Sonnet XIII: Phoebus Was Judge
Phoebus was judge between Jove, Mars, and Love,
Of those three gods, whose arms the fairest were:
Jove's golden shield did eagle sables bear,
Whose talons held young Ganymede above:
But in vert field Mars bare a golden spear,
Which through a bleeding heart his point did shove:
Each had his crest; Mars carried Venus' glove,
Jove in his helm the thunderbolt did rear.
Cupid them smiles, for on his crest there lies
Stella's fair hair, her face he makes his shield,
Where roses gules are borne in silver field.
Phoebus drew wide the curtains of the skies
To blaze these last, and sware devoutly then,
The first, thus match'd, were scantly gentlemen.
poem by Philip Sidney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Pallas And Venus. An Epigram
The Trojan swain had judged the great dispute,
And beauty's power obtain'd the golden fruit,
When Venus, loose in all her naked charms,
Met Jove's great daughter clad in shining arms,
The wanton goddess view'd the warlike maid
From head to foot, and tauntingly she said;
Yield sister; rival, yield: naked, you see,
I vanquish: guess how potent I should be,
If to the field I came in armour dress'd,
Dreadful like thine my shield, and terrible my crest!
The warrior goddess with disdain replied,
Thy folly, child, is equal to thy pride:
Let a brave enemy for once advise,
And Venus (if 'tis possible) be wise:
Thou to be strong must put off every dress;
Thy only armour is thy nakedness;
And more than once (or thou art much belied)
By Mars himself that armour has been tried.
poem by Matthew Prior
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Composed By The Side Of Grasmere Lake 1806
CLOUDS, lingering yet, extend in solid bars
Through the grey west; and lo! these waters, steeled
By breezeless air to smoothest polish, yield
A vivid repetition of the stars;
Jove, Venus, and the ruddy crest of Mars
Amid his fellows beauteously revealed
At happy distance from earth's groaning field,
Where ruthless mortals wage incessant wars.
Is it a mirror?--or the nether Sphere
Opening to view the abyss in which she feeds
Her own calm fires?--But list! a voice is near;
Great Pan himself low-whispering through the reeds,
'Be thankful, thou; for, if unholy deeds
Ravage the world, tranquillity is here!'
poem by William Wordsworth
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Licia Sonnets 13
Enamored Jove commanding did entreat
Cupid to wound my love, which he denied,
And swore he could not for she wanted heat
And would not love, as he full oft had tried.
Jove in a rage, impatient this to hear,
Replied with threats; "I'll make you to obey!"
Whereat the boy did fly away for fear
To Licia's eyes, where safe intrenched he lay.
Then Jove he scorned, and dared him to his face,
For now more safe than in the heavens he dwelled,
Nor could Jove's wrath do wrong to such a place
Where grace and honour have their kingdom held.
Thus in the pride and beauty of her eyes
The seely boy the greatest god defies.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
How Sweet I Roam'd
How sweet I roam'd from field to field,
And tasted all the summer's pride
'Til the prince of love beheld
Who in the sunny beams did glide!
He shew'd me lilies for my hair
And blushing roses for my brow;
He led me through his garden fair,
Where all his golden pleasures grow.
With sweet May dews my wings were wet,
And Phoebus fir'd my vocal rage
He caught me in his silken net,
And shut me in his golden cage.
He loves to sit and hear me sing,
Then, laughing, sports and plays with me;
Then stretches out my golden wing,
And mocks my loss of liberty.
poem by William Blake
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Horace To His Lute
If ever in the sylvan shade
A song immortal we have made,
Come now, O lute, I pri' thee come--
Inspire a song of Latium.
A Lesbian first thy glories proved--
In arms and in repose he loved
To sweep thy dulcet strings and raise
His voice in Love's and Liber's praise;
The Muses, too, and him who clings
To Mother Venus' apron-strings,
And Lycus beautiful, he sung
In those old days when you were young.
O shell, that art the ornament
Of Phoebus, bringing sweet content
To Jove, and soothing troubles all--
Come and requite me, when I call!
