Genre Poetry. Page - 7
throne and monarchy of God,
Raised impious war in Heaven and battle proud,
With vain attempt. Him the Almighty Power
Hurled headlong flaming from th' ethereal sky,
With hideous ruin and combustion, down
To bottomless perdition, there to dwell
In adamantine chains and penal fire,
Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms.
Nine times the space that measures day and night
To mortal men, he, with his horrid crew,
Lay vanquished, rolling in the fiery gulf,
Confounded, though immortal. But his doom
Reserved him to more wrath; for now the thought
Both of lost happiness and lasting pain
Torments him: round he throws his baleful eyes,
That witnessed huge affliction and dismay,
Mixed with obdurate pride and steadfast hate.
At once, as far as Angels ken, he views
The dismal situation waste and wild.
A dungeon horrible, on all sides round,
As one great furnace flamed; yet from those flames
No light; but rather darkness visible
Served o
e land.
_Quezox:_ But, noble Francos, we now wend our wayTo meet the vermin which do suck our blood,And they with tongues which serpent-like can charmMay fool thee with their tales of dire intent.
_Francos: (striking his breast):_
Fear not, they soon shall feel how vain it were
To seek to trick one who, in halls of state,
Hath met the wiles of shrewd, self-seeking men,
But to ward off attack with virtue's shield.
_Captain and Seldonskip approach._
_Captain:_ Most noble potentate, as I my rounds
Of observation make, it pleasures me
Most mightily, to make obeisance to
The one so honored by his native land.
As captain of a vessel may be judged
By those subordinate to his command,
So do I quick conception of thee form.
By the broad mental gifts of Seldonskip
Who were the hose, through which thy mind doth squirt Most sapient thought, for mankind's betterment.
_Seldonskip:_ You bet his
rt and learning, pleasure, sense,
To glean eidolons.
Put in thy chants said he,
No more the puzzling hour nor day, nor segments, parts, put in,Put first before the rest as light for all and entrance-song of all,
That of eidolons.
Ever the dim beginning,
Ever the growth, the rounding of the circle,
Ever the summit and the merge at last, (to surely start again,)
Eidolons! eidolons!
Ever the mutable,
Ever materials, changing, crumbling, re-cohering,
Ever the ateliers, the factories divine,
Issuing eidolons.
Lo, I or you,
Or woman, man, or state, known or unknown,
We seeming solid wealth, strength, beauty build,
But really build eidolons.
The ostent evanescent,
The substance of an artist's mood or savan's studies long,
Or warrior's, martyr's, hero's toils,
To fashion his eidolon.
Of every human life,
(The units gather'd, posted, not a thought, emotion, deed, le
hell at length
Restore her, thence by envy first let loose.
I for thy profit pond'ring now devise,
That thou mayst follow me, and I thy guide
Will lead thee hence through an eternal space,
Where thou shalt hear despairing shrieks, and see
Spirits of old tormented, who invoke
A second death; and those next view, who dwell
Content in fire, for that they hope to come,
Whene'er the time may be, among the blest,
Into whose regions if thou then desire
T' ascend, a spirit worthier then I
Must lead thee, in whose charge, when I depart,
Thou shalt be left: for that Almighty King,
Who reigns above, a rebel to his law,
Adjudges me, and therefore hath decreed,
That to his city none through me should come.
He in all parts hath sway; there rules, there holds
His citadel and throne. O happy those,
Whom there he chooses!" I to him in few:
"Bard! by that God, whom thou didst not adore,
I do beseech thee (that this ill and worse
I may escap
l
grace that we greet him, the good one, now."
Wulfgar spake, the Wendles' chieftain,
whose might of mind to many was known,
his courage and counsel: "The king of Danes,
the Scyldings' friend, I fain will tell,
the Breaker-of-Rings, as the boon thou askest,
the famed prince, of thy faring hither,
and, swiftly after, such answer bring
as the doughty monarch may deign to give."
Hied then in haste to where Hrothgar sat
white-haired and old, his earls about him,
till the stout thane stood at the shoulder there
of the Danish king: good courtier he!
