The Pilot That Weath'd The Storm
If hush'd the loud whirlwind that ruffled the deep,
The sky, if no longer dark tempests deform;
When our perils are past, shall our gratitude sleep?
No!--Here's to the Pilot who weather'd the storm!
At the foot-stool of Power let flattery fawn,
Let Faction her idols extol to the skies;
To virtue in humble resentment withdrawn,
Unblam'd may the merits of gratitude rise.
And shall not His memory to Britain be dear,
Whose example with envy all nations behold;
A Statesman unbiass'd by int'rest or fear,
By pow'r uncorrupted, untainted by gold?
Who, when terror and doubt thro' the universe reign'd,
While rapine and treason their standards unfurl'd,
The heart and the hopes of his Country maintain'd,
And one kingdom preserv'd 'midst the wreck of the world.
Unheeding, unthankful, we bask in the blaze,
While the beams of the sun in full majesty shine;
When he sinks into twilight, with fondness we gaze,
And mark the mild lustre that gilds his decline.
Lo! Pitt, when the course of thy greatness is o'er,
Thy talents, thy virtues, we fondly recall!
Now justly we prize thee, when lost we deplore;
Admir'd in thy zenith, but lov'd in thy fall!
O! take, then--for dangers by wisdom repell'd,
For evils, by courage and constancy brav'd--
O take! for a throne by thy counsels upheld,
The thanks of a people thy firmness has sav'd!
And O! if again the rude whirlwind should rise!
The dawning of Peace should fresh darkness deform,
The regrets of the good, and the fears of the wise,
Shall turn to the Pilot that weather'd the storm!
poem by George Canning
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Related quotes
A Lovely Take
Today is the gift and tomorrow will be the talent,
Since yesterday was the birth of your muse on this love;
And i am about to make a switch to express y mind,
For money cannot buy my talent.
One warm afternoon with a lovely take,
And of this real world which is outside me;
But the poet of this poem is unknown by many!
And like riding a bicycle along side a car driver,
For the mind of the writer will surely touch the hearts of many.
Gold, cocoa, timber, bauxite, manganese and diamond!
And like a diplomatic gaffe in the midst of abundance;
But the fool is still hungry in the land of plenty.
This is like a paradigm shift but,
What went wrong with these resources?
And i better pilot my plane than riding a horse to your country.
This world is full of hopes and dreams,
And like the sweet fruits of success!
But my talent is of premium quality and,
Among the best in the world!
For righteous lips are the delight of kings.
Wisdom is better than gold,
Understanding is better than silver,
And knoledge is better than bronze!
But in all things, let us be very wise like the serpents.
A lovely take,
You will see and shine forth;
Because my love is always with you.
And like your outer self to your inner self so prepared.
Only the fools despise wisdom but,
Do not neglect the gift in you!
For it is like the storm and the whirlwind to others at times,
And i am very ld and full of years with my sweet mind towards you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Echo to Him Who Complains
O FLY thee from the shades of night,
Where the loud tempests yelling rise;
Where horrror wings her sullen flight
Beneath the bleak and lurid skies.
As the pale light'ning swiftly gleams
O'er the scorch'd wood, thy well-known form
More radiant than an angel seems,
Contending with the ruthless storm.
I see the scowling witch, DESPAIR
Drink the big tear that scalds thy cheek;
While thro' the dark and turbid air,
The screams of haggard ENVY break.
From the cold mountain's flinty steep,
I hear the dashing waters roar;
Ah! turn thee, turn thee, cease to weep,
Thou hast no reason to deplore.
See fell DESPAIR expiring fall,
See ENVY from thy glances start;
No more shall howling blasts appall,
Or with'ring grief corrode thy heart.
See FRIENDSHIP from her azure eye
Drops the fond balm for ev'ry pain
She comes, the offspring of the sky,
"TO RAZE THE TROUBLES OF THE brain."