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To His Lute
If ever in the sylvan shade
A song immortal we have made,
Come now, O lute, I prithee come,
Inspire a song of Latium!
A Lesbian first thy glories proved;
In arms and in repose he loved
To sweep thy dulcet strings, and raise
His voice in Love's and Liber's praise.
The Muses, too, and him who clings
To Mother Venus' apron-strings,
And Lycus beautiful, he sung
In those old days when you were young.
O shell, that art the ornament
Of Phoebus, bringing sweet content
To Jove, and soothing troubles all,--
Come and requite me, when I call!
poem by Eugene Field
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Homer's Hymn To Minerva
I sing the glorious Power with azure eyes,
Athenian Pallas! tameless, chaste, and wise,
Tritogenia, town-preserving Maid,
Revered and mighty; from his awful head
Whom Jove brought forth, in warlike armour dressed,
Golden, all radiant! wonder strange possessed
The everlasting Gods that Shape to see,
Shaking a javelin keen, impetuously
Rush from the crest of Aegis-bearing Jove;
Fearfully Heaven was shaken, and did move
Beneath the might of the Cerulean-eyed;
Earth dreadfully resounded, far and wide;
And, lifted from its depths, the sea swelled high
In purple billows, the tide suddenly
Stood still, and great Hyperion’s son long time
Checked his swift steeds, till, where she stood sublime,
Pallas from her immortal shoulders threw
The arms divine; wise Jove rejoiced to view.
Child of the Aegis-bearer, hail to thee,
Nor thine nor others’ praise shall unremembered be.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The First Fan
READ AT A MEETING OF THE BOSTON BRIC-A-BRAC
CLUB, FEBRUARY 21, 1877
WHEN rose the cry 'Great Pan is dead!'
And Jove's high palace closed its portal,
The fallen gods, before they fled,
Sold out their frippery to a mortal.
'To whom?' you ask. I ask of you.
The answer hardly needs suggestion;
Of course it was the Wandering Jew,--
How could you put me such a question?
A purple robe, a little worn,
The Thunderer deigned himself to offer;
The bearded wanderer laughed in scorn,--
You know he always was a scoffer.
'Vife shillins! 't is a monstrous price;
Say two and six and further talk shun.'
'Take it,' cried Jove; 'we can't be nice,--
'T would fetch twice that at Leonard's auction.'
The ice was broken; up they came,
All sharp for bargains, god and goddess,
Each ready with the price to name
For robe or head-dress, scarf or bodice.
First Juno, out of temper, too,--
Her queenly forehead somewhat cloudy;
Then Pallas in her stockings blue,
Imposing, but a little dowdy.
The scowling queen of heaven unrolled
Before the Jew a threadbare turban
'Three shillings.' 'One. 'T will suit some old
Terrific feminine suburban.'
But as for Pallas,--how to tell
In seemly phrase a fact so shocking?
She pointed,--pray excuse me,--well,
She pointed to her azure stocking.
And if the honest truth were told,
Its heel confessed the need of darning;
'Gods!' low-bred Vulcan cried, 'behold!
There! that's what comes of too much larning!'
Pale Proserpine came groping round,
Her pupils dreadfully dilated
With too much living underground,--
A residence quite overrated;
This kerchief's what you want, I know,--
Don't cheat poor Venus of her cestus,--
You'll find it handy when you go
To--you know where; it's pure asbestus.
Then Phoebus of the silverr bow,
And Hebe, dimpled as a baby,
And Dian with the breast of snow,
Chaser and chased--and caught, it may be:
One took the quiver from her back,
One held the cap he spent the night in,
And one a bit of bric-a-brac,
Such as the gods themselves delight in.
Then Mars, the foe of human kind,
Strode up and showed his suit of armor;
So none at last was left behind
Save Venus, the celestial charmer.
Poor Venus! What had she to sell?
For all she looked so fresh and jaunty,
Her wardrobe, as I blush' to tell,
Already seemed but quite too scanty.
