Quotes about pater, page 7
Holding Back The Years
Holding back the years,
Thinking of the fear Ive had for so long.
When somebody hears,
Listen to the fear thats gone.
Strangled by the wishes of pater,
Hoping for the arm of mater,
Get to me sooner or later,
Nothing ever could, yeah.
Ill keep holding on,
Ill keep holding on,
Ill keep holding on,
Ill keep holding on.
Chance for me to escape from all I know.
Holding back the tears.
Theres nothing here has grown.
Ive wasted all my tears,
Wasted all those years.
Nothing had the chance to be good,
Nothing ever could, yeah.
Ill keep holding on,
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song performed by Simply Red
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Lavdate Dominvm
(m&l - weikath)
Hallelvja, homines
Gavdete de domino
Qui donat vita omnes, qvod amat nos!
Hellelvja, mi devs
Tv vivis omnipotens
Tv es semper benignvs, tv amas nos!
Pater noster in caelis
Totvm orbem terrae regnat
Et vincit diabovm timorem
Et omnivm hominvm
O lavdate dominvm
Praedicate devm
Amate creatorem
Qui creavit mvndvm
Oh, lavdate dominvm!
Ecce et te vvlt
Jesvs liberare
Dvcere per vitam tvvs amicvs
Gavde tv!
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song performed by Helloween
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Laudate Dominum
Halleluja, homines,
Gaudete de domino,
Qui donat vita omnes, quod amat nos!
Halleluja, mi deus,
Tu vivis omnipotens,
Tu es semper benignus, tu amas nos!
Pater noster in clis
Totum orbem terr regnat
Et vincit diabolum timorem et ominum hominum
Oh laudate dominum!
Prdicate deum
Amate creatorem,
Qui creavit mundum
Oh laudate dominum!
Ecce, et te vult Jesus liberare,
Ducere per vitam amicus, gaude tu!
Amici, dimittie
Mente malam pravamque!
Anima accipite salvam fidem!
Jesus Christus in cruce
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song performed by Helloween
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William and Helen
I.
From heavy dreams fair Helen rose,
And eyed the dawning red:
'Alas, my love, thou tarriest long!
O art thou false or dead?'-
II.
With gallant Fred'rick's princely power
He sought the bold Crusade;
But not a word from Judah's wars
Told Helen how he sped.
III.
With Paynim and with Saracen
At length a truce was made,
And every knight return'd to dry
The tears his love had shed.
IV.
Our gallant host was homeward bound
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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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A Well Respected Man
cause he gets up in the morning,
And he goes to work at nine,
And he comes back home at five-thirty,
Gets the same train every time.
cause his world is built round punctuality,
It never fails.
And hes oh, so good,
And hes oh, so fine,
And hes oh, so healthy,
In his body and his mind.
Hes a well respected man about town,
Doing the best things so conservatively.
And his mother goes to meetings,
While his father pulls the maid,
And she stirs the tea with councilors,
While discussing foreign trade,
And she passes looks, as well as bills
At every suave young man
cause hes oh, so good,
And hes oh, so fine,
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song performed by Kinks
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Glenfinlas; or, Lord Ronald's Coronach
'O hone a rie'! O hone a rie!'
The pride of Albin's line is o'er,
And fall'n Glenartney's stateliest tree;
We ne'er shall see Lord Ronald more!' -
O, sprung from great Macgillianore,
The chief that never fear'd a foe,
How matchless was thy broad claymore,
How deadly thine unerring bow!
Well can the Saxon widows tell,
How, on the Teith's resounding shore,
The boldest Lowland warriors fell,
As down from Lenny's pass you bore.
But o'er his hills, in festal day,
How blazed Lord Ronald's beltrane tree, *
While youths and maids in light strathspey,
So nimbly danced with Highland glee!
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poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Vision Of Piers Plowman - Part 09
'Sire Dowel dwelleth,' quod Wit, 'noght a day hennes
In a castel that Kynde made of foure kynnes thynges.
Of erthe and eyr is it maad, medled togideres,
With wynd and with water wittily enjoyned.
Kynde hath closed therinne craftily withalle
A lemman that he loveth lik to hymselve.
Anima she hatte; [to hir hath envye]
A proud prikere of Fraunce, Princeps huius mundi,
And wolde wynne hire awey with wiles and he myghte.
'Ac Kynde knoweth this wel and kepeth hire the bettre,
And hath doon hire with Sire Dowel, Duc of thise marches.
Dobet is hire damyselle, Sire Doweles doughter,
To serven this Iady leelly bothe late and rathe.
Dobest is above bothe, a bisshopes peere;
That he bit moot be do - he [bidd]eth hem alle.
[By his leryng] is lad [that lady Anima].
'Ac the Constable of that castel, that kepeth [hem alle],
Is a wis knyght withalle - Sire Inwit he hatte,
And hath fyve faire sones by his firste wyve
Sire Se-wel, and Sey-wel, and Here-wel the hende,
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poem by William Langland
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A Lay of St. Nicholas
'Statim sacerdoti apparuit diabolus in specie puellæ pulchritudinis miræ, et ecce Divus, fide catholica et cruce et aqua benedicta armatus, venit, et aspersit aquam in nomine Sanctæ et Individuæ Trinitatis, quam, quasi ardentem, diabolus, nequaquam sustinere valens, mugitibus fugit.'
-- Roger Hoveden.
Lord Abbot! Lord Abbot! I'd fain confess;
I am a-weary, and worn with woe;
Many a grief doth my heart oppress,
And haunt me whithersoever I go!'
On bended knee spake the beautiful Maid;
'Now lithe and listen, Lord Abbot, to me!'--
'Now naye, Fair Daughter,' the Lord Abbot said,
'Now naye, in sooth it may hardly be;
'There is Mess Michael, and holy Mess John,
Sage Penitauncers I ween be they!
And hard by doth dwell, in St. Catherine's cell,
Ambrose, the anchorite old and grey!'
'-- Oh, I will have none of Ambrose or John,
Though sage Penitauncers I trow they be;
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poem by Richard Harris Barham
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The Wright's Chaste Wife
Allemyghty god, maker of alle,
Saue you my souereyns in towre & halle,
And send you good grace!
If ye wylle a stounde blynne,
Of a story I wylle begynne,
And telle you alle the cas,
Meny farleyes ?aue herde,
Ye would haue wondyr how yt ferde;
Lystyn, and ye schalle here;
Of a wryght I wylle you telle
That some tyme in thys land gan dwelle,
And lyued by hys myster.
Whether that he were yn or oute,
Of erthely man hadde he no dowte,
To werke hows, harowe, nor plowgh,
Or other werkes, what so they were,
Thous wrought he hem farre and nere,
And dyd tham wele I-nough.
Thys wryght would wedde no wyfe,
Butt yn yougeth to lede hys lyfe
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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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The Assembly Of Ladies
In Septembre, at the falling of the leef,
The fressh sesoun was al-togider doon,
And of the corn was gadered in the sheef;
In a gardyn, about twayn after noon,
Ther were ladyes walking, as was her wone,
Foure in nombre, as to my mynd doth falle,
And I the fifte, the simplest of hem alle.
Of gentilwomen fayre ther were also,
Disporting hem, everiche after her gyse,
In crosse-aleys walking, by two and two,
And some alone, after her fantasyes.
Thus occupyed we were in dyvers wyse;
And yet, in trouthe, we were not al alone;
Ther were knightës and squyers many one.
'Wherof I served?' oon of hem asked me;
I sayde ayein, as it fel in my thought,
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poem by Anonymous Olde English
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