,
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Master of masteris, sweit sours and springand well,
-0-

Wyde quhar our all ringis thi hevinle bell:
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I mene thi crafty werkis curious,
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Sa quik, lusty, and mast sentencious,
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Plesable, perfyte, and felable in all degre,
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As quha the mater held to foir thar ee;
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In every volume quhilk the list do write,
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Surmonting fer all uther maneir endite,
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Lyk as the rois in June with hir sueit smell
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The marygulde or dasy doith excell.
-0-

Quhy suld I than, with dull forhede and vane,
-0-

With ruide engine and barrand emptive brane,
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With bad harsk speche and lewit barbour tong,
-0-

Presume to write quhar thi sueit bell is rong,
-0-

Or contirfait sa precious wourdis deir?
-0-

Na, na, nocht sua, bot knele quhen I thame heir.
-0-

For quhat compair betuix midday and nycht,
-0-

Or quhat compare betuix myrknes and lycht,
-0-

Or quhat compare is betuix blak and quhyte,
-0-

Far gretar diference betuix my blunt endyte
-0-

And thi scharp sugurat sang Virgiliane,
-0-

Sa wyslie wrocht with nevir ane word in vane;
-0-

My waverand wit, my cunnyng feble at all,
-0-

My mynd mysty, thir ma nocht myss ane fall.
-0-

Stra for this ignorant blabring imperfyte
-0-

Beside thi polyte termis redemyte;
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And no the les with support and correctioun,
-0-

For naturall luife and freindfull affectioun
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Quhilkis I beir to thi werkis and endyte,
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Althocht, God wait, I knaw tharin full lyte,
-0-

And that thi facund sentence mycht be song
-0-

In our langage als weill as Latyne tong--
-0-

Alswele, na, na, impossible war,per de,
-0-

Yit with your leif, Virgill, to follow the,
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I wald into my rurale vulgar gros,
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Write sum savoring of thi Eneados.
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Bot sair I drede for to distene the quyte,
-0-

Throu my corruptit cadens imperfyte;
-0-

Distene the, na forsuith, that ma I nocht,
-0-

Weill ma I schaw my burell busteous thocht;
-0-

Bot thi work sall enduire in laude and glory,
-0-

Bot spot or falt, conding eterne memory.
-0-

Thocht I offend, onhermit is thine fame,
-0-

Thyne is the thank, and myne sal be the shame.

...

THE FIRST BUIK OF ENEADOSCAP. XII
Eneas first excusis him, and syne
Addressis to rehers Troys rwyne.

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Thai ceissit all at anis incontinent,
-12-
With mowthis clois, and visage takand tent.
-12-
Prince Eneas, frome the hie bed, with that,
-12-
Into his seige riall quhar he sat,
-12-
Begouth and said: Thi desyir, lady, is
-12-
Renewing of ontellable sorow, I wis,
-12-
To schaw how Grekis did spuilye and destroy
-12-
The greit riches and lamentable realm of Troy,
-12-
And huge misery quhilk I thair beheld,
-12-

Quharof myself ane greit part bair and feld;
-12-

Quhat Marmidon, or Gregion Dolopes,
-12-

Or knycht wageor to cruell Ulixes,
-12-

Sic materes to rehers, or yit to heir,
-12-

Mycht thaime contene fra weping mony ane teir?
-12-

And now the hevin ourquhelmis the donk nycht,
-12-

Quhen the declining of the sternis brycht
-12-

To sleip and rest perswades our appetite;
-12-

But sen thou hes sic plesour and delite
-12-

To knaw our chance, and fall of Troy in weir,
-12-

And schortlie the last end thairof wald heir,
-12-

Albeit my spreit abhorris, and doth grise
-12-

Thairon for to ramembir, and oft sise
-12-

Murnand eschewis thairfra with greit diseis,
-12-

Yit than I sall begyne yow for to pleis.

Finis Libri Primi.

poem by Gavin Douglas
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The Observer

Stern as my conscience, thou seest the points wherein I'm deficient;
Therefore I've always loved thee, as my own conscience I've loved.

poem by Friedrich Schiller
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