The Scots Apostasie
Is't come to this? What shall the cheeks of fame
Stretch'd with the breath of learned Loudon's name,
Be flogg'd again? And that great piece of sense,
As rich in loyalty and eloquence,
Brought to the test be found a trick of state,
Like chemist's tinctures, proved adulterate;
The devil sure such language did achieve,
To cheat our unforewarned grand-dam Eve,
As this imposture found out to be sot
The experienced English to believe a Scot,
Who reconciled the Covenant's doubtful sense,
The Commons argument, or the City's pence?
Or did you doubt persistence in one good,
Would spoil the fabric of your brotherhood,
Projected first in such a forge of sin,
Was fit for the grand devil's hammering?
Or was't ambition that this damned fact
Should tell the world you know the sins you act?
The infamy this super-treason brings.
Blasts more than murders of your sixty kings;
A crime so black, as being advisedly done,
Those hold with these no competition.
Kings only suffered then; in this doth lie
The assassination of monarchy,
Beyond this sin no one step can be trod.
If not to attempt deposing of your God.
O, were you so engaged, that we might see
Heav'ns angry lightning 'bout your ears to flee,
Till you were shrivell'd to dust, and your cold land
Parch't to a drought beyond the Libyan sand!
But 'tis reserv'd till Heaven plague you worse;
The objects of an epidemic curse,
First, may your brethren, to whose viler ends
Your power hath bawded, cease to be your friends;
And prompted by the dictate of their reason;
And may their jealousies increase and breed
Till they confine your steps beyond the Tweed.
In foreign nations may your loathed name be
A stigmatizing brand of infamy;
Till forced by general hate you cease to roam
The world, and for a plague live at home:
Till you resume your poverty, and be
Reduced to beg where none can be so free
To grant: and may your scabby land be all
Translated to a generall hospital.
Let not the sun afford one gentle ray,
To give you comfort of a summer's day;
But, as a guerdon for your traitorous war,
Love cherished only by the northern star.
No stranger deign to visit your rude coast,
And be, to all but banisht men, as lost.
And such in heightening of the indiction due
Let provok'd princes send them all to you.
Your State a chaos be, where not the law,
But power, your lives and liberties may give.
No subject 'mongst you keep a quiet breast
But each man strive through blood to be the best;
Till, for those miseries on us you've brought
By your own sword our just revenge be wrought.
To sum up all ... let your religion be
As your allegiance--maskt hypocrisie
Until when Charles shall be composed in dust
Perfum'd with epithets of good and just.
He saved--incensed Heaven may have forgot--
To afford one act of mercy to a Scot:
Unless that Scot deny himself and do
What's easier far--Renounce his nation too.
poem by John Cleveland
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Related quotes
I Tell The Sea
You are my reason to live All I own I would give
Just to have you adore me
Till the moon deserts the sky Till the all the seas run dry Till then I'll worship you
Till the tropic sun turns cold Till this young world grows old
My darling, I'll adore you
You are my reason to live All I own I would give
Just to have you adore me
Till the rivers flow upstream Till lovers cease to dream .Till then I'm yours, be mine
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Till
Till these eyes pop out from its sockets
Drop like marbles on the floor
Roll to dust and sand and be gone,
Till my back aches no more with
A thousand needles pricking me up higher
To my neck, my nape higher all over my head,
Till my arms break into quarters of bones
Till my hands disjoin from their fingers
Till this heart burst to segregated chambers,
Till my solid self disintegrates into meaningless pieces
Till everything in me returns to dust flies to air,
I will never cease composing all of you
Words without sounds, sounds without images
I will not
Stop giving you the image that you desire, the sound that would be musical,
To the ears of this world, to the farthest celestial ears of this universe,
My dear words, You all have the right to become my poetry, the poetry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Till We Get The Healing Done
Down those old ancient streets
Down those old ancient roads
Baby there together we must go
Till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Till youre satisfied with your life
Till youre satisfied with your life
Till youre satisfied with your life
And its running right, and its running right
Till you deal with the poison inside
Sometimes youve got to sit down and cry
When you deal with the poison inside
Till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Till you feel the tingle up your spine
Till youre satisfied and youre mine
Till you feel a tingle up your spine
Till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Till you live in the glory of the one
