The Horse And The Olive: Or, War And Peace
With Moral Tale let Ancient Wisdom move,
Which thus I sing to make the Moderns wise:
Strong Neptune once with sage Minerva strove,
And rising Athens was the Victor's Prize.
By Neptune, Plutus (Guardian Pow'r of Gain),
By Great Minerva, Bright Apollo stood:
But Jove superior bad the Side obtain
Which best contriv'd to do the Nation Good.
Then Neptune striking, from the parted Ground
The Warlike Horse came pawing on the Plain,
And as it toss'd its Mane, and pranc'd around,
By this, he cries, I'll make the People Reign.
The Goddess smiling gently bow'd the Spear,
And, rather thus they shall be bless'd, she said;
Then upwards shooting in the Vernal Air
With loaded Boughs the fruitful Olive spread.
Jove saw what Gifts the Rival Pow'rs design'd,
And took th' impartial Scales, resolv'd to show,
If greater Bliss in Warlike Pomp we find,
Or in the Calm which Peaceful Times bestow.
On Neptune's part he plac'd Victorious Days,
Gay Trophies won, and Fame extending wide:
But Plenty, Safety, Science, Arts, and Ease,
Minerva's Scale with greater Weight supply'd.
Fierce War devours whom gentle Peace wou'd save,
Sweet Peace restores what angry War destroys,
War made for Peace with that rewards the Brave,
While Peace its Pleasures from it self enjoys.
Hence vanquish'd Neptune to the Sea withdrew,
Hence wise Minerva rul'd Athenian Lands,
Her Athens hence in Arts and Honour grew,
And still her Olives deck pacifick Hands.
From Fables thus disclos'd, a Monarch's Mind
May form just Rules to chuse the Truly-Great:
And Subjects weary'd with Distresses find
Whose kind Endeavours most befriend the State.
Ev'n Britain here may learn to place her Love,
If Cities won her Kingdoms Wealth have cost,
If Anna's Thoughts the patriot-souls approve
Whose Cares restore that Wealth the Wars had lost.
But if we ask the Moral to disclose
Whom best europa's Patroness it calls,
Great ANNA's Title no Exception knows,
And unapply'd in this the Fable falls.
With Her no Neptune or Minerva vyes;
Whene'er she pleas'd her Troops to Conquest flew,
Whene'er she pleases Peaceful Times arise:
She gave the Horse, and gives the Olive too.
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Related quotes
The Horse & Olive Or Warr & Peace
With Moral tale let Ancient wisdome move
Which thus I sing to make ye moderns wise
Strong Neptune once with sage Minerva strove
And rising Athens was the Victors prize
By Neptune Plutus guardian Powr of gain
By great Minerva Bright Apollo stood
But Jove superiour Bad ye side obtain
Which best contrivd to do ye nation good
Then Neptune striking from the parted ground
The Warlike horse came pawing on ye plain
And as it tossd its main & prancd around
By this he crys Ile make the people reign
The Goddess smiling gently bowd ye spear
And rather thus they shall be blessd she said
Then upwards shooting in ye Vernal air
With loaded boughs ye fruitfull Olive spread
Jove saw what gifts ye rival Powrs designd
Then took th' impartial scales resolvd to show
If greater bliss in warlike pomp we find
Or in ye calm which peacefull times bestow
On Neptunes part he placd victorious days
Gay trophys won & fame extending wide
But plenty safety science arts & ease
Minerva's scale with greater weight supplyd
Fierce warr devours whom gentle Peace woud save
Sweet peace restores wt angry warr destroys
Warr made for peace with that rewards ye brave
While Peace its pleasures from it self enjoys
Hence Vanquishd Neptune to ye Sea withdrew
Hence Wise Minerva ruld Athenian lands
Her Athens hence in arts & honour grew
And still her Olives deck pacifick hands
From fables thus disclosd a Monarchs mind
May form Just rules to chuse ye truly great
And subjects wearyd with distresses find
Whose kind endeavours most befriend a state
Evn Britain here may learn to place her love
If Citys won her kingdomes wealth have cost
If Anna's thoughts ye Patriot soules approve
Whose cares restore yt wealth ye wars had lost
But if we ask ye Moral to disclose
Whom best Europa's patroness it calls
Great Anna's title no exception knows
And unapplyd in this ye fable falls
With her no Neptune or Minerva vyes
When ere she pleasd her troops to conquest flew
When ere she pleases peaceful times arise
She gave the horse & gives ye Olive too.
poem by Thomas Parnell
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A Hymn in Praise of Neptune
OF Neptune's empire let us sing,
At whose command the waves obey;
To whom the rivers tribute pay,
Down the high mountains sliding:
To whom the scaly nation yields
Homage for the crystal fields
Wherein they dwell:
And every sea-dog pays a gem
Yearly out of his wat'ry cell
To deck great Neptune's diadem.
The Tritons dancing in a ring
Before his palace gates do make
The water with their echoes quake,
Like the great thunder sounding:
The sea-nymphs chant their accents shrill,
And the sirens, taught to kill
With their sweet voice,
Make ev'ry echoing rock reply
Unto their gentle murmuring noise
The praise of Neptune's empery.
poem by Thomas Campion
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Neptune
Nobody seems to dream of visits on Neptune.
With a giving of its wonder and suspense.
There is nobody that seems to speak with curiosity,
Of how life lived on Neptune would be.
What is it about it that escapes wishes to adventure it?
Does it not appear to be intimate?
What is it about it.
Is it too far out there for imaginary visits?
What is it about it.
Is it too much like Uranus?
And Saturn and Jupiter have captured its magic.
What is it about it.
Although depicted by the Romans as god of the seas...
Neptune is rarely mentioned or romanticized,
As a place to be!
What is it about it that escapes our fantasies.
Eight from the Sun to see in orbit.
But no one mentions Neptune for that odyssey.
What is it about it.
So vast it is...
Sixty Earths could sit within its grasp.
But no one wishes a visit with it.
Nobody seems to dream of visits on Neptune.
With a giving of its wonder and suspense.
There is nobody that seems to speak with curiosity,
Of how life lived on Neptune would be.
What is it about it that escapes wishes to adventure it?
Does it not appear to be intimate?
What is it about it.
Is it too far out there for imaginary visits?
What is it about it.
Is it too much like Uranus?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Peace Everywhere
Peace, everywhere, peace today!
Peace in lands of scruffy trees and pine,
Peace in lands of olives and wine,
Peace in lands where peaks are white,
Peace in lands where fields are bright.
Peace in lands of oasis and sand,
Peace in lands where people band,
Peace in lands where children play,
Peace in lands where people pray,
Peace in lands in the thick of the fight,
Peace in lands ruled by force and might.
