The Russ at Kara
O King of kings, that watching from Thy throne
Sufferest the monster of Ust-Kara's hold,
With bosom than Siberia's wastes more cold,
And hear'st the wail of captives crushed and prone,
And sett'st no sign in heaven! Shall naught atone
For their wild pangs whose tale is yet scarce told,
Women by uttermost woe made deadly bold,
In the far dungeon's night that hid their moan?
Why waits Thy shattering arm, nor smites this Power
Whose beak and talons rend the unshielded breast,
Whose wings shed terror and a plague of gloom,
Whose ravin is the hearts of the oppressed;
Whose brood are hell-births-Hate that bides its hour,
Wrath, and a people's curse that loathe their doom?
poem by William Watson
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Related quotes
Wild Europe
WILD Europe, red with Woden's dreadful dew,
On fire with Loki's hate, more savage than
Beasts that we shame by likening to man,
Was it toward this the toiling centuries grew?
Was it for this the Reign of Love began
In that young heretic, that gracious Jew,
Whose race His followers flout the ages through?
Is Time at last a mere comedian,
Mocking in cap and bells our pompous boast
Of progress? Nay, we will not bear it so.
A million hands launch ships to succor woe;
The stars that shudder o'er the slaughtering host
Rain blessing on the Red Cross groups that go
Careless of shrapnel, emulous for the post
Where foul diseases wreak their uttermost
Of horror. Saintship walks incognito
As scoffing Science, but Christ knows His, own
Sway as it may, the wargod's fell caprice,
The victories of Love shall still increase
Until at last, from all this wail and moan,
Rises the song of brotherhood to cease
No more, no more, —the song that shall atone
Even for this mad agony. The throne
That war is building is the throne of Peace.
poem by Katharine Lee Bates
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Christmas Hymn
Praise to God whose love was shown
Who sent his son to earth
Jesus left his rightful throne
Became a man by birth
The virgins baby son
All creation praised him
God incarnate come
Come to bethlehem
Still a higher call had he
Deliverance from our sins
Come to set all people free
From satans hold within
For by the sin of man we fell
By the son of god
He crushed the power of hell
Death we fear no more
Now we stand with strength, with power
The sons of God on earth
Faithful to the final hour
Christs righteousness our worth
And now all praise is given
For the babe, the son
The savior king is risen
Christ is lord indeed
For the babe, the son
The savior king is risen
Christ is lord indeed
song performed by by Amy Grant
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The Divine Right Of Kings
The only king by right divine
Is Ellen King, and were she mine
I'd strive for liberty no more,
But hug the glorious chains I wore.
Her bosom is an ivory throne,
Where tyrant virtue reigns alone ;
No subject vice dare interfere,
To check the power that governs here.
O! would she deign to rule my fate,
I'd worship Kings and kingly state,
And hold this maxim all life long,
The King — my King — can do no wrong.
poem by Edgar Allan Poe
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The Great Sorrow
Voice of a great wind, of wild ocean surges,
Storming the gates of Heaven,
The people of God singing under the scourges
Wherewith they are healed and shriven.
This is no sound, no wail of lamentation
Such as of old was heard
When Rachael cried to Heaven her desolation
Until all Heaven was stirred.
The people sing, crushed in the wine-press ruddy,
Broken but not dismayed,
The triumph-song of the soul over the body
Heaven-lifted, angel-stayed.
The white sorrow homes to the heavenly portal.
This grief, this grief has wings --
Blood on her breast, but through the groves immortal
Her song of triumph rings.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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A Voice from Afar
Weep not for me;—
Be blithe as wont, nor tinge with gloom
The stream of love that circles home,
Light hearts and free!
Joy in the gifts Heaven’s bounty lends;
Nor miss my face, dear friends!
I still am near;—
Watching the smiles I prized on earth,
Your converse mild, your blameless mirth;
Now too I hear
Of whisper’d sounds the tale complete,
Low prayers, and musings sweet.