Till you live in the land of the sun
Till you feel like your life has just begun
Till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Till we dwell in the house of the lord
Till you dont have to worry no more
Till you open a brand new world
Till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Till it makes you feel alright
Till youre satisfied with your life
Till you know you live in the light
Till we get the healing done
Oh till we get the healing done
Till you look at the mountains every day
Till you wash all your troubles away
And you live right here in the day
Till we get the healing done
Oh till we get the healing done
Oh till its truth and its beauty and its grace
Till youve finally found your true place
Till you know your original face
Till we get the healing done
Oh child, till we get the healing done
Oh when everythings going right
Till youre satisfied with your life
Till youre living in the light
Till we get the healing done
Oh till we get the healing done
Oh when you feel it, when you feel it in your soul
Baby, and you really know
That you reap just what you sow
When we get the healing done
Oh till we get the healing done
Till you know that its working every time
Till you work it out in your mind
And you know it straight down the line
Till you get the healing done
Oh make no worry till we get the healing done
Oh we gonna go back, back to our favourite place
Oh look at it again
See it all through different eyes
When we get the healing done
Oh when we get the healing done
Oh were living for the grace of the lord
Baby feel so good about it all
Oh give thanks every day
Till we get the healing done
Oh till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Oh baby, baby till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Baby you got to stay
Till we get the healing done
If it takes to the break of day
Till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
Till we get the healing done
You got to stay all night long
Till we get the healing done
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Till The Day I Die
(coverdale)
When ice cold winds of winter
Chill me to the bone,
An thoughts of summer breezes
Turn my heart to stone
Thats when I need a hand to guide me,
When its more than I can bear
A shoulder I can cry on,
Someone to lead me there
An give me love,
Give me love,
Give me love
Till the day I die,
Till the day I die
Slowly I awaken
To the weavers plan for me,
To drift upon the waters
Of my own uncertainty,
To look for a companion
Who will share my destiny,
A guiding hand to understand
An walk to road with me
An give me love,
Give me love,
Give me love
Till the day I die,
Till the day I die
I wanna be the master of my destiny,
I never wanna crawl an beg for no sympathy,
When everything I have is yours,
An all I ask of you
Is give me love.
Give me love,
Give me love
Till the day I die,
Till the day I die
I never wanna be the first
To show Im down,
But, Im never gonna wear the frozen smile of a clown
When everything I have is yours
And all I ask of you
Is give me love
Give me love,
Give me love
Till the day I die,
Till the day I die
Give me love,
Give me love,
Give me love.
Till the day I die
Give me love,
Give me love,
Give me love.
Till the day I die
Till the day I die...
song performed by by Whitesnake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lightning's Hand
Can you see me, do you know my position how quick is your eye?
I have no home, no reason to roam yet I travel the length of the sky
I stretch my fingers jagged icy white 'till my energy's all around
My clutch is swift, my force is fearful I convey it without a sound
I live to free the skies from everyone, watch me run - watch me
The north wind rises, old man's eyes wondering deeply as he locks his door
He knows the fear when I'm too near him, he's seen me angry before
The black intruding clouds approach as I release a destructive blow
All the crashing, all the flashing light brings terror upon my foe
I fight with force and power for my land
I command the lightning's hand!
Run for cover - Oh your life is in vain if you try to escape me
Don't look back - Oh your wealthy world cannot save you
'Cause I'm gonna break you
I hear them moan, I hear them weep because they feel I belong to the devil
They feel the pain, and will again 'till they stop reaching up for this level
No one will defeat me, no one can
I command the lightning's hand
song performed by by Kansas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rowers Chant
Row till the land dip 'neath
The sea from view.
Row till a land peep up,
A home for you.
Row till the mast sing songs
Welcome and sweet.
Row till the waves, out-stripped,
Give up dead beat.
Row till the sea-nymphs rise
To ask you why
Rowing you tarry not
To hear them sigh.
Row till the stars grow bright
Like certain eyes.
Row till the noon be high
As hopes you prize.
Row till you harbour in
All longing's port.
