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No gain without pain.

English proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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No Pain No Gain

Music :rudolf schenker
Lyrics:klaus meine, mark hudson
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
Face in the gutter eyes on the floor
Walk on down you know the score
It's a dead-end street back to the wall
Get it together you can get it all
The weak will fall the strong remain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
No time for losers you make the call
Believe in yourself stand tall
Another day it's in your hand
You can be the winner in the end
The weak will fall the strong remain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
Keep runnin' don't look back
Keep movin' straight ahead
Keep goin' don't ever stop
There's time to rest the day you'll drop
You roll the dice you play the game
The weak will fall the strong remain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
No pain no gain
...

song performed by Scorpions
Added by Lucian Velea
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Ordinary Pain

When by the phone
In vain you sit
You very soon in your mind realize that its not just
An ordinary pain in your heart
When you by chance
Go knock on her door
Walkin away youre convinced that its much more
Than just an ordinary pain in your heart
Its more than just
An ordinary pain in your heart
When you catch up
But she says goodbye
Hold back your tears and before you start to cry
Say you feel unnecessary pain in your heart
Tell her youre glad
Its over in fact
Can she take with her the pain she brought you back
Takin that ordinary pain from your heart
Its more than just
An ordinary pain from your heart
Dont fool yourself
But tell no one else
That its more than just
An ordinary pain
In your heart
In your heart
In your heart
Part ii
Youre just a masachistic fool
Because you knew my love was cruel
You never listened when they said
Dont let that girl go to your head
But like a play boy you said no
Or*di*nary pain
This little girl mind you will blow
Or*di*nary pain
But then I blew you out the box
Or*di*nary pain
When I put my stuff on key and lock
Or*di*nary pain
It makes me feel kind of sick
Or*di*nary pain
To know love put you in a trick
Or*di*nary pain
I knew our love would have to end
Or*di*nary pain
The day I made it with your friend
Or*di*nary pain
Giving your love to one unreal
Or*di*nary pain

[...] Read more

song performed by Stevie Wonder
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Pain Pain by cedrick dennis

Pain Pain over here pain over there Pain in my heart pain in my soul Pain in my mind Pain in my skin pain in my bones Pain being caused left and right Pain being caused till the heart bleeds red Pain being caused till the skin and bone rip Pain being caused till you break into tears Pain at school Pain at home Pain in my head, pain in my heart Pain in my mind, pain in my soul Pain happening in my sleep Pain happening in my thoughts Pain happening when I’m alone Pain happening in the shower, in my room, in my bed, in my house where I’m all alone Pain happening every hour, every minute, every second of my life Pain caused by anger and hate Pain caused by hurt Pain caused by greed Pain caused by sorrow and depression Pain caused by grief and confusion Pain caused by your family and friends Pain caused by the world Pain caused by people you love Pain driving me crazy Causing me to take pills till it fills up my veins I go to sleep never to wake up and see that light The light that will end my pain for good

poem by Cedrick Dennis
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Take a Pain and make a Gain

Only if there is a pain
There is a gain
And if there is a gain
There was a pain

Nothing like
Painless gain or
Gainless pain

If there comes a gain
With no perceived pain
Wait, do not worry
Pain is on the way

And if there is pain
With no apparent gain
Wait, do not worry
Gain is on the way

And if you are preparing
For a painstaking gain
You know for sure
The extent and nature of pain
And if you are planning
For a painless gain
You know not for sure
The extent and nature of pain

Many unexpected pains
Are because of the
Painless path you took
For a gain, for which
You are not really, eligible

Suffering is indeed the result of
Of such painless gains

poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Focus Maintained

Gain!
All I have is love to give,
And gain!
I'm on a fast track to stay,
And to gain.
Nothing in my life...
Remains the same,
With my focus maintained!

And gain!
All I have is love to give,
And gain!
I'm on a fast track to stay,
And to gain.
Nothing in my life...
Remains the same,
With my focus maintained!

I've got to reach,
With my focus maintained.
And,
I've got to keep...
My focus maintained.
And,
I've got to seek...
With my focus maintained,
And prepared I am to change...
Keeping focus maintained.

