Of Sardanapalus's Dishonorable Life And Miserable Death.
TH' Assyrian king, in peace, with foul desire
And filthy lusts that stain'd his regal heart ;
In war, that should set princely hearts on fire,
Did yield vanquisht for want of martial art.
The dint of swords from kisses seemed strange ;
And harder than his lady's side, his targe : 1
From glutton feasts to soldier's fare, a change ;
His helmet, far above a garland's charge :
Who scarce the name of manhood did retain,
Drenched in sloth and womanish delight.
Feeble of spirit, impatient of pain,
When he had lost his honour, and his right,
(Proud time of wealth, in storms appalled with dread,)
Murder'd himself, to shew some manful deed.
poem by Henry Howard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Hearts On Fire
We saw the writings on the wall
When heathens ruled above us all
Tormented, we still heard the call
You come to bring us down
Wield the scepter, steal the crown
Time on the throne is running out
Cause seasons change but we are still the same
Event though the cold winds blow were burning like a flame
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Burning for the steel
Hearts On Fire
For years shunned by society
Outcasts, condemned for our beliefs
Our legions grew in secrecy
And now, the time is here
I see the Templars everywhere
The Freedom Call is drawing near
We hold our rebel banners up with pride
The colours crimson and the Hammer is the sign
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Burning for the steel
Solo: Stefan
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Hearts On Fire, Hearts On Fire
Burning, burning with desire
Hearts On Fire
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There is nothing more dread and more shameless than a woman who plans such deeds in her heart as the foul deed which she plotted when she contrived her husband's murder.
Waiting and Wishing
I loiter by this surging sea,
Here, by this surging, sooming sea,
Here, by this wailing, wild-faced sea,
Dreaming through the dreamy night;
Yearning for a strange delight!
Will it ever, ever, ever fly to me,
By this surging sea,
By this surging, sooming sea,
By this wailing, wild-faced sea?
I know some gentle spirit lives,
Some loving, lonely spirit lives,
Some melancholy spirit lives,
Walking o'er the earth for me,
Searching round the world for me!
Will she ever, ever, ever hither come?
Where the waters roam,
Where the sobbing waters roam!
Where the raving waters roam!
All worn and wasted by the storms,
All gapped and fractured by the storms,
All split and splintered by the storms,
Overhead the caverns groan,
Gloomy, ghastly caverns groan! -
Will she ever, ever, ever fill this heart?
Peace, O longing heart!
Peace, O longing, beating heart!
Peace, O beating, weary heart!
poem by Henry Kendall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Personality
"Death is to us change, not consummation."
Heart of Midlothian.
A change! no, surely, not a change,
The change must be before we die;
Death may confer a wider range,
From pole to pole, from sea to sky,
It cannot make me new or strange
To mine own Personality!
For what am I? -- this mortal flesh,
These shrinking nerves, this feeble frame,
For ever racked with ailments fresh
And scarce from day to day the same --
A fly within the spider's mesh,
A moth that plays around the flame!
THIS is not I -- within such coil
The immortal spirit rests awhile:
When this shall lie beneath the soil,
Which its mere mortal parts defile,
THAT shall for ever live and foil
Mortality, and pain, and guile.
Whatever Time may make of me
Eternity must see me still
Clear from the dross of earth, and free
From every stain of every ill;
Yet still, where-e'er -- what-e'er I be,
Time's work Eternity must fill.
When all the worlds have ceased to roll,
When the long light has ceased to quiver
When we have reached our final goal
And stand beside the Living River,
This vital spark -- this loving soul,
Must last for ever and for ever.
To choose what I must be is mine,
Mine in these few and fleeting days,
I may be if I will, divine,
Standing before God's throne in praise, --
Through all Eternity to shine
In yonder Heaven's sapphire blaze.
Father, the soul that counts it gain
To love Thee and Thy law on earth,
Unchanged but free from mortal stain,
Increased in knowledge and in worth,
And purified from this world's pain,
Shall find through Thee a second birth.
A change! no surely not a change!