poem by Mary Darby Robinson
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Fighter / Thief In The Night
My eyes may see the coming King in all His majesty
In company all dressed in white
But meanwhile here at the world's dark end
The dragon draws the iron curtain round against the Light
And souls grow weary in this war of Love
And seek their solace strolling down sweet civilian ways
But meanwhile back at the world's dark end
The nations see no future waiting for the serpent to strike
Where have all the Christian soldiers gone
Where is the resistance, will no-one be strong
When will we stand up tall and straight
Rise up and storm the gate
How can we fail to get excited
The battle is ours why don't we fight it
Battalions of darkness rise above me
But God put a fighter in me, put a fighter in me
We will sing songs of victory
We will arise and set men free
We will applaud Your Majesty
We will proclaim Your Kingdom come
We will announce the battle done
We will lift up the Righteous One
I could talk for hours but you wouldn't hear a word
Your own opinions make you blind
There will come a morning when the sand has all run out
And there will be no time to change your mind
Like a thief in the night He will come
There will be nowhere left you can run
You can fall with the night, or you can rise
With the Sun
Like a thief in the night He will come
There will be nowhere left you can run
You can fall with the night, or you can rise
With the Sun
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tinsel Tease
All the gold, a tinsel tease
No treasure neath the shine
All the fire burning bright
Was never yours, but mine
All the passion, born of rage
Lay trapped within a dream
Whispers of a budding rose
Were never yours it seems
All the heart, it takes to love
Was twisted in a storm
All the fawn and flattery
Will never keep me warm
All the sparks that rise to fly
Were stifled by deceit
All the doubt imprisoned here
Has left me incomplete
poem by Leria Hawkins
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In This Weather, In This Windy Storm
In this weather, in this windy storm,
I would never have sent the children out;
They were carried outside -
I could say nothing about it!
In this weather, in this roaring storm,
I would never have let the children out.
I was afraid they had falllen ill,
but these thoughts are now idle.
In this weather, in this cruel storm,
I would never have let the children out;
I was worried they would die the next day -
but this is now no concern.
In this weather, in this cruel storm,
I would never have sent the children out;
They were carried outside -
I could say nothing about it!
In this weather, in this roaring, cruel storm,
they rest as they did in their mother's house:
they are frightened by no storm,
and are covered by the hand of God.
poem by Friedrich Rückert
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On The Death Of Mr. Fox
The following iiliberal impromptu appeared in a morning papaer:
'Our nation's foes lament on Fox's death,
But bless the hour when PITT resign'd his breath:
These feelings wide, let sense and truth unclue,
We give the palm where Justice points its due.'
To which the author of these pieces sent the following reply :
Oh factious viper! whose envenom'd tooth
Would mangle still the dead, perverting truth;
What though our 'nation's foes' lament the fate
With generous' feeling, of the good and great'
Shall dastard tongues essay to blast the name
Of him whose meed exists in endless fame?
When PITT expired in plenitude of power,
Though Ilisuccess obscured his dying hour,
Pity her dewy wings before him spread,
For noble spirits 'war not with the dead:'
His friends, in tears, a last sad requiem gave,
As all his errors slumber'd in the grave;
He sunk, an Atlas bending 'neath the weight
Of cares o'erwhelmlng our conflicting state:
When, lo! a Hercules in FOX appear'd
Who for a time the ruin'd fabric rear'd:
He, too, is fall'n, who Britain's loss supplied,
With him our fast reviving hopes have died;
Not one great people only raise his urn,
All Europe's far-extended regions mourn.
'These feelings wide, let sense and truth unclue,
To give the palm where Justice points its due;'
Yet let not canker'd Calumny assail,
Or round our statesman wind her gloomy veil.
FOX o'er whose corse a mourning world must weep,
Whose dear remains in honour'd marble sleep;
For whom, at last, e'en hostile nations groan,
While friends and foes alike his talents own;
FOX shall in Britain's future annals shine,
Nor e'en to PITT the patriot's palm resign;
Which Envy, wearing Candour's sacred mask,
For PITT, and PITT alone, has dared to ask.
Weather The Storm
Our city's foundation - the bricklayers job
To safeguard the man and the mob from the mob
The violent, the furtive, the wasteful, the crass
Weather the storm, the storm will pass
Hide and abide by the rule of the clan
And the policies made by the kings of man
By the stocks and the whips and the chain and the farce
Weather the storm, the storm will pass
From the gaze of the twisted and frauds, be sure
You bolt down your windows, you lock up your doors
Wait for the gauntleted sword to swing past
Weather the storm, the storm will pass
You know the squalls calming, the culprits exposed
by a new air you'd heard some experts proposed
Southerly storms and high pressure bars
Possible flooding, riotous winds
Collapsing towers, hurtling cars
Walls of granite, gates of brass
Doors of oak and bars of iron
Covering the window glass
Will weather the storm til the storm will pass
In fifty years, will I instate
My peace, or will it be too late?
