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1.107_-_Assistance

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   2 Sri Aurobindo
   2 Aleister Crowley
   1 Saint Francis de Sales
   1 Saint Bernard of Clairvaux
   1 Saint Basil the Great
   1 Saint Ambrose On the Death of Satyrus
   1 Saint Ambrose of Milan
   1 Peter J Carroll
   1 Manly P Hall
   1 Joseph Campbell
   1 Jonathan Swift
   1 Dion Fortune
   1 The Mother

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   24 Anonymous
   15 Matthew Desmond
   14 Elias Lönnrot
   12 John Owen
   11 Cassandra Clare
   10 Benjamin Franklin
   10 Abraham Lincoln
   9 Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
   9 Bryan Stevenson
   8 J D Vance
   7 Lisa Kleypas
   7 Friedrich Nietzsche
   6 Victor Hugo
   6 Robert G Ingersoll
   5 Samuel Johnson
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   5 Mahatma Gandhi
   5 Jonathan Swift
   5 John F Kennedy
   5 John Calvin

1:Nov 2 "Without the assistance of grace, immortality is more of a burden than a blessing." ~ Saint Ambrose of Milan,

2:O sinner, be not discouraged, but have recourse to Mary in all your necessities. Call her to your assistance, for such is the divine Will that she should help in every kind of necessity. ~ Saint Basil the Great,

3:Make friends with the angels, who though invisible are always with you. Often invoke them, constantly praise them, and make good use of their help and assistance in all your temporal and spiritual affairs." ~ Saint Francis de Sales,

4:The individual, standing alone, cannot develop; he depends on the support and assistance of the group to which he belongs. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Bande Mataram - I, Shall India be Free? - National Development and Foreign Rule,

5:Death was not part of nature; it became part of nature. God did not decree death from the beginning; he prescribed it as a remedy…. Without the assistance of grace, immortality is more of a burden than a blessing. ~ Saint Ambrose On the Death of Satyrus,

6:In dangers, in doubts, in difficulties, think of Mary, call upon Mary. Let not her name depart from your lips, never suffer it to leave your heart. And that you may obtain the assistance of her prayer, neglect not to walk in her footsteps. With her for guide, you shall never go astray; while invoking her, you shall never lose heart; so long as she is in your mind, you are safe from deception; while she holds your hand, you cannot fall; under her protection you have nothing to fear; if she walks before you, you shall not grow weary; if she shows you favor, you shall reach the goal. ~ Saint Bernard of Clairvaux,

7:Consider laughter: it is the highest emotion, for it can contain any of the others from ecstacy to grief. It has no opposite. Crying is merely an underdeveloped form of it which cleanses the eyes and summons assistance to infants. Laughter is the only tenable attitude in a universe which is a joke played upon itself. The trick is to see that joke played out even in the neutral and ghastly events which surround one. It is not for us to question the universes apparent lack of taste. Seek the emotion of laughter at what delights and amuses, seek it in whatever is neutral or meaningless, seek it even in what is horrific and revolting. Though it may be forced at first, one can learn to smile inwardly at all things.    ~ Peter J Carroll, Liber Null,

8:189 - Live within; be not shaken by outward happenings. 190 - Fling not thy alms abroad everywhere in an ostentation of charity; understand and love where thou helpest. Let thy soul grow within thee. 191 - Help the poor while the poor are with thee; but study also and strive that there may be no poor for thy assistance. To live within in a constant aspiration for the Divine enables us to look at life with a smile and to remain peaceful whatever the outer circumstances may be. As for the poor, Sri Aurobindo says that to come to their help is good, provided that it is not a vain ostentation of charity, but that it is far nobler to seek a remedy for poverty so that there may be no poor left on earth. 31 October 1969 ~ The Mother, Thoughts And Aphorisms,

9:14. Rescue from Without:The hero may have to be brought back from his supernatural adventure by assistance from without. That is to say, the world may have to come and get him. For the bliss of the deep abode is not lightly abandoned in favor of the self-scattering of the wakened state. 'Who having cast off the world,' we read, 'would desire to return again? He would be only there.' And yet, in so far as one is alive, life will call. Society is jealous of those who remain away from it, and will come knocking at the door. If the hero... is unwilling, the disturber suffers an ugly shock; but on the other hand, if the summoned one is only delayed-sealed in by the beatitude of the state of perfect being (which resembles death)-an apparent rescue is effected, and the adventurer returns. ~ Joseph Campbell,

10:There are two Paths to the Innermost: the Way of the Mystic, which is the way of devotion and meditation, a solitary and subjective path; and the way of the occultist, which is the way of the intellect, of concentration, and of trained will; upon this path the co-operation of fellow workers is required, firstly for the exchange of knowledge, and secondly because ritual magic plays an important part in this work, and for this the assistance of several is needed in most of the greater operations. The mystic derives his knowledge through the direct communion of his higher self with the Higher Powers; to him the wisdom of the occultist is foolishness, for his mind does not work in that way; but, on the other hand, to a more intellectual and extrovert type, the method of the mystic is impossible until long training has enabled him to transcend the planes of form. We must therefore recognize these two distinct types among those who seek the Way of Initiation, and remember that there is a path for each. ~ Dion Fortune, Esoteric Orders and Their Work and The Training and Work of the Initiate,

11:When the Peace is established, this higher or Divine Force from above can descend and work in us. It descends usually first into the head and liberates the inner mind mind centres, then into the heart centre and liberates fully the psychic and emotional being, then into the navel and other vital centres and liberates the inner vital, then into the Muladhara and below and liberates the inner vital, then into the navel and other vital centres and liberates the inner physical being. It works at the same time for perfection as well as liberation; it takes up the whole nature part by part and deals with it, rejecting what has to be rejected, sublimating what has to be sublimated, creating what has to be created. It integrates, harmonises, establishes a new rhythm in the nature. It can bring down too a higher and yet higher force and range of the higher nature until, if that be the aim of the sadhana, it becomes possible to bring down the supramental force and existence. All this is prepared, assistance, farthered by the work of the psychic being in the heart centre; the more it is open, in front, active, the quicker, safer, easier the working of the Force can be. The more love and bhakti and surrender grow in the heart, the more rapid and perfect becomes the evolution of the sadhana. For the descent and transformation imply at the same time an increasing contact and union with the Divine. ~ Sri Aurobindo, The Mother With Letters On The Mother,

12:... Every one knew how laborious the usual method is of attaining to arts and sciences; whereas, by his contrivance, the most ignorant person, at a reasonable charge, and with a little bodily labour, might write books in philosophy, poetry, politics, laws, mathematics, and theology, without the least assistance from genius or study." He then led me to the frame, about the sides, whereof all his pupils stood in ranks. It was twenty feet square, placed in the middle of the room. The superfices was composed of several bits of wood, about the bigness of a die, but some larger than others. They were all linked together by slender wires. These bits of wood were covered, on every square, with paper pasted on them; and on these papers were written all the words of their language, in their several moods, tenses, and declensions; but without any order. The professor then desired me "to observe; for he was going to set his engine at work." The pupils, at his command, took each of them hold of an iron handle, whereof there were forty fixed round the edges of the frame; and giving them a sudden turn, the whole disposition of the words was entirely changed. He then commanded six-and-thirty of the lads, to read the several lines softly, as they appeared upon the frame; and where they found three or four words together that might make part of a sentence, they dictated to the four remaining boys, who were scribes. This work was repeated three or four times, and at every turn, the engine was so contrived, that the words shifted into new places, as the square bits of wood moved upside down. ~ Jonathan Swift, Gullivers Travels,

13:Eternal, unconfined, unextended, without cause and without effect, the Holy Lamp mysteriously burns. Without quantity or quality, unconditioned and sempiternal, is this Light. It is not possible for anyone to advise or approve; for this Lamp is not made with hands; it exists alone for ever; it has no parts, no person; it is before "I am." Few can behold it, yet it is always there. For it there is no "here" nor "there," no "then" nor "now;" all parts of speech are abolished, save the noun; and this noun is not found either in {106} human speech or in Divine. It is the Lost Word, the dying music of whose sevenfold echo is I A O and A U M. Without this Light the Magician could not work at all; yet few indeed are the Magicians that have know of it, and far fewer They that have beheld its brilliance! The Temple and all that is in it must be destroyed again and again before it is worthy to receive that Light. Hence it so often seems that the only advice that any master can give to any pupil is to destroy the Temple. "Whatever you have" and "whatever you are" are veils before that Light. Yet in so great a matter all advice is vain. There is no master so great that he can see clearly the whole character of any pupil. What helped him in the past may hinder another in the future. Yet since the Master is pledged to serve, he may take up that service on these simple lines. Since all thoughts are veils of this Light, he may advise the destruction of all thoughts, and to that end teach those practices which are clearly conductive to such destruction. These practices have now fortunately been set down in clear language by order of the A.'.A.'.. In these instructions the relativity and limitation of each practice is clearly taught, and all dogmatic interpretations are carefully avoided. Each practice is in itself a demon which must be destroyed; but to be destroyed it must first be evoked. Shame upon that Master who shirks any one of these practices, however distasteful or useless it may be to him! For in the detailed knowledge of it, which experience alone can give him, may lie his opportunity for crucial assistance to a pupil. However dull the drudgery, it should be undergone. If it were possible to regret anything in life, which is fortunately not the case, it would be the hours wasted in fruitful practices which might have been more profitably employed on sterile ones: for NEMO<> in tending his garden seeketh not to single out the flower that shall be NEMO after him. And we are not told that NEMO might have used other things than those which he actually does use; it seems possible that if he had not the acid or the knife, or the fire, or the oil, he might miss tending just that one flower which was to be NEMO after him! ~ Aleister Crowley, Liber ABA, The Lamp,

14:PRATYAHARA PRATYAHARA is the first process in the mental part of our task. The previous practices, Asana, Pranayama, Yama, and Niyama, are all acts of the body, while mantra is connected with speech: Pratyahara is purely mental.    And what is Pratyahara? This word is used by different authors in different senses. The same word is employed to designate both the practice and the result. It means for our present purpose a process rather strategical than practical; it is introspection, a sort of general examination of the contents of the mind which we wish to control: Asana having been mastered, all immediate exciting causes have been removed, and we are free to think what we are thinking about.    A very similar experience to that of Asana is in store for us. At first we shall very likely flatter ourselves that our minds are pretty calm; this is a defect of observation. Just as the European standing for the first time on the edge of the desert will see nothing there, while his Arab can tell him the family history of each of the fifty persons in view, because he has learnt how to look, so with practice the thoughts will become more numerous and more insistent.    As soon as the body was accurately observed it was found to be terribly restless and painful; now that we observe the mind it is seen to be more restless and painful still. (See diagram opposite.)    A similar curve might be plotted for the real and apparent painfulness of Asana. Conscious of this fact, we begin to try to control it: "Not quite so many thoughts, please!" "Don't think quite so fast, please!" "No more of that kind of thought, please!" It is only then that we discover that what we thought was a school of playful porpoises is really the convolutions of the sea-serpent. The attempt to repress has the effect of exciting.    When the unsuspecting pupil first approaches his holy but wily Guru, and demands magical powers, that Wise One replies that he will confer them, points out with much caution and secrecy some particular spot on the pupil's body which has never previously attracted his attention, and says: "In order to obtain this magical power which you seek, all that is necessary is to wash seven times in the Ganges during seven days, being particularly careful to avoid thinking of that one spot." Of course the unhappy youth spends a disgusted week in thinking of little else.    It is positively amazing with what persistence a thought, even a whole train of thoughts, returns again and again to the charge. It becomes a positive nightmare. It is intensely annoying, too, to find that one does not become conscious that one has got on to the forbidden subject until one has gone right through with it. However, one continues day after day investigating thoughts and trying to check them; and sooner or later one proceeds to the next stage, Dharana, the attempt to restrain the mind to a single object.    Before we go on to this, however, we must consider what is meant by success in Pratyahara. This is a very extensive subject, and different authors take widely divergent views. One writer means an analysis so acute that every thought is resolved into a number of elements (see "The Psychology of Hashish," Section V, in Equinox II).    Others take the view that success in the practice is something like the experience which Sir Humphrey Davy had as a result of taking nitrous oxide, in which he exclaimed: "The universe is composed exclusively of ideas."    Others say that it gives Hamlet's feeling: "There's nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so," interpreted as literally as was done by Mrs. Eddy.    However, the main point is to acquire some sort of inhibitory power over the thoughts. Fortunately there is an unfailing method of acquiring this power. It is given in Liber III. If Sections 1 and 2 are practised (if necessary with the assistance of another person to aid your vigilance) you will soon be able to master the final section. ~ Aleister Crowley, Liber ABA,

15:Although a devout student of the Bible, Paracelsus instinctively adopted the broad patterns of essential learning, as these had been clarified by Pythagoras of Samos and Plato of Athens. Being by nature a mystic as well as a scientist, he also revealed a deep regard for the Neoplatonic philosophy as expounded by Plotinus, Iamblichus, and Proclus. Neo­platonism is therefore an invaluable aid to the interpretation of the Paracelsian doctrine.    Paracelsus held that true knowledge is attained in two ways, or rather that the pursuit of knowledge is advanced by a two-fold method, the elements of which are completely interdependent. In our present terminology, we can say that these two parts of method are intuition and experience. To Paracelsus, these could never be divided from each other.    The purpose of intuition is to reveal certain basic ideas which must then be tested and proven by experience. Experience, in turn, not only justifies intuition, but contributes certain additional knowledge by which the impulse to further growth is strengthened and developed. Paracelsus regarded the separation of intuition and experience to be a disaster, leading inevitably to greater error and further disaster. Intuition without experience allows the mind to fall into an abyss of speculation without adequate censorship by practical means. Experience without intuition could never be fruitful because fruitfulness comes not merely from the doing of things, but from the overtones which stimulate creative thought. Further, experience is meaningless unless there is within man the power capable of evaluating happenings and occurrences. The absence of this evaluating factor allows the individual to pass through many kinds of experiences, either misinterpreting them or not inter­ preting them at all. So Paracelsus attempted to explain intuition and how man is able to apprehend that which is not obvious or apparent. Is it possible to prove beyond doubt that the human being is capable of an inward realization of truths or facts without the assistance of the so-called rational faculty?    According to Paracelsus, intuition was possible because of the existence in nature of a mysterious substance or essence-a universal life force. He gave this many names, but for our purposes, the simplest term will be appropriate. He compared it to light, further reasoning that there are two kinds of light: a visible radiance, which he called brightness, and an invisible radiance, which he called darkness. There is no essential difference between light and darkness. There is a dark light, which appears luminous to the soul but cannot be sensed by the body. There is a visible radiance which seems bright to the senses, but may appear dark to the soul. We must recognize that Paracelsus considered light as pertaining to the nature of being, the total existence from which all separate existences arise. Light not only contains the energy needed to support visible creatures, and the whole broad expanse of creation, but the invisible part of light supports the secret powers and functions of man, particularly intuition. Intuition, therefore, relates to the capacity of the individual to become attuned to the hidden side of life. By light, then, Paracelsus implies much more than the radiance that comes from the sun, a lantern, or a candle. To him, light is the perfect symbol, emblem, or figure of total well-being. Light is the cause of health. Invisible light, no less real if unseen, is the cause of wisdom. As the light of the body gives strength and energy, sustaining growth and development, so the light of the soul bestows understanding, the light of the mind makes wisdom possible, and the light of the spirit confers truth. Therefore, truth, wisdom, understanding, and health are all manifesta­ tions or revelations ot one virtue or power. What health is to the body, morality is to the emotions, virtue to the soul, wisdom to the mind, and reality to the spirit. This total content of living values is contained in every ray of visible light. This ray is only a manifestation upon one level or plane of the total mystery of life. Therefore, when we look at a thing, we either see its objective, physical form, or we apprehend its inner light Everything that lives, lives in light; everything that has an existence, radiates light. All things derive their life from light, and this light, in its root, is life itself. This, indeed, is the light that lighteth every man who cometh into the world. ~ Manly P Hall, Paracelsus,

*** WISDOM TROVE ***

1:Give assistance, not advice, in a crisis. ~ aesop, @wisdomtrove

2:Beggar, n. One who has relied on the assistance of his friends. ~ ambrose-bierce, @wisdomtrove

3:Give us a religion that will help us to live - we can die without assistance. ~ elbert-hubbard, @wisdomtrove

4:The U.S. is a Government which to bigotry gives no sanction, to persecution no assistance. ~ george-washington, @wisdomtrove

5:The most complicated achievements of thought are possible without the assistance of consciousness. ~ sigmund-freud, @wisdomtrove

6:I strongly disapprove of torture and have never and would never provide assistance in its process. ~ martin-seligman, @wisdomtrove

7:I am what libraries and librarians have made me, with little assistance from a professor of Greek and poets ~ heraclitus, @wisdomtrove

8:Through the history of our nation, Americans have always extended their hands in gestures of assistance. ~ ronald-reagan, @wisdomtrove

9:Let not a god interfere unless where a god's assistance is necessary. [Adopt extreme measures only in extreme cases.] ~ horace, @wisdomtrove

10:... happily the Government of the United States... gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance. ~ george-washington, @wisdomtrove

11:I had no advice, no counsel, no encouragement, no consolation, no assistance, no support, of any kind, from anyone, that I can call to mind, as I hope to go to heaven! ~ charles-dickens, @wisdomtrove

12:If Nature be not improved by instruction, it is blind; if instruction be not assisted by Nature, it is maimed; and if exercise fail of the assistance of both, it is imperfect. ~ plutarch, @wisdomtrove

13:He who assists a poor or needy villain does evil to his neighbor... for through the assistance which he renders he... supplies him with the means of doing evil to others. ~ emanuel-swedenborg, @wisdomtrove

14:Great men cultivate love and only little men cherish a spirit of hatred; assistance given to the weak makes the one who gives it strong; oppression of the unfortunate makes one weak. ~ booker-t-washington, @wisdomtrove

15:The longer I live the more convinced I become that God governs in the affairs of men. And have we now forgotten that powerful friend? Or do we imagine we no longer need His assistance. ~ benjamin-franklin, @wisdomtrove

16:Love thy neighbor as thyself: Do not do to others what thou wouldst not wish be done to thyself: Forgive injuries. Forgive thy enemy, be reconciled to him, give him assistance, invoke God in his behalf. ~ confucius, @wisdomtrove

17:Nothing is discovered without God's intention and assistance, and I suppose every new knowledge of His works that is conceded to man to be distinctly a revelation by which men are to guide themselves. ~ charles-dickens, @wisdomtrove

18:The number of teachers and guides that a soul has depends upon what it seeks to accomplish and its level of awareness. Souls that take upon themselves projects of more magnitude bring to themselves more assistance. ~ gary-zukav, @wisdomtrove

19:All the passages in the Holy Scriptures that mention assistance are they that do away with "free-will", and these are countless... For grace is needed, and the help of grace is given, because "free-will" can do nothing. ~ martin-luther, @wisdomtrove

20:We must always meet our obligation to those who fall behind without our assistance. But let's remember, without a race there can be no champion, no records broken, no excellence - in education or any other walk of life. ~ ronald-reagan, @wisdomtrove

21:How often we all have heard speakers begin by calling the attention of the audience to their lack of preparation or lack of ability. If you are not prepared, the audience will probably discover it without your assistance. ~ dale-carnegie, @wisdomtrove

22:Pity, though it may often relieve, is but, at best, a short-lived passion, and seldom affords distress more than transitory assistance; with some it scarce lasts from the first impulse till the hand can be put into the pocket. ~ oliver-goldsmith, @wisdomtrove

23:I like it when you buy something and pay with a credit card, they put your credit card on the receipt, but only the last four numbers. Aha! I'm really good at guessing twelve numbers. I can't guess 16 numbers, so thanks for the assistance! ~ mitch-hedberg, @wisdomtrove

24:Why was this heart of mine formed with so much sensibility! Or why not my fortune adapted to its impulses! Tenderness without a capacity of relieving only makes the man who feels it more wretched than the object which sues for assistance. ~ oliver-goldsmith, @wisdomtrove

25:Do you resolve to do the right and to love the true, depend upon it you will get no assistance from this world. Of its maxims, nine out of ten are false, and the other one selfish; and even that which is selfish has a lie at the bottom of it. ~ charles-spurgeon, @wisdomtrove

26:And so it is to the printing press&

27:Traveling ought also to teach him distrust; but at the same time he will discover, how many truly kind-hearted people there are, with whom he never before had, or ever again will have any further communication, who yet are ready to offer him the most disinterested assistance. ~ charles-darwin, @wisdomtrove

28:friendship! thou fond soother of the human breast, to thee we fly in every calamity; to thee the wretched seek for succor; on thee the care-tired son of misery fondly relies; from thy kind assistance the unfortunate always hopes relief, and may be sure of&

29:... knowing God is the condition for the sanctification of a human being by God's assistance and according to His intention. Wherever God is, there He is always creating... He wants to create a new human being. To need God is to become new. And to know God is the crucial thing. ~ soren-kierkegaard, @wisdomtrove

30:By the help of God and with His precious assistance, I say that Algebra is a scientific art. The objects with which it deals are absolute numbers and measurable quantities which, though themselves unknown, are related to "things" which are known, whereby the determination of the unknown quantities is possible. ~ omar-khayyam, @wisdomtrove

31:Immortality is what nature possesses without effort and without anybody's assistance, and immortality is what the mortals must therefore try to achieve if they want to live up to the world into which they were born, to live up to the things which surround them and to whose company they are admitted for a short while. ~ hannah-arendt, @wisdomtrove

32:Children, we should visit homes of the poor, orphanages and hospitals from time to time. We should take our family members along and offer assistance and look after the welfare of inmates. A word spoken with love and concern will give them more comfort than any amount of money. That will lead to the expansion of our hearts as well. ~ mata-amritanandamayi, @wisdomtrove

33:Your ability to negotiate, communicate, influence, and persuade others to do things is absolutely indispensable to everything you accomplish in life. The most effective men and women in every area are those who can quite competently organize the cooperation and assistance of other people toward the accomplishment of important goals and objectives. ~ brian-tracy, @wisdomtrove

34:There is something that is much more scarce, something finer far, something rarer than ability. It is the ability to recognize ability. The sternest comment that can be made against employers as a class lies in the fact that men of Ability usually succeed in showing their worth in spite of their employer, and not with his assistance and encouragement. ~ elbert-hubbard, @wisdomtrove

35:Our economic assistance must be carefully targeted, and must make maximum use of the energy and efforts of the private sector... Economic freedom is the world's mightiest engine for abundance and social justice... Developing countries need to be encouraged to experiment with a growing variety of arrangements for profit sharing and expanded capital ownership. ~ ronald-reagan, @wisdomtrove

36:Work with yourself. Work. If you have a partner, so much the better. Speak. Use whatever process is appropriate. Know that this universe is compassionate, aware and alive. This is a universe of life. This is not a material enterprise. It is a spiritual enterprise and it is filled with loving assistance. This is a thought form that must be in place in order for you to receive assistance. ~ gary-zukav, @wisdomtrove

37:It is now no more that toleration is spoken of, as if it was by the indulgence of one class of people, that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights. For happily the government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction - to persecution no assistance, requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens. ~ george-washington, @wisdomtrove

38:It is for these reasons that I believe we must expand day-care centers and provide other assistance which I have recommended to the Congress. At present, the total facilities of all the licensed day-care centers in the Nation can take care of only 185,000 children. Nearly 500,000 children under 12 must take care of themselves while their mothers work. This, it seems to me, is a formula for disaster. ~ john-f-kennedy, @wisdomtrove

39:But in many orders of beauty, particularly those of the finer arts, it is requisite to employ much reasoning, in order to feel the proper sentiment; and a false relish may frequently be corrected by argument and reflection. There are just grounds to conclude, that moral beauty partakes of this latter species, and demands the assistance of our intellectual faculties, in order to give it a suitable influence on the human mind. ~ david-hume, @wisdomtrove

40:My own idea, for what it is worth, is that all sadness which is not either arising from the repentance of a concrete sin and hastening towards concrete amendment or restitution, or else arising from pity and hastening to active assistance, is simply bad; and I think we all sin by needlessly disobeying the apostolic injunction to &

41:God is the hardest taskmaster I have known on this earth, and he tries you through and through. And when you find that your faith is failing or your body is failing you, and you are sinking, he comes to your assistance somehow or other and proves to you that you must not lose your faith and that he is always at your beck and call, but on his terms, not on your terms. So I have found. I cannot really recall a single instance when, at the eleventh hour, he has forsaken me. ~ mahatma-gandhi, @wisdomtrove

42:Student loans have been helpful to many. But they offer neither incentive nor assistance to those students who, by reason of family or other obligations, are unable or unwilling to go deeper into debt. ... It is, moreover, only prudent economic and social policy for the public to share part of the costs of the long period of higher education for those whose development is essential to our national economic and social well-being. All of us share in the benefits - all should share in the costs. ~ john-f-kennedy, @wisdomtrove

43:I don't know who the great lawyers are, and I presume you can't get to them. I know of no case where it can be said for certain that they took part. They defend some people, but you can't get them to do that through your own efforts, they only defend the ones they want to defend. But I assume a case they take on must have progressed beyond the lower court. It's better not to think of them at all, otherwise you'll find the consultations with the other lawyers, their advice and their assistance, extremely disgusting and useless. ~ franz-kafka, @wisdomtrove

44:Unselfish work leads to silence, for when you work selflessly, you don't need to ask for help. Indifferent to results, you are willing to work with the most inadequate means. You do not care to be much gifted and well equipped. Nor do you ask for recognition and assistance. You just do what needs be done, leaving success and failure to the unknown. For everything is caused by innumerable factors, of which your personal endeavour is but one. Yet such is the magic of man's mind and heart that the most improbable happens when human will and love pull together. ~ sri-nisargadatta-maharaj, @wisdomtrove

45:Many will say, "I can find God without the help of the Bible, or church, or minister." Very well. Do so if you can. The Ferry Company would feel no jealousy of a man who should prefer to swim to New York. Let him do so if he is able, and we will talk about it on the other shore; but probably trying to swim would be the thing that would bring him quickest to the boat. So God would have no jealousy of a man's going to heaven without the aid of the Bible, or church, or minister; but let him try to do so, and it will be the surest way to bring him back to them for assistance. ~ henry-ward-beecher, @wisdomtrove

46:The lower the family income, the higher the probability that the mother must work. Today, 1 out of 5 of these working mothers has children under 3. Two out of 5 have children of school age. Among the remainder, about 50 percent have husbands who earn less than $5,000 a year-many of them much less. I believe they bear the heaviest burden of any group in our Nation. Where the mother is the sole support of the family, she often must face the hard choice of either accepting public assistance or taking a position at a pay rate which averages less than two-thirds of the pay rate for men. ~ john-f-kennedy, @wisdomtrove

47:The Spiritual Creative Power is available to you. You may secure its services and employ them in the tasks and work of your everyday life, and toward the attainment of your ideals. You, the individual Creative Spirit, are entitled by your birthright to claim and demand the aid and assistance of the Infinite and Eternal SPIRIT in which you live and move and have your being, and from which your life and power proceed and flow. You have the natural and inalienable right to draw upon the Infinite Fount of Creative Power, and to apply that power through your own creative channels. ~ william-walker-atkinson, @wisdomtrove

*** NEWFULLDB 2.4M ***

1:Give assistance, not advice, in a crisis. ~ Aesop,

2:Generosity gives assistance, rather than advice. ~ Luc de Clapiers,

3:One ungrateful man injures all who need assistance. ~ Publilius Syrus,

4:Night sometimes lends such tragic assistance to catastrophe. ~ Victor Hugo,

5:It is with a pure heart that I humbly ask your assistance. ~ Kelly Barnhill,

6:Every tub must stand upon its own without the need of assistance. ~ John Bunyan,

7:You can judge people by the way they treat waiters and assistance. ~ John Green,

8:Thus one thing requires assistance from another, and joins in friendly help. ~ Horace,

9:Without Divine assistance I can not succeed; with it I can not fail. ~ Abraham Lincoln,

10:O Mary, you give assistance to everyone endeavoring to rise to God! ~ Bridget of Sweden,

11:I am also committed to providing city employees with housing assistance. ~ Thomas Menino,

12:The coward never on himself relies, But to an equal for assistance flies. ~ George Crabbe,

13:Go to meet destiny halfway and destiny will come to your assistance. ~ Svetlana Alliluyeva,

14:No amount of humanitarian assistance can protect people from being attacked. ~ Jan Egeland,

15:People must again learn to work, instead of living on public assistance. ~ Taylor Caldwell,

16:Finding your calling will not happen without the aid and assistance of others. ~ Jeff Goins,

17:I felt quite uncentered enough on my own, with no outside assistance. ~ Catherine Ryan Hyde,

18:We begin to praise when we begin to see a thing needs our assistance. ~ Henry David Thoreau,

19:No one could be that annoying without some kind of supernatural assistance. ~ Cassandra Clare,

20:Give us a religion that will help us to live - we can die without assistance. ~ Elbert Hubbard,

21:I grinned. “Glad I can be of assistance.” She patted my chest. “Giddy up. ~ Jennifer L Armentrout,

22:It cannot be too often repeated, that truth scorns the assistance of miracle. ~ Robert Green Ingersoll,

23:What a child can do today with assistance, she will be able to do by herself tomorrow. ~ Lev S Vygotsky,

24:Expert economics coming to the assistance of ambitious unintelligence.” Let them chew cake. ~ Mary Roach,

25:To make a fortune some assistance from fate is essential. Ability alone is insufficient. ~ Ihara Saikaku,

26:I am a computer illiterate that has to rely on my wife for all of the assistance I can get. ~ John McCain,

27:The longer people receive economic assistance, the worse their social condition and behavior. ~ James Cook,

28:from natural selection’s point of view, status assistance is the main purpose of friendship. ~ Robert Wright,

29:The test of friendship is assistance in adversity, and that, too, unconditional assistance. ~ Mahatma Gandhi,

30:The principle applies here, help yourselves and Almighty God will not deny you his assistance. ~ Adolf Hitler,

31:It is vital that we communicate to seniors their options regarding prescription drug assistance. ~ Jim Gerlach,

32:The U.S. is a Government which to bigotry gives no sanction, to persecution no assistance. ~ George Washington,

33:suc·cor (BRIT.suc·cour)   n. assistance and support in times of hardship and distress. ~ Oxford University Press,

34:No degree of knowledge attainable by man is able to set him above the want of hourly assistance. ~ Samuel Johnson,

35:If you can light the spark of curiosity in a child, they will learn without any further assistance. ~ Ken Robinson,

36:The most complicated achievements of thought are possible without the assistance of consciousness. ~ Sigmund Freud,

37:Give assistance, and receive thanks lighter than a feather: injure a man, and his wrath will be like lead. ~ Plautus,

38:If marriages didn’t need divine assistance to survive, weddings wouldn’t be held in churches. ~ Christopher Buehlman,

39:You did not die when you were drawing public assistance money, but you certainly did not remain alive. ~ Nevil Shute,

40:It is neither the statesman nor the friend who is asking your help and assistance, but simply the man. ~ Pierre Laval,

41:If someone at Fleet Farm offers you assistance and they don't work there you might live in Wisconsin. ~ Jeff Foxworthy,

42:Without the assistance of that Divine Being...I cannot succeed. With that assistance I cannot fail. ~ Abraham Lincoln,

43:I am what libraries and librarians have made me, with little assistance from a professor of Greek and poets ~ Heraclitus,

44:Robots will play an important role in providing physical assistance and even companionship for the elderly. ~ Bill Gates,

45:Through the history of our nation, Americans have always extended their hands in gestures of assistance. ~ Ronald Reagan,