The change must be before we die;
Death may confer a wider range
From world to world, from sky to sky,
It cannot make me new or strange
To mine own Personality!
poem by James Lionel Michael
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Need You
(l.gramm/m.jones)
Selling your soul aint the right way of givin
Oh with you I could change
This misguided goal Ive been livin
Anything, anything, you might need or desire
Just call on me, cause my hearts on fire
And I need you
Do you need me too?
Yes I need you, yes I need you
Many is the time Ive cursed the lords creations
Ah but you touched my hand
I loved this new sensation
It was very strange, what a change
Of you I did not tire
So call on me, my hearts on fire
Well I need you
Do you need me too? need me too?
Yes I need you, ah
Yes I need you
Oh I need you
And I need you
Say you need me too
Yes I need you
Oh I need
Say you need me too
Yes I need you
And I need you
Oh I need
Yes I need you
Oh I need
Say you need me too
Say you need me too
Say you need me too
Say, say baby
Say you need me too
Yes I need you
Oh I need you too
And I need you
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Memoriam
GROWING to full manhood now,
With the care-lines on our brow,
We, the youngest of the nations,
With no childish lamentations,
Weep, as only strong weep,
5
For the noble hearts that sleep,
Pillowed where they fought and bled,
The loved and lost, our glorious dead!
Toil and sorrow come with age,
Manhood's rightful heritage;
10
Toil our arms more strong shall render,
Sorrow make our hearts more tender,
In the heartlessness of time;
Honour lays a wreath sublime—
Deathless glory—where they bled,
15
Our loved and lost, with glorious dead!
Wild the prairie's grasses wave
O'er each hero's new-made grave;
Time shall write such wrinkles o'er us,
But the future spreads before us
20
Glorious in that sunset land—
Nerving every heart and hand,
Comes a brightness none can shed,
But the dead, the glorious dead!
Lay them where they fought and fell;
25
Every heart shall ring their knell,
For the lessons they have taught us,
For the glory they have brought us.
Tho' our hearts are sad and bowed,
Nobleness still makes us proud—
30
Proud of light their names shall shed
In the roll-call of our dead!
Growing to full manhood now,
With the care-lines on our brow,
We, the youngest of the nations,
35
With no childish lamentations,
Weep, as only strong men weep,
For the noble hearts that sleep
Where the call of duty led,
Where the lonely prairies spread,
40
Where for us they fought and bled,
Our loved, our lost, our glorious dead!
poem by Frederick George Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Soldier
Yes. Why do we áll, seeing of a soldier, bless him? bless
Our redcoats, our tars? Both these being, the greater part,
But frail clay, nay but foul clay. Here it is: the heart,
Since, proud, it calls the calling manly, gives a guess
That, hopes that, makesbelieve, the men must be no less;
It fancies, feigns, deems, dears the artist after his art;
And fain will find as sterling all as all is smart,
And scarlet wear the spirit of wár thére express.
Mark Christ our King. He knows war, served this soldiering through;
He of all can handle a rope best. There he bides in bliss
Now, and séeing somewhére some mán do all that man can do,
For love he leans forth, needs his neck must fall on, kiss,
And cry ‘O Christ-done deed! So God-made-flesh does too:
Were I come o’er again’ cries Christ ‘it should be this’.
poem by Gerard Manley Hopkins
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Sunrise
Foul times there are when nations spiritless
Throw honour away
For tinsel glory, to base happiness
A mournful prey.
Then from the nations, fain of lustful rest,
Dull slavery's dreams,
All virtue ebbs, as from a sponge tight-prest
Clear water streams.
Then men, to vice and folly docile slaves,
Aye lowly inclined,
Ape the vile, fearful reed that stoops and waves
For every wind.
Then feasts and kisses; naught that saith the soul
Stirs shame or dread;
One drinks, one eats, one sings, one skips,—is foul
And comforted.
Crime, ministered to by loathsome lackeys, reigns;
Yea, 'neath God's fires
Laughs; and ye shiver, sombre dread remains
Of glorious sires.
All life seems foul, with vice intoxicate,
Aye, thus to be.—
Sudden a clarion unto all winds elate
Peals liberty!