A sea before
The Throne is spread;—its pure still glass
Pictures all earth-scenes as they pass.
We, on its shore,
Share, in the bosom of our rest,
God's knowledge, and are blest.
poem by John Henry Newman
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The Marseillaise
What means this mighty chant, wherein its wail
Of some intolerable woe, grown strong
With sense of more intolerable wrong
Swells to a stern victorious march--a gale
Of vengeful wrath? What mean the faces pale,
The fierce resolve, the ecstatic pangs along
Life's fiery ways, the demon thoughts which throng
The gates of awe, when these wild notes assail
The sleeping of our souls ? Hear ye no more
Than the mad foam of revolution's leaven,
Than a roused people's throne-o'erwhelming tread?
Hark! 'tis man's spirit thundering on the shore
Of iron fate; the tramp of Titans dread,
Sworn to dethrone the Gods unjust from Heaven.
poem by John Todhunter
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The Power Of God
If the power of God were mine, and the ample turn,
I never could dwell in my law, which is 'stablished and stern,
But my pity would plague me still! In the fare of my state
I would summon my ministers often to reprobate:
'Do ye see them walk on the unwaked streets of the town?
Are they not of my handmaidens, burdened and bending down?
'It is not yet day, and my tale of the stars not told,
But already they bear of their burdens, and tremble of cold.
'Do ye heed not her, ye stony and reconciled,
One gathering sticks for a fire, who is heavy with child?
'And one was so heavy with sleep that she watched not, and slept
Till it nearly was dawn, and then she arose and wept.
'Previsal I made, and the burning of quenchless gold,
Yet still they bedevil my kingdom, the dark and the cold.
'There is labor appointed, I know not if it shall cease,
Yet anon cometh night, and my daughters shall lie in peace.
'What avoideth my glory of firmaments keeping the way,
If the poor soft flesh must trouble before the day?
'Or spectacular stars, as they race to encircuit the deep,
If my littlest people is driven, and needeth sleep?
'For my absolute heaven is high, and nothing dependeth,
Yet it twitcheth my heart, when weeping of women ascendeth.
'Then arrange ye again how the people's task be done,
There shall no woman toil till they see my sign of the sun.'
poem by John Crowe Ransom
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Lines Addressed to a Young Lady
Doubtless, sweet girl! the hissing lead,
Wafting destruction o'er thy charms
And hurtling o'er thy lovely head,
Has fill'd that breast with fond alarms.
Surely some envious Demon's force,
Vex'd to behold such beauty here,
Impell'd the bullet's viewless course,
Diverted from its first career.
Yes! in that nearly fatal hour,
The ball obey'd some hell-born guide;
But Heaven, with interposing power,
In pity turn'd the death aside.
Yet, as perchance one trembling tear
Upon that thrilling bosom fell;
Which I, th' unconscious cause of fear,
Extracted from its glistening cell;
Say, what dire penance can atone
For such an outrage, done to thee?
Arraign'd before thy beauty's throne,
What punishment wilt thou decree?
Might I perform the Judge's part,
The sentence I should scarce deplore;
It only would restore a heart,
Which but belong'd to thee before.
The least atonement I can make
Is to become no longer free;
Henceforth, I breathe but for thy sake,
Thou shalt be all in all to me.
But thou, perhaps, may'st now reject
Such expiation of my guilt;
Come then, some other mode elect?
Let it be death, or what thou wilt.
Choose, then, relentless! and I swear
Nought shall thy dread decree prevent;
Yet hold—one little word forbear!
Let it be aught but banishment.
poem by Byron (1806)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Barbarous Chief
There was a kingdom known as the Mind,
A kingdom vast as fair,
And the brave king, Brain, had the right to reign,
In royal splendor there.
Oh! that was a beautiful, beautiful land,
Which unto this king was given;
Filled with everything good and grand,
And it reached from earth to heaven.
But a savage monster came one day
From over a distant border;
He warred with the king and disputed his sway,
And set the whole land in disorder.