In time that's spent, is anger asked
To savour calms that never last?
In a drying day in a drip in time
When the bolts have fled to a cleaner clime
When you emerge from your shelter, at last
The skies are still - your life has passed
Your Star Will Shine
Your star will shine again one day
Through deep blue velvet skies
Shine for all the world to see
The universe in your eyes
When the storm outside is raging
And the dogs they howl your name
Lay down sleep I'll kiss you
Your star will shine again
Na na na na na na na na
Hush my darling
song performed by by The Stone Roses from Second Coming
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your Star Will Shine
your star will shine again one day
Through deep blue velvet skies
Shine for all the world to see
The universe in your eyes
When the storm outside is raging
And the dogs they howl your name
Lay down and sleep , i'll kiss you
You're star will shine.
Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah, nah
Hush my darling, don't you cry
I'll stay by your side until morning
All through the night i'll watch the skies
And your distant sun will shine
Like the gun that's trained
Right between your daddy's eyes
song performed by by Stone Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Psalm 45 part 2
Christ and his church.
The King of saints, how fair his face,
Adorned with majesty and grace!
He comes with blessings from above,
And wins the nations to his love.
At his right hand our eyes behold
The queen arrayed in purest gold;
The world admires her heav'nly dress,
Her robe of joy and righteousness.
He forms her beauties like his own;
He calls and seats her near his throne:
Fair stranger, let thine heart forget
The idols of thy native state.
So shall the King the more rejoice
In thee, the favorite of his choice;
Let him be loved, and yet adored,
For he's thy Maker and thy Lord.
O happy hour, when thou shalt rise
To his fair palace in the skies,
And all thy sons (a numerous train)
Each like a prince in glory reign!
Let endless honors crown his head;
Let every age his praises spread;
While we with cheerful songs approve
The condescensions of his love.
poem by Isaac Watts
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Rocked In The Cradle Of The Deep
Rocked in the cradle of the deep
I lay me down in peace to sleep;
Secure I rest upon the wave,
For Thou, O Lord! hast power to save.
I know Thou wilt not slight my call,
For Thou dost mark the sparrow's fall;
And calm and peaceful shall I sleep,
Rocked in the cradle of the deep.
When in the dead of night I lie
And gaze upon the trackless sky,
The star-bespangled heavenly scroll,
The boundless waters as they roll, -
I feel Thy wondrous power to save
From perils of the stormy wave:
Rocked in the cradle of the deep,
I calmly rest and soundly sleep.
And such the trust that still were mine,
Though stormy winds swept o'er the brine,
Or though the tempest's fiery breath
Roused me from sleep to wreck and death.
In ocean cave, still safe with Thee
The germ of immortality!
And calm and peaceful shall I sleep,
Rocked in the cradle of the deep.
poem by Emma Hart Willard
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At Dover
Thou, whose stern spirit loves the storm,
That, borne on Terror's desolating wings,
Shakes the high forest, or remorseless flings
The shivered surge; when rising griefs deform
Thy peaceful breast, hie to yon steep, and think,--
When thou dost mark the melancholy tide
Beneath thee, and the storm careering wide,--
Tossed on the surge of life how many sink!
And if thy cheek with one kind tear be wet,
And if thy heart be smitten, when the cry
Of danger and of death is heard more nigh,
Oh, learn thy private sorrows to forget;
Intent, when hardest beats the storm, to save
One who, like thee, has suffered from the wave.
poem by William Lisle Bowles
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Cheer
It's a mighty good world, so it is, dear lass,
When even the worst is said.
There's a smile and a tear, a sigh and a cheer,
But better be living than dead;
A joy and a pain, a loss and a gain;
There's honey and may be some gall:
Yet still I declare, foul weather or fair,
It's a mighty good world after all.
For look, lass! at night when I break from the fight,
My Kingdom's awaiting for me;
There's comfort and rest, and the warmth of your breast,
And little ones climbing my knee.
There's fire-light and song -- Oh, the world may be wrong!
Its empires may topple and fall:
My home is my care -- if gladness be there,
It's a mighty good world after all.
O heart of pure gold! I have made you a fold,
It's sheltered, sun-fondled and warm.
O little ones, rest! I have fashioned a nest;
Sleep on! you are safe from the storm.
For there's no foe like fear, and there's no friend like cheer,
And sunshine will flash at our call;
So crown Love as King, and let us all sing --
"It's a mighty good world after all."
poem by Robert William Service
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Hope arising from retrospection
Alas! my fond enquiring soul,
Doom'd in suspence to mourn;
Now let thy moments calmly roll,
Now let thy peace return.
