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Metamorphoses: Book The Fifth

WHILE Perseus entertain'd with this report
His father Cepheus, and the list'ning court,
Within the palace walls was heard aloud
The roaring noise of some unruly crowd;
Not like the songs which chearful friends prepare
For nuptial days, but sounds that threaten'd war;
And all the pleasures of this happy feast,
To tumult turn'd, in wild disorder ceas'd:
So, when the sea is calm, we often find
A storm rais'd sudden by some furious wind.
The Story of Chief in the riot Phineus first appear'd,
Perseus The rash ringleader of this boist'rous herd,
continu'd And brandishing his brazen-pointed lance,
Behold, he said, an injur'd man advance,
Stung with resentment for his ravish'd wife,
Nor shall thy wings, o Perseus, save thy life;
Nor Jove himself; tho' we've been often told
Who got thee in the form of tempting gold.
His lance was aim'd, when Cepheus ran, and said,
Hold, brother, hold; what brutal rage has made

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poem by Ovid
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Vesalius In Zante

Set wide the window. Let me drink the day.
I loved light ever, light in eye and brain—
No tapers mirrored in long palace floors,
Nor dedicated depths of silent aisles,
But just the common dusty wind-blown day
That roofs earth’s millions.

O, too long I walked
In that thrice-sifted air that princes breathe,
Nor felt the heaven-wide jostling of the winds
And all the ancient outlawry of earth!
Now let me breathe and see.

This pilgrimage
They call a penance—let them call it that!
I set my face to the East to shrive my soul
Of mortal sin? So be it. If my blade
Once questioned living flesh, if once I tore
The pages of the Book in opening it,
See what the torn page yielded ere the light

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poem by Edith Wharton
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Bénédiction (Benediction)

Lorsque, par un décret des puissances suprêmes,
Le Poète apparaît en ce monde ennuyé,
Sa mère épouvantée et pleine de blasphèmes
Crispe ses poings vers Dieu, qui la prend en pitié:

— «Ah! que n'ai-je mis bas tout un noeud de vipères,
Plutôt que de nourrir cette dérision!
Maudite soit la nuit aux plaisirs éphémères
Où mon ventre a conçu mon expiation!

Puisque tu m'as choisie entre toutes les femmes
Pour être le dégoût de mon triste mari,
Et que je ne puis pas rejeter dans les flammes,
Comme un billet d'amour, ce monstre rabougri,

Je ferai rejaillir ta haine qui m'accable
Sur l'instrument maudit de tes méchancetés,
Et je tordrai si bien cet arbre misérable,
Qu'il ne pourra pousser ses boutons empestés!»

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poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Canto the Fourth

I
Nothing so difficult as a beginning
In poesy, unless perhaps the end;
For oftentimes when Pegasus seems winning
The race, he sprains a wing, and down we tend,
Like Lucifer when hurl'd from heaven for sinning;
Our sin the same, and hard as his to mend,
Being pride, which leads the mind to soar too far,
Till our own weakness shows us what we are.

II
But Time, which brings all beings to their level,
And sharp Adversity, will teach at last
Man, -- and, as we would hope, -- perhaps the devil,
That neither of their intellects are vast:
While youth's hot wishes in our red veins revel,
We know not this -- the blood flows on too fast;
But as the torrent widens towards the ocean,
We ponder deeply on each past emotion.

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poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
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A usurper always distrusts the whole world.

quote by Vittorio Alfieri
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Tyranny Absolves all faith; and who invades our rights, However his own commence, can never be But an usurper.

quote by Henry Brooke
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The cyclic movements

Ancestor worship gave way
For Jainism and Buddhism,
Which were replaced by Hinduism
To be replaced by Islam,
Which Christianity outnumbered.
Which religion is the usurper
In a cyclic movements?
03.09.2012 [Pertaining to India]

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The only way to love daughter in law

Woman, how long can you disapprove
of your son’s wife, the usurper
of your son’s love? Without a like for her,
how can you tend your grandchild,
who has half of her blood? Mind!
Mend the way; harmony is found.
Else, your end days will be hounds.
27.12.2000, Pmdi

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Thunder In The Movies

Hollywood has lost the creative plot
mere remnant left of magical golden era
Hollywood sellout ideal is boom bang bang
little remains of famed flickering silver screen

Bollywood is usurper true heir to former status
perhaps tropical thunderous rain is tribute paid
Bollywood movies instill valid themes awe inspiring
original awesome recipe defining famed Hollywood era

poem by Terence George Craddock
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The Young Usurper

On my darling's bosom
Has dropped a living rosy bud,
Fair as brilliant Hesper
Against the brimming flood.
She handles him,
She dandles him,
She fondles him and eyes him:
And if upon a tear he wakes,
With many a kiss she dries him:
She covets every move he makes,
And never enough can prize him.
Ah, the young Usurper!
I yield my golden throne:
Such angel bands attend his hands
To claim it for his own.

poem by George Meredith
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