And the dull world whose soul this blast doth smite,
Is like to one
Drunken all night, up-staggering 'neath the light
O' the risen sun!
poem by Victor Hugo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A dirge for O'Connell
Throw open, once again,
The portals of the tomb;
And give, among the glorious dead,
Another hero room!
Unclose your shadowy ranks,
Illustrious shades, unclose!
The valiant Leader, crowned with years,
Goes down to his repose.
The champion of Peace,
On many a well-fought field,
Whose bloodless victories left no stain
On his untarnished shield.
A king, though on his brow
No jewelled crown might shine;
A king, although his patriot blood
Flowed from no royal line.
A sovereign o'er that realm,
No boundaries can confine;
Whose throne was in a nation's heart;
Who reigned by right divine.
A soldier of the Cross,
Who bore a stainless brand;
The preacher of a new Crusade,
To rescue a lost land.
Rome! to thy care is given
The heart whose throbs are o'er;
Eternal City! to thy charge
Take this one relic more!
And Erin, sad and lorn!
Take thou the sacred trust;
And let the soil he loved so well,
Commingle with his dust.
And Fame, take thou in charge
The patriot's renown;
And gather from your amaranth fields,
Another fadeless crown!
poem by Anne Lynch Botta from Poems (1848)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Hearts Filthy Lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Theres always the diamond friendly
Sitting in the laugh hotel
The hearts filthy lesson
With her hundred miles to hell
Oh, ramona, if there was only something between us
If there was only something between us
Other than our clothes
Something in our skies
Something in our skies
Something in our blood
Something in our skies
Paddy
Paddy, whos been wearing mirandas clothes?
Its the hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Falls upon deaf ears
Its the hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Hearts filthy lesson
Falls upon deaf ears
Falls upon dead years
Oh ramona, if there was only some kind of future
Oh ramona, if there was only some kind of future
And these cerulean skies
Something in our skies
Something in our skies
Something in our blood
Something in our skies
Paddy, paddy?
Paddy will you carry me, I think Ive lost my way
Im already five years older Im already in my grave
Im already
Im already
Im already
Will you carry me?
Oh paddy, I think Ive lost my way
Paddy
What a fantastic death abyss
Paddy
What a fantastic death abyss
Its the hearts filthy lesson
Tell the others
Its the hearts filthy lesson
What a fantastic death abyss
Tell the others
Its the hearts filthy lesson
Paddy
What a fantastic death abyss
Its the hearts filthy lesson
Tell the other
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shape Of My Heart
He deals the cards as a meditation
And those he plays never suspect
He doesnt play for the money he wins
He doesnt play for the respect
He deals the cards to find the answer
The sacred geometry of chance
The hidden law of probable outcome
The numbers lead a dance
I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But thats not the shape of my heart
He may play the jack of diamonds
He may lay the queen of spades
He may conceal a king in his hand
While the memory of it fades
I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But thats not the shape of my heart
Thats not the shape, the shape of my heart
And if I told you that I loved you
Youd maybe think theres something wrong
Im not a man of too many faces
The mask I wear is one
Those who speak know nothing
And find out to their cost
Like those who curse their luck in too many places
And those who smile are lost
I know that the spades are the swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But thats not the shape of my heart
Thats not the shape of my heart
song performed by by Sting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Pain
Grasping for air
It's getting harder to breathe
My lungs collapsing
From this pain I cannot bear
This pain that's killing me slowly
Ripping me apart
Bringing me down
This pain that won't go away
I'm going through hell
Each day becomes harder
Trying to live through this pain
My hearts bleeding from these feelings
Drowning in crimson regrets
Suffocating under these emotions
Making happiness harder to find
And reason to live a waste of time
The days are harder to survive
When I'm feeling this pain
poem by Katrina DeLee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Shape Of My Heart
He deals the cards as a meditation
And those he plays never suspect
He doesn't play for the money he wins
He doesn't play for respect
He deals the cards to find the answer
The sacred geometry of chance
The hidden law of a probable outcome
The numbers lead a dance
I know that the spades are swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart
He may play the jack of diamonds
He may lay the queen of spades
He may conceal a king in his hand
While the memory of it fades
I know that the spades are swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart
And if I told you that I loved you
You'd maybe think there's something wrong
I'm not a man of too many faces
The mask I wear is one
Those who speak know nothing
And find out to their cost
Like those who curse their luck in too many places
And those who fear are lost
I know that the spades are swords of a soldier
I know that the clubs are weapons of war
I know that diamonds mean money for this art
But that's not the shape of my heart
song performed by by Police
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Her Royal Highness, the Princess of
Abeauteous princess often may
Languish in pleasure's season gay;
The empty forms of haughty state
Oft make life tedious to the great.