Why should'st thou let a doubt disturb
Thy hopes, which daily rise,
And urge thee on to trust his word
Who built and rules the skies?
Look back thro' what intricate ways
He led thy unfriended feet;
Oft mourning in the cheerless maze,
He ne'er forsook thee yet.
When thunder from heav'n's arch did break,
And cleft the sinking ship,
His mercy snatch'd thee from the wreck,
And from the rolling deep:
And when Disease, with threat'ning mein,
Aim'd at thy trembling heart,
Again his mercy interven'd,
And turn'd aside the dart.
When Murder sent her hopeless cries
More dreadful thro' the gloom,
And kindling flames did round thee rise,
Deep harvests to consume;
Who was it led thee thro' the wood
And o'er th' ensanguin'd plain,
Unseen by ambush'd sons of blood,
Who track'd thy steps in vain?
'Twas pitying heav'n that check'd my tears,
And bade my infants play,
To give an opiate to my fears,
And cheer the lonely way.
And in the doubly dreadful night
When my Abella died,
When horror struck---detesting light!
I sunk down by her side:
When wing'd for flight my spirit stood,
With this fond thought beguil'd,
To lead my charmer to her God,
And there to claim my child;
Again his mercy o'er my breast
Effus'd the breath of peace;
Subsiding passions sunk to rest,
He bade the tempest cease.
Oh! let me ever, ever praise
Such undeserved care;
Tho' languid may appear my lays,
At least they are sincere.
I never will distrust thee more,
Tho' hell should aim her dart;
Innoxious is infernal pow'r,
If thou Protector art.
It is my joy that thou art God,
Eternal, and supreme---
Rise Nature! hail the power aloud,
From whom creation came.
poem by Ann Eliza Bleecker from The Posthumous Works of Ann Eliza Bleecker
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The earth to the sun
Oh Sun! oh glorious Sun!
The spell of winter binds me strong and dread
In the dark sleep, the coldness of the dead;
And song and beauty from thy haunts are gone.
The skies above me lower,
The frozen tempests beat upon my breast,
That wearily by its snow-shroud is prest;
And the wild winds rave o'er me in mad power.
At thine averted gaze,
Benumbed and desolate, I droop and die:
Life of my life! Lord of my destiny!
Shine on me with thy life-imparting rays.
Look from thy radiant throne,
And o'er this waste, drear and unlovely now,
Young summer's gorgeous loveliness shall glow,
And beauty clasp me in her magic zone.
Fair landscapes shall arise,
O'er which a sky of tenderest blue shall bend,
Where forest, hill, and vale, and stream shall blend
In beauty like a dream of Paradise.
And in thy living beams
The flowers shall wake, and every dewy cup
Shall send the homage of its perfume up,
And give thy brightness back in rosy gleams.
A full deep symphony,
The voice of streams, the air's melodious sighs,
Songs from all living things shall mingling rise
In one eternal hymn of love to thee.
* * * * * *
In vain, oh Earth, in vain; --
What heeds the Sun, if light or shadow rest
Upon the bosom in his smile so blest,
Or if thou perish in thine icy chain.
If from the shining host,
Like the lost Pleiad, thou wert stricken down,
He would not miss thee from his starry crown --
He would not mark one ray of brightness lost.
Then for the song and bloom,
The untold wealth of beauty, buried deep
Within thy frozen heart, in death-like sleep,
Oh! mourn thou not within thy conscious tomb.
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part II: To Juliet: XXX
THE RELIGION OF LOVE
So thou but love me, dear, with thy whole heart
What care I for the rest, for good or ill?
What for the peace of soul good deeds impart,
What for the tears unholy dreams distil?
These cannot make my joy, nor shall they kill.
Thou only perfect peace and virtue art
And holiness for me and strength and will,
So thou but love me with a perfect heart.
I ask thee now no longer to be wise;
No longer to be good, but loving me.
I ask thee nothing now but only this.
Henceforth my Bible, dear, shall be thine eyes,
My beads thy lips, my prayers thy constancy,
My heaven thine arms, eternity thy kiss.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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The Unclouded Day
Oh, they tell me of a home far beyond the skies
They tell me of a home far away
Oh, they tell me of a home where no storm clouds rise
Oh, they tell me of an unclouded day.