Gain!
All I have is love to give,
And gain!
I'm on a fast track to stay,
And to gain.
Nothing in my life...
Remains the same,
With my focus maintained!

I've got to reach,
With my focus maintained.
And,
I've got to keep...
My focus maintained.
And,
I've got to seek...
With my focus maintained,
And prepared I am to change...
Keeping focus maintained.

I'm teased a lot!

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Purple Pain-A Parody

Inspired by Barny the purple dinosaur

Parody of Prince's song Purple Rain

Purple pain
You were always meant I know
To cause me sorrow
You were always meant I know
To make me wanna bleed my own blood and gouge out my eyes
You were always meant I know
To cause me pain
Now all I ever want
Since I saw you on my tv screen is for you
You damm purple pain to drown
In the purple rain

Purple pain
Purple pain
Purple pain
Purple pain
Purple pain
Purple pain

I only want to see you drowning in the purple rain
Oh you damm purple pain

I never wanted my kids to love you
I only thought of you as some kind of fiend
Barney, I could never stand you for another minute
So my television now I must turn off
Even through I know it would make my babies cry
It's such a shame that your lifetime has't come to a end
Oh, oh yes it is

Purple pain
Purple pain
Purple pain
Purple pain
Purple pain
Purple pain

I only wanted to see you drown
You damm purple pain
In the purple rain

[...] Read more

poem by Ramona Thompson
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Third Monarchy, being the Grecian, beginning under Alexander the Great in the 112. Olympiad.

Great Alexander was wise Philips son,
He to Amyntas, Kings of Macedon;
The cruel proud Olympias was his Mother,
She to Epirus warlike King was daughter.
This Prince (his father by Pausanias slain)
The twenty first of's age began to reign.
Great were the Gifts of nature which he had,
His education much to those did adde:
By art and nature both he was made fit,
To 'complish that which long before was writ.
The very day of his Nativity
To ground was burnt Dianaes Temple high:
An Omen to their near approaching woe,
Whose glory to the earth this king did throw.
His Rule to Greece he scorn'd should be confin'd,
The Universe scarce bound his proud vast mind.
This is the He-Goat which from Grecia came,
That ran in Choler on the Persian Ram,
That brake his horns, that threw him on the ground
To save him from his might no man was found:
Philip on this great Conquest had an eye,
But death did terminate those thoughts so high.
The Greeks had chose him Captain General,
Which honour to his Son did now befall.
(For as Worlds Monarch now we speak not on,
But as the King of little Macedon)
Restless both day and night his heart then was,
His high resolves which way to bring to pass;
Yet for a while in Greece is forc'd to stay,
Which makes each moment seem more then a day.
Thebes and stiff Athens both 'gainst him rebel,
Their mutinies by valour doth he quell.
This done against both right and natures Laws,
His kinsmen put to death, who gave no cause;
That no rebellion in in his absence be,
Nor making Title unto Sovereignty.
And all whom he suspects or fears will climbe,
Now taste of death least they deserv'd in time,
Nor wonder is t if he in blood begin,
For Cruelty was his parental sin,
Thus eased now of troubles and of fears,
Next spring his course to Asia he steers;
Leavs Sage Antipater, at home to sway,
And through the Hellispont his Ships made way.
Coming to Land, his dart on shore he throws,
Then with alacrity he after goes;
And with a bount'ous heart and courage brave,
His little wealth among his Souldiers gave.
And being ask'd what for himself was left,
Reply'd, enough, sith only hope he kept.

[...] Read more

poem by Anne Bradstreet
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The Parish Register - Part I: Baptisms