Everywhere, everywhere, peace this day!
Pray that all world leaders lead the way,
Encouraging moral people to stand proud and tall,
No government too great, no nation too small.
poem by Joseph T. Renaldi
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Around the World With Minerva
She would offer us crumpets.
Minerva Pinkston...
Once part of a jet set!
Holding up both hands to announce...
Her painted nails were wet!
She rambled on as if we were being tested,
To remember her travels to places...
And names of those of power she met!
When we first arrived at Minerva's front door!
Many thought she wore a mask...
Or her make up was done very poor!
Her long eyelashes
Made her top eyelids droop!
She had too much lipstick on her lips...
She could kiss lips consistently,
Of the bears who mooned her
Or a mesmerized passing moose.
With an instant wish to fly away...
Faster than a chased goose.
Minerva posed in the kitchen
And each of her seven rooms.
We made the mistake of stopping
In her wine cellar.
And she consumed more wine
We found ourselves outside...
To escape and leave wine fumes behind!
Getting fresh air was on our minds!
After we observed Minerva...
Minerva had the nerve,
To announce she had taken us on a tour.
Around the world with her!
As we stared and chatted on the stairs,
Of Minerva's veranda.
And if we had been first
Introduced to that moose...
Many of us sitting,
And staring at Minerva,
Would not try to hide...
The laughter slipping giggles,
That was begging,
To be freed
And let loose!
We closed our eyes and held our breath
When she would pass switching her fat...
Caboose!
Minerva Pinkston did not notice this at all...
As she flaunted with flair,
As if we weren't guest...
But photographers to catch,
Every nuance she managed
As she posed and patted...
Her sprayed bouffant hair!
Minerva didn't care.
We were there for Minvera...
And of this Minerva was aware!
She would offer us crumpets.
Minerva Pinkston...
Once part of a jet set!
Holding up both hands to announce...
Her painted nails were wet!
And when we were ready,
To leave Minerva's place...
Her smiling face
Began to crack like plaster.
And all there couldn't wait,
To vacate before tasting
Minerva's surprising and 'award' winning
Cake she said she baked!
Some were rude...
When they ran through the door!
And jumped like olympians,
Over the front gate!
And the screams of laughter heard...
Stopped Minerva's chirping to her caged birds!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Jupiter And Fortune.
Once Jupiter, from out the Skies,
Beheld a thousand Temples rise;
The Goddess Fortune all invok'd,
To Jove an Altar seldom smoak'd:
The God resolv'd to make Inspection,
What had occasion'd this Defection;
And bid the Goddess tell the Arts,
By which she won deluded Hearts.
My Arts! (says she) Great Jove, you know,
That I do ev'ry Thing below:
I make my Vot'ries dine on Plate;
I give the gilded Coach of State;
Bestow the glitt'ring Gems, that deck
The fair Lavinia's lovely Neck;
I make Novella Nature's Boast,
And raise Valeria to a Toast;
'Tis I, who give the Stupid, Taste,
(Or make the Poets lie, at least);
My fav'rite Sons, whene'er they please,
Can Palaces in Desarts raise,
Cut out Canals, make Fountains play,
And make the dreary Waste look gay;
Ev'n Vice seems Virtue by my Smiles;
I gild the Villain's gloomy Wiles,
Nay, almost raise him to a God,
While crowded Levees wait his Nod.
Enough--the Thunderer reply'd;
But say, whom have you satisfy'd?
These boasted Gifts are thine, I own;
But know, Content is mine alone.
poem by Mary Barber
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An Epitaph
Here lies one who never drew
Blood himself, yet many slew;
Gave the gun its aim, and figure
Made in field, yet ne'er pulled trigger.
Armed men have gladly made
Him their guide, and him obeyed;
At his signified desire,
Would advance, present, and fire.
Stout he was, and large of limb,
Scores have fled at sight of him;
And to all his fame he rose
Only following his nose.
Neptune was he called; not he
Who controls the boisterous sea.
But of happier command,
Neptune of the furrowed land;
And, your wonder vain to shorten,
Pointer to Sir John Throckmorton.
poem by William Cowper
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First The Lightning Then The Rain
First comes her lightning..
then her rain
first her humor
with kindness in its train
First the baptism by fire
and then water's laving
First Uranus
.. the way for Neptune paving
She does not in Uranian ways
laugh in her sacred church
.. but issues lightning bolts
of compassion from the pulpit
Uranus must twice revolve
to equal Neptune's once resolve
*************
(to Dr Ginnie Bourquardez, founder
of International Network for Religion
and Animals. She is with God now)
INRA combined vegetarian and animal
rights teachers in all religions
(Uranus has an orbit of 84 years
.. Neptune an octave higher
has an orbit of 168 years)
poem by Saiom Shriver
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Homer's Hymn To Venus
Muse, sing the deeds of golden Aphrodite,
Who wakens with her smile the lulled delight
Of sweet desire, taming the eternal kings
Of Heaven, and men, and all the living things
That fleet along the air, or whom the sea,
Or earth, with her maternal ministry,
Nourish innumerable, thy delight
All seek ... O crowned Aphrodite!
Three spirits canst thou not deceive or quell:--
Minerva, child of Jove, who loves too well
Fierce war and mingling combat, and the fame
Of glorious deeds, to heed thy gentle flame.
Diana ... golden-shafted queen,
Is tamed not by thy smiles; the shadows green
Of the wild woods, the bow, the...
And piercing cries amid the swift pursuit
Of beasts among waste mountains,--such delight
Is hers, and men who know and do the right.
Nor Saturn’s first-born daughter, Vesta chaste,
Whom Neptune and Apollo wooed the last,
Such was the will of aegis-bearing Jove;
But sternly she refused the ills of Love,
And by her mighty Father’s head she swore
An oath not unperformed, that evermore
A virgin she would live mid deities
Divine: her father, for such gentle ties
Renounced, gave glorious gifts--thus in his hall
She sits and feeds luxuriously. O’er all
In every fane, her honours first arise
From men--the eldest of Divinities.
These spirits she persuades not, nor deceives,
But none beside escape, so well she weaves
Her unseen toils; nor mortal men, nor gods
Who live secure in their unseen abodes.
She won the soul of him whose fierce delight
Is thunder--first in glory and in might.
And, as she willed, his mighty mind deceiving,
With mortal limbs his deathless limbs inweaving,
Concealed him from his spouse and sister fair,
Whom to wise Saturn ancient Rhea bare.
but in return,
In Venus Jove did soft desire awaken,
That by her own enchantments overtaken,
She might, no more from human union free,
Burn for a nursling of mortality.