Her gems were sold, her sandals gone,--
She always would be rash and flighty,--
Her winter garments all in pawn,
Alas for charming Aphrodite.
The lady of a thousand loves,
The darling of the old religion,
Had only left of all the doves
That drew her car one fan-tailed pigeon.
How oft upon her finger-tips
He perched, afraid of Cupid's arrow,
Or kissed her on the rosebud lips,
Like Roman Lesbia's loving sparrow!
'My bird, I want your train,' she cried;
'Come, don't let's have a fuss about it;
I'll make it beauty's pet and pride,
And you'll be better off without it.
'So vulgar! Have you noticed, pray,
An earthly belle or dashing bride walk,
And how her flounces track her way,
Like slimy serpents on the sidewalk?
'A lover's heart it quickly cools;
In mine it kindles up enough rage
To wring their necks. How can such fools
Ask men to vote for woman suffrage?'
The goddess spoke, and gently stripped
Her bird of every caudal feather;
A strand of gold-bright hair she clipped,
And bound the glossy plumes together,
And lo, the Fan! for beauty's hand,
The lovely queen of beauty made it;
The price she named was hard to stand,
But Venus smiled: the Hebrew paid it.
Jove, Juno, Venus, where are you?
Mars, Mercury, Phoebus, Neptune, Saturn?
But o'er the world the Wandering Jew
Has borne the Fan's celestial pattern.
So everywhere we find the Fan,--
In lonely isles of the Pacific,
In farthest China and Japan,--
Wherever suns are sudorific.
Nay, even the oily Esquimaux
In summer court its cooling breezes,--
In fact, in every clime 't is so,
No matter if it fries or freezes.
And since from Aphrodite's dove
The pattern of the fan was given,
No wonder that it breathes of love
And wafts the perfumed gales of heaven!
Before this new Pandora's gift
In slavery woman's tyrant kept her,
But now he kneels her glove to lift,--
The fan is mightier than the sceptre.
The tap it gives how arch and sly!
The breath it wakes how fresh and grateful!
Behind its shield how soft the sigh!
The whispered tale of shame how fateful!
Its empire shadows every throne
And every shore that man is tost on;
It rules the lords of every zone,
Nay, even the bluest blood of Boston!
But every one that swings to-night,
Of fairest shape, from farthest region,
May trace its pedigree aright
To Aphrodite's fan-tailed pigeon.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Sonnet XVII: His Mother Dear Cupid
His mother dear Cupid offended late,
Because that Mars grown slacker in her love,
With pricking shot he did not throughly more
To keep the pace of their first loving state.
The boy refus'd for fear of Mars's hate,
Who threaten'd stripes, if he his wrath did prove:
But she in chafe him from her lap did shove,
Brake bow, brake shafts, while Cupid weeping sate:
Till that his grandame Nature pityijng it
Of stella's brows make him two better bows,
And in her eyes of arrows infinite.
Oh how for joy he leaps, oh how he crows,
And straight therewith like wags new got to play,
Falls to shrewd turns, and I was in his way.
poem by Philip Sidney
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To A Friend On His Nuptials
When Jove lay bless'd in his Alcmæna's charms,
Three nights in one he press'd her in his arms;
The sun lay set, and conscious nature strove
To shade her god, and to prolong his love.
From that auspicious night Alcides came;
What less could rise from Jove and such a dame?
May this auspicious night with that compare,
Nor less the joys, nor less the rising heir,
He strong as Jove, she like Alcmæna fair.
poem by Matthew Prior
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Trial of the Gods
NEVER nobler was the Senate,
Never grander the debate:
Rome's old gods are on their trial
By the judges of the state!
Torn by warring creeds, the Fathers
Urge to-day the question home—
'Whether Jupiter or Jesus
Shall be God henceforth in Rome?'
Lo, the scene! In Jove's own temple,
As of old, the Fathers meet;
Through the porch, to hear the speeches,
Press the people from the street.