The year revolves, and I again explore
The simple Annals of my Parish poor;
What Infant-members in my flock appear,
What Pairs I bless'd in the departed year;
And who, of Old or Young, or Nymphs or Swains,
Are lost to Life, its pleasures and its pains.
No Muse I ask, before my view to bring
The humble actions of the swains I sing. -
How pass'd the youthful, how the old their days;
Who sank in sloth, and who aspired to praise;
Their tempers, manners, morals, customs, arts,
What parts they had, and how they 'mploy'd their

parts;
By what elated, soothed, seduced, depress'd,
Full well I know-these Records give the rest.
Is there a place, save one the poet sees,
A land of love, of liberty, and ease;
Where labour wearies not, nor cares suppress
Th' eternal flow of rustic happiness;
Where no proud mansion frowns in awful state,
Or keeps the sunshine from the cottage-gate;
Where young and old, intent on pleasure, throng,
And half man's life is holiday and song?
Vain search for scenes like these! no view appears,
By sighs unruffled or unstain'd by tears;
Since vice the world subdued and waters drown'd,
Auburn and Eden can no more be found.
Hence good and evil mixed, but man has skill
And power to part them, when he feels the will!
Toil, care, and patience bless th' abstemious few,
Fear, shame, and want the thoughtless herd pursue.
Behold the Cot! where thrives th' industrious

swain,
Source of his pride, his pleasure, and his gain;
Screen'd from the winter's wind, the sun's last ray
Smiles on the window and prolongs the day;
Projecting thatch the woodbine's branches stop,
And turn their blossoms to the casement's top:
All need requires is in that cot contain'd,
And much that taste untaught and unrestrain'd
Surveys delighted; there she loves to trace,
In one gay picture, all the royal race;
Around the walls are heroes, lovers, kings;
The print that shows them and the verse that sings.
Here the last Louis on his throne is seen,
And there he stands imprison'd, and his Queen;
To these the mother takes her child, and shows
What grateful duty to his God he owes;

[...] Read more

poem by George Crabbe
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No Pain, No Gain

With pain, you get no gain.
And with gain, you get no pain.
Im too young too know but a little too old too find out that the matter of the fact is..
Without pain, you just gain.
And without gain, you get tons of pain.
Lying is sorta the same.
You lie, well you dont get gain for that.
Just pain.
But if you dont lie, you gain without the pain.
People dont realize the difference between pain and gain.
But again, im too young to know, but a little too old to find out.
But im just young enough too find out that when I get older I will know the correct difference between, No Pain. No Gain.

poem by Heather Lynn
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Metamorphoses: Book The Ninth

Theseus requests the God to tell his woes,
Whence his maim'd brow, and whence his groans arose
Whence thus the Calydonian stream reply'd,
With twining reeds his careless tresses ty'd:
Ungrateful is the tale; for who can bear,
When conquer'd, to rehearse the shameful war?
Yet I'll the melancholy story trace;
So great a conqu'ror softens the disgrace:
Nor was it still so mean the prize to yield,
As great, and glorious to dispute the field.
The Story of Perhaps you've heard of Deianira's name,
Achelous and For all the country spoke her beauty's fame.
Hercules Long was the nymph by num'rous suitors woo'd,
Each with address his envy'd hopes pursu'd:
I joyn'd the loving band; to gain the fair,
Reveal'd my passion to her father's ear.
Their vain pretensions all the rest resign,
Alcides only strove to equal mine;
He boasts his birth from Jove, recounts his spoils,
His step-dame's hate subdu'd, and finish'd toils.
Can mortals then (said I), with Gods compare?
Behold a God; mine is the watry care:
Through your wide realms I take my mazy way,
Branch into streams, and o'er the region stray:
No foreign guest your daughter's charms adores,
But one who rises in your native shores.
Let not his punishment your pity move;
Is Juno's hate an argument for love?
Though you your life from fair Alcmena drew,
Jove's a feign'd father, or by fraud a true.
Chuse then; confess thy mother's honour lost,
Or thy descent from Jove no longer boast.
While thus I spoke, he look'd with stern disdain,
Nor could the sallies of his wrath restrain,
Which thus break forth. This arm decides our right;
Vanquish in words, be mine the prize in fight.
Bold he rush'd on. My honour to maintain,
I fling my verdant garments on the plain,
My arms stretch forth, my pliant limbs prepare,
And with bent hands expect the furious war.
O'er my sleek skin now gather'd dust he throws,
And yellow sand his mighty muscles strows.
Oft he my neck, and nimble legs assails,
He seems to grasp me, but as often fails.
Each part he now invades with eager hand;
Safe in my bulk, immoveable I stand.
So when loud storms break high, and foam and roar
Against some mole that stretches from the shore;
The firm foundation lasting tempests braves,
Defies the warring winds, and driving waves.