He mounted the throne, which he made his own,
He sunk the kingdom in grief.
There was trouble and shame from the hour he came-
Illtemper, the barbarous chief.
He threw down the castles of love and peace,
He burned up the altars of prayers.
He trod down the grain that was planted by Brain,
And scattered thistles and tares.
He wasted the store-house of knowledge and drove
Queen Wisdom away in fright;
And a terrible gloom, like the cloud of doom,
Shrouded that land in night.
Bent on more havoc away he rushed
To the neighboring kingdom, Heart;
And the blossoms of kindness and hope he crushed-
And patience he pierced with his dart,
And he even went on to the Isthmus Soul,
That unites the mind with God,
And its beautiful bowers of fragrant flowers
With a ruthless heel he trod.
To you is given this wonderful land
Where the lordly Brain has sway;
But the border ruffian is near at hand,
Be on your guard, I pray.
Beware of Illtemper, the barbarous chief,
He is cruel as vice or sin,
And your beautiful kingdom will come to grief
If once you let him in.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Mercyful Fate (live)
Satan's Fall
They're walking by the night
The moon has frozen blue
Long black coats a shelter for the rain
Their load must get through
Now bats are leaving their trees
They're joining the call
Seven satanic Hell preachers
Heading for the hall
Bringing the blood of a newborn child
Got to succeed if not it's Satan's fall
Curse Of The Pharaohs
Away out in Egypt in the valley of kings
Where the mummified pharaohs
Pretend dead in their sleep
Don't touch, never ever steal
Unless you're in for the kill
Or you'll be hit by the curse of the pharaohs
Yes you'll be hit and the curse is on you
The curse of the pharaohs can be so deadly
Just destroying your future
Makin' it all shady
Don't touch, never ever steal
Unless you're in for the kill
Or you'll be hit by the curse of the pharaohs
Yes you'll be hit and the curse is on you
A Corpse Without Soul
Listen, I'm a corpse, I'm a corpse
I'm a corpse without soul
Satan, he's taken, he's taken
He's taken his toll
And he took it on me
I, I'm trapped, I'm trapped
I'm trapped in his spell
Tonight, I'm going, I'm going
I'm going to Hell, inside his spell
Into The Coven
Howl like a wolf
And a witch will open the door
Follow me and meet our high priestess
Come, come into my coven
And become Lucifer's child
Undress until you're naked
And put on this white coat
Take this white cross and go to the center of the ring
Come, come into my coven
And become Lucifer's child
Evil
I was born on the cemetery
Under the sign of the moon
Raised from my grave by the dead
And I was made a mercenary
In the legions of Hell
Now I'm king of pain, I'm insane
You know my only pleasure
Is to hear you cry
I'd love to hear you cry
I'd love to see you die
And I'll be the first
To watch your funeral
And I'll be the last to leave
I'd love to hear you cry
And when you're down beyond the ground
I'll dig up your body again
And make love to shame
Oh lady cry, and say goodbye
Oh lady cry, and say goodbye
You've gotta say goodbye
'Cause I will eat your mind
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Curse The Sky
How much hate
can one man feel
When his kingdom is crumbling
How much pain
Can one mant take
When his future is melting
Eyes of fire blast his brain
cursing heaven an hell
Nothing barred just asking why
No answers to be heard
Fire eyes, curse the skies
Thanks maker for
questions unanswered
Falsify, disposition died
You detest the faker
Eyes, lies
I curse the skies
Tell me something
Tell me why
Terror reigns, I'm in pain
Why, Why, I curse the sky
Tattered times and
Brainwashed minds
Cluttering up his thinking
Boiled hate just can't wait
There's no more self control
Eyes, lies
I curse the skies
Tell me something
Tell me why
Terror reigns, I'm in pain
Why, why, I curse the sky
song performed by by Iced Earth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Comfort In The End
We get comfort about the End, when in The Word, time we spend,
Writings of Apostle John and Paul, from the visions that they saw,
In those words they have penned, from the Spirit God would send,
So Believers can better understand, the times that are well at hand.