Row till you find all things
For which you sought.
poem by Thomas Sturge Moore
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The Rower's Chant
ROW till the land dip 'neath
The sea from view.
Row till a land peep up,
A home for you.
Row till the mast sing songs
Welcome and sweet,
Row till the waves, outstripped,
Give up, dead beat.
Row till the sea-nymphs rise
To ask you why
Rowing you tarry not
To hear them sigh.
Row till the stars grow bright
Like certain eyes.
Row till the noon be high
As hopes you prize.
Row till you harbour in
All longing's port.
Row till you find all things
For which you sought.
poem by Thomas Sturge Moore
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Monotones
Because there is but one truth;
Because there is but one banner;
Because there is but one light;
Because we have with us our youth
Once, and one chance and one manner
Of service, and then the night;
Because we have found not yet
Any way for the world to follow
Save only that ancient way;
Whosoever forsake or forget,
Whose faith soever be hollow,
Whose hope soever grow grey;
Because of the watchwords of kings
That are many and strange and unwritten,
Diverse, and our watchword is one;
Therefore, though seven be the strings,
One string, if the harp be smitten,
Sole sounds, till the tune be done;
Sounds without cadence or change
In a weary monotonous burden,
Be the keynote of mourning or mirth;
Free, but free not to range;
Taking for crown and for guerdon
No man's praise upon earth;
Saying one sole word evermore,
In the ears of the charmed world saying,
Charmed by spells to its death;
One that chanted of yore
To a tune of the sword-sweep's playing
In the lips of the dead blew breath;
Therefore I set not mine hand
To the shifting of changed modulations,
To the smiting of manifold strings;
While the thrones of the throned men stand,
One song for the morning of nations,
One for the twilight of kings.
One chord, one word, and one way,
One hope as our law, one heaven,
Till slain be the great one wrong;
Till the people it could not slay,
Risen up, have for one star seven,
For a single, a sevenfold song.
poem by Algernon Charles Swinburne
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Till I Go Down
Till I go down
Till I go down
Till I go down
Im not gonna shut my eyes
Till I go down
Im not gonna shut my eyes
Ive already seen the lies
On the faces of the men of war
Leading people to the killing floor
Till I go down
Till I go down
Till I go down
Im not gonna shut my eyes
No no
Till I go down
Till the world stops spinning around
Till Im six feet under the ground
Till theres no sound
Till theres no pain
Im gonna swing this chain
Till I go down
Im not gonna shut my mouth
Im for the truth to come out
About the leader with the iron will
And his allegiance to the dollar bill
Till I go down
Till I go down
Till I go down
Im not gonna shut my eyes
Till I go down
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And Thats What Hurts
Never let nobody know me
Never let nobody dare
Never let somebody hold me
Long enough for me to care...
Till I found you
Till I found you.
Never let my guard down easy
Never let myself let go
I never knew the reason why
I never let my feelings show
Till I felt the pain
Of loving you
And thats what hurts
When we say goodbye
And thats what hurts
On those sleepless nights
Theres nothing I can do
Cos Im lost inside of you
And thats what hurts.
I never let nobody touch me
Never let nobody try
I never let somebody move me
Deep enough to make me cry
Till I found you
Till I found you
I was strong and independent
I never needed anyone
I thought I had it all together
Until you came and proved me wrong
Now Im stronger with you
In my life
And thats what hurts
When we say goodbye
And thats what hurts
On those sleepless nights
Theres nothing I can do
Cos Im lost inside of you
And thats what hurts
Yeah and thats the catch
But the hearts not good at holding back
Its a blessing and a curse
And I dont know whats worse
And thats what hurts.
Sometimes I wanna run
Sometimes I feel just like a fool
Sometimes Im even sorry baby
That I felt in love with you.
Oooh thats when it hurts
It hurts so bad
Ooh cant sleep at night
Nothing I can do
Cause Im lost inside of you
Oohhh
It hurts oh it hurts
Cause Im lost inside of you
I cant help myself
I cant help myself
Hurts without you baby
Youre not here, youre not here
song performed by by Hall & Oates
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heaven Can Wait....(Revised)
Heaven is the place where I want
to be when I am gone but right now...
