Quotes about ship., page 15
The Princess Betrothed To The King Of Garba
WHAT various ways in which a thing is told
Some truth abuse, while others fiction hold;
In stories we invention may admit;
But diff'rent 'tis with what historick writ;
Posterity demands that truth should then
Inspire relation, and direct the pen.
ALACIEL'S story's of another kind,
And I've a little altered it, you'll find;
Faults some may see, and others disbelieve;
'Tis all the same:--'twill never make me grieve;
Alaciel's mem'ry, it is very clear,
Can scarcely by it lose; there's naught to fear.
Two facts important I have kept in view,
In which the author fully I pursue;
The one--no less than eight the belle possessed,
Before a husband's sight her eyes had blessed;
The other is, the prince she was to wed
Ne'er seemed to heed this trespass on his bed,
But thought, perhaps, the beauty she had got
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poem by La Fontaine
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The Child Of The Islands - Summer
I.
FOR Summer followeth with its store of joy;
That, too, can bring thee only new delight;
Its sultry hours can work thee no annoy,
Veiled from thy head shall be its glowing might.
Sweet fruits shall tempt thy thirsty appetite;
Thy languid limbs on cushioned down shall sink;
Or rest on fern-grown tufts, by streamlets bright,
Where the large-throated deer come down to drink,
And cluster gently round the cool refreshing brink.
II.
There, as the flakèd light, with changeful ray
(From where the unseen glory hotly glows)
Through the green branches maketh pleasant way,
And on the turf a chequered radiance throws,
Thou'lt lean, and watch those kingly-antlered brows--
The lustrous beauty of their glances shy,
As following still the pace their leader goes,
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poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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Metamorphoses: Book The Eleventh
HERE, while the Thracian bard's enchanting strain
Sooths beasts, and woods, and all the listn'ing
plain,
The female Bacchanals, devoutly mad,
In shaggy skins, like savage creatures, clad,
Warbling in air perceiv'd his lovely lay,
And from a rising ground beheld him play.
When one, the wildest, with dishevel'd hair,
That loosely stream'd, and ruffled in the air;
Soon as her frantick eye the lyrist spy'd,
See, see! the hater of our sex, she cry'd.
Then at his face her missive javelin sent,
Which whiz'd along, and brusht him as it went;
But the soft wreathes of ivy twisted round,
Prevent a deep impression of the wound.
Another, for a weapon, hurls a stone,
Which, by the sound subdu'd as soon as thrown,
Falls at his feet, and with a seeming sense
Implores his pardon for its late offence.
The Death of But now their frantick rage unbounded grows,
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The Iliad: Book 23
Thus did they make their moan throughout the city, while the
Achaeans when they reached the Hellespont went back every man to his
own ship. But Achilles would not let the Myrmidons go, and spoke to
his brave comrades saying, "Myrmidons, famed horsemen and my own
trusted friends, not yet, forsooth, let us unyoke, but with horse
and chariot draw near to the body and mourn Patroclus, in due honour
to the dead. When we have had full comfort of lamentation we will
unyoke our horses and take supper all of us here."
On this they all joined in a cry of wailing and Achilles led them in
their lament. Thrice did they drive their chariots all sorrowing round
the body, and Thetis stirred within them a still deeper yearning.
The sands of the seashore and the men's armour were wet with their
weeping, so great a minister of fear was he whom they had lost.
Chief in all their mourning was the son of Peleus: he laid his
bloodstained hand on the breast of his friend. "Fare well," he
cried, "Patroclus, even in the house of Hades. I will now do all
that I erewhile promised you; I will drag Hector hither and let dogs
devour him raw; twelve noble sons of Trojans will I also slay before
your pyre to avenge you."
As he spoke he treated the body of noble Hector with contumely,
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poem by Homer, translated by Samuel Butler
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Beowulf
LO, praise of the prowess of people-kings
of spear-armed Danes, in days long sped,
we have heard, and what honor the athelings won!
Oft Scyld the Scefing from squadroned foes,
from many a tribe, the mead-bench tore,
awing the earls. Since erst he lay
friendless, a foundling, fate repaid him:
for he waxed under welkin, in wealth he throve,
till before him the folk, both far and near,
who house by the whale-path, heard his mandate,
gave him gifts: a good king he!
To him an heir was afterward born,
a son in his halls, whom heaven sent
to favor the folk, feeling their woe
that erst they had lacked an earl for leader
so long a while; the Lord endowed him,
the Wielder of Wonder, with world's renown.
Famed was this Beowulf: far flew the boast of him,
son of Scyld, in the Scandian lands.
So becomes it a youth to quit him well
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poem by Charles Baudelaire
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It Is This Poem
thunderstorm
carries a ship
relentlessly aboard
a hopeless man he confesses to be
one hopeless man
losing his sense of direction
climbs
aboard towards the roof of the ship
gazing at the horizon
i fear that he would jump
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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ship Of Love Valentine
The ship of love where hearts sail free
The ship of love is where you want to be.
It will take you on a valentine cruise
Where no heart will ever lose.
The ship will dock at all ports of love
Where cupids will come from up above.
They'll shoot their arrows at all who arrive
And you will find your love divine.
The ports of love are every where
On land, sea and in the air.
The ship of love is world wide bound
And you will find it all around.
So take this trip along with me
And your heart will be so free.
poem by Louis Rams
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Accident Prone
Accident Prone Pilot.
The ship was going up river to unload
containers full of scooters and tractors;
rain upland water level higher than usual.
There is an overpass across the river and
the ship´s bridge and communication mast
collided with it. It took a month to repair
damage to the ship and she was ready to
sail down the river, out to deep sea again.
There had been no rain for rain for a month
water level was lower than usual.
Going under the bridge was a piece of cake,
nervous pilot and anxious captain smiled,
but then the ship shuddered and got stuck in
the mud.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Bronze fog bell
Acclaimed invite - the bronze fog bell,
in mid damp air, black was the ship,
revengeful diktat and dark spell,
the ghost ship floats to send its knell
(dimensions odd - vectors of wield) ,
attract to ship where doors are sealed,
false worlds invite with dusk's befall,
doomed spell avers my crimson spilled.
The nimbus deign and winds beseech,
sea men confreres; as night darkens,
lost ghosts from depths attempt to reach,
the trips to ports that minds bewitch,
denounced their scopes and goals ardened,
my soul will flirt with truths discord'nt,
the drops of red the clouds besiege,
ship's descant curse of Had's accordm'nt
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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The Ship Called Christianity!
Christianity, a ship afree,
Is found tossing upon the sea!
Upon the deck, there’s mutiny;
No bond of love but just envy.
Selfishness, no humility;
No amity, just enmity;
The fish around, none can well see;
And the sea appears too stormy!
The nets are old, tattered fully,
Fishes don’t come up properly;
The ship moving unsafely;
Jesus is forgotten truly!
Lost are precious time, energy;
Forgotten is sense of duty;
No fishes caught yet revelry;
Ship’s in waters of piracy!
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poem by John Celes
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