It must the greatest king confound,
With all his courtiers circled round,
Amidst a splendid court to find,
That grandeur can't give peace of mind.
Some think that play can give delight,
But soon it grows insipid quite;
And monarchs have been often seen,
While gaming, tortured with the spleen.
A king oft feasts with heavy heart,
Pleasures to him no joy impart;
While the dull vulgar contemplate,
Like gazing idiots, pomp and state,
And fondly think who is possessed
Of them with bliss supreme is blessed.
Soon as the sun's refulgent rays,
Spread o'er the hemisphere their blaze;
The king begins another day,
Yet knows not where to take his way:
Tired of himself he straight repairs
To company, to soothe his cares.
But pleasure flies from his embrace,
It rises not from change of place;
This day's insipid as the last,
At night he knows not how it passed.
Time's loss is not to be repaired,
Life's to an instant well compared;
What, when life posts away so fast,
Can days appear so long at last?
Princess, whose worth above thy age,
All hearts at two courts can engage;
You usefully that time employ,
By youth consumed in rapid joy.
The genius given by heaven benign,
You strive to polish and refine,
By studies which at once unite
Instructions solid, with delight.
'Tis best the mind should be employed,
Indolence leaves a craving void;
The soul is like a subtle fire,
Which if not fed must soon expire.
A Song For The Irish Militia
The tribune's tongue and poet's pen
May sow the seed in prostrate men;
But 'tis the soldier's sword alone
Can reap the crop so bravely sown!
No more I'll sing nor idly pine,
But train my soul to lead a line
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
No foe would fear your thunder words,
If 'twere not for your lightning swords
If tyrants yield when millions pray,
'Tis less they link in war array;
Nor peace itself is safe, but when
The sword is sheathed by fighting men
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
The rifle brown and sabre bright
Can freely speak and nobly write
What prophets preached the truth so well
As HOFER, BRIAN, BRUCE, and TELL?
God guard the creed these heroes taught-
That blood-bought Freedom's cheaply bought
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
Then, welcome be the bivouac,
The hardy stand, and fierce attack,
Where pikes will tame their carbineers,
And rifles thin their bay'neteers,
And every field the island through
Will show 'what Irishmen can do! '
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death so Ireland's free!
Yet, 'tis not strength and 'tis not steel
Alone can make the English reel;
But wisdom, working day by day,
Till comes the time for passion's sway
The patient dint and powder shock,
Can blast an empire like a rock.
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
The tribune's tongue and poet's pen
May sow the seed in slavish men;
But 'tis the soldier's sword alone
Can reap the harvest when 'tis grown.
No more I'll sing, no more I'll pine,
But train my soul to lead a line
A soldier's life's the life for me
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free.
poem by Thomas Davis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eternal Rest
When the impatient spirit leaves behind
The clogging hours and makes no dear delay
To drop this Nessus-shirt of night and day,
To cast the flesh that bound and could not bind
The heart untamable, the tireless mind,
In equal dissolution shall the clay
That once was seer or singer flee away--
It shall be fire and blown upon the wind.
Not us befits such change in radiance dressed,
Not us, O Earth, for whom thou biddest cease
Our grey endurance of the dark and cold.