Heaven can wait!
Heaven can wait...till I can help my sister
who got cancer, my brother who is lost in
life, my nephews and nieces who I can
be of help in terms of good advice and
financial hardships; give a lending hand
to my best friends who made me
who I am now!
Heaven can wait till I am able to
prove myself of what I want to be;
what I can be and achieve my
goals in life; help others
in varied ways in shaping them
for what they want to be with my
my hard-earned wisdom and experience!
Heaven can wait till I believe again in
Creation rather than in Evolution;
believe that there is a GOD than
convincing myself that there is None
or continuously doubt if there is One!
Heaven can wait till I find a church again
that I sincerely believe in that can give me
my last rites; a true messenger of Christ
not only of what he preaches of the Bible
but what kind of life we all should lead and
follow his example.
Heaven can wait till I fully understand
my own existence...do I exist to live or
live to exist; till I am able to comprehend
the mysterious Cycle of Life...birth and
death and the life span in-between.
What if I don’t end up in Heaven,
then I have to find out if there is such a
thing called Hell!
Heaven can wait...till I can assure and
find out for myself that I have a soul from
diehard Theologists so I can get there
or find out from brilliant Scientists that I
will decompose just like the rest of the
animals and just become part of the fertile soil.
Heaven can wait and fill that that space
for people who died because of poor health,
were in great pain and did not enjoy life;
the young ones who died because some
people are heartess; for babies whose lives
are aborted and never given chance to live.
Heaven can wait till I convince myself again
that there is Life after Death and there is
place called Heaven and a place called Hell!
If there is a Heaven...can you please wait;
and if I belong in Hell, God forgive me...
for Heaven's sake!
poem by Don Allan Dinio
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Till Then
till then when this is over
when this face is reshaped to your pleasure
i shall face you
till then
when my eyes can see well again like a new sun
after the storm
i shall meet you
till then
i shall not tell you anymore about the history of a love rejected
there is no use
you have a home
you are a bird with a nest at your comfort
you have a place
like a stranger stopping for good having found a wife
till then
i shall confront you with the silence of my mind
i am at peace
and i am ready to leave.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Rebel Scot
How, Providence? and yet a Scottish crew?
Then Madam Nature wears black patches too!
What, shall our nation be in bondage thus
Unto a land that truckles under us?
Ring the bells backward! I am all on fire.
Not all the buckets in a country quire
Shall quench my rage. A poet should be feared
When angry, like a comet's flaming beard.
And where's the stoic can his wrath appease,
To see his country sick of Pym's disease?
By Scotch invasion to be made a prey
To such pigwidgeon myrmidons as they?
But that there's charm in verse, I would not quote
The name of Scot without an antidote;
Unless my head were red, that I might brew
Invention there that might be poison too.
Were I a drowsy judge whose dismal note
Disgorgeth halters as a juggler's throat
Doth ribbons; could I in Sir Empiric's tone
Speak pills in phrase and quack destruction;
Or roar like Marshall, that Geneva bull,
Hell and damnation a pulpit full;
Yet to express a Scot, to play that prize,
Not all those mouth-grenadoes can suffice.
Before a Scot can properly be curst,
I must like Hocus swallow daggers first.
Come, keen iambics, with your badger's feet,
And badger-like bite till your teeth do meet.
Help, ye tart satirists, to imp my rage
With all the scorpions that should whip this age.
Scots are like witches; do but whet your pen,
Scratch till the blood come, they'll not hurt you then.
Now, as the martyrs were enforced to take
The shape of beasts, like hypocrites at stake,
I'll bait my Scot so, yet not cheat your eyes:
A Scot within a beast is no disguise.
No more let Ireland brag; her harmless nation
Fosters no venom since the Scot's plantation;
Nor can our feigned antiquity obtain:
Since they came in, England hath wolves again.
The Scot that kept the Tower might have shown,
Within the grate of his own breast alone,
The leopard and the panther, and engrossed
What all those wild collegiates had cost
The honest high-shoes in their termly fees;
First to the salvage lawyer, next to these.