For once amid the assembled Deities,
The laughter-loving Venus from her eyes
Shot forth the light of a soft starlight smile,
And boasting said, that she, secure the while,
Could bring at Will to the assembled Gods
The mortal tenants of earth’s dark abodes,
And mortal offspring from a deathless stem
She could produce in scorn and spite of them.
Therefore he poured desire into her breast
Of young Anchises,
Feeding his herds among the mossy fountains
Of the wide Ida’s many-folded mountains,--
Whom Venus saw, and loved, and the love clung
Like wasting fire her senses wild among.
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Hymn To The Sun
Light of the World, and Ruler of the Year,
With happy Speed begin Thy great Career;
And, as Thou dost thy radiant Journeys run,
Through every distant Climate own,
That in fair Albion Thou hast seen
The greatest Prince, the brightest Queen,
That ever sav'd a Land, or blest a Throne,
Since first Thy Beams were spread, or Genial Power was known.
II.
So may Thy Godhead be confest;
So the returning Year be blest;
As His Infant Months bestow
Springing Wreaths for William's Brow;
As His Summer's Youth shall shed
Eternal Sweets around Maria's Head.
From the Blessings They bestow,
Our Times are dated, and our Æra's move:
They govern, and enlighten all Below,
As Thou dost all Above.
III.
Let our Hero in the War
Active and fierce, like Thee, appear:
Like Thee, great Son of Jove, like Thee,
When clad in rising Majesty,
Thou marchest down o'er Delos' Hills confest,
With all Thy Arrows arm'd, in all Thy Glory drest.
Like Thee, the Hero does his Arms imploy,
The raging Python to destroy,
And give the injur'd Nations Peace and Joy.
IV.
From fairest Years, and Time's more happy Stores,
Gather all the smiling Hours;
Such as with friendly Care have guarded
Patriots and Kings in rightful Wars;
Such as with Conquest have rewarded
Triumphant Victors happy Cares;
Such as Story has recorded
Sacred to Nassau's long Renown,
For Countries sav'd, and Battels won.
V.
March Them again in fair Array,
And bid Them form the happy Day,
The happy Day design'd to wait
On William's Fame, and Europe's Fate.
Let the happy Day be crown'd
With great Event, and fair Success;
No brighter in the Year be found,
But That which brings the Victor home in Peace.
VI.
Again Thy Godhead We implore,
Great in Wisdom as in Power;
Again, for good Maria's Sake, and Our's,
Chuse out other smiling Hours,
Such as with Joyous Wings have fled,
When happy Counsels were advising;
Such as have lucky Omens shed
O'er forming Laws, and Empires rising;
Such as many Courses ran,
Hand in Hand, a goodly Train,
To bless the great Eliza's Reign;
And in the Typic Glory show,
What fuller Bliss Maria shall bestow.
VII.
As the solemn Hours advance,
Mingled send into the Dance
Many fraught with all the Treasures,
Which Thy Eastern Travels views;
Many wing'd with all the Pleasures,
Man can ask, or Heav'n diffuse:
That great Maria all those Joys may know,
Which, from Her Cares, upon Her Subjects flow.
VIII.
For Thy own Glory sing our Soveraign's Praise,
God of Verses and of Days:
Let all Thy tuneful Sons adorn
Their lasting Work with William's Name:
Let chosen Muses yet unborn
Take great Maria for their future Theme:
Eternal Structures let Them raise,
On William's and Maria's Praise:
Nor want new Subject for the Song;
Nor fear they can exhaust the Store;
'Till Nature's Musick lyes unstrung;
'Till Thou, great God, shalt lose Thy double Pow'r;
And touch Thy Lyre, and shoot Thy Beams no more.
poem by Matthew Prior
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On Queen Anne's Peace, Anno 1713
Mother of plenty, daughter of the skies,
Sweet Peace, the troubl'd world's desire, arise;
Around thy poet weave thy summer shades,
Within my fancy spread thy flow'ry meads,
Amongst thy train soft ease and pleasure bring,
And thus indulgent sooth me whilst I sing.
Great Anna claims the song; no brighter name
Adorns the list of never-dying fame,
No fairer soul was ever form'd above,
None e'er was more the grateful nation's love
Nor lov'd the nation more. I fly with speed
To sing such lines as Bolingbroke may read,
On war dispers'd, on faction trampled down,
On all the peaceful glories of the crown.
And if I fail in too confin'd a flight,
May the kind world upon my labours write;
'So fell the lines which strove for endless fame,
'Yet fell attempting on the noblest theme.
Now twelve revolving years has Britain stood
With loss of wealth and vast expence of blood
Europa's Guardian; still her gallant arms
Secur'd Europa from impending harms.
Fair honour, full success, and just applause,
Pursu'd her marches, and adorn'd her cause;
Whilst Gaul, aspiring to erect a throne
O'er other empires, trembled for her own,
Bemoan'd her cities won, her armies slain,
And sunk the thought of universal reign.
When thus reduc'd the world's Invaders lie,
The fears which rack'd the nations, justly die:
Pow'r finds its balance, giddy motions cease
In both the scales, and each inclines to peace.
This fair occasion Providence prepares,
To answer pious Anna's hourly pray'rs,
Which still on warm Devotion's wings arose,
And reaching Heav'n obtain'd the world's repose.
Within the vast expansion of the sky,
Where Orbs of gold in fields of Azure lie,
A glorious palace shines, whose silver ray
Serenely flowing lights the milky way,
The road of angels. Here with speedy care
The summon'd Guardians of the world repair.
When Britain's Angel on the message sent
Speaks Anna's pray'rs and Heaven's supream intent,
That war's destructive arm shou'd humble Gaul,
Spain's parted realms to diff'rent monarchs fall,
The grand alliance crown'd with glory cease,
And joyful Europe find the sweets of peace.
He spoke: the smiling hopes of man's repose,
The joy that springs from certain hopes arose
Diffusive o'er the place; complacent airs
Sedately sweet were heard within the spheres;
And bowing all adore the sovereign mind,
And fly to execute the work design'd.
This done, the Guardian on the wing repairs
Where Anna sat revolving publick cares
With deep concern of thought. Unseen he stood
Presenting peaceful images of good
On Fancy's airy stage; returning Trade,
A sunk Exchequer fill'd, an Army paid,
The fields with men, the men with plenty bless'd,
The towns with riches, and the world with rest.
Such pleasing objects on her bosom play,
And give the dawn of glory's golden day,
When all her labours at their harvest shewn
Shall in her subjects joy compleat her own.
Then breaking silence, 'tis enough, she cries,
That war has rag'd to make the nations wise.
Heav'n prospers armies whilst they fight to save,
And thirst of further fame destroys the brave;
The vanquish'd Gauls are humbly pleas'd to live,
And but escap'd the chains they meant to give.