Pontiffs, rich with purple vesture,
Pass from senate chair to chair;
Learned augurs, still as statues—
Voiceless statues, too—are there;
Vestal virgins, white with terror,
Mutely asking—what has come?
What new light shall turn to darkness
Vesta's holy fire in Rome?
Answer, Quindecemvirs! Surely,
Of this wondrous Nazarene
Ye must know, who keep the secrets
Of the prophet Sibylline?
Nay, no word! Here stand the Flamens:
Have ye read the omens, priests?
Slain the victims, white and sable,
Scanned the entrails of the beast?
Priest of Pallas, see! the people
Ask for oracles to-day:
Silent! Priests of Mars and Venus?
Lo, they turn, dumb-lipped, away!
Priest of Jove? Flamen dialis!
Here in Jove's own temple meet
In debate the Roman Senate,
And Jove's priest with timid feet
Stands beyond the altar railing!
Gods, I feel ye frown above!
In the shadow of Jove's altar
Men defy the might of Jove!
Treason riots in the temple
At the sacrilege profound:
Virgins mocked, and augurs banished,
And divinities discrowned!
Hush! Old Rome herself appeareth,
Pleading for the ancient faith:
Urging all her by-gone glory—
That to change the old were death.
Rudely answer the patricians,
Scoffing at the time-worn snare:
Twice a thousand years of sacrifice
Have melted into air;
Twice a thousand years of worship
Have bitterly sufficed
To prove there is no Jupiter!
The Senate votes for Christ!
Not aimless is the story,
The moral not remote:
For still the gods are questioned,
And still the Senates vote.
Men sacrifice to Venus;
To Mars are victims led;
And Mercury is honored still;
And Bacchus is not dead;—
But these are minor deities
That cling to human sight:
Our twilight they—but Right and Wrong
Are clear as day and night.
We know the Truth: but falsehood
With our lives is so inwove—
Our Senates vote down Jesus
As old Rome degraded Jove!
poem by John Boyle O'Reilly
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Night Before The Mowing
ALL shimmering in the morning shine
And diamonded with dew,
And quivering in the scented wind
That thrills its green heart through,--
The little field, the smiling field,
With all its flowers a-blowing,
How happy looks the golden field
The day before the mowing!
All still 'neath the departing light,
Twilight, though void of stars,
Save where, low westering, Venus hides
From the red eye of Mars;
How quiet lies the silent field
With all its beauties glowing;
Just stirring,--like a child asleep,--
The night before the mowing.
Sharp steel, inevitable hand,
Cut keen, cut kind! Our field
We know full well must be laid low
Before its wealth it yield:
Labor and mirth and plenty blest
Its blameless death bestowing:
And yet we weep, and yet we weep,
The night before the mowing.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
An Oath
A month ago Lysander pray'd
To Jove, to Cupid, and to Venus,
That he might die if he betray'd
A single vow that pass'd between us.
Ah, careless gods, to hear so ill
And cheat a maid on you relying!
For false Lysander's thriving still,
And 'tis Corinna lies a-dying.
poem by Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Mars Bar
Oh, lord have mercy for the blessed Mars Bar!
I taste the nought and caramel in my mouth,
And it goes so far,
Just that one Mars Bar!
That Mars Bar can ease my troubles,
And leave me at peace,
For chocolate bars are both a blessing and a curse,
I can't choose which is worse,
Oh, heavenly Mars Bar!
And in the shop I look around,
And see other chocolate and candy bars,
Feeling so ravenous and famished,
Sometimes a galaxy bar will do,
But I always come back,
To the faithful Mars Bar!
The naughty ritual of the schoolgirl,
Pressured to diet,
Dreading the day she will be middle aged and fat,
Not to mention a housewife,
But times are changing,
Curvy is in,
For eating never was a sin,
Oh, wonderful Mars Bar!