[...] Read more

poem by Ovid
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Pain Is My Friend

pain is my only gain,
pain is my friend,
pain so deep and cold,
i feel at home with the dark pain,

i love pain pain is my friend,
pain will bring back my love,
pain will give me life once again,
pain so deep and cold,
is the only way i can have,
my love and my friend,

pain is the worlds friend,
pain shows us if we do wrong,
pain shows us who we are,
pain is not only in the dark,
but in the light as well,

pain is so deep and cunning,
pain can show me who i am,
pain shows the world who we are,
pain is my only friend,

with out love theres pain,
with out anyone theres pain,
with out the sun with out the moon,
theres pain so as you can see,
pain is with us and always will be,
pain will never leave its a marriage,

its a soul and a part of you,
that will never leave,
pain is my friend and it is your too....

poem by Richard Belis
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Pain for you

This pain is for you
Many things I believe for you is pain
I dont want any pain from you but I accepted your pain
I'll take the pain from you forever

Pain can be your own mistake
pain can lead to your own troubles
pain can lead to anything inside of you
you just need to get some help
you need some assistances to get you out of the pain

Many pains cannot be removed
many can stay forever and ever
many think pain isnt nothing for them
pain is everything you learn from outside world

you may get it someday
someday you will see what I learn from pain
you can see me with cuts on my arms
that was pain, everything I want is pain

Love is pain too you know
you left me alone in the outside world
pain is getting inside of me, not letting me go
I'm alone in the darkness of shadows

This pain is for you
Many things I believe for you is pain
I dont want any pain from you but I accepted your pain
I'll take the pain from you forever

This pain is everything painful has it is
ready for everything is to be done for you
I'll be ready for everyone's pain
Every shadows of darkness is there inside of me
tearing me apart to learn from you and the people

So I'll take everyone's pain away
so you can tell me about your pain and
forever pure

poem by Hunter Kejick
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Pain - The Inside Story

Have you seen pain?
No you cannot see.
No you cannot feel.
Only the one who is suffering!
He can see pain.

All you can see is the tears from his eyes.
All you listen, his shivering scream and cries.

You just becomes witness and pray to God.
Still nothing happens and you become sad.

Pain comes to your near or dear.
Brings us more closer to your dear.
Pain comes to any neighbor or stranger.
You close your eyes and then who care.

Transform your pain into creativity.
Transform your pain into spirituality.
Then pain becomes your emotions.
This will cure all your tensions.

Let it flow from heart, instead of body.
Let it flow from soul as your creativity.
- Like words flowing as poetry.
- Like colors flowing as painting.
Then whole world seems changing.
You can see the change in geometry.

The last secret of pain is yet to tell.
Pain is heaven and also pain is hell.
Pain is north pole, pain is south pole.
In our life pain plays an important role.

Pain are two opposite shores of happiness.
One is the beginning other is the end.
One is the Sunset other is the sunrise.
One brings light other brings darkness.

Pain is reaction of our actions.
Pain is results of our 'Karmas.'
What wrong we do, pain is the byproduct.
What right we do still pain is the byproduct.
In first case pain is stored.
In final case pain is released.

Eat chilly for first time, see the pain of belly.
When chilly is released again see the pain of belly.
See the pain when you get cramp.
See the pain when you release the cramp.

[...] Read more

poem by Ramesh Kavdia
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Gone To Forget To Leave

There are those who may choose to die.
For whatever reason...
Eyes are wanting to feel,
A realness and not a friction to absorb.
When platters of gold filled deceit,
Offer nothing else to be fed....
With a side order of sincerity seen,
Or felt to mention.

'Gone to forget to leave'

And the feasting of this is encouraged.

Until dishonesty is all that one dreads.
With a wish to numb the head,
From the stirrings that occur from truths.
And although the eating of deceit weakens,
On a daily basis when that addiction eats...
A cry goes unheard.
A sickening overwhelms...
And,
A wish to be released from it increases.

'Gone to forget to leave'

An encouraged emotionally abandoned mind...
Feeds until the peace of eternal rest has come,
Of what is wished.
And with a consciousness,
Desperately wanting transistion now a mission...
But never accepted to come from one so...
Talented and gifted!