Now let the pow'rs be still'd and each possess'd
Of what secures the common safety best.
So spake the Queen, then fill'd with warmth divine
She call'd her Oxford to the grand design;
Her Oxford prudent in affairs of state,
Profoundly thoughtful, manifestly great
In ev'ry turn, whose steddy temper steers
Above the reach of gold or shock of fears;
Whom no blind chance, but merit understood
By frequent tryals, pow'r of doing good,
And will to execute, advanc'd on high,
O soul created to deserve the sky!
And make the nation, crown'd with glory, see
How much it rais'd itself by raising thee!
Now let the schemes which labour in thy breast
The long Alliance bless with lasting rest:
Weigh all pretences with impartial laws,
And fix the sep'rate Int'rests of the cause.
These toils the graceful Bolingbroke attends,
A Genius fashion'd for the greatest ends,
Whose strong perception takes the swiftest flight,
And yet its swiftness ne'er obscures its sight:
When schemes are fix'd, and each assign'd a part,
None serves his country with a nobler heart,
Just thoughts of honour all his mind controul,
And Expedition wings his lively soul.
On such a Patriot to confer the Trust,
The Monarch knows it safe as well as just.
Then next proceeding in her Agents choice
And ever pleas'd that worth obtain the voice,
She from the list of high-distinguish'd fames
With pious Bristow gallant Strafford names:
One form'd to stand a church's firm support,
The other fitted to adorn a court,
Both vers'd in business, both of fine address,
By which experience leads to great success:
And both to distant lands the Monarch sends,
And to their conduct Europe's peace commends.
Now ships unmoor'd to waft her Agents o'er
Spread all their sail, and quit the flying shore.
The foreign Agents reach th' appointed place,
The Congress opens, and it will be peace.
Methinks the war like stormy winter flies,
When fairer months unveil the blueish skies,
A flow'ry world the sweetest season spreads,
And doves with branches flutter round their heads.
Half-peopled Gaul whom num'rous ills destroy
With wishful heart attends the promis'd joy.
For this prepares the Duke—ah sadly slain
'Tis grief to name him whom we mourn in vain:
No warmth of verse repairs the vital flame,
For verse can only grant a life in fame,
Yet cou'd my praise like spicy odours shed
In everlasting song embalm the dead,
To realms that weeping heard the loss I'd tell,
What courage, sense, and faith, with Brandon fell.
But Britain more than one for glory breeds,
And polish'd Talbot to the charge succeeds,
Whose far-projecting thoughts maturely clear
Like glasses draw their distant objects near.
Good Parts by gentle breeding much refin'd,
And stores of learning grace his ample mind,
A cautious virtue regulates his ways,
And Honour gilds them with a thousand rays.
To serve his nation at his Queen's command,
He parts commission'd for the Gallick land:
With pleasure Gaul beholds him on her shore
And learns to love a name she fear'd before.
Once more aloft there meet for new debates
The Guardian Angels of Europa's states:
And mutual concord shines in ev'ry face
And ev'ry bosom glows with hopes of peace,
While Britain's steps in one consent they praise,
Then gravely mourn their other realms delays,
Their doubtful claims through seas of blood pursu'd,
Their fears that Gallia fell but half subdu'd,
And all the reas'nings which attempt to shew
That war shou'd ravage in the world below.
'Ah fall'n estate of man! can rage delight!
'Wounds please the touch, or ruin charm the sight!
'Ambition make unlovely mischief fair!
'Or ever Pride be Providence's care!
'When stern Oppressors range the bloody field,
''Tis just to conquer and unsafe to yield:
'There save the nations; but no more pursue
'Nor in thy turn become Oppressor too.'
Our rebel angels for Ambition fell,
And war in Heav'n produc'd a Fiend in hell.
Thus with a soft concern for man's repose
The tender Guardians join to moan our woes,
Then awful rise, combin'd with all their might,
To find what Fury 'scap'd the den of night
The pleasing labours of their love withstands,
And spreads a wild distraction o'er the lands.
Their glitt'ring pinnions sound in yielding air,
And watchful Providence approves the care.
In Flandria's soil where Camps have mark'd the plain,
The Fiend, impetuous Discord, fix'd her reign;
A tent her royal seat. With full resort
Stern shapes of Horrour throng'd her buisy court,
Blind Mischief, Ambush close concealing Ire,
Loud Threat'nings, Ruin arm'd with sword and fire,
Assaulting Fierceness, Anger wanting breath,
High Red'ning Rage, and Various Forms of death,
Dire Imps of darkness, whom with Gore she feeds
When war beyond its point of Good proceeds.
In Gallick armour, call'd with alter'd name
Great love of Empire, to the field she came;
Now, still supporting Feud, she strives to hide
Beneath that name, and only change the side:
But as she whirl'd the rapid wheels around
Where mangl'd limbs in heaps pollute the ground,
(A sullen Joyless Sport,) with searching eye
The shining Chiefs regard her as they fly,
Then hov'ring, dart their beams of heav'nly light,
She starts, the Fury stands confess'd to sight,
And grieves to leave the soil, and yells aloud,
Her Yells are answer'd by the Sable Crowd,
And all on Bat-like wings (if Fame be true)
From Christian lands to Northern climates flew.
But rising murmours from Britannia's shore
With speed recal her watchful Guardian o'er.
He spreads his pinions, and approaching near,
These hints in scatter'd words assault his ear,
The People's Pow'r—The Grand Alliance cross'd
The Peace is sep'rate—Our Religion's lost.
Led by the Blatant voice along the skies,
He comes where Faction over cities flies;
A talking Fiend whom snaky locks disgrace,
And num'rous mouths deform her dusky face,
Whence Lies are utter'd, Whisper softly sounds,
Sly Doubts amaze, or Innuendo wounds.
Within her arms are heaps of Pamphlets seen,
And these blaspheme the Saviour, those the Queen;
Associate Vices: thus with tongue and hand
She shed her venom o'er the troubled land.
Now vex'd that Discord and the Baneful Train
That tends on Discord, fled the neighb'ring plain,
She rag'd to madness: when the Guardian came,
And downwards drove her with a sword of flame.
A mountain gaping to the Nether Hell
Receiv'd the Fury railing as she fell:
The mountain closing o'er the Fury lies,
And stops her passage where she means to rise,
And when she strives, or shifts her side for ease,
All Britain rocks amidst her circling seas.
Now Peace returning after tedious woes
Restores the comforts of a calm repose:
Then bid the Warriors sheath their sanguin'd arms,
Bid Angry Trumpets cease to sound Alarms,
Guns leave to thunder in the tortur'd air,
Red streaming colours furl around the spear,
And each contending realm no longer jarr,
But pleas'd with rest unharness all the war.