Nature herself doth Scotchmen beasts confess,
Making their country such a wilderness:
A land that brings in question and suspense
God's omnipresence, but that Charles came thence,
But that Montrose and Crawford's loyal band
Atoned their sin and christened half their land.
Nor is it all the nation hath these sports:
There is a Church as well as Kirk of Scots,
As in a picture where the squinting paint
Shows fiend on this side, and on that side saint.
He that saw hell in's melancholy dream
And in the twilight of his fancy's theme,
Scared from his sins, repented in a fright,
Had he viewed Scotland, had turned proselyte.
A land where one may pray with curst intent,
Oh may they never suffer banishment!
Had Cain been Scot, God would have changed his doom:
Not forced him wander, but confined him home!
Like Jews they spread, and as infection fly,
As if the devil had ubiquity.
Hence 'tis they live at rovers and defy
This or that place, rags of geography.
They're citizens of the world; they're all in all;
Scotland's a nation epidemical.
And yet they ramble not to learn the mode,
How to be dressed, or how to lisp abroad;
To return knowing in the Spanish shrug,
Or which of the Dutch states a double jug
Resembles most in belly or in beard
(The card by which the mariners are steered).
No, the Scots-errant fight and fight to eat;
Their ostrich stomachs make their swords their meat.
Nature with Scots as tooth-drawers hath dealt,
Who use to string their teeth upon their belt.
Yet wonder not at this their happy choice,
The serpent's fatal still to Paradise.
Sure, England hath the hemorrhoids, and these
On the north postern of the patient seize
Like leeches; thus they physically thirst
After our blood, but in the cure shall burst!
Let them not think to make us run o' the score
To purchase villenage, as once before
Call them good subjects, buy them gingerbread.
Not gold, nor acts of grace, 'tis steel must tame
The stubborn Scot; a prince that would reclaim
Rebels by yielding, doth like him, or worse,
Who saddled his own back to shame his horse.
Was it for this you left your leaner soil,
Thus to lard Israel with Egypt's spoil?
They are the Gospel's life-guard; but for them,
The garrison of New Jerusalem,
What would the brethren do? The Cause! The Cause!
Sack-possets and the fundamental laws!
Lord! What a godly thing is want of shirts!
How a Scotch stomach and no meat converts!
They wanted food and raiment; so they took
Religion for their seamstress and their cook.
Unmask them well; their honors and estate,
As well as conscience, are sophisticate.
Shrive but their titles and their moneys poise,
A laird and twenty pence pronounced with noise,
When contrued, but for a plain yeoman go,
And a good sober twopence, and well so.
Hence, then, you proud impostors; get you gone,
You Picts in gentry and devotion;
You scandal to the stock of verse, a race
Able to bring the gibbet in disgrace.
Hyperbolus by suffering did traduce
The ostracism and shamed it out of use.
The Indian that Heaven did forswear
Because he heard some Spaniards were there,
Had he but known what Scots in hell had been,
He would, Erasmus-like, have hung between.
My Muse hath done. A voider for the nonce,
I wrong the devil should I pick their bones.
That dish is his; for when the Scots decease,
Hell, like their nation, feeds on barnacles.
A Scot, when from the gallow-tree got loose,
Drops into Styx and turns a solan goose.
poem by John Cleveland
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Till the Walls Crash Down
Till the walls crash down
Till in triumph we're found
Till our hands cleave to the sword
Till we reach our lord's reward
Till the walls crash down
Till the walls crash down
We wont give in nor will we bow
We will fight on though wounded now
Nothing is going to make us stop
Even though our hearts painfully throb
Though we may lose sight of why
We will not lie down and die
Forward Forward Forward
Here we go battle-ward
Till the walls crash down
Till in triumph we're found
Our friends may run away
But we are here to stay
Out of the fire will we shine
Stronger than any bind
Powered by someone gteater
Our ever watching father
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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Sonnet X: Reason
Reason, in faith thou art well serv'd, that still
Wouldst brabbling be with sense and love in me:
I rather wish'd thee climb the Muses' hill,
Or reach the fruit of Nature's choicest tree,
Or seek heav'n's course, or heav'n's inside to see:
Why shouldst thou toil our thorny soil to till?