Even those writings of Daniel, help us to see God’s Sovereign will,
Speaking then, of the time ahead, filled with evil, doom and dread,
Daniel speaks of the Nation Israel, and how in time God shall fulfill,
The final times for God’s nation, in the Prophet Daniel’s Revelation.
We are told of a leader to come, and of the evil of where he’s from,
As Satan will be filling this man, to carry out Satan’s darkened plan,
When the devil fills him with power, readied for man’s Darkest Hour,
The hour this man deceives the world, and the Tribulation’s unfurled.
All will precede the Judgment of God, poured upon this earthly sod,
As God’s Wrath of indignation, will be poured down on every nation,
While God destroys every enemy, in a way, which every eye will see,
Destroying every enemy of Truth, with His Wrath of Eternal Reproof.
But, we’re told we won’t see wrath; with Believers on a different path,
Before that Evil One is revealed, God will snatch up all those sealed,
And before God’s Wrath is poured, we shall be raptured by our Lord,
To return with The King of kings, when He returns, to renew all things.
(Copyright ©07/2009)
Washington City Prison
Thou dark and drear and melancholy pile!
Who seemest, like a guilty penitent,
To brood o'er horrors in thy bosom pent,
Until the sunbeams that around thee smile,
And the glad breath of heaven, have become
A hatred and a mockery to thy gloom—
Stern fabric! I'll commune with thee awhile!
And from thy hollow echoes, and the gale
That moans round thy dark cells, win back the tale
Of thy past history;—give thy stones a tongue,
And bid them answer me, and let the sighs
That round thy walls so heavily arise,
Be vocal, and declare from whence they sprung;
And by what passion of intense despair—
What aching throb of life consuming care,
From the torn heart of anguish they were wrung.
Receptacle of guilt! hath guilt, alone,
Stain'd with its falling tears thy foot-worn floor,
When the harsh echo of the closing door
Hath died upon the ear, and flinging prone
His form upon the earth, thy chilling gloom
Seem'd to the wretch the sentence of his doom—
Say, bear'st thou witness to no heart-wrung groan,
Bursting from sinless bosoms, whom the hand
Of tyrant power hath sever'd from the band
Of the earth's holiest and dearest things,
And thrust amidst thy darkness? Speak! declare
If only the rude felon's curse and prayer,
Mix'd with wild wail and wilder laughter rings
Within those dreary wall!—or if there be
No spirit fainting there with agony,
That not from their own crimes, but foul oppression springs.
Ha! am I answer'd?—in that startling cry,
Bursting from some wild breast, with anguish riven,
And rising up to register in heaven
Its blighting tale of outrage—the reply
Was heard distinctly terrible.—It sprung
From a sad household group, who wildly clung
Together, in their frantic agony,
Till they were torn by savage hands apart,
Fond arms from twining arms, and heart from heart,
Never to meet again! what had they done,
Thou tool of avarice and tyranny!—
That they should thus be given o'er to thee,
And thy guilt-haunted cells?—were sire and son,
Mother and babe, all partners in one crime,
As dreadful as the fate that through all time,
Clings to them with a grasp they may not shun?
No!—let the tale be spoken, though it burn
The cheek with shame to breathe it—let it go
Forth on the winds, that the wide globe may know
Our vileness, and the rudest savage turn
And point, with taunting finger, to the spot
Whereon thou standest; that all men may blot
Our name with its deserved taint, and spurn
Our vaunting laws of justice with the heel
Of low contumely; that every peal
Of triumph, may be answer'd with a shout
Of biting mockery; and our starry flag,
Our glorious banner! may, dishonour'd, drag
Its proud folds in the dust, or only flout
The gales of heaven, to be a broader mark
For scorn to spit at—oh, thou depôt dark,
Where souls and human limbs are meted out,
In fiendish traffic:—no! those weeping ones
Have done no evil—but their brother's hand,
Hath rudely burst the sacred household band,
And given, with heart more flinty than thy stones,
His victims to thy keeping, and thy chains,
Till he hath sold them!—they within whose veins
Blood like his own is coursing, and whose moans
Are torn from hearts as deathless as his own!