She comes the Blessing comes, where'er she moves
New springing Beauty all the land improves:
More heaps of fragrant flow'rs the field adorn,
More sweet the Birds salute the Rosy Morn,
More lively Green refreshes all the leaves,
And in the Breeze the corn more thickly waves.
She comes the Blessing comes in easy state,
And Forms of Brightness all around her wait:
Here smiling Safety with her bosom bare
Securely walks, and chearful Plenty there;
Here wond'rous Sciences with Eagles sight,
There Liberal Arts which make the world polite,
And open Traffick joining hand in hand
With honest Industry, approach the land.
O welcome long desir'd and lately found!
Here fix thy seat upon the British ground,
Thy Shining Train around the Nation send,
While by degrees the loading Taxes end:
While Caution, calm yet still prepar'd for arms,
And Foreign Treaties, guard from foreign harms:
While equal Justice hearing ev'ry cause
Makes ev'ry Subject join to love the laws.
Where Britain's Patriots in Council meet
Let publick safety rest at Anna's feet:
Let Oxford's schemes the Path to Plenty shew
And through the realm increasing Plenty go.
Let Arts and Sciences in glory rise,
And pleas'd the world has leisure to be wise,
Around their Oxford and their St. John stand,
Like Plants that flourish by the Master's hand:
And safe in hope the sons of Learning wait
Where Learning's Self has fix'd her fair retreat.
Let Traffick cherish'd by the Senate's care
On all the seas employ the wafting air:
And Industry with circulating wing
Through all the land the goods of Traffick bring.
The Blessings so dispos'd will long abide,
Since Anna reigns, and Harley's thoughts preside;
Great Ormond's arms the sword of Caution wield,
And hold Britannia's broad-protecting Shield;
Bright Bolingbroke and worthy Dartmouth treat
By fair dispatch with ev'ry foreign State;
And Harcourt's knowledge equitably shewn
Makes Justice call his firm Decrees her own.
Thus all that Poets fanci'd Heav'n of old
May for the nation's present Emblem hold:
There Jove imperial sway'd; Minerva wise,
And Phœbus eloquent, adorn'd the skies;
On Arts Cyllenius fix'd his full delight,
Mars rein'd the War, and Themis judg'd the Right:
All mortals once beneficently great,
(As Fame reports) and rais'd in Heav'nly State;
Yet sharing labours, still they shun'd repose,
To shed the blessings down by which they rose.
Illustrious Queen, how Heav'n hath heard thy pray'rs,
What stores of Happiness attend thy Cares!
A Church in safety fix'd, a State in rest,
A Faithful Ministry, a People bless'd,
And Kings submissive at thy foot-stool thrown,
That others Rights restore, or beg their own.
Now rais'd with thankful mind, and rolling slow,
In grand Procession to the temple go,
By snow-white Horses drawn; while sounding Fame
Proclaims thy coming, Praise exalts thy name,
Fair Honour dress'd in robes adorns thy state,
And on thy Train the crowded Nations wait,
Who pressing view with what a temper'd grace
The looks of Majesty compose thy face,
And mingling Sweetness shines, or how thy dress
And how thy Pomp an inward Joy confess,
Then fill'd with Pleasures to thy glory due
With Shouts the Chariot moving on pursue.
As when the Phœnix from Arabia flown,
(If any Phœnix were like Anna known,)
His spice at Phœbus Shrine prepar'd to lay,
Where'er their Monarch cut his airy way
The gath'ring Birds around the Wonder flew,
And much admir'd his Shape and much his Hue,
The tuft of Gold that glow'd above his head,
His spacious Train with golden feathers spread,
His gilded Bosom speck'd with purple pride,
And both his Wings in glossy purple dy'd:
He still pursues his way, with wond'ring eyes
The Birds attend, and follow where he flies.
Thrice happy Britons, if at last you know,
'Tis less to conquer than to want a foe;
That Triumphs still are made for War's decrease,
When Men by Conquest rise to views of Peace;
That over Toils for Peace in view we run,
Which gain'd, the World is pleas'd, and War is done.
Fam'd Blenheim's field, Ramillies noble seat,
Blaregni's desperate act of gallant heat,
Or wond'rous Winendale, are war pursu'd
By wounds and deaths through plains with blood embru'd;
But good Design to make the world be still,
With human Grace adorns the needful Ill;
This end obtain'd, we close the Scenes of rage
And gentler Glories deck the rising age.
Such gentler Glories, such reviving days,
The Nation's wishes, and the Statesman's praise,
Now pleas'd to shine in golden Order throng,
Demand our Annals and enrich our Song.
Then go where Albion's Cliffs approach the skies,
(The Fame of Albion so deserves to rise)
And deep engrav'd for Time 'till Time shall cease,
Upon the Stones their fair Inscription place.
Iberia rent, the Pow'r of Gallia broke,
Batavia rescu'd from the threat'ned Yoke,
The royal Austrian rais'd, his Realms restor'd,
Great Britain arm'd, triumphant and ador'd,
Its State enlarg'd, its Peace restor'd again,
Are Blessings all adorning Anna's Reign.
poem by Thomas Parnell
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Sonnet 7
Sweet Thames I honour thee, not for thou art
The chiefest River of the fairest Ile,
Nor for thou dost admirers eies beguile,
But for thou hold'st the keeper of my heart,
For on thy waves, (thy Christal-billow'd waves),
My fairest faire, my silver Swan is swimming:
Against the sunne his pruned feathers trimming:
Whilst Neptune his faire feete with water laves,
Neptune, I feare not thee, nor yet thine eie,
And yet (alas) Apollo lov'd a boy,
And Cyparissus was Silvanus joy.
No, no, I feare none but faire Thetis, I
For if she spie my Love, (alas) aie me,
My mirth is turn'd to extreame miserie.
poem by Richard Barnfield
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The Secretary
While with labour assiduous due pleasure I mix,
And in one day atone for the business of six,
In a little Dutch chaise, on a Saturday night,
On my left hand my Horace, a W* on my right
No memoirs to compose, and no postboy to move,
That on Sunday may hinder the softness of love;
For her, neither visits, nor parties at tea,
Nor the long-winded cant of a dull refugee:
This night and the next shall be here, shall be mine,
To good or ill fortune the third we resign:
Thus scorning the world, and superior to fate,
I drive on my car in processional state;
So with Phia through Athens Pisistratus rode,
Men thought her Minerva, and him a new god.
But why should I stories of Athens rehearse,
Where people knew love, and were partial to verse;
Since none can with justice my pleasure oppose,
In Holland half drown'd in interest and prose?
By Greece and past ages what need I be tried,
When the Hague and the present are both on my side?
And is it enough for the joys of the day
To think what Anacreon or Sappho would say?