Wulfgar spake to his winsome lord: --
"Hither have fared to thee far-come men
o'er the paths of ocean, people of Geatland;
and the stateliest there by his sturdy band
is Beowulf named. This boon they seek,
that they, my master, may with thee
have speech at will: nor spurn their prayer
to give them hearing, gracious Hrothgar!
In weeds of the warrior worthy they,
methinks, of our l
THE HOUSE OF FAME
TROILUS AND CRESSIDA
CHAUCER'S DREAM [1]
THE PROLOGUE TO THE LEGEND OF GOOD WOMEN
CHAUCER'S A.B.C.
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS
Transcriber's Note.
- Modern scholars believe that Chaucer was not the author ofthese poems.
PREFACE.
THE object of this volume is to place before the general readerour two early poetic masterpieces -- The Canterbury Tales andThe Faerie Queen; to do so in a way that will render their"popular perusal" easy in a time of little leisure and unboundedtemptations to intellectual languor; and, on the same conditions,to present a liberal and fairly representative selection from theless important and familiar poems of Chaucer and Spenser.There is, it may be said at the outset, peculiar advantage andpropriety in placing the two poets side by side in the mannernow attempted for the first time. Although two
ly analyzing the mysteries of the human mind; such tales of illusion and banter as "The Premature Burial" and "The System of Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether"; such bits of extravaganza as "The Devil in the Belfry" and "The Angel of the Odd"; such tales of adventure as "The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym"; such papers of keen criticism and review as won for Poe the enthusiastic admiration of Charles Dickens, although they made him many enemies among the over-puffed minor American writers so mercilessly exposed by him; such poems of beauty and melody as "The Bells," "The Haunted Palace," "Tamerlane," "The City in the Sea" and "The Raven." What delight for the jaded senses of the reader is this enchanted domain of wonder-pieces! What an atmosphere of beauty, music, color! What resources of imagination, construction, analysis and absolute art! One might almost sympathize with Sarah Helen Whitman, who, confessing to a half faith in the old superstition of the significance of anagrams, found, in the transposed letter
The world will wail thee like a makeless wife,
The world will be thy widow and still weep,
That thou no form of thee hast left behind,
When every private widow well may keep,
By children's eyes, her husband's shape in mind:
Look what an unthrift in the world doth spend
Shifts but his place, for still the world enjoys it;
But beauty's waste hath in the world an end,
And kept unused the user so destroys it:
No love toward others in that bosom sits
That on himself such murd'rous shame commits.
10
For shame deny that thou bear'st love to any
Who for thy self art so unprovident.
Grant if thou wilt, thou art beloved of many,
But that thou none lov'st is most evident:
For thou art so possessed with murd'rous hate,
That 'gainst thy self thou stick'st not to conspire,
Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate
Which to repair should be thy chief desire:
O change thy thought, that I may change my mind,
Shall hate be fairer lodged than
Happy Valentine`s Day...
Sweetheart,..
let me wake up my dreams,...
on your eyes` smile,...
and to sip your lips` nectars,..
with every morning,...
while i`m drinking my swarthy coffee,...
to start my day...
this sweet day...
this valentine`s day...
with a word , love you...
to wish you a happy Valentine`s day...
Sweetheart...
seconds passed...
days passed...
months passed...
and now another year comes...
comes and you still a love...
the love which we both created...
created one from the other...
that never changed...
still that love which we both irrigated from our hearts...
Sweetheart...
years passed...
and another new year comes...
while we still, the most amazing couples...
amazing lovers whom still loving each others....
with no stop...
with no enough...
endless love lasts forever...
my sweet Valentine girl...
years passed...
and still i am ,as you knew me...
hazem whom you knew...
born between your eyes...
raised into your pure heart...
and educated a love from you...
happiness and peace ...
gave me and brought it to me...
through those years...
my sweetheart...
on your voice i wake up...
on your whispers i sleep my nights...
and there into my dream, we meet...
meet to give more perfect sweet love...
meet to make an especial love...
there where we could always...
wishing each others...
a happy Valentine`s days...
happy Valentine`s day my only sweet love...
hazem02@yahoo.com
By hazem02
www.thestarlitecafe.com/poems/105/poem_91143087.html
wish you a happiness through this lovely day..
Happy Valenyine`s Day..
© 2010 hazem02 (All rights reserved)
hazem Al...
poems in general about hurt, struggle, and love