But hurting from a place...
No one took the time to touch to get to know,
And so much pain was inside hiding.

And what was known to God,
Has joined the stars awaiting.
Pain was inside hiding.
Pain was inside hiding.

And what was known to God,
Has joined...
With the others worthy.

Pain was inside hiding.
Pain was inside hiding.

And what was known,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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This Pain Is For You

Many things I believe for you is pain
I don't want any pain from you but I accept your pain
I'll take the pain from you forever...

Pain can be our own mistake
Pain can lead to our own troubles
Pain can lead to anything inside of us
I just need to get some help
I need you to acknowledge me to help me out of this pain

Many pains cannot be removed
Many can stay forever and ever
Many think pain isn't nothing for them
Pain is everything we learn from the outside world

You may get it someday
Someday you will see what I learn from pain
You may see me with cuts on my arms
That was pain, but this pain is what I feel inside

Love is pain too you know
Thinking about you when you probably just don't care
Pain is getting inside of me, not letting me go
I'm alone in the darkness of shadows

This pain is for you
Many things I believe for you is pain
I don't want any pain from you but I accept your pain
I'll take the pain from you forever

This pain is everything painful has it is,
Ready for everything is to be done for you
I'll be ready for your pain
Every shadows of darkness is there inside of me
Tearing me apart too, but still I hunger you

So I'll take whatever I get and even thou it may pain, I'll treasure it
Please acknowledge me, tell me about your pain and
Forever pure.

poem by Gabriel Pein
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XI. Guido

You are the Cardinal Acciaiuoli, and you,
Abate Panciatichi—two good Tuscan names:
Acciaiuoli—ah, your ancestor it was
Built the huge battlemented convent-block
Over the little forky flashing Greve
That takes the quick turn at the foot o' the hill
Just as one first sees Florence: oh those days!
'T is Ema, though, the other rivulet,
The one-arched brown brick bridge yawns over,—yes,
Gallop and go five minutes, and you gain
The Roman Gate from where the Ema's bridged:
Kingfishers fly there: how I see the bend
O'erturreted by Certosa which he built,
That Senescal (we styled him) of your House!
I do adjure you, help me, Sirs! My blood
Comes from as far a source: ought it to end
This way, by leakage through their scaffold-planks
Into Rome's sink where her red refuse runs?
Sirs, I beseech you by blood-sympathy,
If there be any vile experiment
In the air,—if this your visit simply prove,
When all's done, just a well-intentioned trick,
That tries for truth truer than truth itself,
By startling up a man, ere break of day,
To tell him he must die at sunset,—pshaw!
That man's a Franceschini; feel his pulse,
Laugh at your folly, and let's all go sleep!
You have my last word,—innocent am I
As Innocent my Pope and murderer,
Innocent as a babe, as Mary's own,
As Mary's self,—I said, say and repeat,—
And why, then, should I die twelve hours hence? I—
Whom, not twelve hours ago, the gaoler bade
Turn to my straw-truss, settle and sleep sound
That I might wake the sooner, promptlier pay
His due of meat-and-drink-indulgence, cross
His palm with fee of the good-hand, beside,
As gallants use who go at large again!
For why? All honest Rome approved my part;
Whoever owned wife, sister, daughter,—nay,
Mistress,—had any shadow of any right
That looks like right, and, all the more resolved,
Held it with tooth and nail,—these manly men
Approved! I being for Rome, Rome was for me.
Then, there's the point reserved, the subterfuge
My lawyers held by, kept for last resource,
Firm should all else,—the impossible fancy!—fail,
And sneaking burgess-spirit win the day.
The knaves! One plea at least would hold,—they laughed,—
One grappling-iron scratch the bottom-rock

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
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The Pain I Can Control