46:We cannot sleep peacefully while babies are dying of hunger and the elderly are without medical assistance ~ Pope Francis,

47:Help might not be required, but it’s nice to let a person know that you’re there if assistance is required. ~ Susan Calman,

48:And seek assistance through patience and prayer, and most surely it is a hard thing except for the humble ones, ~ Anonymous,

49:The assistance you need will be provided by the universe as soon as you convert your readiness to willingness. ~ Wayne Dyer,

50:If you're a person that has low income, you probably should have more assistance than a person with high income. ~ Paul Ryan,

51:The Republicans have chosen to neglect young Americans who need assistance with the costs of higher education. ~ John Conyers,

52:Let not a god interfere unless where a god's assistance is necessary. [Adopt extreme measures only in extreme cases.] ~ Horace,

53:There are going to be situations where people are going to go without assistance. That's just the facts of life. ~ Daryl Gates,

54:It is not necessary that one should humble oneself to deserve assistance, it is sufficient that one should suffer. ~ Emile Zola,

55:... happily the Government of the United States... gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance. ~ George Washington,

56:The denial of assistance is sometimes the greatest assistance. The trick is recognizing when this is the case. ~ Richelle E Goodrich,

57:What I would say is governments need assistance to run their organisations more efficiently just like businesses do. ~ Andrew Forrest,

58:Don't grab people. Would you like it if I grabbed you? If you would like to offer assistance, ask if the person needs it. ~ Alex Flinn,

59:Some assistance dogs also wear harnesses that have a large solid, handle, intended for use instead of a leash. ~ Luis Carlos Montalv n,

60:Israel gets more than half of all the military purchasing assistance that America gives to all the nations in the world. ~ John F Kerry,

61:One thing, however, I must premise, that without the assistance of natural capacity, rules and precepts are of no efficacy. ~ Quintilian,

62:Foreign Assistance is not an end in itself. The purpose of aid must be to create the conditions where it's no longer need. ~ Barack Obama,

63:No music is so charming to my ear as the requests of my friends, and the supplications of those in want of my assistance. ~ Julius Caesar,

64:The most powerful demonstration of leadership is not a clenched fist of brute force but an open hand of humble assistance. ~ Mike Huckabee,

65:Whatever you think people are withholding from you-praise, appreciation, assistance, loving care, and so on-give it to them. ~ Eckhart Tolle,

66:As someone who grew up in tough circumstances, I know that being on public assistance is not a spot that anyone wants to be in. ~ Dean Heller,

67:Conceiving God to be the fountain of wisdom, I thought it right and necessary to solicit his assistance for obtaining it. ~ Benjamin Franklin,

68:Dont fight even over girlfriends. The country is full of beautiful women. If you cant get one, come to Mugabe for assistance. ~ Robert Mugabe,

69:It is hoped that by God's assistance, some of the continents in the Ocean will be discovered ... for the Glory of God. ~ Christopher Columbus,

70:it was designed to operate with minimal assistance from humans, who were without exception the moving part most likely to fail. ~ John Scalzi,

71:One of the successes of the cause of the friends of peace is the ratification of the Franco-Soviet Pact of Mutual Assistance. ~ Joseph Stalin,

72:The best way to give assistance to those who are deeply embarrassed and to calm them down is to praise them decisively. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,

73:The weak and misbegotten shall perish: first principle of our brotherly love. And they shall be given every assistance. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,

74:To think that the ruler of the universe will run to my assistance and bend the laws of nature for me is the height of arrogance. ~ Dan Barker,

75:If you feel that you're not ready to die, never fear; nature will give you complete and adequate assistance when the time comes. ~ Edward Abbey,

76:[I]t was designed to operate with minimal assistance from humans, who were without exception the moving part most likely to fail. ~ John Scalzi,

77:Error indeed has often prevailed by the assistance of power or force. Truth is the proper and sufficient antagonist to error. ~ Thomas Jefferson,

78:We should not exercise the body without the joint assistance of the mind; nor exercise the mind without the joint assistance of the body. ~ Plato,

79:It is an eternal obligation toward the human being not to let him suffer from hunger when one has a chance of coming to his assistance. ~ Simone Weil,

80:Washington wrote. “For, happily, the Government of the United States . . . gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance. ~ Sarah Vowell,

81:A composer is a guy who goes around forcing his will on unsuspecting air molecules, often with the assistance of unsuspecting musicians. ~ Frank Zappa,

82:The arrogance of officialdom should be tempered and controlled, and assistance to foreign hands should be curtailed, lest Rome fall. ~ Taylor Caldwell,

83:Unless Hamas recognizes Israel's right to exist and renounces terror, the Palestinian Authority should receive no direct U.S. assistance. ~ Lois Capps,

84:After-sales service is more important than assistance before sales. It is through such service that one gets permanent customers. ~ Konosuke Matsushita,

85:it may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God’s assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men’s faces. ~ Sarah Vowell,

86:What makes the pain we feel from shame and jealousy so cutting is that vanity can give us no assistance in bearing them. ~ Francois de La Rochefoucauld,

87:When companies offer support and assistance for personal and family hardships, their employees become more loyal and more productive. ~ Sheryl Sandberg,

88:Got up this morning and could not find my glasses. Finally had to seek assistance. Kate [Winslet] found them inside a flower arrangement. ~ Emma Thompson,

89:Real assistance is to help people to help themselves. We can't do everything for everybody, but there is room for all who try to make it. ~ Gerald R Ford,

90:The non-violent technique does not depend for its success on the goodwill of the oppressor, but rather on the unfailing assistance of God. ~ Cesar Chavez,

91:Blacks don’t in fact make up a majority of residents receiving housing assistance nationwide today (the number is closer to about 44 percent). ~ Anonymous,

92:Despite the difference in size between the girl and her assailants, it was looking as if she was not in need of any outside assistance. ~ Alan Dean Foster,

93:Dictators require the assistance of the people they rule, without which they cannot secure and maintain the sources of political power. These ~ Gene Sharp,

94:... many a suicide might be averted if the person contemplating it could find the proper assistance when such a crisis impends. ~ Clifford Whittingham Beers,

95:The knowledge of ourselves, therefore, is not only an incitement to seek after God, but likewise a considerable assistance towards finding him. ~ John Calvin,

96:Good by,’ he said and hung up. What kind of world is it, he asked himself, when an android phones up a bounty hunter and offers him assistance? ~ Philip K Dick,

97:If I were capable of assisting someone, I would do it in a manner that would cause the person seeking assistance to work, so he assists himself. ~ Ameen Rihani,

98:In the broken world I saw around me—and for the people struggling in that world—religion offered tangible assistance to keep the faithful on track. ~ J D Vance,

99:It's hard to understand other people, to know what's hidden in their hearts, and without the assistance of alcohol it might never be done. ~ Michel Houellebecq,

100:The Queen says it is an exact duplicate. It was made with the assistance of a wizard of great power called OfficeMax, of whom I know nothing. ~ Cassandra Clare,

101:God, could you even imagine? What would I say? Hello Mr. Moretti, I’m in need of some oral assistance. Would you be so kind to spread my knees? ~ Krista Ritchie,

102:We must now make clear to Lebanon that it will not benefit from U.S. assistance and support as long as it harbors this brutal terrorist and murder. ~ Jim DeMint,

103:He made a sound close to a growl before speaking. “Why do you resist my assistance?” She stopped walking and faced him. “Because I don't like you. ~ Lia Davis,

104:Those who, relying upon themselves only, not looking for assistance to anyone besides themselves, it is they who will reach the top-most height. ~ Gautama Buddha,

105:We were just showering," Lex muttered. "Of course," Uncle Mort said. "Everyone knows how impossible it is to zestfully clean without assistance. ~ Gina Damico,

106:the assistance given by the ordinary man and woman was simply marvellous and was responsible in the main for the success of our fighting services. ~ Tim Pat Coogan,

107:Who will excuse us before God for the loss of such a great number of people, who could be saved by the slight assistance we could give them? ~ Saint Vincent de Paul,

108:I have been working, as emergency relief coordinator, on an international scale, very hard to build a wider alliance of partners in assistance efforts. ~ Jan Egeland,

109:I have firmly decided to bite the dust with a minimum of medical assistance when my time comes, and up to then to sin to my wicked heart's content. ~ Albert Einstein,

110:It’s hard to understand other people, to know what’s hidden in their hearts, and without the assistance of alcohol it might never be done at all. ~ Michel Houellebecq,

111:There is no sinner in the world, however much at enmity with God, who cannot recover God's grace by recourse to Mary, and by asking her assistance. ~ Bridget of Sweden,

112:What children can do with the assistance of others might be in some sense even more indicative of their mental development than what they can do alone ~ Lev S Vygotsky,

113:A popular government wields a moral force, which is infinitely superior to the physical force that the foreign government could summon to its assistance. ~ Mahatma Gandhi,

114:And those who pretend to be teachers of others, and yet despise his teaching assistance, will one day find that they undertook a work which was none of theirs. ~ John Owen,

115:In the search for truth - that everything in nature seems to hide - man needs the assistance of all his faculties. All the senses should be awake. ~ Robert Green Ingersoll,

116:MAY it please your Honors: I was desired by one of the court to look into the books, and consider the question now before them concerning Writs of Assistance. ~ James Otis,

117:The developing countries must be able to take a more active part in trade negotiations, through technical assistance and support from the developed countries. ~ Anna Lindh,

118:But the Americans have no extra money. They have their own problems. They can provide financial assistance for two, three, four, or six months at most. ~ Eduard Shevardnadze,

119:Give me the benefit of your assistance during those ablutions that neccessarily, though unfortunatly, invariably follow the excercise of the culinary art. ~ Elizabeth Goudge,

120:A father is very miserable who has no other hold on his children's affection than the need they have of his assistance, if that can be called affection. ~ Michel de Montaigne,

121:If it is presumed that the Kenyans will democratise in order to eat the peanuts of development assistance from the European Union... it would be a big mistake. ~ Meles Zenawi,

122:I did all the work at the beginning up until the point where I couldn't handle the increasingly heavy art production burden alone. I needed, and got, assistance. ~ Joe Shuster,

123:Women are quite able to make friends with a man; but to preserve such a friendship - that no doubt requires the assistance of a slight physical antipathy ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,

124:In a corner, Bonnie Moebeck had Lilith, another of the pit bulls, pinned in a corner with a second animal-control pole. Kristi rushed over to offer her assistance. ~ Simon Wood,

125:Once again, the designer should assume that people will be interrupted during their activities and that they may need assistance in resuming their operations. ~ Donald A Norman,

126:Our hearts are with you and we are ready to provide any assistance at any time....This is a war between good and evil and between humanity and the bloodthirsty. ~ Ariel Sharon,

127:When humans face testings and tragedy, they should remember the angels who are always standing ready to lend their celestial assistance, comfort and council. ~ Flower A Newhouse,

128:Most people released from prison after being proved innocent receive no money, no assistance, no counseling—nothing from the state that wrongly imprisoned them. ~ Bryan Stevenson,

129:A decent society will be one in which enemies do not allow their rancour or animosity to prevent them from coming to one another’s assistance when they need help. ~ Jonathan Sacks,

130:Once more, never think that you can live to God by your own power or strength; but always look to and rely on him for assistance, yea, for all strength and grace. ~ David Brainerd,

131:When you're asking someone for assistance, make it as easy as possible for them to say "no" to you. You don't want someone helping you who doesn't really want to. ~ Raymond Arroyo,

132:I’m merely exploring souls & cities From the vantage point Of my ivory tower built, Built with the assistance of Opium That’s enough, isnt it? ~ Jack Kerouac,

133:Consider that fact that, being nothing in ourselves, we cannot, without divine assistance, accomplish the smallest good or advance the smallest step toward Heaven. ~ Lorenzo Scupoli,

134:I appeal to all men and women, whether they be eminent or humble, to declare that they will refuse to give any further assistance to war or the preparation of war. ~ Albert Einstein,

135:Most people released from prison after being proved innocent receive no money, no assistance, no counseling—nothing from the state that wrongly imprisoned them. At ~ Bryan Stevenson,

136:Some virtuous women are too liberal in their insults to a frail sister; but virtue can support itself without borrowing any assistance from the vices of other women. ~ Henry Fielding,

137:I worked in an art gallery for a few years, doing administrative assistance stuff, and it exposed me to what the whole world of art dealers and the art market was about. ~ Joan Larkin,

138:We are taking the steps necessary to be ready to send whatever assistance is requested of us, and we are preparing to receive citizens who seek refuge in our state ~ Jennifer Granholm,

139:Heaven forming each on other to depend, A master, or a servant, or a friend, Bids each on other for assistance call, Till one man's weakness grows the strength of all. ~ Alexander Pope,

140:Low-income seniors who choose to enroll in a drug discount plan will receive $600 of Federal assistance in 2004 and 2005 to further defray the costs of their medications. ~ Jim Gerlach,

141:Members of trusting teams admit weaknesses and mistakes, take risks in offering feedback and assistance, and focus time and energy on important issues, not politics. ~ Patrick Lencioni,

142:A circumstance which has always appeared wonderful to me, is that such sublime discoveries should have been made by the sole assistance of a quadrant and a little arithmetic. ~ Voltaire,

143:I had no advice, no counsel, no encouragement, no consolation, no assistance, no support, of any kind, from anyone, that I can call to mind, as I hope to go to heaven! ~ Charles Dickens,

144:We’ve given up on rehabilitation, education, and services for the imprisoned because providing assistance to the incarcerated is apparently too kind and compassionate. ~ Bryan Stevenson,

145:Furthermore, I preferred to only have cravings I could satisfy without the requirement or assistance of another person. This was, after all, the definition of self-reliance. ~ Penny Reid,

146:If Nature be not improved by instruction, it is blind; if instruction be not assisted by Nature, it is maimed; and if exercise fail of the assistance of both, it is imperfect. ~ Plutarch,

147:immigrants today are immediately sunk into the warm bath of food stamps, housing assistance, Social Security disability payments, and multilingual ballots and street signs. ~ Ann Coulter,

148:Our human weakness is protected by the assistance of the Angels and...in all our perils, provided faith remain with us, we are defended by the aid of spiritual powers. ~ Gregory of Nyssa,

149:Would that God, Monsieur, had rendered us worthy of spending our lives, as Our Lord did, for the salvation of those poor souls so far removed from all assistance. ~ Saint Vincent de Paul,

150:Just as the witticism brings two very different real objects under one concept, the pun brings two different concepts, by the assistance of accident, under one word. ~ Arthur Schopenhauer,

151:Augustine does not disagree with this when he teaches that it is a faculty of the reason and the will to choose good with the assistance of grace; evil, when grace is absent. ~ John Calvin,

152:I support immediate financial assistance to the newly elected Palestinian president. Now, I don't know what those numbers will be, and I don't know how it's going to be framed. ~ Joe Biden,

153:I therefore beg leave to move that henceforth prayers imploring the assistance of Heaven, and its blessing on our deliberations, be held in this Assembly every morning. ~ Benjamin Franklin,

154:It is well known that apes in the wild offer spontaneous assistance to each other, defending against leopards, say, or consoling distressed companions with tender embraces. ~ Frans de Waal,

155:Many of these Americans who are struggling to survive are Americans of color, .. Their cries for assistance confront America with a test of our moral compass as a nation. ~ Elijah Cummings,

156:Prayer is a sincere, sensible, affectionate pouring out of the soul to God, through Christ, in the strength and assistance of the Spirit, for such things as God has promised. ~ John Bunyan,

157:We’ve given up on rehabilitation, education, and services for the imprisoned because providing assistance to the incarcerated is apparently too kind and compassionate. We ~ Bryan Stevenson,

158:But more than anything else, we have learned that legal assistance for the poor, when properly provided, is one of the most constructive ways to help them help themselves. ~ Richard M Nixon,

159:California must be all American or all Chinese. We are resolved that it shall be American, and are prepared to make it so. May we not rely upon your sympathy and assistance? ~ Denis Kearney,

160:He who assists a poor or needy villain does evil to his neighbor...for through the assistance which he renders he...supplies him with the means of doing evil to others. ~ Emanuel Swedenborg,

161:Never underestimate how much assistance, how much satisfaction, how much comfort, how much soul and transcendence there might be in a well-made taco and a cold bottle of beer. ~ Tom Robbins,

162:On the other hand, ethnic psychology must always come to the assistance of individual psychology, when the developmental forms of the complex mental processes are in question. ~ Wilhelm Wundt,

163:Gardner led practices with the assistance of the fitness coach and one of the other assistants while the infamous frankfurter did what he always did: a whole bunch of nothing. ~ Mariana Zapata,

164:The earth was created by the assistance of the sun, and it should be left as it was. The country was made without lines of demarcation, and it is no man's business to divide it. ~ Chief Joseph,

165:The Patriot Act makes a mockery of the Sixth Amendment, which protects your right to a speedy and public trial, and your right to the assistance of counsel for your defense. ~ Michael Badnarik,

166:At least through 1999, Pakistan continued to provide technical and training assistance to the United Arab Emirates, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Bahrain, and Qatar (Henderson 1999). ~ C Christine Fair,

167:Never underestimate how much assistance, how much satisfaction, how much comfort, how much soul and transcendence there might be in a well-made taco and a cold bottle of beer. The ~ Tom Robbins,

168:(Not that I’ve ever had much use for reality—having spent much of what I laughingly refer to as my adult life attempting to escape it with the assistance of a variety of drugs.) ~ Carrie Fisher,

169:We at the Department of Education are going to provide technical assistance; I've committed $14 million to show states how they might meet this more sophisticated approach. ~ Margaret Spellings,

170:It is a contradiction to support increased development assistance, yet turn a blind eye to actions by multinationals anothers that undermine the tax base of a developing country. ~ Trevor Manuel,

171:residents of extreme-poverty neighborhoods in 2005–09 were more likely to be white, native-born, high school or college graduates, homeowners, and not receiving public assistance.”12 ~ J D Vance,

172:After the armistice, Finland, having failed to gain useful help from Britain and France, turned to Germany for assistance in rearming its forces, which Hitler was happy to provide. ~ Max Hastings,

173:Cursing is invoking the assistance of a spirit to help you inflict suffering. Swearing on the other hand, is invoking, only the witness of a spirit to an statement you wish to make. ~ John Ruskin,

174:He works in us and with us, not against us or without us; so that his assistance is an encouragement to the facilitating of the work, and no occasion of neglect as to the work itself. ~ John Owen,

175:I have withdrawn not only from men, but from affairs, especially my own affairs; I am working for later generations, writing down some ideas that may be of assistance to them. ~ Seneca the Younger,

176:Assistance is the universal, immutable force of creative manifestation, whose role since the Big Bang has been to translate potential into being, to convert dreams into reality. ~ Steven Pressfield,

177:[Police chiefs ] want support, they want more training, they want more assistance. And I think the federal government could be in a position where we would offer and provide that. ~ Hillary Clinton,

178:The fact that a man has no claim on others ... does not preclude or prohibit good will among men and does not make it immoral to offer or to accept voluntary, non-sacrificial assistance. ~ Ayn Rand,

179:Il est bien difficile de comprendre les autres, de savoir ce qui se cache au fond de leurs cœurs, et sans l’assistance de l’alcool on n’y parviendrait peut-être même pas du tout ~ Michel Houellebecq,

180:It would seem you are in need of assistance, sidhe-seer.” A musical baritone drifted through the window, otherworldly, sensuous, and punctuated by a forbidding growl of thunder. ~ Karen Marie Moning,

181:We can talk about corporations all day long but my goal is to help the middle class, somebody who makes too much to be on government assistance but still lives paycheck to paycheck. ~ Lindsey Graham,

182:O sinner, be not discouraged, but have recourse to Mary in all you necessities. Call her to your assistance, for such is the divine Will that she should help in every kind of necessity. ~ Saint Basil,

183:Pinner. "'Thank you very much,' said he; 'I fear that I underrated the difficulty of the task. This list will be of very material assistance to me.' "'It took some time,' said I. ~ Arthur Conan Doyle,

184:Aside from the poor example it sets, the federal government enables reckless spending on public-employee pensions by offering hope of assistance from Washington if things get bad enough. ~ Devin Nunes,

185:Agent Chen, thanks for your assistance earlier. Any follow up questions regarding that last issue we discussed, feel free to take them up with me at your convenience. Agent Randall. She ~ Toni Anderson,

186:For people on social assistance, the loss of free dental care, prescription drugs and subsidized housing can greatly outweigh additional income from working. We've all heard the stories. ~ Kim Campbell,

187:I've always been driven by the concept of equal justice under the law, but only the rich can pay great sums of money for legal assistance and that puts them at an advantage over the poor. ~ Samuel Dash,

188:I will to my dying day oppose with all the powers and faculties God has given me, all such instruments of slavery on the one hand, and villainy on the other, as this writ of assistance is. ~ James Otis,

189:We will be a better country when each religious group can trust its members to obey the dictates of their own religious faith without assistance from the legal structure of the country. ~ Margaret Mead,

190:That father may truly be said miserable that holdeth the affection of his children tied unto him by no other means than by the need they have of his help or want of his assistance, ~ Michel de Montaigne,

191:I require your assistance, Source Karish,” she announced. He bowed. “How may I serve you, Your Majesty?” Careful, Karish. She isn’t about to ask you to pick a daisy for her. ~ Moira J Moore,

192:While the Lord might insist that vengeance was His, no male Highlander of my acquaintance had ever thought it right that the Lord should be left to handle such things without assistance. ~ Diana Gabaldon,

193:Great men cultivate love and only little men cherish a spirit of hatred; assistance given to the weak makes the one who gives it strong; oppression of the unfortunate makes one weak. ~ Booker T Washington,

194:Increased funding for the Weatherization Assistance Program is a priority for the Bush Administration, and I am pleased that many families in North Carolina will benefit from this increase. ~ Richard Burr,

195:My family grew up relying on public assistance to help provide meals for our family. Child hunger in America is a real and often overlooked problem, but one that together, we can fix. ~ Scarlett Johansson,

196:The longer I live the more convinced I become that God governs in the affairs of men. And have we now forgotten that powerful friend? Or do we imagine we no longer need His assistance. ~ Benjamin Franklin,

197:people who were never respected as children and thus do their utmost to earn that respect at a later stage with the assistance of the gigantic power apparatus they have built up around them. ~ Alice Miller,

198:We have entered a Moment when we are alone. We cannot get assistance, as before. Well, Mr. Tagomi thought, perhaps that too is good. Or can be made good. One must still try to find the Way. ~ Philip K Dick,

199:We need better coordination on the international side, just as they need better and more effective efforts on the Somali side. We have too many reconstruction and development assistance plans. ~ Jan Egeland,

200:Leaving Iraq without military assistance during its transition, and before it is stable enough to ensure its own citizens' security, would pose a tremendous risk. We must complete our mission. ~ Doc Hastings,

201:Most poor people in America were like Arleen: they did not live in public housing or apartments subsidized by vouchers. Three in four families who qualified for assistance received nothing. ~ Matthew Desmond,

202:None of us got to where we are alone. Whether the assistance we received was obvious or subtle, acknowledging someone's help is a big part of understanding the importance of saying thank you. ~ Harvey Mackay,

203:Those who plead for the lives of the unborn should consider the lives of the living. ...the unborn are not as wretched or as in need of our assistance as the born! Please take pity on the born! ~ John Irving,

204:I am not against the provision of the necessary medical assistance to Coloured and natives, because, unless they receive that medical aid, they become a source of danger to the European community. ~ P W Botha,

205:Most poor people in America were like Arleen: they did not live in public housing or apartments subsidized by vouchers. Three in four families who qualified for assistance received nothing.4 ~ Matthew Desmond,

206:No film ever ends up exactly as you would like it to, but with minor exceptions, THX came out pretty much as I had visualized it, thanks to some excellent assistance -- and a whole lot of luck. ~ George Lucas,

207:Even the most astute chefs seek out the assistance of Celine Labaune, owner of Gourmet Attitude, because they know they can rely on her keen senses and deep understanding of the truffle trade. ~ Thomas Keller,

208:Wanted you to meet Murphy, the new guitarist. Very cute. Laughing, I respond: Stop trying to set me up! Jenna: Your vagina is going to close up, and you’ll need surgical assistance to use it again. ~ Lex Martin,

209:I had refused Emerson's well-meant offers of assistance, knowing his efforts would be confined to moving the furniture to the wrong places and demanding how much longer the process would take. ~ Elizabeth Peters,

210:When things go wrong, your best recovery effort is required. But don't just provide the missing piece (that's the recovery), also provide uniquely personal assistance (that's the memorable effort). ~ Ron Kaufman,

211:If you find yourself suddenly mated to a werewolf, whatever you do, don't panic. Simply turn to Jen for assistance and she will give you a cool acronym to call him…because that's just so important. ~ Quinn Loftis,

212:We are taught in an especial manner to pray that God would give his Holy Spirit unto us, that through his aid and assistance we may live unto God in that holy obedience which he requires at our hands. ~ John Owen,

213:We need a top-to-bottom review of every economic development and assistance program we have to ensure that they encourage everyone to strive instead of settle, because there is dignity in all work. ~ Carly Fiorina,

214:2008, the year Arleen was evicted from Thirteenth Street, federal expenditures for direct housing assistance totaled less than $40.2 billion, but homeowner tax benefits exceeded $171 billion. That ~ Matthew Desmond,

215:Love thy neighbor as thyself: Do not do to others what thou wouldst not wish be done to thyself: Forgive injuries. Forgive thy enemy, be reconciled to him, give him assistance, invoke God in his behalf. ~ Confucius,

216:That it is the Holy Spirit who teacheth us to understand aright the mind and will of God in the Scripture; without whose aid and assistance we can never do so usefully nor profitably unto our own souls. ~ John Owen,

217:The more you are at sea,’ Sigrud explains, ‘the more you learn. And the more you learn, the more help and assistance is a troublesome bother. Dealing death, after all, is a solitary affair. ~ Robert Jackson Bennett,

218:Mr. Rushworh was very ready to request the favour of Mr. Crawford's assistance; and Mr. Crawford after properly depreciating his own abilities, was quite at his service in any way that could be useful. ~ Jane Austen,

219:The Democrats promised equalizing outcomes through unlimited federal assistance while Republicans offered something that seemed less tangible - the promise of equalizing opportunity through free markets. ~ Rand Paul,

220:The moment you commit and quit holding back, all sorts of unforeseen incidents, meetings, and material assistance will rise up to help you. The simple act of commitment is a powerful magnet for help. ~ Napoleon Hill,

221:These subsidies from four European governments, which include aircraft launch assistance, capital injections, debt forgiveness, have enabled Airbus to develop and range market airliners well below cost. ~ Norm Dicks,

222:The strength of one man is so unequal to his wants, and his mind so unfitted for perpetual solitude, that he is soon obliged to seek assistance and relief of another, who in his turn requires the same ~ Thomas Paine,

223:it was too easy to imagine some great globular Directory Assistance monster buried somewhere in the earth, sweating rivets and holding thousands of telephones in thousands of jointed chromium tentacles ~ Stephen King,

224:When your eyes are fixed in the stare of unconsciousness, and your throat coughs the last gasping breath - as one dragged in the dark to a great precipice - what assistance are a wife and child? ~ George Bernard Shaw,

225:U.S. assistance provides the Jordanian government needed flexibility to pursue policies that are of critical importance to U.S. national security and to foreign policy objectives in the Middle East. ~ Richard Armitage,

226:But a problem occurs about nothing. For that from which something is made is a cause of the thing made from it; and, necessarily,every cause contributes some assistance to the effect's existence. ~ Anselm of Canterbury,

227:My son and my daughter have both been an incredibly sustaining force, especially through this recent bad patch [of health]. So, I've been blessed and grateful for their company and for their assistance. ~ Leonard Cohen,

228:Nothing is discovered without God's intention and assistance, and I suppose every new knowledge of His works that is conceded to man to be distinctly a revelation by which men are to guide themselves. ~ Charles Dickens,

229:To those who have chosen the profession of medicine, a knowledge of chemistry, and of some branches of natural history, and, indeed, of several other departments of science, affords useful assistance. ~ Charles Babbage,

230:Political representation occurs when political actors speak, advocate, symbolize, and act on the behalf of others in the political arena. In short, political representation is a kind of political assistance. ~ Anonymous,

231:If, as we decided in Munich, there will be a cessation of hostilities and humanitarian assistance can flow into Syria - then this will open the door for the beginning of the political transition process. ~ Adel al Jubeir,

232:In the final analysis, the general principle for our economic development in China is still that formulated by Chairman Mao, that is, to rely mainly on our own efforts with external assistance subsidiary. ~ Deng Xiaoping,

233:Not to pray because you do not feel fit to pray is like saying, “I will not take medicine because I am too ill.” Pray for prayer: pray yourself, by the Spirit’s assistance, into a praying frame. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

234:The individual, standing alone, cannot develop; he depends on the support and assistance of the group to which he belongs. ~ Sri Aurobindo, Bande Mataram - I, Shall India be Free? - National Development and Foreign Rule,

235:We talked about the resources that the justice department has available to help them -- the technical assistance to ensure that we're diffusing situations, not encouraging them to spiral out of control. ~ Valerie Jarrett,

236:A lot of the diagnosis and monitoring functions will be done through little devices - smartphones - by the patient with computer assistance. So it's a real big change in the model of how we render healthcare. ~ Eric Topol,

237:and your presence may be of assistance to me. Now is the dramatic moment of fate, Watson, when you hear a step upon the stair which is walking into your life, and you know not whether for good or ill. ~ Arthur Conan Doyle,

238:Republicans are pushing legislation forward that will improve the effectiveness of and bring more accountability to U.S. foreign assistance around the world and bring democracy even further into the light. ~ Virginia Foxx,

239:That is what I always tell service clubs: If you hear of somebody who is very young and talented, pick them up and give them that little assistance to make sure that they get to the professional stage. ~ Maureen Forrester,

240:the ability to draw consciously upon your nonphysical guidance and assistance, to communicate consciously with a nonphysical Teacher, is a treasure that cannot be described, a treasure beyond words and value. ~ Gary Zukav,

241:The sciences are of a sociable disposition, and flourish best in the neighborhood of each other; nor is there any branch of learning but may be helped and improved by assistance drawn from other arts. ~ William Blackstone,

242:The unworthy successor of Peter who desires to benefit from the immeasurable wealth of Christ feels the great need of your assistance, your prayers, your sacrifice, and he most humbly asks this of you. ~ Pope John Paul II,

243:What promise hath any unregenerate man to countenance him in this work? what assistance for the performance of it? Can sin be killed without an interest in the death of Christ, or mortified without the Spirit? ~ John Owen,

244:Without renouncing the support of physics, it is possible for the physiology of the senses, not only to pursue its own course of development, but also to afford to physical science itself powerful assistance. ~ Ernst Mach,

245:Confront a child, a puppy, and a kitten with a sudden danger; the child will turn instinctively for assistance, the puppy will grovel in abject submission, the kitten will brace its tiny body for a frantic resistance. ~ Saki,

246:Make friends with the angels, who though invisible are always with you. Often invoke them, constantly praise them, and make good use of their help and assistance in all your temporal and spiritual affairs. ~ Francis de Sales,

247:The great hospitals, houses of confinement, establishments of religion and public order, of assistance and punishment, of governmental charity and welfare measures, are a phenomenon of the classical period: ~ Michel Foucault,

248:Enterprising law-enforcement officers with a warrant can flick a distant switch and turn a standard mobile phone into a roving mic or eavesdrop on occupants of cars equipped with travel assistance systems. ~ Jonathan Zittrain,

249:In conclusion I wish to say that in working at the problem here dealt with I have had the loyal assistance of my friend and colleague M. Besso, and that I am indebted to him for several valuable suggestions. ~ Albert Einstein,