And there thou stand'st!—where Freedom's altar stone
Is darken'd by thy shadows,—and the cry,
That thrills so fearfully upon the air,
With its wild tale of anguish and despair,
Blends with the paeans that are swelling high,
To do her homage!—I have sometimes felt
As I could hate my country for her guilt,—
Until in bitter tears the mood went by.
poem by Elizabeth Margaret Chandler from Poetical Works (1836)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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One & The Same
Feat. ndea davenport
One and the same, one and the same
I wish I could see beyond the filthy blue horizon, see what lies ahead of me
Perhaps Id see the path of my own destruction
And avoid my destiny, she said heaven and hell is one and the same boy
She told me heaven and hell, boy, was one and the same
We all meet somewhere in the middle
She told me heaven and hell, boy, is one and the same
I said it cant be true
I wish I could touch you in some totally new fashion
Who are you girl, Im a man, now I cant guarentee your complete satisfaction
So Im gonna do you the very best way I can
She said heaven and hell is one and the same, boy
She told me heaven and hell, boy, is one and the same
We all meet somewhere in the middle
She told me heaven and hell, boy, is one and the same
I said it cant be true
Wish I could find some time to stop and smell the roses
My landlord wont let me be, my head is full of paranoia
New roses, tryin to consume my identity
She said heaven and hell is one and the same, boy
She told me heaven and hell, boy, is one and the same
We all meet somewhere in the middle, yes we do
She told me heaven and hell, boy, is one and the same
I said it cant be true, it just cant be true
Children grow and women produce and men go work and some go stealin (repeat x1)
Heaven and hell (children grow and women produce), here on earth (and men go work and some go stealin) x7
song performed by by Everlast
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For Frank Gardiner
It is not in a prison drear
Where all around is gloom,
That I would end life's wild career,
And sink into the tomb,
For though my spirit's ever bold
Each tyrant to defy;
Still, still, within a dungeon cold,
I could not calmly die.
It is not that my cheek would pale
Within a lonely cell;
It is not that my heart would quail
To bid this world farewell.
For if oppressed by tyrant foe
I'd freely be the first
To give my life, and strike the blow
To lay him in the dust.
But place me in a forest glen
Unfettered, wild and free,
Wtih fifty tried and chosen men
A bandit chief to be.
'Tis there, when fighting with my foes
Amid my trusty band,
I'd freely leave this world of woes,
And die with sword in hand.
poem by Owen Suffolk
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Mercyful Fate Medley
They're walking by the night
The moon has frozen blue
Long black coats a shelter for the rain
Their load must get through
Now bats are leaving their trees
They're joining the call
Seven satanic Hell preachers
Heading for the hall
Bringing the blood of a newborn child, yeah
Got to succeed, if not it's Satan's fall
Way out in Egypt in the valley of kings
Where the mummified pharaohs
Pretend dead in their sleep, yeah
Don't touch, never ever steal
Unless you're in for the kill
Or you've been hit, by the curse of the pharaohs
Yes you've been hit, and the curse is on you
Ooh, the curse of the pharaohs can be so deadly
Just destroying your future
Makin' it all shady
Don't touch, never ever steal
Unless you're in for the kill
In for the kill
Or you'll be hit, by the curse of the pharaohs
Yes you'll be hit, and the curse is on you
Listen, yeah
I'm a corpse
I'm a corpse
I'm a corpse without soul
Satan, yeah
He's taken
He's taken
He's taken his toll
He took it on me
I, yeah
I'm trapped
I'm trapped
I'm trapped in his spell
Tonight, yeah
I'm going
I'm going
I'm going to Hell, inside his spell
Howl like a wolf
And a witch will open the door
Follow me, and meet our high priestess
Yeah, yeah, come, come into my coven
Yeah, yeah, and become Lucifer's child
Undress until you're naked
And put on this white coat
Take this white cross and go
To the center of the ring
Yeah, yeah, come, come into my coven
Yeah, yeah, and become Lucifer's child
I was born in the cemetery
Under the sign of the moon
Raised from my grave by the dead
And I was made a mercenary
In the legions of Hell
Now I'm king of pain, I'm insane
You know my only pleasure
Is to hear you cry
I'd love to hear you cry
I'd love to see you die
And I'll be the first
To watch your funeral
And I'll be the last to leave
I'd love to hear you cry
And when you're down
Beyond the ground
I'll dig up your body again
And make love to shame
Oh lady cry, and say goodbye, goodbye
Oh lady cry, and say goodbye
Yeah, you've gotta say goodbye
Yeah, 'cause I will eat your mind
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Genesis BK I
I
(ll. 1-28) Right is it that we praise the King of heaven, the
Lord of hosts, and love Him with all our hearts. For He is great
in power, the Source of all created things, the Lord Almighty.