The pain I can control
The pain that makes me whole
The pain that stops and brings some tears
The pain that erases all my fears
The pain that I inflict with this knife
The pain that might be last in my life
The pain that brought me to my knees
The pain that woahed me full of pleas
The pain that made me see the light
The pain that is bringing me home tonight
The pain that is wrong and bitter
The pain that makes me feel fitter
The pain that my friends say is wrong
The pain that makes me feel so strong
The pain that makes my friend sad, and cry
The pain that makes her want to die
The pain thats not just pain to me
The pain that makes everyone see
The pain that thats tearing me apart
The pain thats ripping apart my heart
The pain that I'm addicted to
The pain I can't give up. Not even for you..

poem by Nyl Revol
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Tale XXI

The Learned Boy

An honest man was Farmer Jones, and true;
He did by all as all by him should do;
Grave, cautious, careful, fond of gain was he,
Yet famed for rustic hospitality:
Left with his children in a widow'd state,
The quiet man submitted to his fate;
Though prudent matrons waited for his call,
With cool forbearance he avoided all;
Though each profess'd a pure maternal joy,
By kind attention to his feeble boy;
And though a friendly Widow knew no rest,
Whilst neighbour Jones was lonely and distress'd;
Nay, though the maidens spoke in tender tone
Their hearts' concern to see him left alone,
Jones still persisted in that cheerless life,
As if 'twere sin to take a second wife.
Oh! 'tis a precious thing, when wives are dead,
To find such numbers who will serve instead;
And in whatever state a man be thrown,
'Tis that precisely they would wish their own;
Left the departed infants--then their joy
Is to sustain each lovely girl and boy:
Whatever calling his, whatever trade,
To that their chief attention has been paid;
His happy taste in all things they approve,
His friends they honour, and his food they love;
His wish for order, prudence in affairs,
An equal temper (thank their stars!), are theirs;
In fact, it seem'd to be a thing decreed,
And fix'd as fate, that marriage must succeed:
Yet some, like Jones, with stubborn hearts and

hard,
Can hear such claims and show them no regard.
Soon as our Farmer, like a general, found
By what strong foes he was encompass'd round,
Engage he dared not, and he could not fly,
But saw his hope in gentle parley lie;
With looks of kindness then, and trembling heart,
He met the foe, and art opposed to art.
Now spoke that foe insidious--gentle tones,
And gentle looks, assumed for Farmer Jones:
'Three girls,' the Widow cried, 'a lively three
To govern well--indeed it cannot be.'
'Yes,' he replied, 'it calls for pains and care:
But I must bear it.'--'Sir, you cannot bear;
Your son is weak, and asks a mother's eye:'
'That, my kind friend, a father's may supply.'

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poem by George Crabbe
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M'Fingal - Canto I

When Yankies, skill'd in martial rule,
First put the British troops to school;
Instructed them in warlike trade,
And new manoeuvres of parade,
The true war-dance of Yankee reels,
And manual exercise of heels;
Made them give up, like saints complete,
The arm of flesh, and trust the feet,
And work, like Christians undissembling,
Salvation out, by fear and trembling;
Taught Percy fashionable races,
And modern modes of Chevy-Chases:
From Boston, in his best array,
Great 'Squire M'Fingal took his way,
And graced with ensigns of renown,
Steer'd homeward to his native town.

His high descent our heralds trace
From Ossian's famed Fingalian race:
For though their name some part may lack,
Old Fingal spelt it with a Mac;
Which great M'Pherson, with submission,
We hope will add the next edition.

His fathers flourish'd in the Highlands
Of Scotia's fog-benighted islands;
Whence gain'd our 'Squire two gifts by right,
Rebellion, and the Second-sight.
Of these, the first, in ancient days,
Had gain'd the noblest palm of praise,
'Gainst kings stood forth and many a crown'd head
With terror of its might confounded;
Till rose a king with potent charm
His foes by meekness to disarm,
Whom every Scot and Jacobite
Strait fell in love with at first sight;
Whose gracious speech with aid of pensions,
Hush'd down all murmurs of dissensions,
And with the sound of potent metal
Brought all their buzzing swarms to settle;
Who rain'd his ministerial manna,
Till loud Sedition sung hosanna;
The grave Lords-Bishops and the Kirk
United in the public work;
Rebellion, from the northern regions,
With Bute and Mansfield swore allegiance;
All hands combin'd to raze, as nuisance,
Of church and state the Constitutions,

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poem by John Trumbull
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