250:But Steve will die if I do that!" I cried. "Yes," he agreed. "It is your assistance or his life." "That's not much of a choice," I grumbled. "No," he admitted, "it is not. But it is the only one I offer. ~ Darren Shan,

251:The budget should be balanced, the treasury refilled, public debt reduced, the arrogance of officialdom tempered and controlled, and the assistance to foreign lands curtailed, lest Rome become bankrupt. ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero,

252:The first principle of recovery is the empowerment of the survivor. She must be the author and arbiter of her own recovery. Others may offer advice, support, assistance, affection, and care, but not cure. ~ Judith Lewis Herman,

253:Demonstrating faith and optimism in the child or adolescent's ability to work things out in their own time and in their own way can be very difficult but it is possible to do this while also offering assistance. ~ Timothy Carey,

254:From Monday morning until Saturday night, I had no advice, no counsel, no encouragement, no consolation, no assistance, no support, of any kind, from anyone, that I can call to mind, as I hope to go to heaven! ~ Charles Dickens,

255:I support such a review, ... But the reality is that we don't need the results of a strategic study to know that there are some pressing problems in our military that demand our attention and our assistance now. ~ Joe Lieberman,

256:O God, You know me to be set in the midst of great peril. Grant me such strength of mind and body, that those evils which I suffer for my sins I may overcome through Thy assistance. Through Christ our Lord. Amen. ~ S M Stirling,

257:The number of teachers and guides that a soul has depends upon what it seeks to accomplish and its level of awareness. Souls that take upon themselves projects of more magnitude bring to themselves more assistance. ~ Gary Zukav,

258:following morning with her age-addled body so stiff she was barely able to stand upright without assistance? No, Edie needed taking care of, someone to watch over her. ‘Oooh, good for you!’ Nancy said, sounding ~ Alexandra Brown,

259:In making these predictions, I have had the invaluable assistance of scientists who graciously allowed me to interview them, broadcast their ideas on national radio, and even take a TV crew into their laboratories. ~ Michio Kaku,

260:When a jumbo jet crashes, we will rush in with assistance, but we forget that each day 30,000 children die unnecessarily from poverty-related preventable causes - equivalent to 100 jumbo jets crashing every day. ~ Benjamin Mkapa,

261:Take the first step, and your mind will mobilize all its forces to your aid. But the first essential is that you begin. Once the battle is started, all that is within and without you will come to your assistance. ~ Robert Collier,

262:For a close, remember this, that your life is short, your duties many, your assistance great, and your reward sure; therefore faint not, hold on and hold up, in ways of well-doing, and heaven shall make amends for all! ~ Anonymous,

263:Indeed the study of the Easy as we know it today, if undertaken in a really direct way, would be of great assistance towards the understanding of all Antiquity, on account of that very quality of fixity and stability. ~ Ren Gu non,

264:Make friends with the angels, who though invisible are always with you. Often invoke them, constantly praise them, and make good use of their help and assistance in all your temporal and spiritual affairs. ~ Saint Francis de Sales,

265:the older men who had asked neither favors nor assistance from anyone. They had settled their own problems in their own way or died trying, and if they died, no survivor had ever looked to the law for redress. Andy ~ Jim Kjelgaard,

266:We know not the matter of the things for which we should pray, neither the object to whom we pray, nor the medium by or through whom we pray; none of these things know we, but by the help and assistance of the Spirit. ~ John Bunyan,

267:The Election Assistance Commission represents a major, unprecedented commitment from the federal government to sustained freedom and vibrant democracy. I am humbled by the prospect of being one its charter members. ~ DeForest Soaries,

268:All the passages in the Holy Scriptures that mention assistance are they that do away with "free-will", and these are countless...For grace is needed, and the help of grace is given, because "free-will" can do nothing. ~ Martin Luther,

269:The most ignorant person, at a reasonable charge, and with a little bodily labour, might write books in philosophy, poetry, politics, laws, mathematics, and theology, without the least assistance from genius or study. ~ Jonathan Swift,

270:We must always meet our obligation to those who fall behind without our assistance. But let's remember, without a race there can be no champion, no records broken, no excellence - in education or any other walk of life. ~ Ronald Reagan,

271:A god of kindness would be charitable to all. Your god of wrath and punishment is but a monstrous phantasy...It is not necessary that one should humble oneself to deserve assistance, it is sufficient that one should suffer. ~ mile Zola,

272:If virtue cannot shine bright, but by the conflict of contrary appetites, shall we then say that she cannot subsist without the assistance of vice, and that it is from her that she derives her reputation and honor? ~ Michel de Montaigne,

273:In civilized society,’ wrote Adam Smith, an individual ‘stands at all times in need of the co-operation and assistance of great multitudes, while his whole life is scarce sufficient to gain the friendship of a few persons. ~ Matt Ridley,

274:Confront a child, a puppy, and a kitten with a sudden danger; the child will turn instinctively for assistance, the puppy will grovel in abject submission, the kitten will brace its tiny body for a frantic resistance. ~ Hector Hugh Munro,

275:How often we all have heard speakers begin by calling the attention of the audience to their lack of preparation or lack of ability. If you are not prepared, the audience will probably discover it without your assistance. ~ Dale Carnegie,

276:The Dane, Magnus, clambered in next, followed by Callum. He hardly needed any assistance, which prompted a sour look and comment from Dad. “You would show me up.” “It’s because I practice climbing into boats all the time. ~ Sarah Woodbury,

277:To practice virtue is to selflessly offer assistance to others, giving without limitation one's time, abilities, and possessions in service, whenever and wherever needed, without prejudice concerning the identity of those in need. ~ Laozi,

278:May I be excused, or would you like my assistance toweling off?" Ethan asked. "My grandmother is expecting me, and she hates when I'm late, although I'm willing to risk the wrath if you'd like to continue this conversation. ~ Barbra Annino,

279:Straightaway, she'd called to the guard, "Oh, boys?" She'd sauntered to the glass in only her black lace bra and panties. "I need some assistance," When they slowed, agog, she'd purred, "Can one of you help me find my orgasm? ~ Kresley Cole,

280:...we are always entertaining the delusion that we will go on forever in this world. The result is that the very things which ought to be of assistance to us in our pilgrimage through life, become chains which bind us. ~ Sinclair B Ferguson,

281:In all, nearly 60 percent of immigrants—legal and illegal—are on government assistance, compared with 39 percent of native households.6 Why would any country voluntarily bring in people who have to be supported by the taxpayer? ~ Ann Coulter,

282:Obviously, because of my disability, I need assistance. But I have always tried to overcome the limitations of my condition and lead as full a life as possible. I have traveled the world, from the Antarctic to zero gravity. ~ Stephen Hawking,

283:The bride who wants to do her full job will plan from the start to create the kind of home her husband wants, and to do it with no more assistance than he willingly offers. —“Making Marriage Work,” Ladies’ Home Journal, June 1950 ~ Ellen Baker,

284:These are the two fundamental ways in which the spiritual journey can be approached: you can either go slowly, step-by-step, accepting all natural assistance available to you, or you can ignore all the steps and take the inward leap. ~ Sadhguru,

285:WASHINGTON- President Barack Obama said Wednesday the U.S. will increase assistance to the Syrian opposition, opening the way for the likely training and possibly equipping of moderate rebels fighting to oust President Bashar Assad. ~ Anonymous,

286:Do not think that you will be able to succeed in your affairs by your own efforts, but only by the assistance of God; and on setting out, consign yourself to His care, believing that He will do that which will be best for you. ~ Francis de Sales,

287:I think the right-wingers have to buddy up to the fact that either the minimum wage has to go up, and people get enough money to live, or you're always going to have people needing government assistance. You can't have it both ways. ~ Bill Maher,

288:Pity, though it may often relieve, is but, at best, a short-lived passion, and seldom affords distress more than transitory assistance; with some it scarce lasts from the first impulse till the hand can be put into the pocket. ~ Oliver Goldsmith,

289:The civil unrest of recent days must come to an end, and the healing process must begin for the future of the community. We will provide assistance both in ending the violence and enabling the healing process in Benton Harbor. ~ Jennifer Granholm,

290:Travancore, an awkward entity created with the devoted assistance of Tamil Brahmins, went down also with one of the greatest Tamil Brahmins who ever lived. And its dynasty’s most loyal adherent became also its ultimate gravedigger. ~ Manu S Pillai,

291:Without the assistance of that divine being, I cannot succeed. With that assistance I cannot fail. Trusting in Him, who can go with me, remain with you and be everywhere for good let us confidently hope that all will yet be well. ~ Abraham Lincoln,

292:Your clothes, sir.” “Thank you. Lay them out on the bed.” “Won’t you require assistance?” “Not today.” “You will dress yourself?” the valet asked, bewildered. “I’ve heard that some men do,” Devon replied sardonically. ~ Lisa Kleypas,

293:It takes two to make a quarrel. If I do not want to quarrel with a Mahomedan, the latter will be powerless to foist a quarrel on me; and, similarly, I should be powerless if a Mahomedan refuses his assistance to quarrel with me. An ~ Mahatma Gandhi,

294:She pressed her forehead against his cheek, but turned her lips away from his mouth. His face felt cool against her damp skin. “I need your help,” she whispered. “My lovely tormentor,” Falco said softly. “How can I be of assistance? ~ Fiona Paul,

295:Like sacrifices, prayer is intended to change man, not God. Its purpose is to cultivate a contrite heart, to promote feelings of humility and inadequacy in man, whilst encouraging reliance on Divine assistance. ~ Immanuel Jakobovits Baron Jakobovits,

296:State and local government, with financial support from the federal government, should offer a program to educate and train foster children for employment and provide them with financial assistance, as needed, until they reach age 21. ~ Charles Bass,

297:Mr. Clark.” Free almost wanted to laugh. “Do you suppose I had myself committed to a hospital for prostitutes afflicted with venereal disease by telling everyone the truth all the time? Sometimes, the truth needs a little assistance. ~ Courtney Milan,

298:Do not think that you will be able to succeed in your affairs by your own efforts, but only by the assistance of God; and on setting out, consign yourself to His care, believing that He will do that which will be best for you. ~ Saint Francis de Sales,

299:His presence and testimony highlighted the unfairness of expecting an indigent defendant to get a fair trial without giving him access to forensic experts. Barney had requested such assistance months earlier, and Judge Jones had declined. ~ John Grisham,

300:That was for instance the case in Mocambique a couple of years ago, during the flooding catastrophe. Instead of co-ordinating assistance properly, to much time and resources was spent on fighting about the same helicopters and local guides. ~ Anna Lindh,

301:As a 2011 Brookings Institution study found, “compared to 2000, residents of extreme-poverty neighborhoods in 2005–09 were more likely to be white, native-born, high school or college graduates, homeowners, and not receiving public assistance. ~ J D Vance,

302:I like it when you buy something and pay with a credit card, they put your credit card on the receipt, but only the last four numbers. Aha! I'm really good at guessing twelve numbers. I can't guess 16 numbers, so thanks for the assistance! ~ Mitch Hedberg,

303:Can I be of assistance?" Saiman asked. "Have you ever delivered a child?" Doolittle asked. "Yes, I have." "Good. We have to perform a C-section. One of her unborn is trying to kill the other." "Fascinating," Saiman said. [p.304] ~ Ilona Andrews,

304:She stood and extended a hand. He glanced at it, his dark gaze rising to her face, then gratefully accepted her offer of assistance. “Follow me,” Rey said. She turned and broke into a run, the grateful Finn allowing himself to be guided. ~ Alan Dean Foster,

305:Up to the end of 1963, all U. S. Army troops in South Vietnam, with the exception of a small number in the Military Advisory and Assistance Group (MAAG) and a few other such positions, were there under the operational control of the CIA. ~ L Fletcher Prouty,

306:Why was this heart of mine formed with so much sensibility! Or why not my fortune adapted to its impulses! Tenderness without a capacity of relieving only makes the man who feels it more wretched than the object which sues for assistance. ~ Oliver Goldsmith,

307:As a 2011 Brookings Institution study found, “compared to 2000, residents of extreme-poverty neighborhoods in 2005–09 were more likely to be white, native-born, high school or college graduates, homeowners, and not receiving public assistance.”12 ~ J D Vance,

308:Good discipline requires time. When we have no time to give our children, or no time that we are willing to give, we don't even observe them closely enough to become aware of when their need for our disciplinary assistance is expressed subtley. ~ M Scott Peck,

309:His whisper continued to stream a silent cacophony of warnings, kill and damage reports and pleas for assistance. He allowed himself two seconds to watch it and came away with the sense they were losing. Not lost and not soon, but losing. ~ G S Jennsen,

310:Recently, I was giving a speech and I said that it's time for many of us to "go home." Not necessarily to move back home but rather to go back to our communities and support those outreach programs and those people who could use our assistance. ~ Ernie Hudson,

311:Today, we have more than 110,000 men and women deployed in conflict zones around the world. They come from nearly 120 countries ... Thanks to their efforts, life-saving humanitarian assistance can be delivered and economic development can begin. ~ Ban Ki moon,

312:Do you resolve to do the right and to love the true, depend upon it you will get no assistance from this world. Of its maxims, nine out of ten are false, and the other one selfish; and even that which is selfish has a lie at the bottom of it. ~ Charles Spurgeon,

313:No one is so rich that he does not need another's help; no one so poor as not to be useful in some way to his fellow man; and the disposition to ask assistance from others with confidence and to grant it with kindness is part of our very nature. ~ Pope Leo XIII,

314:The fact that we are here today to debate raising America's debt limit is a sign of leadership failure... It is a sign that we now depend on ongoing financial assistance from foreign countries to finance our Government's reckless fiscal policies. ~ Barack Obama,

315:Faith is like private capital, stored in one's own house. It is like a public savings bank or loan office, from which individuals receive assistance in their days of need; but here the creditor quietly takes his interest for himself. ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe,

316:Knight, of course, felt that anyone's willing assistance tainted the whole thing. Either you are hidden or you're not, no middle ground. He wished to be unconditionally alone, exiled to an island of his own creation, an uncontacted tribe of one. ~ Michael Finkel,

317:not, at any rate, such a woman as her." It went against the grain with Mr. Sowerby, this seeking of pecuniary assistance from the very woman whose hand he had attempted to gain about a fortnight since; but he allowed his sister to prevail. What ~ Anthony Trollope,

318:State intervention in economic production arises only when private initiative is lacking or insufficient, or when the political interests of the State are involved. This intervention may take the form of control, assistance or direct management. ~ Benito Mussolini,

319:She had spotted three of them, at the very least. Probably more. She had also spotted the B&T Paint van. She’d dialed the number on the van’s sign, but it was out of service. She checked with directory assistance. There was no B&T Paint. They ~ Harlan Coben,

320:Will you accompany me in this dance?” he said, bowing and holding out his hand. “No, thank you.” Miri smiled. The prince frowned and looked and the chief delegate as if for assistance. Miri laughed self consciously. “I, uh, I was teasing. ~ Shannon Hale,

321:The inclination to share thoughts with one another is probably an original impulse of our nature.If in pain I wish to let you know it,and ask your sympathy and assistance;and my pleasurable emotions also,I wish to communicate to,and share with you. ~ Abraham Lincoln,

322:The truth, in spite of what we might believe about remarkable people, is that you cannot master a skill on your own. Finding your calling will not happen without the aid and assistance of others. Every story of success is, in fact, a story of community. ~ Jeff Goins,

323:In terms of the unemployed, of which we have over a million-and-a-half, don't feel particularly bad for many of these people. They don't feel bad about it themselves, as long as they're receiving generous social assistance and unemployment insurance. ~ Stephen Harper,

324:The test of friendship is assistance in adversity, and that too, unconditional assistance, Co-operation which needs consideration is as a commercial contract and not friendship. Conditional co-operation is like adulterated cement which does not bind. ~ Mahatma Gandhi,

325:I would caution against fueling cheap populism. First of all, every German who has spent a vacation in Greece knows that the standard of living there isn't higher than it is in Germany. Second, Greece is paying a high price for European assistance. ~ Wolfgang Schauble,

326:More and more, I got the feeling that people who needed government assistance were assumed to be a very uneducated bunch and were treated accordingly. How degrading, to learn that since I needed money, I must not know how to keep my utility costs low. ~ Stephanie Land,

327:On the matter of slavery, he reproached but absolved the South of the ultimate blame: “It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask God’s assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men’s faces; but let us judge not that we be judged. ~ Jay Winik,

328:And so it is to the printing press--to the recorder of man's deeds, the keeper of his conscience, the courier of his news--that we look for strength and assistance, confident that with your help man will be what he was born to be: free and independent. ~ John F Kennedy,

329:And so it is to the printing press--to the recorder of mans deeds, the keeper of his conscience, the courier of his news-- that we look for strength and assistance, confident that with your help man will be what he was born to be: free and independent. ~ John F Kennedy,

330:He turned away from me, the better to hide the exclamation of annoyance which he muttered under his breath; I caught only what seemed to be the syllable cog (perhaps a reference to my mechanical trade) and the word succour (a prayer for divine assistance?). ~ K W Jeter,

331:If the date is a complete disaster, I’ll text you. I’ll say ‘Blue Squirrel, this is Hot Fox. Mission to be aborted with extreme prejudice.’ Then you call me and you tell me that there is a terrible emergency that requires my expert warlock assistance. ~ Cassandra Clare,

332:One of the big things coming out of healthcare reform is a thing called the Community Living Assistance Services and Supports Act (CLASS) which is a mechanism to reimburse people staying at home for technology and services that allow them to stay at home. ~ Colin Angle,

333:A woman alone who needs assistance is actually far better off choosing someone and asking for help, as opposed to waiting for an unsolicited approach. The person you choose is nowhere near as likely to bring you hazard as is the person who chooses you. ~ Gavin de Becker,

334:Although I am a young leader, I actually came to it strangely quite late. I have a different perspective, partly because of my family, partly because of what I did for ten years: negotiating trade deals, working out in Central Asia doing assistance projects. ~ Nick Clegg,

335:Do not fret under such assistance as is needful; therein lies one great grace of poverty. It were overambitious to aim at being poor without suffering any inconvenience, in other words, to have the credit of poverty and the convenience of riches. ~ Saint Francis de Sales,

336:I’ve invoked God’s assistance so many times today, I fear I may owe Him my right arm, or potentially, my first born. My parents would not be impressed with this sort of irreverence. My mother would be quick to point out that God is not Rumpelstiltskin. ~ Georgina Guthrie,

337:Goo'-by, ole Bill, by-by. There you go, an' the signal o' distress roun' you, H. B. 'I'm in need of assistance.' Lord, here comes the sharks--look! look! look at um fight! look at um takin' ole Bill! I'm in need of assistance. I sh'd say you were, ole Bill. ~ Frank Norris,

338:Julia did very well,' said Selena, 'not to fall into the lagoon. How beastly of that woman to suggest she'd had too much to drink.' 'Most uncharitable,' said Ragwort. 'Julia, as we all know, needs no assistance from alcohol to make her trip over things. ~ Sarah Caudwell,

339:Rather than squander the surplus on tax breaks for the rich, we should add a prescription drug benefit to the Medicare program, shore up Social Security, fortify our defense, provide a quality public education and offer economic assistance to rural areas. ~ Bennie Thompson,

340:A fact never went into partnership with a miracle. Truth scorns the assistance of wonders. A fact will fit every other fact in the universe, and that is how you can tell whether it is or is not a fact. A lie will not fit anything except another lie. ~ Robert Green Ingersoll,

341:I choose to trust that inspiration is always nearby, the whole time I'm working, trying its damnedest to impart assistance. [...] Sometimes we have trouble understanding each other. But inspiration is still sitting there right beside me, and it is trying. ~ Elizabeth Gilbert,

342:So virtuous are the programs said to be - pensions for the elderly, compensation for the unemployed, medicine for the sick, and assistance for the disabled - few dare ring the alarm of looming economic catastrophe that threatens to destabilize the civil society. ~ Mark Levin,

343:the progress Alice had made over the past two and a half years made everything worthwhile.  Her sexual healing had been slow but steady, with assistance from her therapist Dr. Susan Thomas.  Missy’s constant support and unconditional love had also really helped. ~ P G Allison,

344:There is no young creature, my Lord, who so greatly wants, or so earnestly wishes for, the advice and assistance of her friends, as I do: I am new to the world, and unused to acting for myself;-my intentions are never willfully blameable, yet I err perpetually! ~ Fanny Burney,

345:Universal housing programs have been successfully implemented all over the developed world. In countries that have such programs, every single family with an income below a certain level who meets basic program requirements has a right to housing assistance. ~ Matthew Desmond,

346:whether the condemned are disabled. We’re supposed to sentence people fairly after fully considering their life circumstances, but instead we exploit the inability of the poor to get the legal assistance they need—all so we can kill them with less resistance. ~ Bryan Stevenson,

347:Kindliness, friendliness, the courtesy of the heart, are ever-flowing streams of non egoistic impulses, and have given far more powerful assistance to culture than even those much more famous demonstrations which are called pity, mercy, and self-sacrifice. ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,

348:My hearing has suffered seriously; just now I am obliged to have the assistance of an ear trumpet. Think of that, my beauty! - There 's a state for your old Lover to be in! - No more tender whisperings! Imagine sweet confessions to be made through an ear trumpet! ~ Samuel Lover,

349:That is nice, Mr. Morgan. Because in response to your tough-guy speech, I, in turn, would’ve had to give you my tough-girl speech, about where, exactly, federal prosecutors who come to my office looking for assistance can stick their obstruction of justice threats ~ Julie James,

350:The people are physically unhealthy, and without government assistance they lack treatment for the most basic problems. Most important, they’re mean about it—they will hesitate to open their lives up to others for the simple reason that they don’t wish to be judged. ~ J D Vance,

351:Cimil’s eyes lit. “The Niccolo DiConti? What an honor!” Niccolo stood a little taller then. “Yes, I seek your assistance.” Cimil rolled her eyes. “Well, no duh. You didn’t abandon your queen’s side, risking her wrath, to see me in my fabulous birthday suit. ~ Mimi Jean Pamfiloff,

352:Of Captain Elliot, already so well known to the government, it would be almost superfluous to speak; in this action, he evinced his characteristic bravery and judgment; and, since the close of the action, has given me the most able and essential assistance. ~ Oliver Hazard Perry,

353:If you intend to be of assistance, your eye is not upon the trouble but upon the assistance, and that is quite different. When you are looking for a solution, you are feeling positive emotion, but when you are looking at a problem, you are feeling negative emotion. ~ Esther Hicks,

354:Look there are going to be, there are already adjustment processes in place but the point is that you'll actually make them work and get satisfactory outcomes if there's decent burden sharing along the way. If there's, if you like a proper transitional assistance. ~ John Anderson,

355:allowed the government to conduct electronic surveillance inside the United States—“with the assistance of a communications service provider,” in the words of that law—as long as the people communicating were “reasonably believed” to be outside the United States. The ~ Fred Kaplan,

356:I think it is extremely important that the West support this experiment [of Tunisian democracy] with investment, with aid, with symbolic support, not just flows of democracy assistance …If Tunisia can’t make it, what are the prospects for the rest of the Arab world? ~ Larry Diamond,

357:The predominance of vegetation symbolism means not only the physiological predominance of the vegetative (sympathetic) nervous system; it also denotes, psychologically, the predominance of those processes of growth which go forward without the assistance of the ego. ~ Erich Neumann,

358:My friends I now leave, not knowing when, or whether ever, I may return, with a task before me greater than that which rested upon Washington. Without the assistance of that Divine Being, who ever attended him, I cannot succeed. With that assistance, I cannot fail. ~ Abraham Lincoln,

359:The soul takes nothing with her to the next world but her education and her culture. At the beginning of the journey to the next world, one's education and culture can either provide the greatest assistance, or else act as the greatest burden, to the person who has just died. ~ Plato,

360:Fit is important because discrete activities often affect one another. A sophisticated sales force, for example, confers a greater advantage when the company’s product embodies premium technology and its marketing approach emphasizes customer assistance and support. ~ Michael E Porter,

361:In the beginning of the contest with Britain, when we were sensible of danger, we had daily prayers in this room for Divine protection," he stated. "Our prayers, Sir, were heard, and they were graciously answered. ... Do we imagine we no longer need His assistance? ~ Benjamin Franklin,

362:Nevertheless, the same rule applies as at accidents. If you cannot fulfill the need for medical or practical assistance, help fill the need for privacy. The discipline required for studying medicine is nothing compared to that needed to stifle one’s curiosity. Annoying ~ Judith Martin,

363:This would be the way to Fanny's heart. She was not to be won by all that gallantry and wit and good-nature together could do; or, at least, she would not be won by them nearly so soon, without the assistance of sentiment and feeling, and seriousness on serious subjects. ~ Jane Austen,

364:I also hope that with the assistance and expertise of Dome Records, that I will be able to further pierce the UK and European market. I really like playing there and I want to do more! I've found that the audiences get quite involved and really listen to what's happening. ~ George Duke,

365:America has the greatest reputation in the world for helping others whenever and wherever disaster strikes. Now, more than ever,it's important for us to contribute to those who are in need. Your assistance is really beneficial and will be greatly welcomed and appreciated. ~ Bobby Knight,

366:In a family, parents, grandparents and children feel at home; no one is excluded. If someone has a problem, even a serious one, even if he brought it upon himself, the rest of the family comes to his assistance; they support him. ... Should the same not happen in society? ~ Pope Francis,

367:There is so much wretchedness in the world, that we may safely take the word of any mortal professing to need our assistance; and, even should we be deceived, still the good to ourselves resulting from a kind act is worth more than the trifle by which we purchase it. ~ Nathaniel Hawthorne,

368:Democrats have laid out a program that, if adopted, would make us independent of Middle Eastern oil in ten years, and create a new economy especially for those in rural America. Our program invests in clean energy alternatives and provides energy assistance for those in need. ~ Jim Clyburn,

369:Reason and the reasoning faculty need no foreign assistance, but are sufficient for their own purposes. They move within themselves, and make directly for the point in view. Wherefore, acts in accordance with them are called right acts, for they lead along the right road. ~ Marcus Aurelius,

370:Humanitarian assistance and exchanges are still allowed, even under the sanctions regime on North Korea. Therefore, in parallel with sanctions and pressure, we must also employ humanitarian assistance. The meeting of separated families is also a measure to ensure human rights. ~ Moon Jae in,

371:It is true that no member state can be required to make payments to others. But if countries want to offer voluntary assistance, as in the Greek case, this isn't only allowed, but it's also in Germany's interest. We all benefit by ensuring the stability of the euro zone. ~ Wolfgang Schauble,

372:The real or supposed rights of man are of two kinds, active and passive; the right in certain cases to do as we list; and the right we possess to the forbearance or assistance of other men. The first of these a just philosophy will probably induce us universally to explode. ~ William Godwin,

373:The moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred… Unforeseen incidents, meetings, and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe,

374:Wilson spent several days camped out in one government office after another until she had secured an exemption. Unbelievably, she and her husband cleared every obstacle. And in 1983, their new “living center with assistance” for the elderly—named Park Place—opened in Portland. ~ Atul Gawande,

375:For example, a program that ran from 2005 to 2008 in the South Bronx provided more than 1,300 families with legal assistance and prevented eviction in 86 percent of cases. It cost around $450,000, but saved New York City more than $700,000 in estimated shelter costs alone.37 ~ Matthew Desmond,

376:How long shall we blunder along without the aid of unpartisan and authoritative scientific assistance in the administration of justice, no one knows; but all fair persons not conventionalized by provincial legal habits of mind ought, I should think, unite to effect some change. ~ Learned Hand,

377:No degree of knowledge attainable by man is able to set him above the want of hourly assistance, or to extinguish the desire of fond endearments and tender officiousness; and, therefore, no one should think it unnecessary to learn those arts by which friendship may be gained. ~ Samuel Johnson,

378:O friendship! thou fond soother of the human breast, to thee we fly in every calamity; to thee the wretched seek for succor; on thee the care-tired son of misery fondly relies; from thy kind assistance the unfortunate always hopes relief, and may be sure of--disappointment. ~ Oliver Goldsmith,

379:Traveling ought also to teach him distrust; but at the same time he will discover, how many truly kind-hearted people there are, with whom he never before had, or ever again will have any further communication, who yet are ready to offer him the most disinterested assistance. ~ Charles Darwin,

380:Asked if an army can be made to imitate the SHUAI-JAN, I should answer, Yes. For the men of Wu and the men of Yueh are enemies; yet if they are crossing a river in the same boat and are caught by a storm, they will come to each other's assistance just as the left hand helps the right. ~ Sun Tzu,

381:The moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves, too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never have otherwise occurred...unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe,

382:...knowing God is the condition for the sanctification of a human being by God's assistance and according to His intention. Wherever God is, there He is always creating... He wants to create a new human being. To need God is to become new. And to know God is the crucial thing. ~ Soren Kierkegaard,

383:Not enough attention is paid to the negative side of fashion. Great effort is exerted to make people look smart, but somebody should face the fact that a lot of people never will be smart, and that they should be given some assistance in maintaining their fascinating dowdiness. ~ Robertson Davies,

384:What the federal government should have done is accept the assistance of foreign countries, of entrepreneurial Americans who have had solution that they wanted presented ... The Dutch and the Norwegians, they are known for dikes and for cleaning up water and for dealing with spills. ~ Sarah Palin,

385:And the same goes for government benefits. The Center for Immigration Studies estimates that 62 percent of households headed by illegal immigrants use some form of cash or non-cash welfare programs like food stamps or housing assistance. Tremendous costs, by the way, to our country. ~ Donald Trump,

386:In the name of friendship you should make sure your door is always open to listen. Don't feel you need to provide unsolicited possible solutions, answers or even ideas. Listening without judgment and offering assistance when asked should be enough. That's friendship's high calling. ~ Amy Dickinson,

387:I want people to take the initiative to find veterans that need help, veterans that are suffering and in need of assistance reintegrating from combat back into society, into normal family lives and jobs. We need to take a real boots on the ground approach to helping veterans in need. ~ Max Martini,

388:Illegal immigrants are people that have very little education. They are mostly people who are very poor. They arrive needing government assistance from the get-go, and the Democrat Party is right there to provide it, while telling them that the Republican Party wants to kick 'em out. ~ Rush Limbaugh,

389:A healthier, less impoverished planet is good for all of us. From an economic standpoint, it allows people to contribute more to the marketplace and lead productive lives. U.S. foreign assistance opens new markets to U.S. goods and services and creates new trading partners and allies. ~ Mike Huckabee,

390:If you would endeavor, like men of courage, to stand in the battle, surely we would feel the favorable assistance of God from heaven. For he who give the us occasion to fight, to the end we may get the victory, is ready to succor those that fight manfully, and do trust in his grace. ~ Thomas a Kempis,

391:it may be very clear indeed who “owns” culture. It is pronounced in the official language all must learn to speak, is declared if you can’t afford to buy the garments that you are employed to sew, and is evident if your call to 911 fails to bring emergency assistance to your neighborhood. ~ Lisa Lowe,

392:Now one of the most essential branches of English liberty, is the freedom of one's house. A man's house is his castle; and while he is quiet, he is as well guarded as a prince in his castle. This writ of assistance, if it should be declared legal, would totally annihilate this privilege. ~ James Otis,

393:Prayer is a sincere, sensible, affectionate pouring out of the heart or soul to God, through Christ, in the strength and assistance of the Holy Spirit, for such things as God hath promised, or according to the Word, for the good of the church, with submission, in faith, to the will of God. ~ John Bunyan,

394:The Mountains—grow Unnoticed 757 The Mountains—grow unnoticed— Their Purple figures rise Without attempt—Exhaustion— Assistance—or Applause— In Their Eternal Faces The Sun—with just delight Looks long—and last—and golden— For fellowship—at night— ~ Emily Dickinson,