Never hath He known beginning, neither cometh an end of His
eternal glory. Ever in majesty He reigneth over celestial
thrones; in righteousness and strength He keepeth the courts of
heaven which were established, broad and ample, by the might of
God, for angel dwellers, wardens of the soul. The angel legions
knew the blessedness of God, celestial joy and bliss. Great was
their glory! The mighty spirits magnified their Prince and sang
His praise with gladness, serving the Lord of life, exceeding
blessed in His splendour. They knew no sin nor any evil; but
dwelt in peace for ever with their Lord. They wrought no deed in
heaven save right and truth, until the angel prince in pride
walked in the ways of error. Then no longer would they work
their own advantage, but turned away from the love of God. They
boasted greatly, in their banded strength, that they could share
with God His glorious dwelling, spacious and heavenly bright.
(ll. 28-46) Then sorrow came upon them, envy and insolence and
pride of the angel who first began that deed of folly, to plot
and hatch it forth, and, thirsting for battle, boasted that in
the northern borders of heaven he would establish a throne and a
kingdom. Then was God angered and wrathful against that host
which He had crowned before with radiance and glory. For the
traitors, to reward their work, He shaped a house of pain and
grim affliction, and lamentations of hell. Our Lord prepared
this torture-house of exiles, deep and joyless, for the coming of
the angel hosts. Well He knew it lay enshrouded in eternal night,
and filled with woe, wrapped in fire and piercing cold,
smoke-veils and ruddy flame. And over that wretched realm He
spread the brooding terror of torment. They had wrought grievous
wrong together against God. Grim the reward they gained!
(ll. 47-77) Fierce of heart, they boasted they would take the
kingdom, and easily. But their hope failed them when the Lord,
High King of heaven, lifted His hand against their host. The
erring spirits, in their sin, might not prevail against the Lord,
but God, the Mighty, in His wrath, smote their insolence and
broke their pride, bereft these impious souls of victory and
power and dominion and glory; despoiled His foes of bliss and
peace and joy and radiant grace, and mightily avenged His wrath
upon them to their destruction. His heart was hardened against
them; with heavy hand He crushed His foes, subdued them to His
will, and, in His wrath, drove out the rebels from their ancient
home and seats of glory. Our Lord expelled and banished out of
heaven the presumptuous angel host. All-wielding God dismissed
the faithless horde, a hostile band of woeful spirits, upon a
long, long journey. Crushed was their pride, their boasting
humbled, their power broken, their glory dimmed. Thenceforth
those dusky spirits dwelt in exile. No cause had they to laugh
aloud, but, racked with pangs of hell, they suffered pain and woe
and tribulation, cloaked with darkness, knowing bitter anguish, a
grim requital, because they sought to strive with God.
(ll. 78-81) Then was there calm as formerly in heaven, the kindly
ways of peace. The Lord was dear to all, a Prince among His
thanes, and glory was renewed of angel legions knowing
blessedness with God.