I am older now,
But remember fondly those trips,
To the corner shop,
Feeling quietly delighted,
At the same time,
Oh, glorious Mars Bar!
poem by Paula Glynn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Silver Dreams, Golden Smiles
You came to me
In a silver dream
With a glowing flow
Of a mountain stream
You lift my soul
Way beyond the sky
Just to wake me up
With your golden smiles
Chorus:
Silver dreams and golden smiles
Silver dreams and golden smiles
Silver dreams and golden smiles
Silver dreams and golden smiles
I knew one day
You would come my way
You would help me see
The reality
Heaven and earth
They are one, the same
In my heart I know
When you call my name
Chorus
Dreaming when Im wide awake
See, when my eyes are closed
Flying, I dont need no wings
Being everywhere at once
Hold me, hold me in your arms
Fill me with your glowing grace
Chorus
song performed by by Santana
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The Godlike
In one great man we view with odds
A parallel to all the gods.
Great Jove, that shook heaven with his brow,
Could never match his princely bow.
In him a Bacchus we behold:
Like Bacchus, too, he ne'er grows old.
Like Phoebus next, a flaming lover;
And then he's Mercury-all over.
A Vulcan, for domestic strife,
He lamely lives without his wife.
And sure-unless our wits be dull-
Minerva-like, when moon was full,
He issued from paternal skull.
R. et R.
poem by Charles Lamb
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Mars Meets Venus
Thirty something, graduate, green eyes, perfect christian lady
Candlelit dinner, slim female figure, sense of humor, extrovert
Where are you where are you where are you
Lets starts as friends, seeking soulmate, long time relationship
choose life, soul sister, hippy chick, for soul brother blues man
Genuine american frog seeks princess
Someone is perfect for you, when mars meets venus
Do you want to bet your life, they're gotta be perfect for you too
Mars meets venus
New age man shake me up, wild girl, gay guy, romantic gentleman
Indian, long time relationship, beauty with brains
seeking something, say are you the one, are you the one, are you the one
Someone is perfect for you, when mars meets venus
Do you want to bet your life, they are gonna be perfect for you too
Someone is perfect for you when mars meets venus
Do you want to bet your life, you've gotta be perfect for them too
Heres lookin at you
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
You've Got Me
You've got me,
Beaming down from the stars.
You've got me,
Leaping Venus and Mars.
And passing by Jupiter,
Somersaulting in...
Cosmic fever.
You've got me,
Glued and magnetized too.
You've got me,
And I am glad it is you.
I'm leaping Venus and Mars...
Somersaulting as I vault,
With Cosmic fever.
You've got me,
Glued and magnetized too.
You've got me,
And I am glad it is you.
You've got me...
Stuck in Universal fever.
You've got me,
Beaming down from the stars.
You've got me,
Leaping Venus and Mars.
And passing by Jupiter,
Somersaulting in...
Cosmic fever.
You've got me,
Glued and magnetized too.
You've got me,
And I am glad it is you.
I'm leaping Venus and Mars...
Somersaulting as I vault,
With Cosmic fever.
You've got me,
Leaping Venus and Mars.
Somersaulting in...
Cosmic fever.
And you've got me,
Leaping Venus and Mars.
Somersaulting in...
Cosmic fever.
Yes...
I guess,
You've got me,
Leaping Venus and Mars.
Somersaulting in...
Cosmic fever.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Licia Sonnets 51
When first the sun whom all my senses serve,
Began to shine upon this earthly round,
The heavens for her all graces did reserve,
That Pandor-like with all she might abound.
Apollo placed his brightness in her eyes,
His skill presaging and his music sweet.
Mars gave his force; all force she now defies;
Venus her smiles wherewith she Mars did meet;
Python a voice, Diana made her chaste,
Ceres gave plenty, Cupid lent his bow,
Thetis his feet, there Pallas wisdom placed.
With these she queen-like kept a world in awe.
Yet all these honors deeméd are but pelf,
For she is much more worthy of herself.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I used to believe there were people on Mars, and of course now we know there aren't. Mars held particular interest. I was curious what kind of beings they would look like.
quote by Clyde Tombaugh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!