395:If even this stranger had smiled and been good-humoured to me when I addressed him; if he had put off my offer of assistance gaily and with thanks, I should have gone on my way and not felt any vocation to renew inquiries: but the frown, the roughness of the traveller, set me at my ease ~ Charlotte Bront,

396:In 2013, 1 percent of poor renters lived in rent-controlled units; 15 percent lived in public housing; and 17 percent received a government subsidy, mainly in the form of a rent-reducing voucher. The remaining 67 percent—2 of every 3 poor renting families—received no federal assistance. ~ Matthew Desmond,

397:Think it not strange if you should frequently feel yourself to have failed, nor wonder if it should turn out that at such times you have best succeeded. You must not expect to become sufficient as of yourself; no habit or exercise can render you independent of divine assistance; ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

398:To think that the ruler of the universe will run to my assistance and bend the laws of nature for me is the height of arrogance. That implies that everyone else (such as the opposing football team, driver, student, parent) is de-selected, unfavored by God, and that I am special,above it all. ~ Dan Barker,

399:Will you follow me back to where the fighting is going on?” The men—one hundred of them—responded with a resounding yes. Now Bee pointed to his left, up the slope toward the pine woods on the edge of Henry Hill. “Yonder stands Jackson like a stone wall,” he said. “Let’s go to his assistance.”16 ~ S C Gwynne,

400:If we understand our own times, we will know that we should affirm the reality of God by challenging the domination of materialism and naturalism in the world of the mind. With the assistance of many friends I have developed a strategy for doing this. ... We call our strategy the "wedge." ~ Phillip E Johnson,

401:Practice: Please list the names of 5 people you could empower this month and how you could empower them with support, love, information, assistance, resources, knowledge, material objects or skills. Then, mark down in a Calendar or Time-Schedule by which day you will provide that Empowerment. ~ Frederick Dodson,

402:They asked for Plato's assistance. He told them: "You hated wisdom and ran away from geometry, therefore God has afflicted you a punishment, for wisdom and philosophical knowledge have a high rank with God." ... The plague was lifted and they ceased to defame the branches of theoretical knowledge. ~ Mulla Sadra,

403:If we would endeavor, like men of courage, to stand in the battle, surely we would feel the favorable assistance of God from Heaven. For he who giveth us occasion to fight, to the end we may get the victory, is ready to succor those that fight manfully, and do trust in his grace. —THOMAS À KEMPIS ~ John Eldredge,

404:is a very kingly, honourable, and frequent practice, when one prince desires the assistance of another, to secure him against an invasion, that the assistant, when he has driven out the invader, should seize on the dominions himself, and kill, imprison, or banish, the prince he came to relieve.  ~ Jonathan Swift,

405:Because no matter how much money we spend there [in Iraq], as long as the people there see this money as... as assistance that is unwelcome, as long as they continue to be humiliated in their own country by us... I mean, the future looked bleak, and the future after that was in fact very bleak. ~ Yaroslav Trofimov,

406:International "experts" from technical assistance agencies or universities can make important contributions, but they certainly don't have all the answers. When ownership is local and national, and various stakeholders work together, program innovations have a greater chance to take root and survive. ~ Ruth Simmons,

407:It is now no more that toleration is spoken of as if it were the indulgence of one class of people that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights,” Washington wrote. “For, happily, the Government of the United States . . . gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance. ~ Sarah Vowell,

408:Most single moms are very poor, uneducated, can't get a job. And if it weren't for government assistance, their kids would be starving to death and never have health care. And that's the story that we're not seeing. And it's unfortunate that we glorify and glamorize the idea of out of children wedlock. ~ Anna Holmes,

409:The knot of her hands and the pulses in her throat rejected any possibility that their meeting might be a casual one. But, of course, she could not explain, nor was her face of any more assistance than her tongue; in fact, as she herself knew, in moments of stress she could resemble a congested turkey. ~ Patrick White,

410:The national budget must be balanced. The public debt must be reduced; the arrogance of the authorities must be moderated and controlled. Payments to foreign governments must be reduced. If the nation doesn't want to go bankrupt, people must again learn to work, instead of living on public assistance. ~ Taylor Caldwell,

411:There's a tendency toward seeing every problem as someone else's fault, whether it's Obama, liberal elites in the big cities, undocumented immigrants taking jobs, minorities soaking up government assistance -- or me. It's no accident that this list sounds exactly like Trump's campaign rhetoric. ~ Hillary Rodham Clinton,

412:We get angry when people fail to recognize the need for thoughtful and compassionate assistance when it comes to the physically disabled, but because mental disabilities aren’t visible in the same way, we tend to be dismissive of the needs of the disabled and quick to judge their deficits and failures. ~ Bryan Stevenson,

413:For the truth of God is sufficiently solid and certain in itself, and can receive no better confirmation from any other quarter than from itself; but our faith being slender and weak, unless it be supported on every side, and sustained by every assistance, immediately shakes, fluctuates, totters, and falls. ~ John Calvin,

414:I would feel no hesitation in saying that it is the responsibility of a decent human being to give assistance to a child who is being attacked by a rabid dog, but I would not intend this to imply that in all imaginable circumstances one must, necessarily, act in accordance with this general responsibility. ~ Noam Chomsky,

415:Often, evicted families also lose the opportunity to benefit from public housing because Housing Authorities count evictions and unpaid debt as strikes when reviewing applications. And so people who have the greatest need for housing assistance—the rent-burdened and evicted—are systematically denied it. ~ Matthew Desmond,

416:It is my opinion that the use of this barbarous weapon at Hiroshima and Nagasaki was of no material assistance in our war against Japan. The Japanese were already defeated and ready to surrender... In being the first to use it, we had adopted an ethical standard common to the barbarians of the Dark Ages. ~ William D Leahy,

417:Often, evicted families also lose the opportunity to benefit from public housing because Housing Authorities count evictions and unpaid debt as strikes when reviewing applications. And so people who have the greatest need for housing assistance—the rent-burdened and evicted—are systematically denied it.12 ~ Matthew Desmond,

418:Ah, when, within our narrow chamber The lamp with friendly lustre glows, Flames in the breast each faded ember, And in the heart, itself that knows. Then Hope again lends sweet assistance, And Reason then resumes her speech: One yearns, the rivers of existence, The very founts of Life, to reach. ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe,

419:And when it comes to addiction, employers with successful employee assistance programs report improvements in morale and productivity and decreases in absenteeism, accidents, downtime, turnover, and theft. Employers with long-standing programs also report better health status among employees and family members. ~ Bren Brown,

420:Everybody needs redemptive assistance from outside—from family, friends, ancestors, rules, traditions, institutions, exemplars, and, for believers, God. We all need people to tell us when we are wrong, to advise us on how to do right, and to encourage, support, arouse, cooperate, and inspire us along the way. ~ David Brooks,

421:Faith and patience be damned! You have just got to make up Your mind whose side You are on. You must come to my assistance, so that I may dispatch the entire German Army as a birthday present to your Prince of Peace. “Sir, I have never been an unreasonable man; I am not going to ask You to do the impossible. ~ Bill O Reilly,

422:The old dwarf drew himself up. His height was no longer impressive: the bowed back would not straighten, the legs could no longer support the body without assistance. But Drugar, towering over his father, saw the dignity in the trembling stance, the wisdom in the dimming eyes, and felt himself a child again. ~ Margaret Weis,

423:By the help of God and with His precious assistance, I say that Algebra is a scientific art. The objects with which it deals are absolute numbers and measurable quantities which, though themselves unknown, are related to "things" which are known, whereby the determination of the unknown quantities is possible. ~ Omar Khayyam,

424:Anything that restricts entry works in the interests of the suppliers and against the interests of the buyers; so, it is not at all surprising that businesses lobby government aggressively for assistance in retarding entry with patents, copyrights, zoning laws, occupational licensing, environmental regulations, etc ~ Anonymous,

425:Quality of life is the sum total of the fairness of our tax structure; the caliber of our homes; the cleanliness of our air and water; and the provision of affirmative assistance to those who cannot assist themselves. True quality is absent if we allow social suffering to abide in an otherwise pristine environment. ~ Tom McCall,

426:The natural effort of every individual to better his own condition is so powerful that it is alone, and without any assistance, capable not only of carrying on the society to wealth and prosperity, but of surmounting 100 impertinent obstructions with which the folly of human laws too often encumbers its operations. ~ Adam Smith,

427:We also received food stamps and bus tokens. Even though she was not a welfare mom, my mother still very much appreciated the government assistance we did receive from time to time. Still, I had an inherent dislike for government assistance and was frankly quite embarrassed that we had to accept anything from them. ~ Ben Carson,

428:There is much Light, as we shall see, that is continually surrounding such a soul even though it may not be able to directly penetrate it, and there is much assistance for souls that insist upon living in darkness. The encouragement to take even one thought into Light is always available. Eventually, they always do. ~ Gary Zukav,

429:I suppose, therefore, this may be fixed on as a common principle of Christianity, namely, that constant and fervent prayer for the divine assistance of the Holy Spirit is such an indispensable means for the attaining the knowledge of the mind of God in the Scripture as that without it all others will not be available. ~ John Owen,

430:Most Americans still believe we threw away billions or even trillions of their hard-earned dollars to bail out greedy banks. In fact, the financial system repaid all our assistance, and U.S. taxpayers have turned a profit from our crisis response, including our investments in all five of those financial bombs. ~ Timothy F Geithner,

431:The budget should be balanced, the Treasury should be refilled, public debt should be reduced, the arrogance of officialdom should be tempered and controlled, and the assistance to foreign lands should be curtailed lest Rome become bankrupt. People must again learn to work, instead of living on public assistance. ~ Taylor Caldwell,

432:There is a spiritual realm that encompasses all beings. Make friends with the angels, who will always be with you, although invisible. Make good use of their assistance while following your dreams and in all your creative pursuits through life. Your success and prosperity will come much easier and a lot quicker. ~ Ernie J Zelinski,

433:I soon forgot about my bedraggled appearance. Until, that is, an old man shuffled in and propped himself, hunched and wheezing, over the check-in desk. Karen asked him if he needed assistance. “No,” he grunted sucking on his teeth, “your wet-T-shirt librarian with the punk rock hair is helping me out just fine. ~ Suzanne Kelman,

434:The concept there was that the small number of developed countries within the Commonwealth should provide assistance. This was not just financial but personal, providing experts and so on, to assist less developed members of the Commonwealth to get on the growing path. And that was part of what we did with South Africa. ~ Bob Hawke,

435:1139 To Offer Brave Assistance 767 To offer brave assistance To Lives that stand alone— When One has failed to stop them— Is Human—but Divine To lend an Ample Sinew Unto a Nameless Man— Whose Homely Benediction No other—stopped to earn— ~ Emily Dickinson,

436:Gentlemen, I have lived a long time and am convinced that God governs in the affairs of men. If a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without His notice, is it probable that an empire can rise without His aid? I move that prayer imploring the assistance of Heaven be held every morning before we proceed to business. ~ Benjamin Franklin,

437:Immortality is what nature possesses without effort and without anybody's assistance, and immortality is what the mortals must therefore try to achieve if they want to live up to the world into which they were born, to live up to the things which surround them and to whose company they are admitted for a short while. ~ Hannah Arendt,

438:The controversy over Russian gas deliveries shines a glaring spotlight on the risks involved in this industry. In an energy NATO, EU and NATO member states would guarantee one another assistance in obtaining energy, in any form, but without violence. Of course, we need an additional pipeline system for this purpose. ~ Lech Kaczynski,

439:As Medicare, Medicaid, and private health assistance companies pervasively inserted themselves between patients and providers, the market ultimately evolved toward what economists call monopsony—where a few huge, powerful buyers essentially determine the prices they will pay to their more fragmented suppliers. ~ Clayton M Christensen,

440:Xcor found himself bowing at the waist. “Your assistance has been much appreciated.” Antoine raised his palm like he was getting ready to do a clap on the shoulder again. But once more, he caught himself and smiled instead. “Knock her dead, my man.” “Oh, no.” Xcor shook his head. “That shan’t be necessary. This one I like. ~ J R Ward,

441:In 1988, when democracy was restored, the military establishment was still very powerful. The extremist groups were still there. And when the aid and assistance to Pakistan was cut, we had to adopt harsh economic policies. So in a way, it showed that democracy doesn't pay, and the military was able to reassert itself. ~ Benazir Bhutto,

442:compared to 2000, residents of extreme-poverty neighborhoods in 2005–09 were more likely to be white, native-born, high school or college graduates, homeowners, and not receiving public assistance.”12 In other words, bad neighborhoods no longer plague only urban ghettos; the bad neighborhoods have spread to the suburbs. This ~ J D Vance,

443:God has great plans for you, directed towards helping you do what Jesus Christ did when He was on earth. This requires you do resist temptation vigorously, with special confidence in the assistance of His Divine Goodness. Courage then, Monsieur. Be faithful to Him, and the Divine Goodness will be favorable to you. ~ Saint Vincent de Paul,

444:...what about the millions of poor in this country who desperately need assistance and services to help bring them out of poverty? Shall they go to the back of the line? and shall those who have made a dramatic illegal entry, who would normally not be entitled to government assistance, or even entry itself, be put at the front? ~ Ed Koch,

445:Following the devastating India Ocean tsunami of 2004, I founded Chefs for Humanity, modeled after Doctors Without Borders, but comprised of chefs. There wasn't anything out there like it, and there was a definite need for chefs to be able to offer assistance and aid to those suffering from hunger and/or malnutrition worldwide. ~ Cat Cora,

446:Godwin was also of little practical assistance. He had calculated his living expenses down to the last penny, sometimes having to borrow a few pounds to make ends meet. He had never intended to assume the financial responsibility of a family, declaring that such obligations blighted the freedom of the male intellectual. ~ Charlotte Gordon,

447:The great bulk of Marshall Plan funds returned to the United States, or never left, being paid directly to American corporations to purchase American goods. The US Agency for International Development (AID) stated in 1999: ‘The principal beneficiary of America’s foreign assistance programs has always been the United States. ~ William Blum,

448:ÆLF  (ÆLF)    (which, according to various dialects, is pronounced ulf, welph, hulph, hilp, helfe, and, at this day, helpe) implies assistance. So Ælfwin is victorious, and Ælfwold, an auxiliary governour; Ælfgisa, a lender of assistance: with which Boetius, Symmachus, Epicurus, &c. bear a plain analogy.Gibson’sCamden. ~ Samuel Johnson,

449:The great bulk of Marshall Plan funds returned to the United States, or never left, being paid directly to American corporations to purchase American goods. The US Agency for International Development (AID) stated in 1999: ‘The principal beneficiary of America’s foreign assistance programs has always been the United States.’20 ~ William Blum,

450:Not even a mighty warrior can break a frail arrow when it is multiplied and supported by its fellows. As long as you brothers support one another and render assistance to one another, your enemies can never gain the victory over you. But if you fall away from each other your enemy can brake you like frail arrows, one at a time. ~ Genghis Khan,

451:He insisted that the poor in other nations, like those in his own, needed no government assistance. “Their greatest need is not more money, food, or even medicine; it is Christ,” he said. “Give them the Gospel of love and grace first and they will clean themselves up, educate themselves, and better their economic conditions.”31 ~ Kevin M Kruse,

452:Praised be God, Lord of the Universe, the Beneficent, the Merciful and Master of the Day of Judgment, You alone We do worship and from You alone we do seek assistance, guide us to the right path, the path of those to whom You have granted blessings, those who are neither subject to Your anger nor have gone astray.” Importance ~ Ella Richardson,

453:The fact that Russia can smile, deny, and at the same time conduct cyber and propaganda operations and still have Donald Trump beg them for cyber espionage assistance to hurt another American is unbelievable. If it reveals anything it proves the old KGB policy that loyalty to one’s country is elastic if the money is right. On ~ Malcolm W Nance,

454:...out the matters contained in those books, together with the assistance of some old stories, the church has set up a system of religion very contradictory to the character of the person whose name it bears. It has set up a religion of pomp and of revenue, in n pretended imitation of a person whose life was humility and poverty. ~ Thomas Paine,

455:Received as I am by the members of a legislature the majority of whom do not agree with me in political sentiments, I trust that I may have their assistance in piloting the ship of state through this voyage, surrounded by perils as it is; for if it should suffer wreck now, there will be no pilot ever needed for another voyage. ~ Abraham Lincoln,

456:We are all searching for someone, that special person, who will provide what's missing in our lives -- One who can offer companionship, assistance or security. And sometimes when we can search very hard who can provide us with all three. Yes, we are all searching for someone. And if we can't find them we can only pray they find us. ~ Mary Alice,

457:That we need only to recognize GOD intimately present with us, to address ourselves to Him every moment, that we may beg His assistance for knowing His will in things doubtful, and for rightly performing those which we plainly see He requires of us, offering them to Him before we do them, and giving Him thanks when we have done. ~ Brother Lawrence,

458:If the eyes are open and there is light, seeing occurs; the stimulus is but a condition of the fulfillment of the proper function of the organ, not an outside interruption. To some extent, then, all direction or control is a guiding of activity to its own end; it is an assistance in doing fully what some organ is already tending to do. ~ John Dewey,

459:Micromanaging erodes people's confidence, making them overly dependennt on their leaders. Well-meaning leaders inadvertently sabotage their teams by rushing to the rescue and offering too much help. A leader needs to balance assistance with wu wei, backing off long enough to let people learn from their mistakes and develop competence. ~ Diane Dreher,

460:Without the assistance of that Divine Being, who ever attended him, I cannot succeed. With that assistance I cannot fail. Trusting in Him, who can go with me, and remain with you and be every where for good, let us confidently hope that all will yet be well. To His care commending you, as I hope in your prayers you will commend me. ~ Ronald C White Jr,

461:Nearly all the Gauls are of a lofty stature, white, and of ruddy complexion; terrible from the sternness of their eyes, very quarrelsome, and of great pride and insolence. A whole troop of foreigners would not be able to withstand a single Gaul if he called his wife to his assistance, who is usually very strong, and with blue eyes ~ Ammianus Marcellinus,

462:Children, we should visit homes of the poor, orphanages and hospitals from time to time. We should take our family members along and offer assistance and look after the welfare of inmates. A word spoken with love and concern will give them more comfort than any amount of money. That will lead to the expansion of our hearts as well. ~ Mata Amritanandamayi,

463:Conservative evangelicals don't want government support for our faith, because we believe God created all consciences free and a state-coerced act of worship isn't acceptable to God. Moreover, we believe the gospel isn't in need of state endorsement or assistance. Wall Street may need government bailouts but the Damascus Road never does. ~ Russell D Moore,

464:Maybe it was teleportation. The Spirit took you there." "That might explain my visit to the soccer game, but it doesn't elucidate why I was in two different editions of the bakery." "Elucidate?" "Clarify, expound, explicate..." "You should have stopped at expound." "Brandon! I need assistance here. ~ James L Rubart,

465: If thou wouldest enjoy the eminent grace of the full assurance of  faith, under the blessed Spirit's influence, and assistance, do what  the Scripture tells thee, "Give diligence." Take care that thy faith is  of the right kind--that it is not a mere belief of doctrine, but a  simple faith, depending on Christ, and on Christ alone. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

466:Europeans killed many native people directly without the assistance of disease. In some instances, they intentionally used disease as a biological weapon by, for example, giving Indians smallpox-infected blankets. And millions more Indians died of disease who might have survived, had European brutality not left them weakened and susceptible. ~ Douglas Preston,

467:Honest James, forgetting the injury he had so lately received from him, flew to his assistance, and, with great difficulty, hauled him in again, but, in the attempt, was, by a sudden jerk of the ship, thrown overboard himself, in sight of the very fellow whom he had risked his life to save, and who took not the least notice of him in this distress. ~ Voltaire,

468:Piety practiced in solitude, like the flower that blooms in the desert, may give its fragrance to the winds of heaven, and delight those unbodied spirits that survey the works of God and the actions of men; but it bestows no assistance upon earthly beings, and however free from taints of impurity, yet wants the sacred splendor of beneficence. ~ Samuel Johnson,

469:As no good is done, or spoken, or thought by any man without the assistance of God, working in and with those that believe in him, so there is no evil done, or spoken, or thought without the assistance of the devil, who worketh with strong though secret power in the children of unbelief. All the works of our evil nature are the work of the devil. ~ John Wesley,

470:is natural that they should hasten to invoke the assistance of religion, for they must know that liberty cannot be established without morality, nor morality without faith; but they have seen religion in the ranks of their adversaries, and they inquire no further; some of them attack it openly, and the remainder are afraid to defend it. ~ Alexis de Tocqueville,

471:Last month, Charlottesville's police chief announced that his department was unable to confirm the gang-rape allegations published in the magazine. The police review, which included interviews with 70 people connected to the case, also showed that university administrators acted quickly to offer assistance to Jackie and investigate the allegations. ~ Anonymous,

472:One day somebody asked Herr K. if there was a God. Herr K. replied: "I suggest that you ask yourself whether the answer would effect your behavior. If your behavior would remain unchanged, then we can drop the question. If it would change, then I can at least be of assistance to you by telling you that you have already decided: you need a God. ~ Bertolt Brecht,

473:The events in Prague, together with the Berlin blockade, convinced the European recipients of American economic assistance that they needed military protection as well: that led them to request the creation of a North Atlantic Treaty Organization, which committed the United States for the first time ever to the peacetime defense of Western Europe. ~ John Lewis,

474:The objections and reluctances I met with in soliciting the subscriptions, made me soon feel the impropriety of presenting one's self as the proposer of any useful project, that might be suppos'd to raise one's reputation in the smallest degree above that of one's neighbours, when one has need of their assistance to accomplish that project. ~ Benjamin Franklin,

475:advice or support, but the true transformation has to come from deep inside, and when you feel it, you can act upon your desires and create a better existence for yourself. Until that point, it doesn’t matter how much you want something, if you can’t adjust the way you think about yourself, no amount of outside assistance will ever alter your life. ~ Luke Romyn,

476:Fourth, we will continue providing humanitarian assistance to innocent civilians who have been displaced by this terrorist organization. This includes Sunni and Shia Muslims who are at grave risk, as well as tens of thousands of Christians and other religious minorities. We cannot allow these communities to be driven from their ancient homelands. ~ Barack Obama,

477:True love cannot die,'" Will said, translating the inscription on the back in the light from the corridor. "I can't wear this, Magnus. It's too pretty for a man." "So are you. Go home and clean yourself up. I will call upon you as soon as I have information." He looked at Will keenly. "In the meantime do your best to be worthy of my assistance. ~ Cassandra Clare,

478:I was terrified of being dependent too, Alma,” Dr. Catherine Hope told her one day. “But I’ve realized it’s not such a big deal. You get used to it, and are grateful for the assistance. I can’t dress or take a shower on my own, I have problems brushing my teeth and cutting the chicken on my plate, but I’ve never been more contented than I am now. ~ Isabel Allende,

479:True love cannot die,'" Will said, translating the inscription on the back in the light from the corridor. "I can't wear this, Magnus. It's too pretty for a man." "So are you. Go home and clean yourself up. I will call upon you as soon as I have information." He looked at Will keenly. "In the meantime do your best to be worthy of my assistance. ~ Cassandra Clare,

480:Human law must rest its authority ultimately upon the authority of that law which is divine. Far from being rivals or enemies religion and law are twin sisters, friends, and mutual assistance. Indeed, these two sciences run into each other. ~ James Wilson, The Works of the Honourable James Wilson (Philadelphia: Bronson and Chauncey, 1804), Vol. I, pp. 106 & 103-105.,

481:Our immigration policy is focussed in four areas: First, strengthening border control; second, protecting American jobs by enforcing laws against illegal immigrants at the workplace; third, deporting criminal and deportable aliens; fourth, giving assistance to states who need it, and denying illegal aliens benefits for public services or welfare. ~ William J Clinton,

482:After sweating it out on death row for a decade, Ray Harris managed to get his sentence reduced to life imprisonment due to ineffective assistance of counsel. That same year, Vaughn’s boss Mick agreed to represent Harris pro bono and persuaded the Superior Court that Harris’s first attorney was so incompetent that his client deserved a new trial. ~ William L Myers Jr,

483:I'd say that [Louis] Brandeis practiced a kind of a "living originalism," to use the title of Jack Balkin's great book. He said you start with the paradigm case, which in the case of the Fourth Amendment was these general warrants or writs of assistance, but you define it at a level of abstraction that you can take it into our age and make it our own. ~ Jeffrey Rosen,

484:It is I who should be offering my assistance to you in this time of crisis,” he murmured. “Do contact me if you hear from Signorina Minorita. And of course, I am at your disposal if you think of anything I can do for you.” Cass could think of several things she’d like Dubois to do, like stick his head in a canal and leave it there, but she kept quiet. ~ Fiona Paul,

485:The events in Prague, together with the Berlin blockade, convinced the European recipients of American economic assistance that they needed military protection as well: that led them to request the creation of a North Atlantic Treaty Organization, which committed the United States for the first time ever to the peacetime defense of Western Europe. ~ John Lewis Gaddis,

486:Although Wilson proclaimed neutrality, his sympathies, like those of many Americans, lay with Great Britain and France. Americans gratefully remembered crucial French assistance in the American Revolution and shared with the British a language, a culture, and a commitment to liberty. Germany, by contrast, was a monarchy with strong militaristic traditions. ~ Anonymous,

487:Ebola haunted Zaire because of corruption and political repression. The virus had no secret powers, nor was it unusually contagious. For centuries Ebola had lurked in the jungles of central Africa. Its emergence into human populations required the special assistance of humanity's greatest vices : greed, corruption, arrogance, tyranny, and callousness. ~ Laurie Garrett,

488:My father, for whose skills as a surgeon I have the deepest respect, says, "The operation with the best outcome is the one you decide not to do." Knowing when not to operate, knowing when I am in over my head, knowing when to call for the assistance of a surgeon of my father's caliber--that kind of talent, that kind of "brilliance," goes unheralded. ~ Abraham Verghese,

489:Politicians have available a very nice EAP [employee assistance program]. There are psychological services available. All they have to do is pick up a phone. All the parties encourage them to do that. There are very few politicians who, once they're elected, take the time to rest and recover, whether you look at John Tory's schedule or Kathleen Wynne. ~ Justin Trudeau,

490:There is something that is much more scarce, something finer far, something rarer than ability. It is the ability to recognize ability. The sternest comment that can be made against employers as a class lies in the fact that men of Ability usually succeed in showing their worth in spite of their employer, and not with his assistance and encouragement. ~ Elbert Hubbard,

491:But when, in spite of weakness and disappointments, we set to work in earnest, and persevere steadily, we often find, that, though obliged continually to tack, we make more way than others who have the assistance of wind and tide; and, in truth, there can be no greater satisfaction than to keep pace with others or outstrip them in the race. ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe,

492:He wanted nothing, for the time being, except to understand .... Without advice, assistance or plan, he began reading an incongruous assortment of books; he would find some passage which he could not understand in one book, and he would get another on that subject .... There was no order in his reading; but there was order in what remained of it in his mind. ~ Ayn Rand,

493:When it comes to solving problems of poverty, impact investing can act as a catalyst, but it is not a silver bullet. Successful businesses serving the poor need more than investment capital. They also need infrastructure to enable effective distribution, strong regulatory systems, access to markets, technical assistance as they scale up, and more ~ Jacqueline Novogratz,

494:Loving one another isn’t enough to make a relationship last. The real glue that holds a couple (or friends or family) together is the effort both put into helping others who are in need of financial, health, personal or emotional assistance. Today, sustain your connection to a loved one by finding ways you both can help others, with a genuine heart. ~ Yehuda Berg,

495:After 9/11, the American Red Cross received more than half a billion dollars in donations to help the victims of the terrorist attacks. The families of the victims were already well-provided for by various government funds, so Red Cross simply drew a line across lower Manhattan and offered everyone there financial assistance, whether they needed it or not. ~ Peter Singer,

496:As individuals begin to align with their original intent and live a life on purpose, they invite in their highest guidance. I have come to know that the only way to access the assistance of the ascended masters is to become like them so that they can recognize themselves. It does no good to pray for guidance and help if we’re living an ego-centered life. At ~ Wayne W Dyer,

497:The mechanic, when a wheel refuses to turn, never thinks of dropping on his knees and asking the assistance of some divine power. He knows there is a reason. He knows that something is too large or too small; that there is something wrong with his machine; and he goes to work and he makes it larger or smaller, here or there, until the wheel will turn. ~ Robert G Ingersoll,

498:Most people who offer their help do it to make themselves feel better, not us. To be honest, I don't blame them. It's superstition: If you give assistance to the family in need... if you throw salt over your shoulder... if you don't step on the cracks, then maybe you'll be immune. Maybe you'll be able to convince yourself that this could never happen to you. ~ Jodi Picoult,

499:The sheer number of different reminder methods also indicates that there is indeed a great need for assistance in remembering, but that none of the many schemes and devices is completely satisfactory. After all, if any one of them was, then we wouldn’t need so many. The less effective ones would disappear and new schemes would not continually be invented. ~ Donald A Norman,

500:After shoving his former clothes inside, Xcor found himself bowing at the waist. "Your assistance has been much appreciated." Antoine raised his palm like he was getting ready to do a clap on the shoulder again. But once more, he caught himself and smiled instead. "Knock her dead, my man." "Oh, no." Xcor shook his head. "That shan’t be necessary. This one I like. ~ J R Ward,

501:Our economic assistance must be carefully targeted, and must make maximum use of the energy and efforts of the private sector... Economic freedom is the world's mightiest engine for abundance and social justice... Developing countries need to be encouraged to experiment with a growing variety of arrangements for profit sharing and expanded capital ownership. ~ Ronald Reagan,

502:Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces; but let us judge not that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered; that of neither has been answered fully. ~ Abraham Lincoln,

503:The mechanic, when a wheel refuses to turn, never thinks of dropping on his knees and asking the assistance of some divine power. He knows there is a reason. He knows that something is too large or too small; that there is something wrong with his machine; and he goes to work and he makes it larger or smaller, here or there, until the wheel will turn. ~ Robert Green Ingersoll,

504:As a 2011 Brookings Institution study found, “compared to 2000, residents of extreme-poverty neighborhoods in 2005–09 were more likely to be white, native-born, high school or college graduates, homeowners, and not receiving public assistance.”12 In other words, bad neighborhoods no longer plague only urban ghettos; the bad neighborhoods have spread to the suburbs. ~ J D Vance,

505:unusual for me. I didn’t know if it was because I was still recovering from a near-lethal dose of silver poisoning, or because of the news I’d just heard. “Disappeared?” Director Chen demanded, voicing the words I was too stunned to utter. “That doesn’t make any sense. A dirigible is too large a contraption to simply go up in thin air, not without the assistance ~ Jasmine Walt,

506:In Milwaukee, renters with housing vouchers were charged an average of $55 more each month, compared to unassisted renters who lived in similar apartments in similar neighborhoods. Overcharging voucher holders cost taxpayers an additional $3.6 million each year in Milwaukee alone—the equivalent of supplying 588 more needy families with housing assistance.6 The ~ Matthew Desmond,

507:Miss Taverner took the whip and reins in her hands, and mounted into the driving-seat, scorning assistance. "Take your orders from Miss Taverner, Henry," said the Earl, getting up beside his ward. "Me Lord, you are never going to let a female drive us?" said Henry almost tearfully. "What about my pride?" "Swallow it, Henry," replied the Earl amicably. ~ Georgette Heyer,

508:Room is outfitted with onyx as a security precaution," he continued, his dark brown eyes focused on mine again. "In case you somehow are able to tap into the Source or attack any member of my staff. With hybrids, we never know the extent of your abilities." Right now I didn't think I'd be able to sit up without assistance, let alone go ninja on anyone. ~ Jennifer L Armentrout,