When good Vendergoes and his provident Vrow,
As they gaze on my triumph, do freely allow
That search all the province, you'll find no man dar is
So bless'd as the
English heer Secretar'
is.
poem by Matthew Prior
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If Peace Should Be Peaceful
Someone, whose name I remember not,
Held in high esteem by friend and foe alike,
Said, ' There is no good war, neither bad peace.'
How true! How obvious! It seemed
at first glance.
But then, peace also is not peaceful at times.
Peace! Peace! Peace!
All peoples, of all ages
All creatures of all orders
And philosophers throughout the ages,
Sang, extolled, and praised and sought it;
It was preached from church altars,
It was taught from podiums in halls of world gatherings.
But peace has not always been peaceful.
Peace, much desired, much sought after, as it is;
Is abhorred, derided and avoided just as much.
For peace also needs to be peaceful.
And for peace to be so peaceful we need to build on peace.
If peace should be peaceful, it must needs be peaceful.
And this- possible only when people are at peace with themselves-;
Because, as it were, one cannot give what he hath not.
('nemo dat quod non habet') .
poem by Isaias Yemane
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The Odyssey: Book 7
Thus, then, did Ulysses wait and pray; but the girl drove on to
the town. When she reached her father's house she drew up at the
gateway, and her brothers- comely as the gods- gathered round her,
took the mules out of the waggon, and carried the clothes into the
house, while she went to her own room, where an old servant,
Eurymedusa of Apeira, lit the fire for her. This old woman had been
brought by sea from Apeira, and had been chosen as a prize for
Alcinous because he was king over the Phaecians, and the people obeyed
him as though he were a god. She had been nurse to Nausicaa, and had
now lit the fire for her, and brought her supper for her into her
own room.
Presently Ulysses got up to go towards the town; and Minerva shed
a thick mist all round him to hide him in case any of the proud
Phaecians who met him should be rude to him, or ask him who he was.
Then, as he was just entering the town, she came towards him in the
likeness of a little girl carrying a pitcher. She stood right in front
of him, and Ulysses said:
"My dear, will you be so kind as to show me the house of king
Alcinous? I am an unfortunate foreigner in distress, and do not know
one in your town and country."
Then Minerva said, "Yes, father stranger, I will show you the
house you want, for Alcinous lives quite close to my own father. I
will go before you and show the way, but say not a word as you go, and
do not look at any man, nor ask him questions; for the people here
cannot abide strangers, and do not like men who come from some other
place. They are a sea-faring folk, and sail the seas by the grace of
Neptune in ships that glide along like thought, or as a bird in the
air."
On this she led the way, and Ulysses followed in her steps; but
not one of the Phaecians could see him as he passed through the city
in the midst of them; for the great goddess Minerva in her good will
towards him had hidden him in a thick cloud of darkness. He admired
their harbours, ships, places of assembly, and the lofty walls of
the city, which, with the palisade on top of them, were very striking,
and when they reached the king's house Minerva said:
"This is the house, father stranger, which you would have me show
you. You will find a number of great people sitting at table, but do
not be afraid; go straight in, for the bolder a man is the more likely
he is to carry his point, even though he is a stranger. First find the
queen. Her name is Arete, and she comes of the same family as her
husband Alcinous. They both descend originally from Neptune, who was
father to Nausithous by Periboea, a woman of great beauty. Periboea
was the youngest daughter of Eurymedon, who at one time reigned over
the giants, but he ruined his ill-fated people and lost his own life
to boot.
"Neptune, however, lay with his daughter, and she had a son by
him, the great Nausithous, who reigned over the Phaecians.
Nausithous had two sons Rhexenor and Alcinous; Apollo killed the first
of them while he was still a bridegroom and without male issue; but he
left a daughter Arete, whom Alcinous married, and honours as no
other woman is honoured of all those that keep house along with
their husbands.
"Thus she both was, and still is, respected beyond measure by her
children, by Alcinous himself, and by the whole people, who look
upon her as a goddess, and greet her whenever she goes about the city,
for she is a thoroughly good woman both in head and heart, and when
any women are friends of hers, she will help their husbands also to
settle their disputes. If you can gain her good will, you may have
every hope of seeing your friends again, and getting safely back to
your home and country."
Then Minerva left Scheria and went away over the sea. She went to
Marathon and to the spacious streets of Athens, where she entered
the abode of Erechtheus; but Ulysses went on to the house of Alcinous,
and he pondered much as he paused a while before reaching the
threshold of bronze, for the splendour of the palace was like that
of the sun or moon. The walls on either side were of bronze from end
to end, and the cornice was of blue enamel. The doors were gold, and
hung on pillars of silver that rose from a floor of bronze, while
the lintel was silver and the hook of the door was of gold.
On either side there stood gold and silver mastiffs which Vulcan,
with his consummate skill, had fashioned expressly to keep watch
over the palace of king Alcinous; so they were immortal and could
never grow old. Seats were ranged all along the wall, here and there
from one end to the other, with coverings of fine woven work which the
women of the house had made. Here the chief persons of the Phaecians
used to sit and eat and drink, for there was abundance at all seasons;
and there were golden figures of young men with lighted torches in
their hands, raised on pedestals, to give light by night to those
who were at table. There are fifty maid servants in the house, some of
whom are always grinding rich yellow grain at the mill, while others
work at the loom, or sit and spin, and their shuttles go, backwards
and forwards like the fluttering of aspen leaves, while the linen is
so closely woven that it will turn oil. As the Phaecians are the
best sailors in the world, so their women excel all others in weaving,
for Minerva has taught them all manner of useful arts, and they are
very intelligent.
Outside the gate of the outer court there is a large garden of about
four acres with a wall all round it. It is full of beautiful trees-
pears, pomegranates, and the most delicious apples. There are luscious
figs also, and olives in full growth. The fruits never rot nor fail
all the year round, neither winter nor summer, for the air is so
soft that a new crop ripens before the old has dropped. Pear grows
on pear, apple on apple, and fig on fig, and so also with the
grapes, for there is an excellent vineyard: on the level ground of a
part of this, the grapes are being made into raisins; in another
part they are being gathered; some are being trodden in the wine tubs,
others further on have shed their blossom and are beginning to show
fruit, others again are just changing colour. In the furthest part
of the ground there are beautifully arranged beds of flowers that
are in bloom all the year round. Two streams go through it, the one
turned in ducts throughout the whole garden, while the other is
carried under the ground of the outer court to the house itself, and
the town's people draw water from it. Such, then, were the
splendours with which the gods had endowed the house of king Alcinous.