These eyes have watched with grief, and now would rest;
Rest we desire, and on thy bosom's peace
The long slow change to unremembering mould.
poem by Enid Derham
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Can Do It
(sands / germinaro / wiesman)
Take your shoes off
Let your hair down
Time for you to get away
Dont you worry bout tomorrow
Or youre gonna miss today
When the madness gets you crazy
til youre lookin for a place to hide
And youre thinking
That youll never
Get yourself some peace of mind
But, you can do it, you can do it
You can do it to your hearts delight
Oh, you can do it with your imagination
And you can do it in real life
Feel the magic of the moment
Let your spirit carry you away
Get in touch with, oh
All your feelings
Youd better find out what they have to say
Oh, you can do it, you can do it
You can do it to your hearts delight
Oh, you can do with your imagination
And you can do it in real life
Feeling free as an eagle
Flying homeward
High in the sky
Youll touch the fire of love inside you
That youre lookin to find
But, you can do it, you can do it
You can do it to your hearts delight
Oh, you can do it with your imagination
You can do it in real life
You can do it, you can do it
You can do it to your hearts delight
You can do it with your imagination
And you can do, can do, do it, do it
You can do it, you can do it
You can do it to your hearts delight
You can do it with your imagination
And you can do it, can do it, do it, do it, yeah, yeah
song performed by by Dusty Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Song For The Irish Militia
AIR--_The Peacock._
I.
The tribune's tongue and poet's pen
May sow the seed in prostrate men;
But 'tis the soldier's sword alone
Can reap the crop so bravely sown!
No more I'll sing nor idly pine,
But train my soul to lead a line--
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
II.
No foe would fear your thunder words,
If 'twere not for your lightning swords--
If tyrants yield when millions pray,
'Tis less they link in war array;
Nor peace itself is safe, but when
The sword is sheathed by fighting men--
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
III.
The rifle brown and sabre bright
Can freely speak and nobly write--
What prophets preached the truth so well
As HOFER, BRIAN, BRUCE, and TELL?
God guard the creed these heroes taught--
That blood-bought Freedom's cheaply bought
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
IV.
Then, welcome be the bivouac,
The hardy stand, and fierce attack,
Where pikes will tame their carbineers,
And rifles thin their bay'neteers,
And every field the island through
Will show 'what Irishmen can do!'
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death so Ireland's free!
V.
Yet, 'tis not strength and 'tis not steel
Alone can make the English reel;
But wisdom, working day by day,
Till comes the time for passion's sway--
The patient dint and powder shock,
Can blast an empire like a rock.
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free!
VI.
The tribune's tongue and poet's pen
May sow the seed in slavish men;
But 'tis the soldier's sword alone
Can reap the harvest when 'tis grown.
No more I'll sing, no more I'll pine,
But train my soul to lead a line--
A soldier's life's the life for me--
A soldier's death, so Ireland's free.
poem by Thomas Osborne Davis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Until The End Of Time
When I was young and the world belonged to me
I thought that love meant pain and jealousy
It was a cross on my shoulder
Oh lord, now I feel so much older, oooh, oooh
Time had a way of making me see
My lonely life has taken its toll on me
Now I feel the emptiness
And I dont want to live like this
Now Ive heard stories, Ive heard songs
Telling me believe my heart dont wait too long
But words they dont ring true
Until there was you
Never will I lose this hearts desire
Ever will I feed our loves fire
Only when I know that youll be mine
Until the end of time
How do I trust what Im beginning to feel?
How deep my soul, how much can I reveal?
Im lost in loves mystery
Caught between time and eternity
Now theres a door that opens wide
Slowly I will find my way and reach inside
But I couldnt make it through
Until there was you
Never will I lose this hearts desire
Ever will I feed our loves fire
Only when I know that youll be mine
And only when I see the light of love shine
Until the end of time
Never will I lose this hearts desire
Ever will I feed our loves fire
Only when I know that youll be mine
And only when I see the light of love shine
Never will I lose this hearts desire
Ever will I feed our loves fire
And when I see the light of love shine
In your eyes when they meet mine
Only then Ill know its you and i
Until the end of time
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hearts Desire
I seek to find your hearts desire,
So I may set your soul on fire.
Lonely days once filled with sorrow,
The flame of love lights up tomorrow.
Burned into my soul by passions fire,
There is no other heart I dare desire.
I bring my love to quench your thirst,
I'll feed your need and put you first.
So drink of me in angels glow,
Then all my secrets you shall know.
And share with me your hearts desire,
Then we shall set this night on fire...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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