509:Is there another way? Of course there is. There is a way based on simple moral principles: Everyone keeps his own money. Everyone decides what to do with his own money. No income tax. No IRS. No government grants or assistance to anyone. All charity is voluntary. It's called freedom. It's a peaceful, harmonious way of life, one that Americans once believed in. ~ Jacob G Hornberger,

510:O my God, since thou art with me, and i must now, in obedience to thy commands, apply my mind to these outward things, i beseech thee to grant me the grace to continue in thy presence; and to this end do thou prosper me with thy assistance, receive all my works, and possess all my affections." (Bro. Lawrence implored His grace and offered to Him all his actions). ~ Brother Lawrence,

511:They’re using these sort of coded appeals to say to people two things: One, the biggest threat in your life is not concentrated wealth, it’s minorities; and two, government coddles minorities, and all these government assistance programs, it’s all about giveaways to minorities—oppose them—government is taking your taxes and giving it to undeserving minorities. ~ Michelangelo Signorile,

512:When Kelly refused her attacker’s assistance, he said, “There’s such thing as being too proud, you know,” and she resisted the label by accepting his help. Typecasting always involves a slight insult, and usually one that is easy to refute. But since it is the response itself that the typecaster seeks, the defense is silence, acting as if the words weren’t even spoken. ~ Gavin de Becker,

513:Shut not thy purse-strings always against painted distress. Act a charity sometimes. When a poor creature (outwardly and visibly such) comes before thee, do not stay to inquire whether the "seven small children," in whose name he implores thy assistance, have a veritable existence. Rake not into the bowels of unwelcome truth, to save a halfpenny. It is good to believe him. ~ Charles Lamb,

514:The shop floor was vast, and I decided to request assistance. The first woman I saw was matronly, and did not seem well placed to dispense fashion advice. The second was in her late teens or early twenties, and therefore too callow to advise me. The third, in the manner of Goldilocks, was just right—around my age, well groomed, sensible-looking. I approached with caution. ~ Gail Honeyman,

515:since it needs a singularly large dose of goodwill to believe that the governing classes are respectable and that the lower classes are worthy of assistance or compassion, it seems to me,’ des Esseintes concluded, ‘to be neither ridiculous nor insane to ask of my fellow man a sum total of illusion barely equal to that which he spends each day on his idiotic purposes, ~ Joris Karl Huysmans,

516:If a market exists for low-paid work, then we should think about how we can make this type of work more attractive by providing government assistance. Of course, the wage-earner must be able to live off of his wages. We will not allow poverty wages or dumping wages. But the wage earner can receive a combined wage that includes both his actual wages and a government subsidy. ~ Angela Merkel,

517:In truth, the Christian hope rests not ultimately upon our own diligence, but on God’s faithfulness.30 It is God, not us, who will ultimately persevere, and that is why he is able to promise us eternal life: “where the promise is, there is all this assistance. The faithfulness of the Father, the grace of the Son, and the power of the Spirit, all are engaged in our preservation. ~ John Owen,

518:You and Jace – you’re not quite normal, are you? I mean, not normal Shadowhunters. There’s something special about you both. Like the Seelie Queen said. You were experiments.” He smiled at her startled look. “I’m not stupid. I can put these things together. You with your rune powers, and Jace, well…no one could be that annoying without some kind of supernatural assistance. ~ Cassandra Clare,

519:Assume that the new elite were clearly and simply to proclaim its intentions which are to supplant the old elite; no one would come to its assistance, it would be defeated before having fought a battle. On the contrary, it appears to be asking nothing for itself, well knowing that without asking anything in advance it will obtain what it wants as a consequence of its victory. ~ Vilfredo Pareto,

520:Natural Magick is taken to be nothing else, but the chief power of all the natural Sciences; which therefore they call the top and perfection of Natural Philosophy, and which is indeed the active part of the same; which by the assistance of natural forces and faculties, through their mutual & opportune application, performs those things that are above Human Reason. ~ Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa,

521:Warlock,” he said. “I know who you are.” Magnus raised his eyebrows. “You do?” “Magnus Bane. Destroyer of the demon Marabas. Son of—” “Now,” said Magnus, quickly. “There’s no need to go into all of that.” “But there is.” The demon sounded reasonable, even amused. “If it is infernal assistance you require, why not summon your father?” Alec looked at Magnus with his mouth open. ~ Cassandra Clare,

522:The President responded very impressively, saying that he was deeply sensible of his need of Divine assistance. He had sometime thought that perhaps he might be an instrument in God's hands of accomplishing a great work and he certainly was not unwilling to be. Perhaps, however, God's way of accomplishing the end which the memorialists have in view may be different from theirs. ~ Abraham Lincoln,

523:America certainly did its part. But doing the sums, it is now clear that through the eight years of Ronald Reagan’s presidency, 1981-89, Saudi Arabia actually provided more material assistance to the world’s varied assortment of anti Communist “freedom fighters” than did the United States, thus hastening the end of the Cold War and helping accomplish the downfall of the “Evil Empire. ~ Robert Lacey,

524:If it be taught that all who are born have a right to support on the land, whatever be their number, and that there is no occasion to exercise any prudence in the affair of marriage so as to check this number, the temptations, according to all the known principles of human nature, will inevitably be yielded to, and more and more will gradually become dependent on parish assistance. ~ Thomas Malthus,

525:that American economic assistance would produce immediate psychological benefits and later material ones that would reverse this trend; that the Soviet Union would not itself accept such aid or allow its satellites to, thereby straining its relationship with them; and that the United States could then seize both the geopolitical and the moral initiative in the emerging Cold War. ~ John Lewis Gaddis,

526:He wove those three threads into a talk ranging from annually spending a week at Halloween as a child collecting candy to giving candy to hundreds of children at Halloween as an adult; from childhood assistance he received from adults, particularly after his parents divorced, to saying I challenge you to be a caring adult in someone's life ... Great times call forth great leaders. ~ Thomas Jefferson,

527:International assistance, especially from the United States and some from China and Saudi Arabia, has brought Pakistan back from the brink in the past. But rising xenophobia and Islamo-nationalism— exhibited prominently after the discovery of Osama bin Laden in a Pakistani garrison town—coupled with Pakistan’s policies in Afghanistan make continued US support for Pakistan difficult. ~ Husain Haqqani,

528:Work with yourself. Work. If you have a partner, so much the better. Speak. Use whatever process is appropriate. Know that this universe is compassionate, aware and alive. This is a universe of life. This is not a material enterprise. It is a spiritual enterprise and it is filled with loving assistance. This is a thought form that must be in place in order for you to receive assistance. ~ Gary Zukav,

529:It is now no more that toleration is spoken of, as if it was by the indulgence of one class of people, that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights. For happily the government of the United States, which gives to bigotry no sanction - to persecution no assistance, requires only that they who live under its protection should demean themselves as good citizens. ~ George Washington,

530:The natural effort of every individual to better his own condition, when suffered to exert itself with freedom and security, is so powerful a principle, that it is alone, and without any assistance, not only capable of carrying on the society to wealth and prosperity, but of surmounting a hundred impertinent obstructions with which the folly of human laws too often encumbers its operations ~ Adam Smith,

531:There is scarce any one invention, which this nation has produced in our age, but it has some way or other been set forward by his assistance. ... He is indeed a man born for the good of mankind, and for the honour of his country. ... So I may thank God, that Dr. Wilkins was an Englishman, for wherever he had lived, there had been the chief seat of generous knowledge and true philosophy. ~ Robert Hooke,

532:In the next 10 years there will be about 100 000 people who will be preparing the way for themselves with the assistance of their guides (all human beings have a dimensional being walking beside them). They will all be assisting themselves as part of the preparation by becoming aware of how animals have been separated from humans and how we are able to bring oneness into the hereness. ~ Timothy Treadwell,

533:It is so easy to let life go by us in its swift amusing course, that sometimes it hardly seems worthwhile to attempt any bold strokes for truth. Truth, of course, does not need assistance; it can afford to ignore our errors. But in this quiet place, among the whisper of the trees, I seem to have heard a disconcerning sound. I have heard laughter, and I think it is the laughter of God. ~ Christopher Morley,

534:The company warned that cuts to the US food stamp program (officially known as the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program) as well as increases in payroll taxes were poised to hit hard at low-income shoppers. About one in five Walmart customers rely on food stamps, and evidence suggests that many of these people are stretched to the point where they have virtually no discretionary income. ~ Martin Ford,

535:The gulf coast region has been hit hard by two major hurricanes and is going to need federal assistance at several levels, The best way to make sure that the resources are targeted properly is for us to see this area firsthand. I am pleased that members from both sides of the aisle share my commitment to making sure that the relief effort is targeted and managed as efficiently as possible. ~ Bob Goodlatte,

536:Money is not indefinitely divisible. Even with the assistance of money-substitutes for expressing fractional sums that for technical reasons cannot conveniently be expressed in the actual monetary material (a method that has been brought to perfection in the modern system of token coinage), it seems entirely impossible to provide commerce with every desired fraction of the monetary unit. ~ Ludwig von Mises,

537:Warlock,” he said. “I know who you are.” Magnus raised his eyebrows. “You do?” “Magnus Bane. Destroyer of the demon Marabas. Son of—” “Now,” said Magnus, quickly. “There’s no need to go into all of that.” “But there is.” The demon sounded reasonable, even amused. “If it is infernal assistance you require, why not summon your father?” Alec looked at Magnus with his mouth open. ~ Cassandra Clare,

538:Are you signalling any one?" he asked. "No one in particular. I thought it looked better to have a few flags about." "I daresay you're right. But better take them down if you speak a ship. They're rather confusing." "Confusing? I thought they were just to brighten things up." "You have two different signals up. They read, Bubonic plague, give me a wide berth. Am coming to your assistance. ~ Christopher Morley,

539:There are hundreds of ways we accommodate physical disabilities—or at least understand them. We get angry when people fail to recognize the need for thoughtful and compassionate assistance when it comes to the physically disabled, but because mental disabilities aren’t visible in the same way, we tend to be dismissive of the needs of the disabled and quick to judge their deficits and failures. ~ Bryan Stevenson,

540:He paused, watching Charlie breathing slowly in and out for a moments. "Were it not for the assistance of your young 'monster,' here, you almost certainly would not have survived Swift's attack. Marlowe is a good man," Jackaby added, thoughtfully, "but he only knows how to slay dragons. This world is full of dragons-slayers. What we need are a few people who aren't too proud to listen to a fish. ~ William Ritter,

541:The man breeds lies. He spawns them asexually, with no need for any assistance. He exhales and lies fill the air. Alone in a room, he mutters lies to himself to keep from falling into the trap of truth-telling. In the day, sleeping in his bed, deep in the safest heart of Coalition headquarters, he dreams in lies. The better to keep his left hand from knowing what betrayals his right has planned. ~ Charlie Huston,

542:There are hundreds of ways we accommodate physical disabilities--or at least understand them. We get angry when people fail to recognize the need for thoughtful and compassionate assistance when it comes to the physically disabled, but because mental disabilities aren't visible in the same way, we tend to be dismissive of the needs of the disabled and quick to judge their deficits and failures. ~ Bryan Stevenson,

543:Okay, people, settle down so we can get this over with.” Lynn had become accustomed to raising her voice to get their attention. The evening meal seemed to be the time when everyone was most raucous. But after a month in command, she no longer needed Frank’s assistance to get them under control, and within seconds of her request, the group was quiet and attentive. “Let’s have a status report. Medical? ~ Ryk Brown,

544:There are hundreds of ways we accommodate physical disabilities - or at least understand them. We get angry when people fail to recognize the need for thoughtful and compassionate assistance when it comes to the physically disabled, but because mental disabilities aren't visible in the same way, we tend to be dismissive of the needs of the disabled and quick to judge their deficits and failures. ~ Bryan Stevenson,

545:Battles in Micronesia were so pitched and bloody that Gilbertese warriors would outfit themselves head to foot with doormat-thick armor fashioned from coconut hulls. On top of the significant humiliation of making one's entrance onto the battlefield looking like an enormous macramé planter was the fact that the armor was so bulky that it required the assistance of several squires to help maneuver you. ~ Mary Roach,

546:Time passes. Big men dwindle, small men grow. This man shrinks into old age, those men’s reach grows longer. They can stretch out their arms and touch places and people they couldn’t reach before. There are companies here to lend assistance to companies there, to facilitate journeys, to execute strategies. Clowns become kings, old crowns lie in the gutter. Things change. It is the way of the world. ~ Salman Rushdie,

547:It is for these reasons that I believe we must expand day-care centers and provide other assistance which I have recommended to the Congress. At present, the total facilities of all the licensed day-care centers in the Nation can take care of only 185,000 children. Nearly 500,000 children under 12 must take care of themselves while their mothers work. This, it seems to me, is a formula for disaster. ~ John F Kennedy,

548:I am asking my Attorney General to create a special unit of federal prosecutors and leading state attorneys general to expand our investigations into the abusive lending and packaging of risky mortgages that led to the housing crisis. This new unit will hold accountable those who broke the law, speed assistance to homeowners, and help turn the page on an era of recklessness that hurt so many Americans. ~ Barack Obama,

549:Although some studies show that paid work enhances women's self-esteem, which can improve their parenting, others suggest that single mothers in low-wage jobs are just as depressed, hostile, and fatalistic as single mothers on welfare. And contrary to widespread popular belief, higher levels of welfare assistance in a neighborhood tend to decrease the impact of resource deprivation on crime rates.22 ~ Stephanie Coontz,

550:No one, in the world's whole history, ever attempted to substantiate a truth by a miracle. Truth scorns the assistance of miracle. Nothing but falsehood ever attested itself by signs and wonders. No miracle ever was performed, and no sane man ever thought he had performed one, and until one is performed, there can be no evidence of the existence of any power superior to, and independent of nature. ~ Robert G Ingersoll,

551:Fairness and reciprocity are at the heart of good relationships. Emotionally mature people don’t like taking advantage of people, nor do they like the feeling of being used. They want to help and are generous with their time, but they also ask for attention and assistance when they need it. They’re willing to give more than they get back for awhile, but they won’t let an imbalance go on indefinitely. ~ Lindsay C Gibson,

552:This year, the United States renewed funding of reproductive healthcare through the United Nations Population Fund, and more funding is on the way. The U.S. Congress recently appropriated more than $648 million in foreign assistance to family planning and reproductive health programs worldwide. That's the largest allocation in more than a decade - since we last had a Democratic president, I might add. ~ Hillary Clinton,

553:Microsoft is in a court battle with the Department of Justice. The DOJ is saying, "We want information from your data center in Ireland. It's not about a US citizen, but we want it." Microsoft said, "OK, fine. Go to a judge in Ireland. Ask them for a warrant. We have a mutual legal-assistance treaty. They'll do it. Give that to us, and we'll provide the information to you in accordance with Irish laws." ~ Edward Snowden,

554:Nowhere is this challenge more critical -- and the need for action more pressing -- than in the Horn of Africa. From Kenya to Ethiopia, Djibouti to Somalia, the devastating consequences of drought, desertification and land degradation are playing out before our eyes. The worst drought in 60 years has placed more than 13.3 million people -- predominately women and children -- in need of emergency assistance. ~ Rajiv Shah,

555:Ophelia moaned as I patted her cheeks in the approved "vague assistance to woman who has fainted" manner. "Perdy?" she mumbled, her eyelashes fluttering. "No, it's just me," I said, looking up when the door opened. "And Drake and Fiat, and Pal and Istvan, and I think that's Renaldo and another one of Fiat's bullies in the hall, although it's a little hard to see with everyone in the way. ~ Katie MacAlister,

556:I intend to create a new work of art, all my own. A still life, of sorts. You three will be vital parts of the process. Rejoice in your good fortune.” In the sterile environment of the laboratory, with the cold assistance of his personal robot guards, Erasmus proceeded to vivisect the trio of victims, oblivious to their screams. “I want to get to the heart of the matter,” he quipped, “the lifeblood of it. ~ Brian Herbert,

557:The world turns on million-to-one chances.” “We’re supposed to be completely invisible,” the motel clerk said. “Aren’t we? Isn’t that what we pay for?” “You don’t pay for it. I pay for it.” The store went quiet again, until the spare-parts guy picked it up. He said, “OK, isn’t that what you pay for?” “Yes, it is. And more. I pay for assistance as and when I need it. Like the Triple-A. All part of the service. ~ Lee Child,

558:In one of them I am sixteen or seventeen years old. I am wearing, under a jacket of the Assistance Publique, a torn sweater. My face is an oval, very pure; my nose is smashed, flattened by a punch in some forgotten fight. The look on my face is blasé, sad and warm, very serious. My hair was thick and unruly. Seeing myself at that age, I expressed my feelings almost aloud: “Poor little fellow, you've suffered. ~ Jean Genet,

559:No one, in the world's whole history, ever attempted to substantiate a truth by a miracle. Truth scorns the assistance of miracle. Nothing but falsehood ever attested itself by signs and wonders. No miracle ever was performed, and no sane man ever thought he had performed one, and until one is performed, there can be no evidence of the existence of any power superior to, and independent of nature. ~ Robert Green Ingersoll,

560:I never spend a day in idleness; I appropriate even a part of the night for study. I do not allow time for sleep but yield to it when I must, and when my eyes are wearied with waking and ready to fall shut, I keep them at their task. 2. I have withdrawn not only from men, but from affairs, especially from my own affairs; I am working for later generations, writing down some ideas that may be of assistance to them. ~ Seneca,

561:The startling truth is that our best efforts for civil rights, international peace, population control, conservation of natural resources, and assistance to the starving of the earth—urgent as they are—will destroy rather than help if made in the present spirit. For, as things stand, we have nothing to give. If our own riches and our own way of life are not enjoyed here, they will not be enjoyed anywhere else. ~ Alan W Watts,

562:When the West turned down Egypt's request for financial assistance to build a new dam on the Nile -- a national project deemed vital for the country's well-being -- the government of the time felt it had no choice but to go to the Soviet Union for help. By doing so, it committed the country to almost 20 years of Soviet influence, changing the geopolitics of the region in a consequential and durable manner. ~ Mohamed El Erian,

563:In some instances even certain social services that normally were supplied, or pre-empted by the state. Take the United States, the [Ronald] Reagan administration is withdrawing assistance, all kinds of welfare programs, and if people don't improvise their own resources to cope with problems of the ageing, problems of the sick, problems of the young, problems of the poor, problems of tenant rights, who will? ~ Murray Bookchin,

564:It cannot, however, be questioned that escapers such as Stangl (and for that matter Eichmann, certainly a “bigger fish” administratively if not morally) did in the final analysis receive important assistance from two organizations which – to put it very mildly – allowed themselves to be grievously misused in aiding the escapes of individuals so dreadfully implicated: the International Red Cross, and the Vatican. ~ Gitta Sereny,

565:She was determined to guard against moral hazard and protect the FDIC insurance fund. She saw this as a teachable moment, a chance to show the world that the irresponsibility of WaMu and its bondholders would be punished. She made the same argument the Germans and other moral hazard critics had made against IMF assistance during the emerging-market crises: It will only encourage bad behavior in the future. ~ Timothy F Geithner,

566:Casey Maddox wrote that when philosophy dies, action begins. I would say in addition that when we stop hoping for external assistance, when we stop hoping that the awful situation we're in will somehow resolve itself, when we stop hoping the situation will somehow not get worse, then we are finally free - truly free - to honestly start working to thoroughly resolve it. I would say when hope dies, action begins. ~ Derrick Jensen,

567:And I take this opportunity to declare, that... I will to my dying day oppose with all the powers and faculties God has given me, all such instruments of slavery on the one hand, and villainy on the other, as this writ of assistance is. It appears to me the worst instrument of arbitrary power, - the most destructive of English liberty and the fundamental principles of law, that ever was found in an English law book. ~ James Otis,

568:Polls show that Americans significantly overestimate the percentage of the federal budget allocated to foreign aid. In November 2013, a Kaiser Family Foundation survey found that, on average, Americans believe that 28 percent of the federal budget is spent on foreign assistance, and more than 60 percent of people say that’s too much. But in reality we spend less than 1 percent of the budget on foreign aid. ~ Hillary Rodham Clinton,

569:There is all the difference in the world, however, between two kinds of assistance through government that seem superficially similar: first, 90 percent of us agreeing to impose taxes on ourselves in order to help the bottom 10 percent, and second, 80 percent voting to impose taxes on the top 10 percent to help the bottom 10 percent—William Graham Sumner's famous example of B and C deciding what D shall do for A. ~ Milton Friedman,

570:What advice do you have for writers working on their first novels?If you feel called to write a book, consider it a gift. Look around you. What assistance is the universe offering you as support? I was given an amazing mentor, a poet, Eleanor Drewry Dolan, who taught me the importance of every word. To my utter amazement, there were times she found it necessary to consult three dictionaries to evaluate one word. ~ Kathleen Grissom,

571:Where's Lori?" he asked when he saw the nurse wasn't there. "She's not avoiding me, is she?" His grandmother slipped off her glasses, put down her book and stared at him. "Amazingly enough, the whole world doesn't revolve around you, Reid. Lori's sister is sick and Lori took her to the doctor. She'll be back in an hour or so. Can you survive on your own until then, or should I call 9-1-1 for emergency assistance? ~ Susan Mallery,

572:Yes, he is intelligent. But we must be more intelligent. We must be so intelligent that he does not suspect us of being intelligent at all." I acquiesced. "There, mon ami, you will be of great assistance to me." I was pleased with the compliment. There had been times when I hardly thought that Poirot appreciated me at my true worth. "Yes" he continued staring at me thoughtfully, "you will be invaluable ~ Agatha Christie,

573:My own idea, for what it is worth, is that all sadness which is not either arising from the repentance of a concrete sin and hastening towards concrete amendment or restitution, or else arising from pity and hastening to active assistance, is simply bad; and I think we all sin by needlessly disobeying the apostolic injunction to 'rejoice' as much as by anything else. Humility, after the first shock, is a cheerful virtue. ~ C S Lewis,

574:All of the incessant debate about development assistance, and whether the rich are doing enough to help the poor, actually concerns less than 1% of rich world income. The effort required of the rich is indeed so slight that to do less is to announce brazenly to a large part of the world: 'You count for nothing.' We should not be surprised, then, if in later years the rich reap the whirlwind of that heartless response. ~ Jeffrey Sachs,

575:Do not accept what you hear by report, do not accept tradition, do not accept a statement because it is found in our books, nor because it is in accord with your belief, nor because it is the saying of your teacher. Be lamps unto yourselves. Those who, either now or after I am dead, shall rely upon themselves only and not look for assistance to anyone besides themselves, it is they who shall reach the topmost height. ~ Gautama Buddha,

576:I would like to take the opportunity today to thank you for your assistance in helping us to reshape the future of Xbox One. You told us how much you loved the flexibility you have today with games delivered on disc. The ability to lend, share, and resell these games at your discretion is of incredible importance to you. Also important to you is the freedom to play offline, for any length of time, anywhere in the world. ~ Don Mattrick,

577:God calls us to keep our word, so we should do whatever we can to set up guardrails to help us fulfill that call. In addition to not making frivolous oaths, we must seek the help of the Lord Himself, calling upon His grace and the assistance of the Holy Spirit to enable us to be true to our word. Let us seek the Lord’s face daily and pray continually that He will be with us to encourage and equip us to fulfill our promises. ~ Anonymous,

578:But in many orders of beauty, particularly those of the finer arts, it is requisite to employ much reasoning, in order to feel the proper sentiment; and a false relish may frequently be corrected by argument and reflection. There are just grounds to conclude, that moral beauty partakes of this latter species, and demands the assistance of our intellectual faculties, in order to give it a suitable influence on the human mind. ~ David Hume,

579:Equality sets men apart and weakens them; but the press places a powerful weapon within every man's reach, which the weakest and loneliest of them all may use. Equality deprives a man of the support of his connections; but the press enables him to summon all his fellow-countrymen and all his fellow-men to his assistance. Printing has accelerated the progress of equality, and it is also one of its best correctives. ~ Alexis de Tocqueville,

580:What advice do you have for writers working on their first novels? If you feel called to write a book, consider it a gift. Look around you. What assistance is the universe offering you as support? I was given an amazing mentor, a poet, Eleanor Drewry Dolan, who taught me the importance of every word. To my utter amazement, there were times she found it necessary to consult three dictionaries to evaluate one word. ~ Kathleen Grissom,

581:My own idea, for what it is worth, is that all sadness which is not either arising from the repentance of a concrete sin and hastening towards concrete amendment or restitution, or else arising from pity and hastening to active assistance, is simply bad; and I think we all sin by needlessly disobeying the apostolic injunction to 'rejoice' as much as by anything else. Humility, after the first shock, is a cheerful virtue. ~ C S Lewis,

582:There was time after that to eat the very fine meal Cymbra and Magda prepared with Rycca's able assistance, to linger over the table as Dragon spun stories, and for lovers to dream the night away in each other's arms. But on the morning tide, while yet a ghostly mist lingered over the water, shouts rang out on the quays, oars slipped into their locks, and sails billowed as a dozen war-armed dragon ships sailed for England. ~ Josie Litton,

583:As this is one of those deep observations which very few readers can be supposed capable of making themselves, I have thought proper to lend them my assistance; but this is a favour rarely to be expected in the course of my work. Indeed, I shall seldom or never so indulge him, unless in such instances as this, where nothing but the inspiration with which we writers are gifted can possibly enable anyone to make the discovery. ~ Henry Fielding,

584:Gratitude brings a peace that helps us overcome the pain of adversity and failure. Gratitude on a daily basis means we express appreciation for what we have now without qualification for what we had in the past or desire in the future. A recognition of and appreciation for our gifts and talents which have been given also allows us to acknowledge the need for help and assistance from the gifts and talents possessed by others. ~ Robert D Hales,

585:My dad says business isn’t so good right now. He can’t afford to hire anyone. Not even cubs.” “I’m afraid the Bearsonian won’t be of any assistance, either,” said Ferdy. “Uncle Actual says it runs on donations from Bear Country businesses. Lately a lot of businesses have been doing poorly, so donations are down. He will take us on as volunteers, however.” “Oh, great!” said Queenie. “That’ll be a big help! ~ Stan Berenstain,

586:seen many happy times as well as those filled with problems. Through thick and thin, Sheridon has always been with me and has been of great assistance in whatever I do. May God bless him and his family. I would like to thank Sudeshna Shome Ghosh of Rupa Publications, who was with me from conception, design to the shaping of the book. She has been following up continuously, with perseverance, in bringing it out. I greet her ~ A P J Abdul Kalam,

587:The Zionist movement did not send any assistance, financial or otherwise, for the victims of Nazism and it did not allow any other side to provide any kind of aid. The Zionist movement concealed the information that came from within the ghetto walls and concentration camps, news that shed light on what was really happening. If it had to publish anything, it did so by questioning that information and diminishing its importance. ~ Mahmoud Abbas,

588:But you are powerful.” “Yes. And that is why we must use that power wisely and with restraint—a tenet we have adopted from human philosophy. If we rush to your assistance at every hint of trouble, your culture would become utterly dependent upon us, and we would become your masters. If that were ever to happen, you would rebel and lash out at us, for that is the strongest part of your nature. We do not want that situation to arise. ~ Anonymous,

589:Bad credit surgery loans are loan service that is basically meant to assist those borrowers who wish to go for a surgical procedure but they are not having ample amount of funds for financing their surgery. With the assistance of this loan service such borrowers can easily access the desired amount of funds along with the tag of their poor credit. The fund avail from this loan will also assist them to mend their awful credit status. ~ Mark Terry,

590:Now would you please remove the squirrel from my room?” “I’m still amused you called for assistance. A squirrel may be a difficult foe, but I assume it can’t be much worse than the mountain hag.” Elle rolled her eyes. “Severin.” “Very well. And exactly why did you think I would be able to relieve you of this pest any better than one of the other servants?” Severin asked. “You have the head of a cat,” Elle said dryly. “True. I concede, ~ K M Shea,

591:Q: What prayers are useful? A: Ask to be the servant of the Lord, a vehicle of Divine love, a channel of God’s will. Ask for direction and Divine assistance, and surrender all personal will through devotion. Dedicate one’s life to the service of God. Choose love and peace above all other options. Commit to the goal of unconditional love and compassion for all life, in all its expressions, and surrender all judgment to God. July ~ David R Hawkins,

592:Three of the most important factors in determining to what degree a government’s power will be controlled or uncontrolled therefore are: (1) the relative desire of the populace to impose limits on the government’s power; (2) the relative strength of the subjects’ independent organizations and institutions to withdraw collectively the sources of power; and (3) the population’s relative ability to withhold their consent and assistance. ~ Anonymous,

593:The Center for Immigration Studies estimates that 62 percent of households headed by illegal immigrants use some form of cash or non-cash welfare programs like food stamps or housing assistance, tremendous costs, by the way, to our country, tremendous costs. This directly violates the federal public charge law designed to protect the United States Treasury. Those who abuse our welfare system will be priorities for immediate removal. ~ Donald Trump,

594:As to the kindness you mention, I wish I could have been of more service to you than I have been, but if I had, the only thanks that I should desire are that you would always be ready to serve any other person that may need your assistance, and so let good offices go around, for humankind are all of a family. As for my own part, when I am employed in serving others I do not look upon myself as conferring favors but paying debts. ~ Benjamin Franklin,

595:Wonder is like grace, in that it's not a condition we grasp; it grasps us. Wonder is not an obligatory element in the search for truth. We can seek truth without wonder's assistance. But seek is all we'll do; there will be no finding. Unless wonder descends, unlocks us ... truth is unable to enter. Wonder may be the aura of truth, the halo of it. Or something even closer. Wonder may be the caress of truth, touching our very skin. ~ David James Duncan,

596:Arleen had given up hoping for housing assistance long ago. If she had a housing voucher or a key to a public housing unit, she would spend only 30 percent of her income on rent. It would mean the difference between stable poverty and grinding poverty, the difference between planting roots in a community and being batted from one place to another. It would mean she could give most of her check to her children instead of her landlord. ~ Matthew Desmond,

597:Go," said the count deliberately, "go, dear friend, but promise me, if you meet with any obstacle to remember that I have some power in this world; that I am happy to use that power in the behalf of those I love; and that I love you, Morrel." "I will remember it," said the young man, "as selfish children recollect their parents when they want their aid. When I need your assistance, and the moment may come, I will come to you, count. ~ Alexandre Dumas,

598:Parting message: We are always here. We are here to help her. And she can call upon us at any time. And she has much assistance on many levels.   D: When she calls upon you, how should she address you? T: Just think of us. Just think of the All. D: Think of the All and call it in when she wants to talk to you. That’s wonderful. Is that all you want to tell her before we go? T: Yes. And to trust completely in what we have done here today. ~ Dolores Cannon,

599:At once the senior pilot arose in his mighty bulk and began to struggle into his coat, with awe-inspiring upheavals. The stranger and I hurried impulsively to his assistance, and directly we laid our hands on him he became perfectly quiescent. We had to raise our arms very high, and to make efforts. It was like caparisoning a docile elephant. With a "Thanks, gentlemen," he dived under and squeezed himself through the door in a great hurry. ~ Joseph Conrad,

600:Hi, this is Randy. I waited until I was thirty-nine to get married, so my wife and I are going away for a month. I hope you don't have a problem with that, but my boss does." I then gave the names of Jai's parents and the city where they live. "If you call directory assistance, you can get their number. And then, if you can convince my new in-laws that your emergency merits interrupting their only daughter's honeymoon, they have our number. ~ Randy Pausch,