Leave sense, and those which sense's objects be:
Deal thou with powers of thoughts, leave love to will.
But thou wouldst needs fight both with love and sense,
With sword of wit, giving wounds of dispraise,
Till downright blows did foil thy cunning fence:
For soon as they strake thee with Stella's rays,
Reason thou kneel'dst, and offeredst straight to prove
By reason good, good reason her to love.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Sonnet 10: Reason
Reason, in faith thou art well serv'd, that still
Wouldst brabbling be with sense and love in me:
I rather wish'd thee climb the Muses' hill,
Or reach the fruit of Nature's choicest tree,
Or seek heav'n's course, or heav'n's inside to see:
Why shouldst thou toil our thorny soil to till?
Leave sense, and those which sense's objects be:
Deal thou with powers of thoughts, leave love to will.
But thou wouldst needs fight both with love and sense,
With sword of wit, giving wounds of dispraise,
Till downright blows did foil thy cunning fence:
For soon as they strake thee with Stella's rays,
Reason thou kneel'dst, and offeredst straight to prove
By reason good, good reason her to love.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Happy Birth Day
(On The First Birthday Of My Grand-daughter Eliza Zainab)
It is the wish of my soul, heart and brain
May you have happy day time and again,
Till the sun shines, till the world goes on.
May you never taste a moment of pain,
And you ever meet, not a loss but a gain.
Till the sun shines, till the world goes on.
May ever wrap you roses and perfumes,
Instead of tormenting smells and fumes,
Till the sun shines, till the world goes on.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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As far as your Rifles Cover
Do you think, you slaves of a thousand years to poverty, wealth and pride,
You can crush the spirit that has been free in a land that's new and wide?
When you've scattered the last of the farmer bands, and the war for a while is over,
You will hold the land – ay, you'll hold the land – the land that your rifles cover.
Till your gold has levelled each mountain range where a wounded man can hide,
Till your gold has lighted the moonless night on the plains where the rebels ride;
Till the future is proved, and the past is bribed from the son of the land's dead lover –
You may hold the land – you may hold the land just as far as your rifles cover.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Prolific
he will not be a river
that runs dry
come drought
he will be the sea
as always
deep and blue
and mysterious
and he will speak
everything
interesting or not
from continent to
continent
from shore to shore
till everything
becomes the sea
till all the islands
are erased
till all the glaciers melt
till the world
becomes eaten by
the mouth of the
big water
he will never have
the writer's block
for in all truth
he will be everything
but sense and
nonsense
with the domination
of the latter of course
and you
who is curious shall read
till the last word
because you too
expects much
and then you make a sigh
you relate
and say i am also what i am
sense and nonsense
wise and otherwise.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Ruler's Daughter Raised
Could the creatures help or ease us
Seldom should we think of prayer;
Few, if any, come to Jesus,
Till reduced to self-dispair:
Long we either slight or doubt him,
But when all the means we try,
Prove we cannot do without him,
Then at last to him we cry.
Thus the ruler when his daughter
Suffered much, though Christ was nigh,
Still deferred it, till he thought her
At the very point to die:
Though he mourned for her condition,
He did not entreat the Lord,
Till he found that no physician
But himself, could help afford.
Jesus did not once upbraid him,
That he had no sooner come;
But a gracious answer made him,
And went straitway with him home:
Yet his faith was put to trial
When his servants came, and said,
Though he gave thee no denial,
'Tis too late, the child is dead.
Jesus; to prevent his grieving,
Kindly spoke and eased his pain;
Be not fearful, but believing,
Thou shalt see her live again:
When he found the people weeping,
Cease, he said, no longer mourn;
For she is not dead, but sleeping,
Then they laughed him to scorn.
O thou meek and lowly Savior,
How determined is thy love!
Not this rude unkind behavior,
Could thy gracious purpose move:
Soon as he the room had entered,
Spoke, and took her by the hand;
Death at once his prey surrendered,
And she lived at his command.
Fear not then, distressed believer,
Venture on his mighty name;
He is able to deliver,
And his love is still the same
Can his pity or his power,
Suffer thee to pray in vain;
Wait but his appointed hour,
And thy suit thou shalt obtain.
poem by John Newton
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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