Prometheus Unbound: Act I (excerpt)
SCENE.--A Ravine of Icy Rocks in the Indian Caucasus. Prometheus is discovered bound to the Precipice. Panthea and Ione areseated at his feet. Time, night. During the Scene, morning slowly breaks.
Prometheus.
Monarch of Gods and Dæmons, and all Spirits
But One, who throng those bright and rolling worlds
Which Thou and I alone of living things
Behold with sleepless eyes! regard this Earth
Made multitudinous with thy slaves, whom thou
Requitest for knee-worship, prayer, and praise,
And toil, and hecatombs of broken hearts,
With fear and self-contempt and barren hope.
Whilst me, who am thy foe, eyeless in hate,
Hast thou made reign and triumph, to thy scorn,
O'er mine own misery and thy vain revenge.
Three thousand years of sleep-unsheltered hours,
And moments aye divided by keen pangs
Till they seemed years, torture and solitude,
Scorn and despair,--these are mine empire:--
More glorious far than that which thou surveyest
From thine unenvied throne, O Mighty God!
Almighty, had I deigned to share the shame
Of thine ill tyranny, and hung not here
Nailed to this wall of eagle-baffling mountain,
Black, wintry, dead, unmeasured; without herb,
Insect, or beast, or shape or sound of life.
Ah me! alas, pain, pain ever, for ever!
No change, no pause, no hope! Yet I endure.
I ask the Earth, have not the mountains felt?
I ask yon Heaven, the all-beholding Sun,
Has it not seen? The Sea, in storm or calm,
Heaven's ever-changing Shadow, spread below,
Have its deaf waves not heard my agony?
Ah me! alas, pain, pain ever, for ever!
The crawling glaciers pierce me with the spears
Of their moon-freezing crystals, the bright chains
Eat with their burning cold into my bones.
Heaven's wingèd hound, polluting from thy lips
His beak in poison not his own, tears up
My heart; and shapeless sights come wandering by,
The ghastly people of the realm of dream,
Mocking me: and the Earthquake-fiends are charged
To wrench the rivets from my quivering wounds
When the rocks split and close again behind:
While from their loud abysses howling throng
The genii of the storm, urging the rage
Of whirlwind, and afflict me with keen hail.
And yet to me welcome is day and night,
Whether one breaks the hoar frost of the morn,
Or starry, dim, and slow, the other climbs
The leaden-coloured east; for then they lead
The wingless, crawling hours, one among whom
--As some dark Priest hales the reluctant victim--
Shall drag thee, cruel King, to kiss the blood
From these pale feet, which then might trample thee
If they disdained not such a prostrate slave.
Disdain! Ah no! I pity thee. What ruin
Will hunt thee undefended through wide Heaven!
How will thy soul, cloven to its depth with terror,
Gape like a hell within! I speak in grief,
Not exultation, for I hate no more,
As then ere misery made me wise. The curse
Once breathed on thee I would recall. Ye Mountains,
Whose many-voicèd Echoes, through the mist
Of cataracts, flung the thunder of that spell!
Ye icy Springs, stagnant with wrinkling frost,
Which vibrated to hear me, and then crept
Shuddering through India! Thou serenest Air,
Through which the Sun walks burning without beams!
And ye swift Whirlwinds, who on poisèd wings
Hung mute and moveless o'er yon hushed abyss,
As thunder, louder than your own, made rock
The orbèd world! If then my words had power,
Though I am changed so that aught evil wish
Is dead within; although no memory be
Of what is hate, let them not lose it now!
What was that curse? for ye all heard me speak....
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sat In Your Lap
I see the people working,
And see it working for them.
And so I want to join in,
But then I find it hurts me.
Some say that knowledge is something sat in your lap.
Some say that knowledge is something that you never have.
I see the people happy,
So can it happen for me?
cause when I am unhappy,
Theres nothing that can move me.
Some say that knowledge is something that you never have.