601:There are Arab countries providing arms I don't know who they are, nobody comes and tells you 'we are providing arms', but what I say is providing arms and ammunition started with certain countries, I'll name them: Russia and Iran to Syria, so it's normal the other side will seek help .... The last resolution adopted less than three weeks ago said all assistance [to the opposition fighters], all assistance including military, it was added. ~ Nabil Elaraby,

602:World War II was fought for the abolition of racial exclusiveness, equality of nations and the integrity of their territories, liberation of enslaved nations and restoration of their sovereign rights, the right of every nation to arrange its affairs as it wishes, economic aid to nations that have suffered and assistance to them in attaining their material welfare, restoration of democratic liberties, and destruction of the Hitlerite regime. ~ Joseph Stalin,

603:Christianity is NOT a religion; it is the proclamation of the end of religion. Religion is a human activity dedicated to the job of reconciling God to humanity and humanity to itself. The Gospel, however - the Good News of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, is the astonishing announcement that God has done the whole work of reconciliation without a scrap of human assistance. It is the bizarre proclamation that religion is over - period. ~ Robert Farrar Capon,

604:President Vladimir Putin continues to call for new peace plans as his troops roll through the Ukrainian countryside and he absolutely ignores every agreement that his country has signed in the past and he has signed recently, we, the United States, and Europe as a whole, have to stand with Ukraine at this moment. Ukraine needs our financial assistance and support as it pursues reforms and even in the face, in the face of this military onslaught. ~ Joe Biden,

605:...you don't have to know just what people are doing and feeling to be of assistance to them. Your own life seems to you like a very small lighted room, with great darkness all around it, and you can't see out into the darkness and know what is happening there. But light and warmth from your room can go out into the darkness if you don't have the windows selfishly curtained, keep a brave fire burning, and light all the happy candles you can. ~ Elizabeth Goudge,

606:I do not, of course, propose to neglect the sick, the feeble or the unfortunate,” wrote Galton, “but I would exact an equivalent for the charitable assistance they receive by preventing the more faulty members of the flock from breeding.” Galton argued that lunatics, criminals, and paupers should be placed in monasteries and convents “for the purpose of restricting their opportunities for producing low-class offspring.” Breeding had become weeding. ~ Paul A Offit,

607:When we say the Bible is infallible in its origin, we are merely ascribing its origin to a God who is infallible. This is not to say that the biblical writers were intrinsically or in themselves infallible. They were human beings who, like other humans, proved the axiom Errare humanum est, “To err is human.” It is precisely because humans are given to error that, for the Bible to be the Word of God, its human authors required assistance in their task. ~ R C Sproul,

608:Geometry is of much assistance in architecture, and in particular it teaches us the use of the rule and compasses, by which especially we acquire readiness in making plans for buildings in their grounds, and rightly apply the square, the level, and the plummet. By means of optics the light in buildings can be drawn from fixed quarters of the sky. Difficult questions involving symmetry are solved by means of geometrical theories and methods. ~ Marcus Vitruvius Pollio,

609:There will be no change in this firm's concern for client confidentiality.' 'Good.' She relaxed a little. 'But I like to know as much as possible about what I'm getting into before I start an investigation.' It was her turn to raise her brows. 'I'm here because I was under the impression that one consults a private investigator when one does not wish to explain all the reasons why one needs that particular type of professional assistance. ~ Jayne Ann Krentz,

610:Well, then what the federal government should have done was accept the assistance of foreign countries, of entrepreneurial Americans who have had solutions that they wanted presented. They can't even get a phone call returned, Bill. The Dutch—they are known, and the Norwegians—they are known for dikes and for cleaning up water and for dealing with spills. They offered to help and yet, no, they too, with the proverbial, can't even get a phone call back. ~ Sarah Palin,

611:Providing the ultimate safety net is the role that Temporary Assistance for Needy Families is supposed to play, but it hasn’t proved to be up to the task. Part of the reason TANF isn’t doing its job is that it is a block grant given to the states, which have broad flexibility as to how they spend the money. This means that they have plenty of reasons to keep families off the rolls, because if they do, they get to use the money for other, related purposes. ~ Kathryn Edin,

612:The great design of this noble science is to rescue our reasoning powers from their unhappy slavery and darkness; and thus, with all due submission and deference, it offers an humble assistance to divine revelation. Its chief business is to relieve the natural weakness of the mind by some better efforts of nature; it is to diffuse a light over the understanding in our inquiries after truth. . . . [And] it renders its daily service to wisdom and virtue.7 ~ Dallas Willard,

613:There is no talent so useful toward rising in the world, or which puts men more out of the reach of fortune, than that quality generally possessed by the dullest sort of men, and in common speech called discretion; a species of lower prudence, by the assistance of which, people of the meanest intellectuals, without any other qualification, pass through the world in great tranquillity, and with universal good treatment, neither giving nor taking offence. ~ Jonathan Swift,

614:I have a feeling I might need some child-care assistance at the house,” he said. “If Paige needs Mel during the night, can you and Mike come out to my place, stay with the kids, so I can stay here with Christopher? When Mel’s working at Doc’s, I like to be close by.” “Sure. How’s Paige doing?” “Early labor. She’s been trying to rest to save her strength, but I think Preacher’s driving her crazy,” Jack said. “Aw, he’s excited.” “Excited doesn’t touch it.” Jack ~ Robyn Carr,

615:I stood up. Can a man stand alone, naked, and at his ease, wrist flexed at his side like Michelangelo's David, without assistance, without diversion, without drink, without friends, without a woman, in silence? Yes. It was possible to stand. Nothing happened. I listened. There was no sound: no boats on the river, no trucks on the road, not even cicadas. What if I didn't listen to the news? I didn't. Nothing happened. I realized I had been afraid of silence. ~ Walker Percy,

616:You wouldn't let him do it, would you, Jamie?" Jamie's expression was very serene. She stared at Andrew when she spoke to her husband. "With your permission, I would like to answer him." "You have it," Alec replied. "Andrew," she called out in a voice as cold and clear as a frigid winter morning, "my husband does whatever he wishes to do. I am sometimes allowed to help, though. If he decides to cut off your feet, I will, of course, offer him my assistance. ~ Julie Garwood,

617:As Schell had taught me, "a con starts when there is something you want and you are blocked from attaining it by certain obstacles. The good con artist elicits the assistance of those who mean to stand in the way of one's attainment by appealing to their vanity, pride, jealousy, ignorance, or fear. One must first throw into a pile the expected rules of engagement, morality, society, and thought, set them on fire, and then proceed. Think big, have confidence. ~ Jeffrey Ford,

618:Let me strive every moment of my life to make myself better and better, to the best of my ability, that all may profit by it. Let me think of the right and lend all my assistance to those who need it, with no regard for anything but justice. Let me take what comes with a smile, without loss of courage. Let me be considerate of my country, of my fellow citizens and my associates in everything I say and do. Let me do right to all, and wrong no man. ~ Kenneth Robeson,

619:People can only understand their own pain. Even a genuine desire to help a person with a disability can become a burden or a discouragement for the person on the receiving end. It is important for helpers and therapists to ask themselves, If I was the person I’m helping … ? It would be useful also if they double-checked that the assistance they’re offering is of real relevance to the person with special needs, and not about gratifying their own desire to care. ~ Naoki Higashida,

620:The First Amendment, he explained, exposed tolerance as a sham, because tolerance implies one superior group of people deigning to put up with their inferiors. “It is now no more that toleration is spoken of as if it were the indulgence of one class of people that another enjoyed the exercise of their inherent natural rights,” Washington wrote. “For, happily, the Government of the United States . . . gives to bigotry no sanction, to persecution no assistance.” Of ~ Sarah Vowell,

621:Now that bad inheritance from my father's side came to my assistance in a way I cannot admire enough, and just at the right time — basically a predestination to an early death. Sickness gradually liberated me, clearing me out . . . Likewise illness gave me the right to completely overturn all my habits; it allowed me, compelled me to forget; it bestowed on me the gift of having to lie still, remain idle, wait, and be patient. . . But all that means to think! ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,

622:Now that bad inheritance from my father's side came to my assistance in a way I cannot admire enough, and just at the right time — basically a predestination to an early death. Sickness gradually liberated me, clearing me out . . . Likewise illness gave me the right to completely overturn all my habits; it allowed me, compelled me to forget; it bestowed on me the gift of having to lie still, remain idle, wait, and be patient . . . But all that means to think! ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,

623:Now that bad inheritance from my father's side came to my assistance in a way I cannot admire enough, and just at the right time — basically a predestination to an early death. Sickness gradually liberated me, clearing me out . . . Likewise sickness gave me the right to completely overturn all my habits; it allowed me, compelled me to forget; it bestowed on me the gift of having to lie still, remain idle, wait, and be patient . . . But all that means to think! ~ Friedrich Nietzsche,

624:[Ho Chi Minh] was always conscious that conditions in China and Vietnam were not always the same. He "kowtowed" to the Chinese - as he had to the Soviet Union - in order to receive their assistance, but he quietly worked to limit those forms of influence of which he did not approve (such as the harsh forms of land reform and the Great Leap Forward). Unfortunately, he was not always successful in fending off those forms of external advice that he didn't agree with. ~ William J Duiker,

625:The child is taught form earliest consciousness that she has these four brothers with her in the world wherever she goes, and that they will always look after her. The brothers inhabit the four virtues a person needs in order to be safe and happy in life: intelligence, friendship, strength and poetry. The brothers can be called upon in any critical situation for rescue and assistance. When you die, your four spirit brothers collet your soul and bring you to heaven. ~ Elizabeth Gilbert,

626:The reader must come armed , in a serious state of intellectual readiness. This is not easy because he comes to the text alone. In reading, one's responses are isolated, one'sintellect thrown back on its own resourses. To be confronted by the cold abstractions of printed sentences is to look upon language bare, without the assistance of either beauty or community. Thus, reading is by its nature a serious business. It is also, of course, an essentially rational activity. ~ Neil Postman,

627:We would be mistaken in regarding the totality of human brains as forming no more than an added sum. There is something more: these united brains build up a sort of dome, from which each brain can see, with the assistance of the others, what would escape it if it had to rely solely on its own field of vision. The view so obtained goes beyond anything the individual can compass, nor can he exhaust it. ~ Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, The Place of Technology in a General Biology of Mankind,

628:God is the hardest taskmaster I have known on this earth, and he tries you through and through. And when you find that your faith is failing or your body is failing you, and you are sinking, he comes to your assistance somehow or other and proves to you that you must not lose your faith and that he is always at your beck and call, but on his terms, not on your terms. So I have found. I cannot really recall a single instance when, at the eleventh hour, he has forsaken me. ~ Mahatma Gandhi,

629:MARIA: But unluckily that iron gate, that Ha, Ha, give me a feeling of restraint and hardship. I cannot get out, as the starling said. HENRY: And for the world you would not get out without the key and without Mr. Rushworth's authority and protection, or I think you might with little difficulty pass round the edge of the gate, here, with my assistance; I think it might be done, if you really wished to be more at large, and could allow yourself to think it not prohibited. ~ Jane Austen,

630:The moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves as well. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen accidents, meetings and material assistance that no one could have dreamed would come their way. Whatever you can do or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. Begin it now. —Goethe, by attribution ~ Gregory Maguire,

631:We don't necessarily need so many artists. I recommend that many of the people who think they want to be artists should go into the American Friends Service Committee, or do government outreach to communities that don't have water, or that need seeds or ecological assistance. It would create a system in which people with engaged sensibilities and potential insight assist instead of imposing. I think it could leap right out of the art world into wonderful community action. ~ Carolee Schneemann,

632:I fully share the Congress's objective of promoting nonproliferation and combating Iran's efforts to acquire weapons of mass destruction (WMD) and missile delivery systems. This issue remains at the top of the agenda with Russia as well as with other countries whose companies may be providing such assistance to Iran. In the case of Russian entities' cooperation with Iran, we have imposed penalties ten times in the past and stand ready to apply them again whenever necessary. ~ William J Clinton,

633:The sergeant was just noting that she was a very handsome woman, from somewhere in the eastern Mediterranean he would guess, when his eyes unexpectedly burst into flames. This distressed him, and he staggered around, blood-red fire erupting from the sockets, while he explained the degree of agony he was enduring and how much he would appreciate assistance of an unspecified form from those present. Then his head caught fire and his conversation became very scream orientated. ~ Jonathan L Howard,

634:I do not know by what power I think; but well I know that I should never have thought without the assistance of my senses. That there are immaterial and intelligent substances I do not at all doubt; but that it is impossible for God to communicate the faculty of thinking to matter, I doubt very much. I revere the Eternal Power, to which it would ill become me to prescribe bounds. I affirm nothing, and am contented to believe that many things are possible than are usually thought so". ~ Voltaire,

635:i want you to know this waz an experiment to see how selfish i cd be if i wd really carry on to snare a possible lover if i waz capable of debasin my self for the love of another if i cd stand not being wanted when i wanted to be wanted & i cannot so with no further assistance & no guidance from you i am endin this affair this note is attached to a plant i've been waterin since the day i met you you may water it yr damn self ~ Ntozake Shange,

636:So there are two separate tracks. One track is for the Syrian government and the opposition that is interested in a peaceful future of Syria to come together for national unity, for the political process. At the same time, it is a requirement for everybody to stop supporting the extremist groups, to stop allowing them safe passage, to stop allowing them to receive weapons, to stop allowing them to receive financial assistance, and to come together in actually fighting them. ~ Mohammad Javad Zarif,

637:Too often we think of religion as a far-off, mysteriously run bureaucracy to which we apply for assistance when we feel the need. We go to a local branch office and direct the clerk (sometimes called a pastor) to fill out our order for God. Then we go home and wait for God to be delivered to us according to the specifications that we have set down. But that is not the way it works. And if we thought about it for two consecutive minutes, we would not want it to work that way. If ~ Eugene H Peterson,

638:He paid me another visit this afternoon. I invited him to accommodate himself in one of Mrs. Lippett's electric-blue chairs, and then sat down opposite to enjoy the harmony. He was dressed in a mustard-colored homespun, with a dash of green and a glint of yellow in the weave, a "heather mixture" calculated to add life to a dull Scotch moor. Purple socks and a red tie, with an amethyst pin, completed the picture. Clearly, your paragon of a doctor is not going to be of much assistance in ~ Jean Webster,

639:And as we take up our positions on the stage, we call upon the nine Muses for assistance, Calliope, who helps with the epic ballads, Euterpe, who helps with the sad songs, Erato, who helps with the confessional songs, Clio, who helps with the oldies, Melpomene, who helps with the super-tragic stuff, Polyhymnia, who helps with the religious songs, Terpsichore, who helps with the dance numbers, Thalia, who helps with the funny songs, And Urania, who helps when it gets spacey and psychedelic. ~ Anonymous,

640:As it happens" said my uncle," I intended to make an appearance at the met today anyway. Inspector Lestrade has been bumbling through another investigation, and I decided it would be best to offer my assistance before he travels too far down an incorrect deductive path- and note that I use the term deductive liberally. I don`t belive Lestrade could deduce in which direction a horse crossed the street even if he came upon a pile of its dung!" Sherlock Holmes, The Chess queen enigma ~ Colleen Gleason,

641:legal plunder may be exercised in an infinite multitude of ways. Hence come an infinite multitude of plans for organization; tariffs, protection, perquisites, gratuities, encouragements, progressive taxation, free public education, right to work, right to profit, right to wages, right to assistance, right to instruments of labor, gratuity of credit, etc., etc. And it is all these plans, taken as a whole, with what they have in common, legal plunder, that takes the name of socialism. ~ Fr d ric Bastiat,

642:I was just thinking of bundling up Cecily and feeding her to the ducks at Hyde Park," said Will, pushing his wet hair back and favoring Jem with a rare smile. "I could use your assistance." "Unfortunately, you may have to delay your plans for suicide a bit longer. Gabriel Lightwood is downstairs, and I have two words for you. Two of your favorite words, at least when you put them together." "'Utter simpleton'?" inquired Will. "'Worthless upstart'?" Jem grinned. "'Demon pox,'" he said. ~ Cassandra Clare,

643:I now leave, not knowing when or whether I may return, to a task before me greater than that which rested upon Washington. Without the assistance of that Divine Being who ever attended him, I cannot succeed. With that assistance, I cannot fail. Trusting in Him, who can go with me, and remain with you and be everywhere for good, let us confidently hope that all will yet be well. To His care commending you, as I hope in your prayers you will commend me, I bid you an affectionate farewell. ~ Abraham Lincoln,

644:Greetings, Friends [or Esteemed Colleagues], Due to high workload, I am currently checking and responding to e-mail twice daily at 12:00 P.M. ET [or your time zone] and 4:00 P.M. ET. If you require urgent assistance (please ensure it is urgent) that cannot wait until either 12:00 P.M. or 4:00 P.M., please contact me via phone at 555-555-5555. Thank you for understanding this move to more efficiency and effectiveness. It helps me accomplish more to serve you better. Sincerely, Tim Ferriss ~ Timothy Ferriss,

645:It took nearly a year to finish the ever-changing [marriage candidates] list, with the assistance of his sister and his aging spinster aunt, who lorded over their affairs as the self-appointed voice of cultivated reason. During this time, Gabriel struggled to convince straight-from-Oxford Tristan that he must marry, produce heirs, and maintain the family dukedom for Gabriel himself wouldn't marry. He knew he simply did not have the compulsion to inflict that sort of aggravation on a woman. ~ Olivia Parker,

646:Now, legal plunder may be exercised in an infinite multitude of ways. Hence come an infinite multitude of plans for organization; tariffs, protection, perquisites, gratuities, encouragements, progressive taxation, free public education, right to work, right to profit, right to wages, right to assistance, right to instruments of labor, gratuity of credit, etc., etc. And it is all these plans, taken as a whole, with what they have in common, legal plunder, that takes the name of socialism. ~ Fr d ric Bastiat,

647:When a being such as myself who came from a rather difficult background is to 'work' here on earth, dimensionally as part of assistance to the animal kingdom one is brought to your own awareness of what you are capable of firstly even before you're given access to what goes on here. When the dimensions work here there are no issues or fears, just full awareness in each moment of who we really are and what it is we are currently busy assisting with, therefore I have a lot still to learn. ~ Timothy Treadwell,

648:The universe is a vast system of exchange. Every artery of it is in motion, throbbing with reciprocity, from the planet to the rotting leaf. The vapor climbs the sunbeam, and comes back in blessings upon the exhausted herb. The exhalation of the plant is wafted to the ocean. And so goes on the beautiful commerce of nature. And all because of dissimilarity--because no one thing is sufficient in itself, but calls for the assistance of something else, and repays by a contribution in turn. ~ Edwin Hubbel Chapin,

649:Student loans have been helpful to many. But they offer neither incentive nor assistance to those students who, by reason of family or other obligations, are unable or unwilling to go deeper into debt. ... It is, moreover, only prudent economic and social policy for the public to share part of the costs of the long period of higher education for those whose development is essential to our national economic and social well-being. All of us share in the benefits - all should share in the costs. ~ John F Kennedy,

650:In 2013, 1 percent of poor renters lived in rent-controlled units; 15 percent lived in public housing; and 17 percent received a government subsidy, mainly in the form of a rent-reducing voucher. The remaining 67 percent—2 of every 3 poor renting families—received no federal assistance. 32 This drastic shortfall in government support, coupled with rising rent and utility costs alongside stagnant incomes, is the reason why most poor renting families today spend most of their income on housing. ~ Matthew Desmond,

651:But the most dangerous Hypocrite in a Common-Wealth, is one who leaves the Gospel for the sake of the Law: A Man compounded of Law and Gospel, is able to cheat a whole Country with his Religion, and then destroy them under Colour of Law: And here the Clergy are in great Danger of being deceiv'd, and the People of being deceiv'd by the Clergy, until the Monster arrives to such Power and Wealth, that he is out of the reach of both, and can oppress the People without their own blind Assistance. ~ Benjamin Franklin,

652:I was just thinking of bundling up Cecily and feeding her to the ducks at Hyde Park," said Will, pushing his wet hair back and favoring Jem with a rare smile. "I could use your assistance." "Unfortunately, you may have to delay your plans for suicide a bit longer. Gabriel Lightwood is downstairs, and I have two words for you. Two of your favorite words, at least when you put them together." "'Utter simpleton'?" inquired Will. "'Worthless upstart'?" Jem grinned. "'Demon pox,'" he said. ~ Cassandra Clare,

653:Just what is it that America stands for? If she stands for one thing more than another, it is for the sovereignty of self-governing people, and her example, her assistance, her encouragement, has thrilled two continents in this western world with all those fine impulses which have built up human liberty on sides of the water. She stands, therefore, as an example of independence, as an example of free institutions, and as an example of disinterested international action in the main tenets of justice. ~ Woodrow Wilson,

654:The Law Enforcement Assistance Act of 1965 and the Omnibus Crime Control and Safe Streets Act of 1968 lavished even more federal funds on fighting crime. In addition, landmark Supreme Court decisions such as Terry v. Ohio—which gave the police virtually unlimited powers to stop and frisk citizens without probable cause—intensified the policing of poor neighborhoods and people of color, which, in turn, resulted in record arrest rates. Before long, prisons like Attica were bursting at the seams. ~ Heather Ann Thompson,

655:It was a rule with him that people could be better served and cheaper served by other people’s servants than by their own. Even in the stables at Bicester the innkeeper had to find what assistance was wanted, and charge for it in the bill. And George Vavasor was no Sybarite. He did not deem it impracticable to put on his own trousers without having a man standing at his foot to hold up the leg of the garment. A valet about a man knows a great deal of a man’s ways, and therefore George had no valet. ~ Anthony Trollope,

656:A New York Times/CBS News poll conducted in early 1992 showed that public opinion on welfare changed depending on how the question was worded. If the word “welfare” was used, 44 percent of those questioned said too much was being spent on welfare (while 50 percent said either that the right amount was being spent, or that too little was being spent. But when the question was about “assistance to the poor,” only 13 percent thought too much was being spent, and 64 percent thought too little was being spent. ~ Howard Zinn,

657:If federal programs were not, even to this day, reinforcing racial isolation by disproportionately directing low-income African Americans who receive housing assistance into the segregated neighborhoods that government had previously established, we might see many more inclusive communities. Undoing the effects of de jure segregation will be incomparably difficult. To make a start, we will first have to contemplate what we have collectively done and, on behalf of our government, accept responsibility. ~ Richard Rothstein,

658:A big white bag with a red star was passed over the console. “Thanks for coming in—my name’s Antoine, by the way. If you want to come back for shoes.” After shoving his former clothes inside, Xcor found himself bowing at the waist. “Your assistance has been much appreciated.” Antoine raised his palm like he was getting ready to do a clap on the shoulder again. But once more, he caught himself and smiled instead. “Knock her dead, my man.” “Oh, no.” Xcor shook his head. “That shan’t be necessary. This one I like. ~ J R Ward,

659:Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents, meetings, and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would have come his way. ~ T Harv Eker,

660:Even if a ship got past the Water Spider, the English were persona non grata on the continent. Europe did not want to invoke R’hlem’s wrath by aiding refugees. “Do ships never come in?” I asked. Magnus easily followed my train of thought. “Well, naturally there’s been some contact. How else would Cellini have arrived? Italy’s the only nation that will offer assistance. Other than that, dear Miss Howel, we are on our own. Here. Cling to me for comfort.” When I didn’t fall into his arms, he continued. ~ Jessica Cluess,

661:The power to change your life exists within yourself, not from some external source,” said Jake, a sudden assurance filling him. “You can look to others for advice or support, but the true transformation has to come from deep inside, and when you feel it, you can act upon your desires and create a better existence for yourself. Until that point, it doesn’t matter how much you want something, if you can’t adjust the way you think about yourself, no amount of outside assistance will ever alter your life.” “You ~ Russell Blake,

662:This was the argument put forward during the War when the expenditure on the army and navy had to be met; and this was the argument put forward in Germany and Austria after the War when a part of the population had to be provided with cheap food, the losses on the operation of the railways and other public undertakings met, and reparations payments made. The assistance of inflation is invoked whenever a government is unwilling to increase taxation or unable to raise a loan; that is the truth of the matter. ~ Ludwig von Mises,

663:We have to grasp, as Marx and Adam Smith did, that corporations are not concerned with the common good. They exploit, pollute, impoverish, repress, kill, and lie to make money. They throw poor people out of homes, let the uninsured die, wage useless wars for profit, poison and pollute the ecosystem, slash social assistance programs, gut public education, trash the global economy, plunder the U.S. Treasury and crush all popular movements that seek justice for working men and women. They worship money and power. ~ Chris Hedges,

664:Dear Harry, If it is convenient to you, I shall call at number four, Privet Drive this coming Friday at eleven P.M. to escort you to the Burrow, where you have been invited to spend the remainder of your school holidays. If you are agreeable, I should also be glad of your assistance in a matter to which I hope to attend on the way to the Burrow. I shall explain this more fully when I see you. Kindly send your answer by return of this owl. Hoping to see you this Friday, I am, yours most sincerely, Albus Dumbledore ~ J K Rowling,

665:So, Mr. Shane, you felt you had the right to come down here and bespoil my crime scene because …” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. “I thought he might need assistance,” Shane lied. “And the untoward angle of his neck did not tell you that he was beyond any earthly assistance you might render?” “I’m not a doctor, sir,” Shane said. “Neither are you a miracle worker, son,” Xavier said. “Should you find any other bodies in my jurisdiction, you will refrain from attempting to raise them from the dead. ~ Jennifer Crusie,

666:We have emphasized the importance of applied action research because it allows evidence-based policy and program development and a focus on learning. We are also committed to using a participatory approach in which local people, local program managers and providers, local researchers, women's health activists, and national decision-makers play the leading role. International "experts" from technical assistance agencies or universities can make important contributions, but they certainly don't have all the answers. ~ Ruth Simmons,

667:Lad, I think we've got what we need for this page. Why don't you go have a look around? And keep out of trouble, or that Madam Sidler will scare you silly." Oskar put a hand to the side of his mouth and lowered his voice. "She's everywhere." "Can I help you?" said Madam Sidler from the corner of the room. Oskar jumped with such violence that his spectacles clattered to the floor. "I heard you mention my name and thought I might be of assistance." "Good heavens, woman!" Oskar exclaimed. "We're fine! ~ Andrew Peterson,

668:that those men who at the commencement of a principality have been hostile, if they really need assistance to support themselves, can always be turned into supporters with the greatest ease. They will be tightly bound to serve the prince faithfully because they know it is very necessary for them through their actions to change the bad opinion which the prince had formed of them. Thus the prince always extracts more profit from them than from those who serving him in too much security, may neglect his affairs. ~ Niccol Machiavelli,

669:There was no singles problem until singles got so single-minded that they stopped wasting time with anyone ineligible. Before that, it was understood that one of society's main tasks was matchmaking. People with lifelong friendships and ties to local nonprofessional organizations did not have to fear that isolation would accompany retirement, old age, or losing a spouse. Overburdened householders could count on the assistance not only of their own extended families, but of the American tradition of neighborliness. ~ Judith Martin,

670:Nothing stands today where it stood yesterday. The choice which life presents is ever more between growth and decay, perfection and deterioration. There is no standing still, not can be. Advance or recede, occupy or give place, are the stern and inoperative alternatives, [the] self-existing and self-enforcing law of life, from the cradle to the grave. He who despairs of progress despises the hope of the world, and shuts himself out from the chief significance of assistance -- and is dead while he lives. ~ Frederick Douglass,

671:Animals are divine messengers of miracles that go far beyond emotional comfort and practical assistance. Talk to those who have been transported to a heavenly place by the gentle purring of a kitten or whose broken hearts, burdened by worry and pain, have been mended by a dog licking their hand. They will tell you that animals connect them with the River of Life in ways poets imagine and mystics contemplate. They will tell you that their deepest and most sincere relationships with animals are spiritual partnerships. ~ Allen Anderson,

672:So, Mr. Shane, you felt you had the right to come down here and bespoil my crime scene because …” He raised his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. “I thought he might need assistance,” Shane lied. “And the untoward angle of his neck did not tell you that he was beyond any earthly assistance you might render?” “I’m not a doctor, sir,” Shane said. “Neither are you a miracle worker, son,” Xavier said. “Should you find any other bodies in my jurisdiction, you will refrain from attempting to raise them from the dead.” “Yes, ~ Jennifer Crusie,

673:At man's core there is a voice that wants him never to give in to fear. But if it is true that in general man cannot give in to fear, at the very least he postpones indefinitely the moment when he will have to confront himself with the object of his fear... when he will no longer have the assistance of reason as guaranteed by God, or when he will no longer have the assistance of God such as reason guaranteed. It is necessary to recoil, but it is necessary to leap, and perhaps one only recoils in order to leap better. ~ Georges Bataille,

674:Imagine a person being called upon by all of society to speak a language they have never even heard of. Imagine that same person being told they must speak this language or lose all they hold dear. It's neither fair or realistic, in theory, and yet, such is the role women play when becoming wives. Though love may not always assist a woman in speaking the same language as her husband, it will offer assistance in one of the most demanding roles known to humanity. Honor love, even if your marriage is one of convenience. ~ Delilah Marvelle,

675:Beware, then, of the long word that's no better than the short word: "assistance" (help), "numerous" (many), "facilitate" (ease), "Individual" (man or woman), "remainder" (rest), "initial" (first), "implement" (do), "sufficient" (enough), "attempt" (try), "referred to as" (called), and hundreds more. Beware of all the slippery new fad words: paradigm and parameter, prioritize and potentialize. They are all weeds that will smother what you write. Don't dialogue with someone you can talk to. Don't interface with anybody. ~ William Zinsser,

676:When your house contains such a complex of piping, flues, ducts, wires, lights, inlets, outlets, ovens, sinks, refuse disposers, hi-fi re-verberators, antennae, conduits, freezers, heaters -when it contains so many services that the hardware could stand up by itself without any assistance from the house, why have a house hold it up. When the cost of all this tackle is half of the total outlay (or more, as it often is) what is the house doing except concealing your mechanical pudenda from the stares of folks on the sidewalk? ~ Reyner Banham,

677:I don't know who the great lawyers are, and I presume you can't get to them. I know of no case where it can be said for certain that they took part. They defend some people, but you can't get them to do that through your own efforts, they only defend the ones they want to defend. But I assume a case they take on must have progressed beyond the lower court. It's better not to think of them at all, otherwise you'll find the consultations with the other lawyers, their advice and their assistance, extremely disgusting and useless. ~ Franz Kafka,

678:God has not given us specific instructions for each and every possible ethical issue we face, but neither are we left to grope in the dark and to make our decisions on the basis of mere opinion. This is an important comfort to the Christian because it assures us that in dealing with ethical questions, we are never working in a vacuum. The ethical decisions that we make touch the lives of people, and mold and shape human personality and character. It is precisely at this point that we need the assistance of God's superior wisdom. ~ R C Sproul,

679:And conceiving God to be the fountain of wisdom, I thought it right and necessary to solicit his assistance for obtaining it; to this end I formed the following little prayer, which was prefix'd to my tables of examination, for daily use. "O powerful Goodness! bountiful Father! merciful Guide! increase in me that wisdom which discovers my truest interest. strengthen my resolutions to perform what that wisdom dictates. Accept my kind offices to thy other children as the only return in my power for thy continual favors to me. ~ Benjamin Franklin,

680:Indulgence is a legitimate life goal, but it is only one of four life goals. No life is completely lived unless each of these goals is achieved. They are: Dharma, the goal of fulfilling the duties assigned to us by our positions in society; Artha, the goal of accumulating possessions in the course of fulfilling our duties; Kama, the goal of satisfying legitimate desires with the assistance of one's accumulated possessions; and Moksha, the goal of realizing that there is more to life than duty, possessions and desires. ~ Robert E Svoboda,