So here Ulysses stood for a while and looked about him, but when
he had looked long enough he crossed the threshold and went within the
precincts of the house. There he found all the chief people among
the Phaecians making their drink-offerings to Mercury, which they
always did the last thing before going away for the night. He went
straight through the court, still hidden by the cloak of darkness in
which Minerva had enveloped him, till he reached Arete and King
Alcinous; then he laid his hands upon the knees of the queen, and at
that moment the miraculous darkness fell away from him and he became
visible. Every one was speechless with surprise at seeing a man there,
but Ulysses began at once with his petition.
"Queen Arete," he exclaimed, "daughter of great Rhexenor, in my
distress I humbly pray you, as also your husband and these your guests
(whom may heaven prosper with long life and happiness, and may they
leave their possessions to their children, and all the honours
conferred upon them by the state) to help me home to my own country as
soon as possible; for I have been long in trouble and away from my
friends."
Then he sat down on the hearth among the ashes and they all held
their peace, till presently the old hero Echeneus, who was an
excellent speaker and an elder among the Phaeacians, plainly and in
all honesty addressed them thus:
"Alcinous," said he, "it is not creditable to you that a stranger
should be seen sitting among the ashes of your hearth; every one is
waiting to hear what you are about to say; tell him, then, to rise and
take a seat on a stool inlaid with silver, and bid your servants mix
some wine and water that we may make a drink-offering to Jove the lord
of thunder, who takes all well-disposed suppliants under his
protection; and let the housekeeper give him some supper, of
whatever there may be in the house."
When Alcinous heard this he took Ulysses by the hand, raised him
from the hearth, and bade him take the seat of Laodamas, who had
been sitting beside him, and was his favourite son. A maid servant
then brought him water in a beautiful golden ewer and poured it into a
silver basin for him to wash his hands, and she drew a clean table
beside him; an upper servant brought him bread and offered him many
good things of what there was in the house, and Ulysses ate and drank.
Then Alcinous said to one of the servants, "Pontonous, mix a cup of
wine and hand it round that we may make drink-offerings to Jove the
lord of thunder, who is the protector of all well-disposed
suppliants."
Pontonous then mixed wine and water, and handed it round after
giving every man his drink-offering. When they had made their
offerings, and had drunk each as much as he was minded, Alcinous said:
"Aldermen and town councillors of the Phaeacians, hear my words. You
have had your supper, so now go home to bed. To-morrow morning I shall
invite a still larger number of aldermen, and will give a
sacrificial banquet in honour of our guest; we can then discuss the
question of his escort, and consider how we may at once send him
back rejoicing to his own country without trouble or inconvenience
to himself, no matter how distant it may be. We must see that he comes
to no harm while on his homeward journey, but when he is once at
home he will have to take the luck he was born with for better or
worse like other people. It is possible, however, that the stranger is
one of the immortals who has come down from heaven to visit us; but in
this case the gods are departing from their usual practice, for
hitherto they have made themselves perfectly clear to us when we
have been offering them hecatombs. They come and sit at our feasts
just like one of our selves, and if any solitary wayfarer happens to
stumble upon some one or other of them, they affect no concealment,
for we are as near of kin to the gods as the Cyclopes and the savage
giants are."
Then Ulysses said: "Pray, Alcinous, do not take any such notion into
your head. I have nothing of the immortal about me, neither in body
nor mind, and most resemble those among you who are the most
afflicted. Indeed, were I to tell you all that heaven has seen fit
to lay upon me, you would say that I was still worse off than they
are. Nevertheless, let me sup in spite of sorrow, for an empty stomach
is a very importunate thing, and thrusts itself on a man's notice no
matter how dire is his distress. I am in great trouble, yet it insists
that I shall eat and drink, bids me lay aside all memory of my sorrows
and dwell only on the due replenishing of itself. As for yourselves,
do as you propose, and at break of day set about helping me to get
home. I shall be content to die if I may first once more behold my
property, my bondsmen, and all the greatness of my house."
Thus did he speak. Every one approved his saying, and agreed that he
should have his escort inasmuch as he had spoken reasonably. Then when
they had made their drink-offerings, and had drunk each as much as
he was minded they went home to bed every man in his own abode,
leaving Ulysses in the cloister with Arete and Alcinous while the
servants were taking the things away after supper. Arete was the first
to speak, for she recognized the shirt, cloak, and good clothes that
Ulysses was wearing, as the work of herself and of her maids; so she
said, "Stranger, before we go any further, there is a question I
should like to ask you. Who, and whence are you, and who gave you
those clothes? Did you not say you had come here from beyond the sea?"
And Ulysses answered, "It would be a long story Madam, were I to
relate in full the tale of my misfortunes, for the hand of heaven
has been laid heavy upon me; but as regards your question, there is an
island far away in the sea which is called 'the Ogygian.' Here
dwells the cunning and powerful goddess Calypso, daughter of Atlas.
She lives by herself far from all neighbours human or divine. Fortune,
however, me to her hearth all desolate and alone, for Jove struck my
ship with his thunderbolts, and broke it up in mid-ocean. My brave
comrades were drowned every man of them, but I stuck to the keel and
was carried hither and thither for the space of nine days, till at
last during the darkness of the tenth night the gods brought me to the
Ogygian island where the great goddess Calypso lives. She took me in
and treated me with the utmost kindness; indeed she wanted to make
me immortal that I might never grow old, but she could not persuade me
to let her do so.
"I stayed with Calypso seven years straight on end, and watered
the good clothes she gave me with my tears during the whole time;
but at last when the eighth year came round she bade me depart of
her own free will, either because Jove had told her she must, or
because she had changed her mind. She sent me from her island on a
raft, which she provisioned with abundance of bread and wine. Moreover
she gave me good stout clothing, and sent me a wind that blew both
warm and fair. Days seven and ten did I sail over the sea, and on
the eighteenth I caught sight of the first outlines of the mountains
upon your coast- and glad indeed was I to set eyes upon them.
Nevertheless there was still much trouble in store for me, for at this
point Neptune would let me go no further, and raised a great storm
against me; the sea was so terribly high that I could no longer keep
to my raft, which went to pieces under the fury of the gale, and I had
to swim for it, till wind and current brought me to your shores.
"There I tried to land, but could not, for it was a bad place and
the waves dashed me against the rocks, so I again took to the sea
and swam on till I came to a river that seemed the most likely landing
place, for there were no rocks and it was sheltered from the wind.
Here, then, I got out of the water and gathered my senses together
again. Night was coming on, so I left the river, and went into a
thicket, where I covered myself all over with leaves, and presently
heaven sent me off into a very deep sleep. Sick and sorry as I was I
slept among the leaves all night, and through the next day till
afternoon, when I woke as the sun was westering, and saw your
daughter's maid servants playing upon the beach, and your daughter
among them looking like a goddess. I besought her aid, and she
proved to be of an excellent disposition, much more so than could be
expected from so young a person- for young people are apt to be
thoughtless. She gave me plenty of bread and wine, and when she had
had me washed in the river she also gave me the clothes in which you
see me. Now, therefore, though it has pained me to do so, I have
told you the whole truth."