Some say that knowledge is something sat in your lap.
Some say that heaven is hell.
Some say that hell is heaven.
I must admit, just when I think Im king,
(I just begin.)
Just when I think Im king, I must admit,
(I just begin.)
Just when I think Im king,
(I just begin.)
Ive been doing it for years.
My goal is moving near.
It says, look! Im over here.
Then it up and disappears.
Some say that knowledge is something sat in your lap.
Some say that knowledge is ho-ho-ho-ho.
I want to be a lawyer.
I want to be a scholar.
But I really cant be bothered.
Ooh, just gimme it quick, gimme it, gimme gimme gimme gimme!
Some say that knowledge is ho ho ho.
Some say that knowledge is ho ho ho.
Some say that heaven is hell.
Some say that hell is heaven.
I must admit, just when I think Im king,
(I just begin.)
Just when I think Im king, I must admit,
(I just begin.)
Just when I think everythings going great,
(I just begin,)
Hey, I get the break,
Hey, Im gonna take it all--
(I just begin.)
When Im king--
(-- just begin.)
In my dome of ivory,
A home of activity,
I want the answers quickly,
But I dont have no energy.
I hold a cup of wisdom,
But there is nothing within.
My cup, she never overfloweth,
And tis I that moan- and groaneth.
Some grey and white matter,
Give me the karma, mama!
Im coming up the ladder,
A jet to mecca,
Im coming up the ladder,
Tibet or jeddah,
Up the ladder...
To salisbury,
A monastery,
The longest journey,
Across the desert,
Across the weather,
Across the elements,
Across the water!
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Satire against the citizens of London
London, hast thou accused me
Of breach of laws, the root of strife?
Within whose breast did boil to see,
So fervent hot, thy dissolute life,
That even the hate of sins that grow
Within thy wicked walls so rife,
For to break forth did convert so
That terror could it not repress.
The which, by words since preachers know
What hope is left for to redress,
By unknown means it liked me
My hidden burden to express,
Whereby it might appear to thee
That secret sin hath secret spite;
From justice' rod no fault is free;
But that all such as work unright
In most quiet are next ill rest.
In secret silence of the night
This made me, with a reckless breast,
To wake thy sluggards with my bow--
A figure of the Lord's behest,
Whose scourge for sin the Scriptures show.
That, as the fearful thunder-clap
By sudden flame at hand we know,
Of pebble-stones the soundless rap
The dreadful plague might make thee see
Of God's wrath that doth thee enwrap;
That pride might know, from conscience free
How lofty works may her defend;
And envy find, as he hath sought,
How other seek him to offend;
And wrath taste of each cruel thought
The just shapp higher in the end;
And idle sloth, that never wrought,
To heaven his spirit lift may begin;
And greedy lucre live in dread
To see what hate ill-got goods win;
The lechers, ye that lusts do feed,
Perceive what secrecy is in sin;
And gluttons' hearts for sorrow bleed,
Awaked, when their fault they find:
In loathsome vice each drunken wight
To stir to God, this was my mind.
Thy windows had done me no spite;
But proud people that dread no fall,
Clothed with falsehood and unright,
Bred in the closures of thy wall;
But wrested to wrath in fervent zeal,
Thou haste to strife, my secret call.
Endured hearts no warning feel.
O shameless whore, is dread then gone
By such thy foes as meant thy weal?
O member of false Babylon!
The shop of craft, the den of ire!
Thy dreadful doom draws fast upon;
Thy martyrs' blood, by sword and fire,
In heaven and earth for justice call.
The Lord shall hear their just desire;
The flame of wrath shall on thee fall;
With famine and pest lamentably
Stricken shall be thy lechers all;
Thy proud towers and turrets high,
En'mies to God, beat stone from stone,
Thine idols burnt that wrought iniquity;
When none thy ruin shall bemoan,
But render unto the right wise Lord
That so hath judged Babylon,
Immortal praise with one accord.
poem by Henry Howard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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