681:The history of the welfare state is the history of public enterprise pushing out private organization. The impact was largely unintentional, but natural and inevitable. Higher taxes left individuals with less money to give; government's assumption of responsibility for providing welfare shriveled the perceived duty of individuals to respond to their neighbors' needs; and the availability of public programs gave recipients an alternative to private assistance, one which did not challenge recipients to reform their destructive behavior. ~ Doug Bandow,

682:Every single pattern asks the journeyer to begin and start some form of inquiry. Next comes a time of trial, often involving pitfalls, and sometimes trickery, but always bringing new and hard-won understanding. The gift of enlarged comprehension, wholeness, and greater perspective is third, sometimes coming suddenly, often with the sense of outside assistance. The fourth step requires actual practice of the wisdom gained, with some component of bringing that knowledge back to the community or those who follow after the journeyer. ~ Alexander John Shaia,

683:Day 24. Situation is growing worse. My captors continue to find new and horrific ways to torture me. When not working, Agent Scarlet spends her days examining fabric swatches for bridesmaid dresses and going on about how in love she is. This usually causes Agent Boring Borscht to regale us with stories of Russian weddings that are even more boring than his usual ones. My attempts at escape have been thwarted thus far. Also, I am out of cigarettes. Any assistance or tobacco products you can send will be greatly appreciated. -Prisoner 24601 ~ Richelle Mead,

684:Day 24. Situation is growing worse. My captors continue to find new and horrific ways to torture me. When not working, Agent Scarlet spends her days examining fabric swatches for bridesmaid dresses and going on about how in love she is. This usually causes Agent Boring Borscht to regale us with stories of Russian weddings that are even more boring than his usual ones. My attempts at escape have been thwarted thus far. Also, I am out of cigarettes. Any assistance or tobacco products you can send will be greatly appreciated. -Prisoner 24601 ~ Richelle Mead,

685:For young males that weigh between 150-200 lbs., deadlifts can move up 15-20 lbs. per workout, squats 10-15 lbs., with continued steady progress for 3-4 weeks before slowing down to half that rate. Bench presses, presses, and cleans can move up 5-10 lbs. per workout, with progress on these exercises slowing down to 2.5-5 lbs. per workout after only 2-3 weeks. Young women make progress on the squat and the deadlift at about the same rate, adjusted for bodyweight, but much slower on the press, the bench press, cleans, and assistance exercises. ~ Mark Rippetoe,

686:Shriver brothers Robert and Mark have also found ways to support the family commitment to the disabled. With the musician Bono, Robert helped found DATA (Debt, AIDS, Trade in Africa), which advocates for the eradication of poverty through education, debt reduction, development assistance, and campaigning for access to treatment for AIDS and malaria in Africa; and Mark serves as senior vice president of U.S. programs for Save the Children. Eunice’s only daughter, Maria Shriver, sits on the boards of Special Olympics and Best Buddies, and ~ Kate Clifford Larson,

687:I try to answer every letter of my young correspondents; yet sometimes there are so many letters that a little time must pass before you get your answer. But be patient, friends, for the answer will surely come, and by writing to me you more than repay me for the pleasant task of preparing these books. Besides, I am proud to acknowledge that the books are partly yours, for your suggestions often guide me in telling the stories, and I am sure they would not be half so good without your clever and thoughtful assistance. L. FRANK BAUM Coronado, 1908. ~ L Frank Baum,

688:We come here because we too feel a responsibility for the human community. To preserve and develop a human quality of life is the common responsibility of us all. It is not fitting that those concerned with the various aspects of the human be alienated from each other. Both you and ourselves represent forces too profound and aim at objectives too significant for either of us to succeed completely without the assistance of the other. The urgency of our work impels us to get on with our common task lest a new period of disaster erupt over the Earth. ~ Thomas Berry,

689:a. I retain the ordinary translation of the particle ba, but I must warn the reader that the sense of this particle is not the same in Arabic as the sense of the word in in the equivalent phrase in the name of God. In, in the latter case, signifies on account of, whereas the ba in Arabic signifies by, or through, or, to be more exact, with the assistance of. The phrase is in fact equivalent to: I seek the assistance of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful (AH). Hence it is that a Muslim is required to begin every important affair with Bismillah. b. Allah, ~ Anonymous,

690:If I say look unless you change your leaders I will not give you any aid, you are likely to have people who say: "To the hell with you, we will struggle on the way but we will do it". Therefore what I am saying is - and I do not whether it is coming through clearly - there has to be a lot of care exercised by the people who are in the position to give or withhold assistance: if they start throwing their weight around, using extreme language, seeming to order other nations to do their bidding, then there will not be a good result, it will not be done. ~ Chinua Achebe,

691:An immune system of enormous complexity is present in all vertebrate animals. When we place a population of lymphocytes from such an animal in appropriate tissue culture fluid, and when we add an antigen, the lymphocytes will produce specific antibody molecules, in the absense of any nerve cells. I find it astonishing that the immune system embodies a degree of complexity which suggests some more or less superficial though striking analogies with human language, and that this cognitive system has evolved and functions without assistance of the brain. ~ Niels Kaj Jerne,

692:Goodwill is something you put away like preserves, for a rainy day, for winter, for lean times, and it was moving to find that i had more than I had ever imagined. People gathered from all directions, and I was taken care of beautifully...Afterward...I occasionally wished that life was always like this, that I was always being showered with flowers and assistance and solicitousness, but you only get it when you need it. If you're lucky, you get it when you need it. To know that it was there when I needed it changed everything a little in the long run. ~ Rebecca Solnit,

693:As much as I've been blessed to do, this is for me when I want to do what I really want to do as far as helping people. Obviously helping people with disabilities, I want - my desire is to in my lifetime be a very integral part of getting this country and the world completely accessible to everyone with any disability. There should be nowhere that we can't go, and there should be nothing that we can't do. Considering that we have the disability, whichever one it might be, we will be so on point with being able to do that we need little to no assistance. ~ Stevie Wonder,

694:I think the cornerstone for my impetus for doing arrangements for people is because I want to be an enabler. That is to say, I don't approach arrangements with the idea that I want to progressive the genre of arranging. I want to be more of an enabler, and if a person is making a record and they have the option of layering some real instruments down on a track and I can be of assistance whether it is brass or winds or stings or percussion then I do so. Sometimes I do take on projects because it is a pretty sweet deal to work with Pet Shop boys, you know? ~ Owen Pallett,

695:Progress in evil was quick and easy; Apollyon was not a chap who hid himself and he gave every assistance in his power. The growth in goodness was so slow, at times so flat, so dull, and like the White Queen one had to run so fast to stay where one was, let alone progress; and there were few men who dared to say they had found God. It was easy to be a clever sinner, for the race to an earthly visible goal was short to run, so impossibly hard to be a wise saint, with the goal set at so vast a distance from this world and clouded with such uncertainty. ~ Elizabeth Goudge,

696:The Kochs were also directing millions of dollars into online education, and into teaching high school students, through a nonprofit that Charles devised called the Young Entrepreneurs Academy. The financially pressed Topeka school system, for instance, signed an agreement with the organization which taught students that, among other things, Franklin Roosevelt didn’t alleviate the Depression, minimum wage laws and public assistance hurt the poor, lower pay for women was not discriminatory, and the government, rather than business, caused the 2008 recession. ~ Jane Mayer,

697:Being tall could be a real pain in the ass—finding a big spoon who wouldn’t inhale your hair when you slept, feeling like you were in a gynecologist’s office every time you sat in your friend’s Mini Cooper with your knees in your chest, squatting to turn door knobs with your arms full of groceries—but there were also some serious perks. Like intimidating men who viewed women as demure, dainty creatures. In that instance, my height became a not-so-subtle reminder that some of us could get whatever the hell we wanted off any shelf without their assistance. ~ Shayne Silvers,

698:Little by litter life returned to normal. The barbed wire which fenced us in did not cause us any real fear. We even thought ourselves rather well off; we were entirely self-contained. A little Jewish republic...We appointed a Jewish Council, a Jewish police, an office for social assistance, a labor committee, a hygiene department - a whole government machinery. Everyone marveled at it. We should no longer have before our eyes those hostile faces, those hate-laden stares. Our fear and anguish were at an end. We were living among Jews, among brothers. ~ Elie Wiesel,

699:Time for your bath," Leo said, coming to pull her chair back. Wondering if he intended to stay in the room, Catherine ventured, "Perhaps you might allow me some privacy." "I wouldn't dream of it," he said. "You may need assistance." "I can bathe myself. And I would prefer not to be watched." "My interest is purely aesthetic. I'll imagine you as Rembrandt's Hendrickje Bathina, wading in the waters of innocence." "Purely?" she asked doubtfully. "Oh, I have a very pure soul. It's only my private parts that have gotten me into trouble. ~ Lisa Kleypas,

700:The number of mathematical students, increased as it has been of late years, would be much augmented if those who hold the highest rank in science would condescend to give more effective assistance in clearing the elements of the difficulties which they present. If any one claiming that title should think my attempt obscure or enormus, he must share the blame with me, since it is through his neglect that I have been enabled to avail myself of an opportunity to perform a task which I would gladly have seen confided to more skilful hands. ~ Augustus De Morgan, Author's Preface,

701:It’s a strange thing. This is only thirty-five years ago—Roosevelt, Wallace. We have a new generation in business today. Successful. It’s surprising how quickly they forget the assistance their fathers got from the Government. The Farm Bureau, which I helped organize in this state, didn’t help us in ’35. They take the same position today: we don’t need the Government. I’m just as sure as I’m sitting here, we can’t do it ourselves. Individuals have too many different interests. Who baled out the land banks when they were busted in the Thirties? It was the Federal ~ Studs Terkel,

702:Most persons fear the unknown, and we might say that an expert in any field of thinking is one phase of the unknown. The average person is afraid of experts, of people who know more than he does. Our natural tendency in making decisions is to consult people on our own level. In other words, we gain our advice and assistance over a back fence, from some notice on television, some popular handbook, or the general gossip of the neighborhood. I have noticed also that people of varied races or nationalities will nearly always seek advice from members of their own ethnic group. [...],

703:... there is clearly expressed for us? what it is we must attribute either to free will or to the decision and daily assistance of the Lord. We are characterized by whether we respond zealously or lackadaisically to the kindly dispensations of God. This perspective is plainly expressed in the healing of the two blind men. Jesus was passing by, a fact made possible by God's provident grace. And the achievement of their own faith and belief was to cry out 'Lord, son of David, have mercy on us' (Mt. 20:31). The restored sight of their eyes is the gift of divine mercy. ~ John Cassian,

704:The use of [the atomic bombs] at Hiroshima and Nagasaki was of no material assistance in our war against Japan. The Japanese were already defeated and ready to surrender because of the effective sea blockade and the successful bombing with conventional weapons... The lethal possibilities of atomic warfare in the future are frightening. My own feeling was that in being the first to use it, we had adopted an ethical standard common to the barbarians of the Dark Ages. I was not taught to make war in that fashion, and wars cannot be won by destroying women and children. ~ William D Leahy,

705:coming of Christ. From this we may gather a   brief definition of true Christianity -- that it is a faith that is   lively and full of vigor, so that it spares no labor, when assistance   is to be given to one's neighbors, but, on the contrary, all the pious   employ themselves diligently in offices of love, and lay out their   efforts in them, so that, intent upon the hope of the manifestation of   Christ, they despise everything else, and, armed with patience, they   rise superior to the wearisomeness of length of time, as well as to all   the temptations of the world. ~ John Calvin,

706:This was not the average retirement community, but even in an average one rent runs $32,000 a year. Entry fees are typically $60,000 to $120,000 on top of that. Meanwhile, the median income of people eighty and older is only about $15,000. More than half of the elderly living in long-term-care facilities run through their entire savings and have to go on government assistance—welfare—in order to afford it. Ultimately, the average American spends a year or more of old age disabled and living in a nursing home (at more than five times the yearly cost of independent living), ~ Atul Gawande,

707:Within the month it became apparent that the volunteer evacuation was not working, so further orders were given by the Justice Department to physically relocate the West Coast Japanese. These orders stated: “No military guards will be used except when absolutely necessary for the protection of the evacuees. You will, to the maximum, provide assistance. For those who do not relocate themselves comfortable transportation will be provided to temporary assembly centers. Families will not be separated, medical care, nutrition for children and food for adults will be provided. ~ Winston Groom,

708:I think if you look at Medicare and Medicaid, the premise was that government needs to provide some assistance to people who aren't able to take care of themselves. I think we all share that goal, Republicans and Democrats. I don't think anybody's gonna go back now and say, Let's abolish, or reduce, Medicare and Medicaid. But as we confront the challenges and the responsibilities of our time - from here on - how do we serve more people or different people who are in need of financial assistance? Just forever having the government expand to address all of that seems unwise. ~ Tim Pawlenty,

709:And again, there was little help forthcoming. Minnesota had a new Republican governor, John Sargent Pillsbury, cofounder of the flour-milling enterprise that would eventually become one of the largest purveyors of foodstuffs in the world. Not above taking government assistance himself—as an official, he had his rent paid by the state—Pillsbury warned farmers against “weakening the habit of self-reliance.”82 To comfort the starving, he prescribed a day of prayer. Throughout his term, he would trivialize “poverty and deprivation” as “incidents of frontier life at its best.”83 ~ Caroline Fraser,

710:Many will say, "I can find God without the help of the Bible, or church, or minister." Very well. Do so if you can. The Ferry Company would feel no jealousy of a man who should prefer to swim to New York. Let him do so if he is able, and we will talk about it on the other shore; but probably trying to swim would be the thing that would bring him quickest to the boat. So God would have no jealousy of a man's going to heaven without the aid of the Bible, or church, or minister; but let him try to do so, and it will be the surest way to bring him back to them for assistance. ~ Henry Ward Beecher,

711:The authorization I propose would provide the flexibility to conduct ground combat operations in other more limited circumstances, such as rescue operations involving U.S. or coalition personnel or the use of special operations forces to take military action against ISIL leadership, it would also authorize the use of U.S. forces in situations where ground combat operations are not expected or intended, such as intelligence collection and sharing, missions to enable kinetic strikes or the provision of operational planning and other forms of advice and assistance to partner forces. ~ Barack Obama,

712:I think a lot of people don't understand the makeup of the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program population, of the food stamp population, 80 percent senior citizens, people with disabilities, children, and those who are actually in the work force working. The folks who are not - who are able-bodied, who are adults, who don't have dependents, there's a desire to make sure that they get to work and that they aren't basically gaming the system. But the reality is, they have a responsibility to either be involved in work or education, or they're limited in terms of their benefits. ~ Tom Vilsack,

713:Adam found a break through the thicket and up the hill. He turned around and extended his hand to help me up. I froze, staring at him in the thick heat, leaves tickling my legs. Boys did not help girls. Not in my experience, anyway. When I was one of the boys, they tromped ahead of me and never once looked back to see if I was still there, much less in need of assistance. Boys had helped me only recently, when they wanted something. No, this walk through the woods would not be innocent. Taking his hand, I said, “Fank woo.” “Hm,” he laughed with his mouth closed. ~ Jennifer Echols,

714:A wonderful thing happens when you give up on hope, which is that you realize you never needed it in the first place. You realize that giving up on hope doesn't kill you, nor did it make you less effective. In fact it made you more effective, because you ceased relying on someone or something else to solve your problems - you ceased hoping your problems somehow get solved, through the magical assistance of God, the Great Mother, the Sierra Club, valiant tree-sitters, brave salmon, or even the Earth itself - and you just began doing what's necessary to solve your problems yourself. ~ Derrick Jensen,

715:The lower the family income, the higher the probability that the mother must work. Today, 1 out of 5 of these working mothers has children under 3. Two out of 5 have children of school age. Among the remainder, about 50 percent have husbands who earn less than $5,000 a year-many of them much less. I believe they bear the heaviest burden of any group in our Nation. Where the mother is the sole support of the family, she often must face the hard choice of either accepting public assistance or taking a position at a pay rate which averages less than two-thirds of the pay rate for men. ~ John F Kennedy,

716:Khubilai’s capital in China, Khanbalikh (also known as Ta-tu or Dadu), was symbolic of the way Mongol rulers amalgamated the diverse cultures, beliefs, and skills of their domains. In it were built a shrine for Confucians, an altar with Mongolian soil and grass from the steppes, and buildings of significant Chinese architectural influence. As historian Morris Rossabi points out, Khubilai “sought the assistance of Persian astronomers and physicians, Tibetan Buddhist monks” and “Central Asian [Muslim] soldiers.” One can only imagine it must have been a city of grand cosmopolitan dimensions. ~ Tim Cope,

717:New Hampshire has always been cheap, mean, rural, small-minded, and reactionary. It's one of the few states in the nation with neither a sales tax nor an income tax. Social services are totally inadequate there, it ranks at the bottom in state aid to education--the state is literally shaped like a dunce cap--and its medical assistance program is virtually nonexistent. Expecting aid for the poor there is like looking for an egg under a basilisk.... The state encourages skinflints, cheapskates, shutwallets, and pinched little joykillers who move there as a tax refuge to save money. ~ Alexander Theroux,

718:On a long flight, after periods of crisis and many hours of fatigue, mind and body may become disunited until at times they seem completely different elements, as though the body were only a home with which the mind has been associated but by no means bound. Consciousness grows independent of the ordinary senses. You see without assistance from the eyes, over distances beyond the visual horizon. There are moments when existence appears independent even of the mind. The importance of physical desire and immediate surroundings is submerged in the apprehension of universal values. ~ Charles Lindbergh,

719:Losing your home and possessions and often your job; being stamped with an eviction record and denied government housing assistance; relocating to degrading housing in poor and dangerous neighborhoods; and suffering from increased material hardship, homelessness, depression, and illness - this is eviction's fallout. Eviction does not simply drop poor families into a dark valley, a trying yet relatively brief detour on life's journey. It fundamentally redirects their way, casting them onto a different, and much more difficult, path. Eviction is a case, not just a condition, of poverty. ~ Matthew Desmond,

720:His daughter was valuable to him because she might make him the father-in-law of a Marquis or an Earl; but the higher that he rose without such assistance, the less need had he of his daughter’s aid. Lord Alfred was certainly very useful to him. Lord Alfred had whispered into his ear that by certain conduct and by certain uses of his money, he himself might be made a baronet. “But if they should say that I’m not an Englishman?” suggested Melmotte. Lord Alfred had explained that it was not necessary that he should have been born in England, or even that he should have an English name. No ~ Anthony Trollope,

721:I have lived, Sir, a long time, and the longer I live, the more convincing proofs I see of this truth—that God governs in the affairs of men. And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without his notice, is it probable that an empire can rise without his aid? ~ Benjamin Franklin, debates in the Constitutional Convention, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania (June 28, 1787); reported in James Madison, Journal of the Federal Convention, ed. E. H. Scott (1893), p. 259–60. Franklin suggests that the Convention begin its sessions with prayers "imploring the assistance of Heaven, and its blessings on our deliberations".,

722:In dangers, in doubts, in difficulties, think of Mary, call upon Mary. Let not her name depart from your lips, never suffer it to leave your heart. And that you may obtain the assistance of her prayer, neglect not to walk in her footsteps. With her for guide, you shall never go astray; while invoking her, you shall never lose heart; so long as she is in your mind, you are safe from deception; while she holds your hand, you cannot fall; under her protection you have nothing to fear; if she walks before you, you shall not grow weary; if she shows you favor, you shall reach the goal. ~ Saint Bernard of Clairvaux,

723:So long as the sufferers by the bad law do not invoke assistance from other communities, I cannot admit that persons entirely unconnected with them ought to step in and require that a condition of things with which all who are directly interested appear to be satisfied, should be put an end because it is a scandal to persons some thousands of miles distant, who have no part of concern in it. Let them send missionaries, if they please, to preach against it; and let them, by any fair means (of which silencing the teachers is not one) oppose the progress of similar doctrines among their own people. ~ John Stuart Mill,

724:purchased my laptop. It was 5:20 p.m., and the store would close in less than an hour. Womenswear was on the first floor (when did Ladieswear become Womenswear? I wondered) and I took the escalator, being unable to find the stairs. The shop floor was vast, and I decided to request assistance. The first woman I saw was matronly, and did not seem well placed to dispense fashion advice. The second was in her late teens or early twenties, and therefore too callow to advise me. The third, in the manner of Goldilocks, was just right—around my age, well groomed, sensible-looking. I approached with caution. ~ Gail Honeyman,

725:Health System?” Kendall nodded and folded her hands on the desk. “Not new to human resources, but I’ve only been with Belmont for two weeks. Before this, I worked in HR for a medical center over in Ashland. We had the occasional employee discipline issues and a layoff here and there, but nothing like this.” Adam nodded and continued flipping through the forms, studying the legal language as carefully as possible for a first pass. “I hear you. Union negotiations can be especially tricky. You’re very smart to bring in outside assistance. Sometimes professional mediation can really turn things around. Once ~ Tawna Fenske,

726:The book will be a demonstration that children, without being coerced or manipulated, or being put in exotic, specially prepared environments, or having their thinking planned and ordered for them, can, will and do pick up from the world around them important information about what we call the Basics. It will also demonstrate that "ordinary" people, without special schooling themselves, can give their children whatever slight assistance may be needed to help them in their exploration of the world, and that to do this requires no more than a little tact, patience, attention and readily available information. ~ John Holt,

727:Health professionals have a formal classification system for the level of function a person has. If you cannot, without assistance, use the toilet, eat, dress, bathe, groom, get out of bed, get out of a chair, and walk—the eight “Activities of Daily Living”—then you lack the capacity for basic physical independence. If you cannot shop for yourself, prepare your own food, maintain your housekeeping, do your laundry, manage your medications, make phone calls, travel on your own, and handle your finances—the eight “Independent Activities of Daily Living”—then you lack the capacity to live safely on your own. ~ Atul Gawande,

728:The practice which obtains amongst the Americans of fixing the standard of their judgment in themselves alone, leads them to other habits of mind. As they perceive that they succeed in resolving without assistance all the little difficulties which their practical life presents, they readily conclude that everything in the world may be explained, and that nothing in it transcends the limits of the understanding. Thus they fall to denying what they cannot comprehend; which leaves them but little faith for whatever is extraordinary, and an almost insurmountable distaste for whatever is supernatural. ~ Alexis de Tocqueville,

729:The number of working-class whites in high-poverty neighborhoods is growing. In 1970, 25 percent of white children lived in a neighborhood with poverty rates above 10 percent. In 2000, that number was 40 percent. It’s almost certainly even higher today. As a 2011 Brookings Institution study found, “compared to 2000, residents of extreme-poverty neighborhoods in 2005–09 were more likely to be white, native-born, high school or college graduates, homeowners, and not receiving public assistance.”12 In other words, bad neighborhoods no longer plague only urban ghettos; the bad neighborhoods have spread to the suburbs. This ~ J D Vance,

730:All of us who were engaged in the struggle must have observed frequent instances of a SUPERINTENDING Providence in our favor. To that kind Providence we owe this happy opportunity of consulting in peace on the means of establishing our future national felicity. And have we now forgotten that powerful friend? Or do we imagine that we no longer need his assistance? I have lived, sir, a long time, and the longer I live the more convincing proofs I see of this truth—that God governs in the affairs of men. And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without his notice, is it probable that an empire can rise without his aid? ~ Chris DeRose,

731:here’s your change and receipt. You want a bag for your old stuff?” “Yes, please. Thank you.” A big white bag with a red star was passed over the console. “Thanks for coming in—my name’s Antoine, by the way. If you want to come back for shoes.” After shoving his former clothes inside, Xcor found himself bowing at the waist. “Your assistance has been much appreciated.” Antoine raised his palm like he was getting ready to do a clap on the shoulder again. But once more, he caught himself and smiled instead. “Knock her dead, my man.” “Oh, no.” Xcor shook his head. “That shan’t be necessary. This one I like. ~ J R Ward,

732:While the 1960s and 1970s were turbulent times for US–Pakistan ties, Pakistan again became closely allied with the United States in the 1980s, after the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. Pakistan argued that US military assistance was required to expand the Pakistan Army, ostensibly because doing so would enable Pakistan to better counter the emerging Soviet threat, even though Pakistan sought this assistance to strengthen its position vis-à-vis India. Consequently, with US military and economic assistance, by 1989, the Pakistan Army had grown to nearly 450,000 and had become increasingly reliant upon US weapon systems. ~ C Christine Fair,

733:For the first time, she enjoyed the freedom of being a thirty-year-old spinster. This was a distinctly compromising situation that no schoolroom virgin would ever have been allowed to witness. However, she could do as she liked by sheer virtue of her age. "I took care of my father during the last two years of his life," she said in response to Devlin's comment. "He was an invalid, and required assistance with his clothes. I served as valet, cook, and nurse for him, especially toward the end." Devlin's face seemed to change, his annoyance vanishing. "What a capable woman you are," he said softly, with no trace of irony. ~ Lisa Kleypas,

734:Lenin’s and Stalin’s form of communism is gone, yet its trappings have been expropriated by mega-corporations. We have companies featuring central planning by troikas, mission statements crafted by apparatchiks, five-year plans, no right to choose leaders in companies, no democracy in the workplace, a clear distinction between intelligentsia and peasants (top CEOs make 152 times the median salary and enjoy company dachas, jets, and limos), and state monitoring (time clocks, dress codes, drug screening, “employee assistance” plans, e-mail monitoring, no smoking, and other personal conduct rules, as well as family-life audits). ~ Ricardo Semler,

735:What pleased the land-owner’s husband most was the insertion of a clause which stated that, if in any way our work of excavation was interfered with, or the contract was voided, he would have to pay £1000 down. He immediately went away and boasted of this to all his friends. ‘It is a matter of such importance,’ he said proudly, ‘that unless I give all the assistance in my power, and keep all the promises I have made on my wife’s behalf, I shall lose £1000.’ Everybody was enormously impressed. ‘£1000,’ they said. ‘It is possible he will lose £1000! have you heard that? They can extract from him £1000 if anything goes wrong!’ I ~ Agatha Christie,

736:Enforced maternity brings into the world wretched infants, whom their parents will be unable to support and who will become the victims of public care or ‘child martyrs’. It must be pointed out that our society, so concerned to defend the rights of the embryo, shows no interest in the children once they are born; it prosecutes the abortionists instead of undertaking to reform that scandalous institution known as ‘public assistance’; those responsible for entrusting the children to their torturers are allowed to go free; society closes its eyes to the frightful tyranny of brutes in children’s asylums and private foster homes. ~ Simone de Beauvoir,

737:1969 a Republican president proposed a Family Assistance Plan that would have guaranteed a basic income for all American families. Editorial opinion then was 95 percent in favor of such support to families. Our values at that time were to decry the poverty in our midst to try to make it vanish from the country. President Nixon’s bill passed the House of Representatives, then languished in the Senate. When Nixon became embroiled in the Watergate scandal it died—along with a credible, feasible plan to strengthen the health of families in this country and prevent what was soon to become a relentless decline in our relative health. ~ David Cay Johnston,

738:Where 84% of the world’s population still lived in extreme poverty in 1820, by 1981 that percentage had dropped to 44%, and now, just a few decades later, it is under 10%.1 If this trend holds, the extreme poverty that has been an abiding feature of life will soon be eradicated for good. Even those we still call poor will enjoy an abundance unprecedented in world history. In the country where I live, the Netherlands, a homeless person receiving public assistance today has more to spend than the average Dutch person in 1950, and four times more than people in Holland’s glorious Golden Age, when the country still ruled the seven seas. ~ Rutger Bregman,

739:Aucun représentant ne peut exactement représenter les besoins d'autrui ; un représentant tend à devenir membre d'une certaine élite et jouit souvent de privilèges qui érodent l'intérêt qu'il doit porter aux revendications de ses mandants. Relayée par les élus du système représentatif, la colère des protestataires perd de sa force ; [...]. Les élus développent une certaine expertise qui tend à sa propre perpétuation. Les représentants passent plus de temps ensemble qu'avec les électeurs qu'ils représentent et forment vite un club fermé respectant ce que Robert Michels appelait "un pacte d'assistance mutuelle" contre le reste de la société. ~ Howard Zinn,

740:Do ships never come in?” I asked. Magnus easily followed my train of thought. “Well, naturally there’s been some contact. How else would Cellini have arrived? Italy’s the only nation that will offer assistance. Other than that, dear Miss Howel, we are on our own. Here. Cling to me for comfort.” When I didn’t fall into his arms, he continued. “You hear of smugglers taking men and women out of England, heading for America. They’ll charge a fellow a king’s ransom for the chance to escape to a new life. Just between us, if I’m to choose between Korozoth and a Yankee tavern brawl, I’ll take my chances with old Shadow and Fog any day.” Blackwood ~ Jessica Cluess,

741:• I will no longer bring my problems to anyone who wants to leave me alone. It’s not good for them or me. They don’t want to help, so I will not ask them to. • I will share my problems with those who want to help me. I will not reject genuine offers of assistance out of pride, insecurity, or doubt. I will ask these people to join me in my healing and make them a bigger part of my life. • I will put a distance between myself and those who want to hurt me. I do not have to confront them, guilt-trip them, or make them the cause of my self-pity. But I cannot afford to absorb their toxic effect on me, and if that means keeping my distance, I will. ~ Deepak Chopra,

742:The short-sighted refusal to make an effort towards improving labor conditions, the refusal to adopt measures which would insure the workman in case of accidents in the factories, the refusal to forbid child labor, the refusal to consider protective measures for female workers, especially expectant mothers - all this was of assistance to the Social Democratic leaders, who were thankful for every opportunity which they could exploit for forcing the masses into their net. Our bourgeois parties can never repair the damage that resulted from the mistake they then made. For they sowed the seeds of hatred when they opposed all efforts at social reform. ~ Adolf Hitler,

743:There were hierarchies within the free citizen population too. One clause draws a distinction between patricians and plebeians, another between assidui (men of property) and proletarii (those without property – whose contribution to the city was the production of offspring, proles). Another refers to ‘patrons’ and ‘clients’ and to a relationship of dependency and mutual obligation between richer and poorer citizens that remained important throughout Roman history. The basic principle was that the client depended on his patron for protection and assistance, financial and otherwise, in return for a variety of services rendered, including votes in elections. ~ Mary Beard,

744:What of the servants?” Cass asked. “We’ll have to work around them,” Luca said. Rowan produced a dagger from his boot and twirled the handle in his right palm. “Or stab them,” he suggested with a raised eyebrow. “No!” Cass said. “No one gets hurt unless they attack us first. Your goal is to subdue Joseph Dubois and keep his men busy while I find the book. That is all.” “Right,” Luca said. He gave Rowan a meaningful look. “Those are the terms for which you are being paid.” Rowan smiled slightly. “You nobles are so lacking in humor. Of course I’d never let my men kill servants.” He winked. “You never know when you might need their assistance. ~ Fiona Paul,

745:The Kochs were also directing millions of dollars into online education, and into teaching high school students, through a nonprofit that Charles devised called the Young Entrepreneurs Academy. The financially pressed Topeka school system, for instance, signed an agreement with the organization which taught students that, among other things, Franklin Roosevelt didn’t alleviate the Depression, minimum wage laws and public assistance hurt the poor, lower pay for women was not discriminatory, and the government, rather than business, caused the 2008 recession. The program, which was aimed at low-income areas, also paid students to take additional courses online. ~ Jane Mayer,