Then Alcinous said, "Stranger, it was very wrong of my daughter
not to bring you on at once to my house along with the maids, seeing
that she was the first person whose aid you asked."
"Pray do not scold her," replied Ulysses; "she is not to blame.
She did tell me to follow along with the maids, but I was ashamed
and afraid, for I thought you might perhaps be displeased if you saw
me. Every human being is sometimes a little suspicious and irritable."
"Stranger," replied Alcinous, "I am not the kind of man to get angry
about nothing; it is always better to be reasonable; but by Father
Jove, Minerva, and Apollo, now that I see what kind of person you are,
and how much you think as I do, I wish you would stay here, marry my
daughter, and become my son-in-law. If you will stay I will give you a
house and an estate, but no one (heaven forbid) shall keep you here
against your own wish, and that you may be sure of this I will
attend to-morrow to the matter of your escort. You can sleep during
the whole voyage if you like, and the men shall sail you over smooth
waters either to your own home, or wherever you please, even though it
be a long way further off than Euboea, which those of my people who
saw it when they took yellow-haired Rhadamanthus to see Tityus the son
of Gaia, tell me is the furthest of any place- and yet they did the
whole voyage in a single day without distressing themselves, and
came back again afterwards. You will thus see how much my ships
excel all others, and what magnificent oarsmen my sailors are."
Then was Ulysses glad and prayed aloud saying, "Father Jove, grant
that Alcinous may do all as he has said, for so he will win an
imperishable name among mankind, and at the same time I shall return
to my country."
Thus did they converse. Then Arete told her maids to set a bed in
the room that was in the gatehouse, and make it with good red rugs,
and to spread coverlets on the top of them with woollen cloaks for
Ulysses to wear. The maids thereon went out with torches in their
hands, and when they had made the bed they came up to Ulysses and
said, "Rise, sir stranger, and come with us for your bed is ready,"
and glad indeed was he to go to his rest.
So Ulysses slept in a bed placed in a room over the echoing gateway;
but Alcinous lay in the inner part of the house, with the queen his
wife by his side.
poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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Verses - Spoken to Lady Henrietta Cavendish Holles-Harley, Countess of Oxford
Madam, Since Anna visited the muse's seat,
(Around her tomb let weeping angels wait)
Hail, thou, the brightest of thy sex, and best,
Most gracious neighbour and most welcome guest:
Not Harley's self, to Cam and Isis dear,
In virtues and in arts great Oxford's heir,
Not he such present honour shall receive
As to his consort we aspire to give.
Writings of men our thought to-day neglects,
To pay due homage to the softer sex:
Plato and Tully we forbear to read,
And their great followers whom this house has bred,
To study lessons from thy morals given,
And shining characters impress'd by Heaven.
Science in books no longer we pursue,
Minerva's self in Harriet's face we view;
For when with Beauty we can Virtue join,
We paint the semblance of a form divine.
Their pious incense let our neighbours bring
To the kind memory of some bounteous king:
With grateful hand due altars let them raise
To some good knight's or holy prelate's praise;
We tune our voices to a nobler theme,
Your eyes we bless, your praises we proclaim;
Saint John's was founded in a woman's name.
Enjoin'd by statute, to the fair we bow;
In spite of time we keep our ancient vow;
What Marg'ret Tudor was, in Harriet Harley now.
poem by Matthew Prior
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Licia Sonnets 11
In Ida vale three queens the shepherd saw,
Queens of esteem, divine they were all three,
A sight of worth. But I a wonder shaw,
Their virtues all in one alone to be.
Licia the fair, surpassing Venus' pride,
(The matchless queen, commander of the gods,
When drawn with doves she in her pomp doth ride)
Hath far more beauty, and more grace by odds
Juno, Jove's wife, unmeet to make compare,
I grant a goddess, but not half so mild;
Minerva wise, a virtue, but not rare;
Yet these are mean, if that my love but smiled.
She them surpasseth, when their prides are full
As far as they surpass the meanest trull.
poem by Giles Fletcher The Elder
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Momus, God Of Laughter
Though with gods the world is cumbered,
Gods unnamed, and gods unnumbered,
Never god was known to be
Who had not his devotee.
So I dedicate to mine,
Here in verse, my temple-shrine.
‘Tis not Ares, - mighty Mars,
Who can give success in wars.
‘Tis not Morpheus, who doth keep
Guard above us while we sleep,
‘Tis not Venus, she whose duty
‘Tis to give us love and beauty;
Hail to these, and others, after
Momus, gleesome god of laughter.
Quirinus would guard my health,
Plutus would insure me wealth;
Mercury looks after trade,
Hera smiles on youth and maid.
All are kind, I own their worth,
After Momus, god of mirth.
Though Apollo, out of spite,
Hides away his face of light,
Though Minerva looks askance,
Deigning me no smiling glance,
Kings and queens may envy me
While I claim the god of glee.
Wisdom wearies, Love had wings –
Wealth makes burdens, Pleasure stings,
Glory proves a thorny crown –
So all gifts the gods throw down
Bring their pains and troubles after;
All save Momus, god of laughter.
He alone gives constant joy.
Hail to Momus, happy boy.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Written For My Son
When Athens was for Arts and Arms renown'd,
Olympic Wreaths uncommon Merit crown'd.
These slight Distinctions from the Learn'd and Wise,
Convey'd eternal Honour with the Prize:
'Twas this, the gen'rous Love of Fame inspir'd,
And Grecian Breasts with noblest Ardor fir'd.
For like Rewards like Judges we implore:
Immortal Fame, with Grecian Arts, restore:
Our growing Merit with Indulgence view;
And sure you'll favour what distinguish'd you.
Leave Ignorance and Sloth to Scorn and Shame;
But crown the Worthy with immortal Fame;
And Fame, conferr'd by you, can never fail:
What Men have purchas'd, they of Right entail.
poem by Mary Barber
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lily Of The Valley
I am forever searching high and low
But why does everyone tell me no
Neptune of the seas an answer for me please
The lily of the valley doesn't know
I lie in wait with open eyes
I carry on through stormy skies
I follow every course my kingdom for a horse
But each time I grow old
Serpent of the Nile relieve me for a while
And cast me from your spell and let me go
Messenger from seven seas has flown
To tell the king of Rhye he's lost his throne
Wars will never cease
Is there time enough for peace?
The lily of the valley doesn't know
song performed by by Queen from Sheer Heart Attack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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