Oh, the land of cloudless days
Oh, the land of an uncloudy sky
Oh, they tell me of a land where no storm clouds rise
Oh, they tell me of an uncloudy day.
Oh, they tell me of a King in His beauty there
And they tell me that mine eyes shall behold
Where He sits on a throne that is whiter than snow
In the city that is made of gold.
Oh, the land of cloudless days
Oh, the land of an uncloudy sky
Oh, they tell me of a home where no storm clouds rise
Oh, they tell me of an uncloudy day.
Oh, the land of cloudless days
Oh, the land of an uncloudy sky
Oh, they tell me of a land where no storm clouds rise
Oh, they tell me of an uncloudy day...
--- Instrumental to fade ---
song performed by by Randy Travis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Song: When I Saw The River Rise
With soggy ground across the state,
The rain fell from the skies.
The storm seemed bound to seal our fate,
When I saw the river rise.
We'd built up all our levies,
Yet still we were surprised,
By the height and depth of eddies,
When I saw the river rise.
When I saw the river break it's banks.
Increase in breadth and size.
It came atop of that water-tank,
When I saw the river rise.
Together held fast, from the full weather blast;
We stayed 'cause we thought it wise.
With my partner tasked to do what I asked,
When I saw the river rise.
Just a short drive, she arrived in town,
To pick up more supplies.
A flash-flood found and drove her down,
When I saw the river rise.
The news was bad, I'd lost all that I had;
All that I valued and prized.
More than just sad, I was sure driven mad,
When I saw the river rise.
And I stood there on the paddock gate,
As the tears streamed from my eyes.
And I did not care how long the wait,
For all the help, it came too late,
In shock, in loss of my best loved mate,
When I saw the river rise.
When I saw the river rise.
poem by Dave SmithWhite
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All The Talents
When the broad-bottom
'd Junto, with reason at strife,
Resign'd, with a sigh, its political life;
When converted to Rome, and of honesty tired,
They gave back to the Devil the soul he inspired.
The Demon of Faction, that over them hung,
In accents of horror their epitaph sung;
While Pride and Venality join'd in the stave,
And canting Democracy wept at the grave.
'Here lies in the tomb that we hollow'd for Pitt,
'Consistence
of Grenville, of Temple the wit;
'Of Sidmouth the firmness, the temper of Grey,
'And Treasurer Sheridan's promise to pay.
'Here Petty's finance, from the evils to come,
'With Fitzpatrick'
s sobriety creeps to the tomb;
'And Chancellor Ego, now left in the lurch,
'Neither dines with the Jordan, nor whines for the church.
'Then huzza for the Party that here is at rest,
'By the fools of a faction regretted and blest;
'Though they sleep with the Devil, yet theirs is the 'hope,
'On the downfall of Britain to rise with the Pope.'
poem by George Canning
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Psalm LXXII: Great God
Great God, whose universal sway
The known and unknown worlds obey,
Now give the kingdom to thy Son,
Extend his power, exalt his throne.
The scepter well becomes his hands;
All heaven submits to his commands;
His justice shall avenge the poor,
And pride and rage prevail no more.
With power he vindicates the just,
And treads the oppressor in the dust:
His worship and his fear shall last
Till the full course of time be past.
As rain on meadows newly mown,
So shall he send his influence down:
His grace on fainting souls distils,
Like heavenly dew on thirsty hills.
The heathen lands, that lie beneath
The shades of overspreading death,
Revive at his first dawning light;
And deserts blossom at the sight.
The saints shall flourish in his days,
Decked in the robes of joy and praise;
Peace, like a river, from his throne
Shall flow to nations yet unknown.
Jesus shall reign where'er the Sun
Doth his successive journeys run;
His kingdom stretch from shore to shore,
Till suns shall rise and set no more.
For him shall endless prayer be made,
And praises throng to crown his head;
His name like sweet perfume shall rise
With every morning sacrifice.
People and realms of every tongue
Dwell on his love with sweetest song;
And infant voices shall proclaim
Their young Hosannas to his name.
Blessings abound where'er he reigns;
The prisoner leaps to lose his chains;
The weary find eternal rest;
And all the sons of want are blest.
Where he displays his healing power,
Death and the curse are known no more:
In him the tribes of Adam boast
More blessings than their father lost.
Let every creature rise, and bring
Its grateful honors to our King;
Angels descend with songs again,
And earth prolong the joyful strain.
poem by Isaac Watts
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