746:Fifty years and several other threats and aid suspensions later, Pakistan continues to nurture a sentimental opposition to aid, while seeking foreign assistance remains an integral part of the economic strategy pursued by successive governments, both military and civilian. There are reasons Pakistan’s economic managers have not given up on external aid despite rising remittances. Although remittances enhance the country’s foreign exchange reserves, they are spent by millions of individuals and do not enhance the government’s treasury. Only aid provides budget support in hard currency and can be used for buying military equipment that Pakistan constantly needs. ~ Husain Haqqani,

747:Murray continues: “Concerning all acts of initiative, and creation, there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: That the moment one definitely commits oneself then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamt would come his way. I have learned a deep respect for one of Goethe’s concepts: ‘Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, Begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. ~ Stephen Cope,

748:As a matter of fact, the truth does not need to be inspired. Nothing needs inspiration except a falsehood or a mistake. Where truth ends, where probability stops, inspiration begins. A fact never went into partnership with a miracle. Truth does not need the assistance of miracle. A fact will fit every other fact in the Universe, because it is the product of all other facts. A lie will fit nothing except another lie made for the express purpose of fitting it. After a while the man gets tired of lying, and then the last lie will not fit the next fact, and then there is an opportunity to use a miracle. Just at that point, it is necessary to have a little inspiration. ~ Robert G Ingersoll,

749:You can take it from me that there is no other feat of endurance either – in fact there is no activity of any kind – in which you will be at a disadvantage from having your body better prepared. The body is valuable for all human activities, and in all its uses it is very important that it should be as fit as possible. Even in the act of thinking, which is supposed to require least assistance from the body, everyone knows that serious mistakes often happen through physical ill-health. Many people’s minds are often so invaded by forgetful-ness, despondency, irritability and insanity because of their poor physical condition that their knowledge is actually driven out of them. ~ Xenophon,

750:When we do not desire the things of this world for their own sake, we become able to see them as they are. We see at once their goodness and their purpose, and we become able to appreciate them as we never have before. As soon as we are free of them, they begin to please us. As soon as we cease to rely on them alone, they are able to serve us. Since we depend neither on the pleasure nor on the assistance we get from them, they offer us both pleasure and assistance, at the command of God. For Jesus has said: “Seek first the kingdom of God, and His justice and all these things [that is all that you need for your life on earth] will be given to you besides” (Matthew 6:33). ~ Thomas Merton,

751:With that, I hurled the slipper at him, not caring if I caused his decapitation. (I did not.) Marshaling what little dignity I yet possessed, I stomped down the corridor - challenging indeed with one shoe - and around the corner. I lay awake for hours. The prince had no right, not one, to indict me so, and if I had held the slightest hope of the book's assistance, I would have climbed at once to my wizard room for a spell with which to punish him. Death, perhaps, or humiliation. A croaking frog would be nice, particularly a frog that retained Florian's dark eyes. I should keep it in a box and poke it occasionally with a stick; that would be satisfying indeed. ~ Catherine Gilbert Murdock,

752:His ranch adjoined the Rio Grande, the river that formed the boundary between the United States and Mexico, with its poverty, caste system, and systemic corruption. So the poor Mexicans migrated. Over thirteen million of them, over a fifth of the Mexican population, had crossed that border illegally in the last fifty years and were grubbing for work in the United States, usually for minimum wage, or living on welfare and food stamps. Illiterate, unskilled, and usually unable to speak English, they flooded the schools with their children, kept blue-collar wages low, and formed an underclass that resisted assimilation and required huge amounts of public assistance dollars. ~ Stephen Coonts,

753:Fewer and fewer families can afford a roof over their head. This is among the most urgent and pressing issues facing America today, and acknowledging the breadth and depth of the problem changes the way we look at poverty. For decades, we’ve focused mainly on jobs, public assistance, parenting, and mass incarceration. No one can deny the importance of these issues, but something fundamental is missing. We have failed to fully appreciate how deeply housing is implicated in the creation of poverty. Not everyone living in a distressed neighborhood is associated with gang members, parole officers, employers, social workers, or pastors. But nearly all of them have a landlord. ~ Matthew Desmond,

754:I saw them in the dark, the girls, the women yet to be found. I counted their faces, gave them names and said the names, as if calling a class register. Here’s what I learnt from the clippings: that there is a pattern. These women had requested assistance. They’d told people: Someone is watching me, has been following me, has beaten me up before, has promised me he will kill me. They’d pointed their murderers out, and they had been told “It won’t happen,” or that nothing could be done, because of this and that, etc. I was jumpy in those days, expecting something terrible to happen to me at any moment, without knowing where it would happen to me, or why, or who would do it. ~ Helen Oyeyemi,

755:Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. Whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Begin it now.” William Hutchinson Murray, The Scottish Himalayan Expedition (1951) ~ Taylor Pearson,

756:This poster in a Nordstrom’s department store once caught my attention: “The only difference between stores is the way they treat their customers.” That’s a bold statement. Most stores would advertise the quality of their merchandise or their wide selection as what sets them apart from the rest. The difference between Nordstrom’s and other stores, according to an employee of the competition, is that other stores are organization-oriented; Nordstrom’s is people-oriented. Their employees are trained to respond quickly and kindly to customer complaints. As a result, according to writer Nancy Austin, “Nordstrom’s doesn’t have customers; it has fans.” A study by TARP, Technical Assistance ~ John C Maxwell,

757:THE MAGIC OF MAKING A START Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation) there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would not otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one's favour all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man would have dreamed would come his way. I have learned a deep respect for one of Goethe's couplets: "Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, magic, and power in it. Begin it now. ~ Steven Pressfield,

758:What to Accept The fact of mountains. The actuality Of any stone — by kicking, if necessary. The need to ignore stupid people, While restraining one's natural impulse To murder them. The change from your dollar, Be it no more than a penny, For without a pretense of universal penury There can be no honor between rich and poor. Love, unconditionally, or until proven false. The inevitability of cancer and/or Heart disease. The dialogue as written, Once you've taken the role. Failure, Gracefully. Any hospitality You're willing to return. The air Each city offers you to breathe. The latest hit. Assistance. All accidents. The end. ~ Thomas M Disch,

759:Several premises shaped the Marshall Plan: that the gravest threat to western interests in Europe was not the prospect of Soviet military intervention, but rather the risk that hunger, poverty, and despair might cause Europeans to vote their own communists into office, who would then obediently serve Moscow’s wishes; that American economic assistance would produce immediate psychological benefits and later material ones that would reverse this trend; that the Soviet Union would not itself accept such aid or allow its satellites to, thereby straining its relationship with them; and that the United States could then seize both the geopolitical and the moral initiative in the emerging Cold War. ~ John Lewis Gaddis,

760:Mr Corcoran, whom by chance I was observing, smiled preliminarily but when about to speak, his smile was transfixed on his features and his entire body assumed a stiff attitude. Suddenly he sneezed, spattering his clothing with a mucous discharge from his nostrils. As my uncle hurried to his assistance, I felt that my gorge was about to rise. I retched slightly, making a noise with my throat similar to that utilized by persons in the article of death. My uncle's back was towards me as he bent in ministration. … I clutched my belongings and retired quickly as they worked together with their pocket-cloths. I went to my room and lay prostrate on my bed, endeavouring to recover my composure. ~ Flann O Brien,

761:One example of how closely the two work together was revealed during the British Parliamentary or local Northern Ireland elections.  During the years, I would become involved in helping the Sinn Fein cause, along with many other young men and women, many of whom were members of the IRA. From their headquarters in Connolly House, Belfast, Sinn Fein organisers would try, with the assistance of the IRA, to do everything in their power to rig the elections.  The plan would be to distribute false identification papers to IRA men and women and other republican sympathisers, and send them around to a number of polling stations so that they could cast votes in perhaps six to ten different places. The ~ Martin McGartland,

762:W. H. Murray said: Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation), there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, then Providence moves too. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance which no man could have dreamed would have come his way. I have learned a deep respect for one of Goethe’s couplets: “Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it.” Begin it now. ~ Steven Pressfield,

763:To physically overcome death – is that not the goal? – we must think the unthinkable thoughts and ask unanswerable questions. Yet we must not lose ourselves in abstract vapors of philosophy. Death ahs his concrete allies, we must enlist ours. Never underestimate how much assistance, how much satisfaction, how much comfort, how much soul and transcendence there might be in a well-made taco and a cold bottle of beer. The solution to the ultimate problem may prove to be elemental and quite practical. Philosophers have argued for centuries about how many angels can dance on the head of a pin, but materialists have known all along that it depends on whether they are jitterbugging or dancing cheek to cheek. ~ Tom Robbins,

764:True, a socialistic society could see that 1000 litres of wine were better than 800 litres. It could decide whether or not 1000 litres of wine were to be preferred to 500 litres of oil. Such a decision would involve no calculation. The will of some man would decide. But the real business of economic administration, the adaptation of means to ends only begins when such a decision is taken. And only economic calculation makes this adaptation possible. Without such assistance, in the bewildering chaos of alternative materials and processes the human mind would be at a complete loss. Whenever we had to decide between different processes or different centres of production, we would be entirely at sea. ~ Ludwig von Mises,

765:Mr Bold,” said the other, stopping, and speaking with some solemnity, “if you act justly, say nothing in this matter but the truth, and use no unfair weapons in carrying out your purposes, I shall have nothing to forgive. I presume you think I am not entitled to the income I receive from the hospital, and that others are entitled to it. Whatever some may do, I shall never attribute to you base motives because you hold an opinion opposed to my own and adverse to my interests: pray do what you consider to be your duty; I can give you no assistance, neither will I offer you any obstacle. Let me, however, suggest to you, that you can in no wise forward your views nor I mine, by any discussion between us. ~ Anthony Trollope,

766:For years, the Pacific had been trying to get basic assistance in the synthetics field from the Reich. However, the big German chemical cartels, I. G. Farben in particular, had harbored their patents; had, in fact, created a world monopoly in plastics, especially in the developments of the polyesters. By this means, Reich trade had kept an edge over Pacific trade, and in technology the Reich was at least ten years ahead. The interplanetary rockets leaving Festung Europa consisted mainly of heat-resistant plastics, very light in weight, so hard they survived even major meteor impact. The Pacific had nothing of this sort; natural fibers such as wood were still used, and of course the ubiquitous pot metals. ~ Philip K Dick,

767:All indications are that most Americans have become entrapped in wealth. Studies have shown that the wealthier people become, the lower percentage of their income they tend to give away. For example, in 2000 the gap between the average wealth of Americans and that of the poorest 25 percent of people on the planet was four times greater than what it had been in 1960. During this same period of time, the percentage of our country’s GNP (Gross National Product) that went to providing assistance to the poorest 25 percent of people on the planet decreased to about one tenth of what it had been in 1960. While there are many incredibly generous Americans, as a nation we’ve clearly become entrapped by our wealth. ~ Gregory A Boyd,

768:What is evil neither can nor should be loved; for it is not one’s duty to be a lover of evil or to become like what is bad; and we have said that like is dear to like. Must the friendship, then, be forthwith broken off? Or is this not so in all cases, but only when one’s friends are incurable in their wickedness? If they are capable of being reformed one should rather come to the assistance of their character or their property, inasmuch as this is better and more characteristic of friendship. But a man who breaks off such a friendship would seem to be doing nothing strange; for it was not to a man of this sort that he was a friend; when his friend changed, therefore, and he is unable to save him, he gives him up. ~ Aristotle,

769:In selling the War on Iraq, it became important to stress that Saddam Hussein had used chemical weapons, and equally important to avoid the fact that he had done so with U.S. assistance. George Orwell wrote in 1948, “Actions are held to be good or bad, not on their own merits but according to who does them, and there is almost no kind of outrage — torture, the use of hostages, forced labor, mass deportations, imprisonment without trial, forgery, assassination, the bombing of civilians — which does not change its moral color when it is committed by ‘our’ side.…The nationalist not only does not disapprove of atrocities committed by his own side, but he has a remarkable capacity for not even hearing about them.”1 ~ David Swanson,

770:THE 11 COMMANDMENTS FOR WISE BOSSES Have strong opinions and weakly held beliefs. Do not treat others as if they are idiots. Listen attentively to your people; don’t just pretend to hear what they say. Ask a lot of good questions. Ask others for help and gratefully accept their assistance. Do not hesitate to say, ‘I don’t know’. Forgive people when they fail, remember the lessons, and teach them to everyone. Fight as if you are right, and listen as if you are wrong. Do not hold grudges after losing an argument. Instead, help the victors implement their ideas with all your might. Know your foibles and flaws, and work with people who correct and compensate for your weaknesses. Express gratitude to your people. ~ Robert I Sutton,

771:Maybe somewhere telepaths walked the Earth, but I wasn't one of them. In the process, I began to realize that the wondrous exploits of telepaths were probably impossible--at least without outside assistance. But in the years that followed, I also slowly learned another lesson: to fathom the greatest secrets in the universe, one did not need telepathic or superhuman abilities. One just had to have an open, determined, and curious mind. In particular, in order to understand whether the fantastic devices of science fiction are possible, you have to immerse yourself in advanced physics. To understand the precise point when the possible becomes the impossible, you have to appreciate and understand the laws of physics. ~ Michio Kaku,

772:Lead from the front. Go to where you can do the most good. From the moment the Towers were struck, Giuliani was front and center, helping to coordinate, command, and commandeer state and federal assistance. Be seen as the leader. Get out of the bunker. Let people know what you are doing. In the wake of September 11, Giuliani was everywhere; he used his public persona to console, grieve with, and inspire his ravaged city. Elevate the status of sacrifice. Give meaning to the sacrifice of others. Giuliani repeatedly cited the heroism of the New York City firefighters who, as the Towers were crumbling, went in as others were coming out. Show the human side. Do not be afraid to show emotion. We witnessed Giuliani shedding ~ John Baldoni,

773:So either this was a coincidence, or you have a traitor among the alphas.” Jim’s eyes flashed green. “There are no traitors on the Council.” I sighed. “Of course not—how dare the mighty shapeshifters have human vices.” Curran leaned half an inch forward. “We’re not mercenaries, Kate. Don’t measure us by your standard.” Thank you, Your Majesty. I looked at Jim. “The Order appreciates the offer of aid from the Pack, but given the sensitive nature of our investigation, we decline your assistance at this time.” Curran showed me the edge of his teeth. “Are you implying my people can’t be circumspect?” I looked at Jim. “Please relay my congratulations to His Majesty on learning such a big word all by himself. ~ Ilona Andrews,

774:The book of Job offers some remarkable insights into the ways these higher animals relate to humans and shows that God endowed soulish animals with unique capacities to serve and please humanity, each creature in its own special way. Job even provides a top ten list of animals that have played essential roles both in the launch of civilization and in sustaining human well-being today. The ancient observer describes how the different kinds of soulish animals offer valuable instruction and assistance to humanity. In chapters 8–11, I describe some of the amazing attributes soulish creatures manifested long before humans even existed, which readied them to meet humanity’s needs from the very first moment people appeared on Earth. ~ Hugh Ross,

775:Consider laughter: it is the highest emotion, for it can contain any of the others from ecstacy to grief. It has no opposite. Crying is merely an underdeveloped form of it which cleanses the eyes and summons assistance to infants. Laughter is the only tenable attitude in a universe which is a joke played upon itself. The trick is to see that joke played out even in the neutral and ghastly events which surround one. It is not for us to question the universes apparent lack of taste. Seek the emotion of laughter at what delights and amuses, seek it in whatever is neutral or meaningless, seek it even in what is horrific and revolting. Though it may be forced at first, one can learn to smile inwardly at all things.    ~ Peter J Carroll, Liber Null,

776:Whereas we see by experience that all who have or enjoy the Scripture do not yet understand it, or come to an useful, saving knowledge of the mind and will of God therein revealed, our other inquiry shall be, how we may come to understand the word of God aright, and what is the work of the Spirit of God in the assistance which he affordeth us unto that purpose. With respect unto the first of these inquiries, whereunto the present discourse is singly designed, I affirm, That it is the work of the Holy Spirit to enable us to believe the Scripture to be the word of God, or the supernatural, immediate revelation of his mind unto us, and infallibly to evidence it unto our minds, so as that we may spiritually and savingly acquiesce therein. ~ John Owen,

777:There are two ways whereby men may be guilty of the neglect of this heavenly favour:--[1.] They are so when the gift itself is not valued nor sought after, nor endeavoured to be attained. And this is done under various pretences. Some imagine that it is no gift of the Spirit, and so despise it; others think that either by them it is not attainable, or that if it be attained it will not answer the labour in it and diligence about it which it doth require, and therefore take up with another way and means, which they know to be more easy, and hope to be as useful; by many the whole duty is despised, and consequently all assistance in the performance of it is so also. None of these do I speak unto at present. But, [2.] We are guilty of this ~ John Owen,

778:Good luck on your date, then,” she said at last. “Much appreciated, but I don’t need good luck; I need assistance,” said Magnus. “Just because I’m going on this date does not mean it will go well. I’m very charming, but it does take two to tango.” “Magnus, remember what happened the last time you tried to tango. Your shoe flew off and nearly killed someone.” “It was a metaphor. He’s a Shadowhunter, he’s a Lightwood, and he’s into blonds. He’s a dating hazard. I need an escape strategy. If the date is a complete disaster, I’ll text you. I’ll say ‘Blue Squirrel, this is Hot Fox. Mission to be aborted with extreme prejudice.’ Then you call me and you tell me that there is a terrible emergency that requires my expert warlock assistance. ~ Cassandra Clare,

779:All true occultists abide by the laws of the nations and the community in which they dwell. While in many cases they recognize these laws as imperfect, they abide by them lest by their moral example they should teach the less intelligent to break the restraining bonds of law and order. It is said that laws are made for those who break them. We may add that laws were not made for Initiates, but there is a very small minority of people intelligent enough to live together honestly without the assistance of law. No matter how bad these laws are, they are far superior to the lawlessness which would exist when the mental hazard of punishment is removed from the untrained and unregenerated man. ~ Manly P Hall, What the Ancient Wisdom Expects of Its Disciples,

780:This move, like his “get tough” rhetoric and policies, was part of a grand strategy articulated by the “new Democrats” to appeal to the elusive white swing voters. In so doing, Clinton—more than any other president—created the current racial undercaste. He signed the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act, which “ended welfare as we know it,” replacing Aid to Families with Dependent Children (AFDC) with a block grant to states called Temporary Assistance to Needy Families (TANF). TANF imposed a five-year lifetime limit on welfare assistance, as well as a permanent, lifetime ban on eligibility for welfare and food stamps for anyone convicted of a felony drug offense—including simple possession of marijuana. ~ Michelle Alexander,

781:An important reason may be that government at the present time is so large that it has reached the stage of negative marginal productivity, which means that any additional function it takes on will probably result in more harm than good…. If a federal program were established to give financial assistance to Boy Scouts to enable them to help old ladies cross busy intersections, we could be sure that not all the money would go to Boy Scouts, that some of those they helped would be neither old nor ladies, that part of the program would be devoted to preventing old ladies from crossing busy intersections, and that many of them would be killed because they would now cross at places where, unsupervised, they were at least permitted to cross. ~ Ronald H Coase,

782:The Fourth and Fifth Amendments of the Constitution, which were established to protect us from unwarranted intrusion by the government into our private lives, may still technically be law but they have been judicially abolished. The Fourth Amendment was written in 1789 in direct response to the arbitrary and unchecked search powers that the British had exercised through general warrants called “writs of assistance”, which played a significant part in fomenting the American Revolution. The amendment limits the sate’s ability to search and seize to a specific place, time, and event approved by a magistrate. It is impossible to square the bluntness of the Fourth Amendment with the arbitrary search and seizure of all our personal communications. ~ Chris Hedges,

783:Until one is committed, there is hesitancy, the chance to draw back, always ineffectiveness. Concerning all acts of initiative (and creation) there is one elementary truth, the ignorance of which kills countless ideas and splendid plans: that the moment one definitely commits oneself, the Providence moves too. All sorts of things occur to help one that would never otherwise have occurred. A whole stream of events issues from the decision, raising in one’s favor all manner of unforeseen incidents and meetings and material assistance, which no one could have dreamed would have come his way. I have learned a deep respect for one of Goethe’s couplets: Whatever you can do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power and magic in it. ~ Joseph Goldstein,

784:We, tenants of the Kasota apartments who are not Sound Mental Health clients, hereby notify you that we cannot accept the cruel and unjust way in which we are now being forced from our homes. You have presented us with a rent increase which is so extreme, you must be aware that we could not possibly afford to pay it. It appears that the intent is simply to drive us out. If we are to be forced out of our homes, then we respectfully insist that you provide each of us with relocation assistance, so that we can find other places to live and not join the ranks of the homeless. We hereby pledge: Unless and until each and every one of us has received adequate relocation assistance, none of us will pay the increased rent or voluntarily vacate the building. ~ Anonymous,

785:An upcoming platform combining two of the X1 chips can process data collected from up to 12 high-definition cameras monitoring traffic, blind spots and other safety conditions in driver assistance systems, Huang said. Combined with next-generation software, the chips can help detect and read road signs, recognize pedestrians and detect braking vehicles, he said. Santa Clara, California-based Nvidia in recent years has been expanding beyond its core business of designing high-end graphics chips for personal computers. After struggling to compete against larger chipmakers like Qualcomm in smartphones and tablets, Nvidia is now increasing its focus on using its Tegra mobile chips in cars and is already supplying companies including Audi, BMW and Tesla. ~ Anonymous,

786:Partly we are distracted by entertainment. Our fickle attention is far too easily distracted from Christ as our marauding affections jump from thrill to thrill in fictional entertainment that is wholly disconnected from us. Newton would warn us here against using entertainment and amusements as escapism. True religion is sufficient to provide joy. “That religion which does not engage the whole heart for the Lord can be little better than a name. The comforts of the gospel neither require nor admit such poor assistance as worldly amusements offer.”54 Binging on the cotton candy of worldly amusements cannot nourish a living soul. Christ’s sufficiency bears directly on our lives, providing us a feast of eternal joy and significance. The tragedy is that ~ Tony Reinke,

787:Last, but by no means least, the advance of technology has produced a human population that is far more helpless and dependent than any human population before, one that is unable to survive when exposed to the elements, or travel long distances on foot, make its own tools, construct its own shelter, clothe and feed itself without outside assistance, treat diseases with substances available from the environment, or teach its children to survive on their own … How will these people, who have been conditioned since birth to expect to be taken care of by a vast industrial machine, respond to suddenly being forced to rely on their own wits and physical strength to survive? How many of them will not even try and simply await a rescue that will never come? ~ Dmitry Orlov,

788:189 - Live within; be not shaken by outward happenings. 190 - Fling not thy alms abroad everywhere in an ostentation of charity; understand and love where thou helpest. Let thy soul grow within thee. 191 - Help the poor while the poor are with thee; but study also and strive that there may be no poor for thy assistance. To live within in a constant aspiration for the Divine enables us to look at life with a smile and to remain peaceful whatever the outer circumstances may be. As for the poor, Sri Aurobindo says that to come to their help is good, provided that it is not a vain ostentation of charity, but that it is far nobler to seek a remedy for poverty so that there may be no poor left on earth. 31 October 1969 ~ The Mother, Thoughts And Aphorisms,

789:Try this for a couple of weeks and see how it changes your reality: Whatever you think people are withholding from you—praise, appreciation, assistance, loving care, and so on—give it to them. You don’t have it? Just act as if you had it, and it will come. Then, soon after you start giving, you will start receiving. You cannot receive what you don’t give. Outflow determines inflow. Whatever you think the world is withholding from you, you already have, but unless you allow it to flow out, you won’t even know that you have it. This includes abundance. The law that outflow determines inflow is expressed by Jesus in this powerful image: “Give and it will be given to you. Good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap. ~ Eckhart Tolle,

790:Our life consists not in the pursuit of material success but in the quest for worthy spiritual growth. Our entire earthly existence is but a transitional stage in the movement toward something higher, and we must not stumble and fall, nor must we linger fruitlessly on one rung of the ladder. Material laws alone do not explain our life or give it direction. The laws of physics and physiology will never reveal the indisputable manner in which the Creator constantly, day in and day out, participates in the life of each of us, unfailingly granting us the energy of existence; when this assistance leaves us, we die. And in the life of our entire planet, the Divine Spirit surely moves with no less force: this we must grasp in our dark and terrible hour. ~ Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn,

791:Not above taking government assistance himself—as an official, he had his rent paid by the state—Pillsbury warned farmers against “weakening the habit of self-reliance.”82 To comfort the starving, he prescribed a day of prayer. Throughout his term, he would trivialize “poverty and deprivation” as “incidents of frontier life at its best.”83 The St. Paul Pioneer Press praised Pillsbury’s censure of grasshopper paupers, reasoning that any relief would have a “very demoralizing effect” on those known for their “suicidal indolence.” The “better class of people,” it argued, would not demean themselves by accepting aid. “If anybody chooses to lie down and be eaten up by grasshoppers,” it remarked, “we don’t care much if he is devoured body, boots, and breeches.”84 ~ Caroline Fraser,

792:Forced motherhood results in bringing miserable children into the world, children whose parents cannot feed them, who become victims of public assistance or "martyr children." It must be pointed out that the same society so determined to defend the rights of the fetus shows no interest in children after they are born; instead of trying to reform this scandalous institution called public assistance, society prosecutes abortionists; those responsible for delivering orphans to torturers are left free; society closes its eyes to the horrible tyranny practiced in "reform schools" or in the private homes of child abusers; and while it refuses to accept that the fetus belongs to the mother carrying it, it nevertheless agrees that the child is his parents' thing. ~ Simone de Beauvoir,

793:He must have been someone I trusted at one time." "But you don't now?" "I can't. Not until I remember how I ended up so badly wounded where you found me. You've seen how strong I am, Susan. How fast I can move. Do you really think an enemy could have gotten the jump on me without a little assistance?" She hadn't thought of it like that. It was a valid point. "No. I'm still hoping he's a friend though. You need someone you can trust." Smiling, he touched her cheek. "I already have someone I trust. You." She clasped his wrists and turned her head, pressing a kiss to his palm. "Flirt." He winked. "Just wait until I confirm I'm not married. Then I'll take flirting to a whole new level." "Hell yes, you will," she declared. He laughed. ~ Dianne Duvall,

794:Why? So you can still qualify for assistance? Your family is gaming the system?" "No." Diana had always hated when people said this about her family. The bosses who made her dad list a payroll company as his employer, they gamed the system. The assholes who convinced her parents to take out both a second mortgage and a HELOC in 2006 gamed the system. The employers who would never give Edith enough hours for benefits gamed the system. But ask a lot of people, and they'd tell you it's people like her grandma who game the system. They'd tell you that an old woman who's worked hard every day of her life and still struggles to get by is a malignant vacuum for their personal tax dollars, and a blight on their lives as free Americans. "We're just trying to live. ~ J Ryan Stradal,

795:General Taylor participated in the celebration of the Fourth of July, a very hot day, by hearing a long speech from the Hon. Henry S. Foote, at the base of the Washington Monument. Returning from the celebration much heated and fatigued, he partook too freely of his favorite iced milk with cherries, and during that night was seized with a severe colic, which by morning had quite prostrated him. It was said that he sent for his son-in-law, Surgeon Wood, United States Army, stationed in Baltimore, and declined medical assistance from anybody else. Mr. Ewing visited him several times, and was manifestly uneasy and anxious, as was also his son-in-law, Major Bliss, then of the army, and his confidential secretary. He rapidly grew worse, and died in about four days. ~ William T Sherman,

796:Good discipline requires time. When we have no time to give our children, or no time that we are willing to give, we don’t even observe them closely enough to become aware of when their need for our disciplinary assistance is expressed subtly. If their need for discipline is so gross as to impinge upon our consciousness, we may still ignore the need on the grounds that it’s easier to let them have their own way—“I just don’t have the energy to deal with them today.” Or, finally, if we are impelled into action by their misdeeds and our irritation, we will impose discipline, often brutally, out of anger rather than deliberation, without examining the problem or even taking the time to consider which form of discipline is the most appropriate to that particular problem. ~ M Scott Peck,

797:Other similar niche online subcultures in this milieu, which were always given by the emerging online right as evidence of Western decline, also include adults who identify as babies and able-bodied people who identify as disabled people to such an extent that they seek medical assistance in blinding, amputating or otherwise injuring themselves to become the disabled person they identify as. You may question the motivations of the right’s fixation on these relatively niche subcultures, but the liberal fixation on relatively niche sections of the new online right that emerged from small online subcultures is similar in scale – that is, the influence of Tumblr on shaping strange new political sensibilities is probably equally important to what emerged from rightist chan culture. ~ Angela Nagle,

798:two groups of people were asked to complete a task with the help of computers.[cvi] The study participants were initially asked to use their assigned computers to answer a series of questions. The computers provided to the first group were helpful when answering participants’ questions, while those provided to the second group were programmed to be unhelpful, offering unclear answers. After completing the task, participants then switched roles and the machines began asking the people for assistance with their questions. The study found that the group given helpful computers performed almost twice as much work for their machines. The results showed that reciprocation is not just a characteristic expressed between people, but also a trait observed when humans interact with machines. ~ Nir Eyal,

799:I am indebted to the following colleagues for their advice, assistance, or support: Dr. Alfred Lerner, Dori Vakis, Robin Heck, Dr. Todd Dray, Dr. Robert Tull, and Dr. Sandy Chun. Thanks also to Lynette Parker of East San Jose Community Law Center for her advice about adoption procedures, and to Mr. Daoud Wahab for sharing his experiences in Afghanistan with me. I am grateful to my dear friend Tamim Ansary for his guidance and support and to the gang at the San Francisco Writers Workshop for their feedback and encouragement. I want to thank my father, my oldest friend and the inspiration for all that is noble in Baba; my mother who prayed for me and did nazr at every stage of this book’s writing; my aunt for buying me books when I was young. Thanks go out to Ali, Sandy, Daoud ~ Khaled Hosseini,

800:The formation of society serves not only for defensive purposes, but is also very useful, and, indeed, absolutely necessary, as rendering possible the division of labor. If men did not render mutual assistance to each other, no one would have either the skill or the time to provide for his own sustenance and preservation: for all men are not equally apt for all work, and no one would be capable of preparing all that he individually stood in need of. Strength and time, I repeat, would fail, if every one had in person to plow, to sow, to reap, to grind corn, to cook, to weave, to stitch and perform the other numerous functions required to keep life going; to say nothing of the arts and sciences which are also entirely necessary to the perfection and blessedness of human nature. ~ Baruch Spinoza,

801:Hungry Jack’s real name was Charles R. Hoofard. He was born in Indianapolis in 1950. In 1950, Harry S. Truman was president of the United States. Harry Truman, as far as I can tell, also never took a shit in his life. In 1950, the same year that a boy named Charles R. Hoofard was born in Indianapolis, President Harry S. Truman sent military assistance to the French. They were trying to maintain their French Catholic colony in Vietnam. That military aid would grow and blossom to the point that a boy with wanderlust from Indiana named Charles R. Hoofard ultimately took time out from fucking whatever he wanted to fuck to participate in the killing of an entire village of women, elderly people, and children. History is full of shit like that. ~ Andrew Smith,

802:Our culture has done everything in its power to rid itself of having to think of death and its consequences. As a result, we don’t talk about it, think about it, or do a very good job preparing ourselves for its certain arrival. As a result, we enter into the grieving process unprepared for what lies ahead. We don’t realize the range of emotions we are going to face, and we often don’t even know how to reach out to those around us for their help and comfort. What’s even worse is that many feel uneasy giving comfort, because it isn’t “the thing to do” in our society. We are all supposed to be able to “handle things on our own.” Well, grief is not handled well alone. God made us social beings, and when we lose a loved one, we desire and need the help and assistance of others. Give ~ James R White,

803:These same people who tell us we must defend the lives of the unborn-they are the same people who seem not so interested in defending anyone but themselves after the accident of birth is complete! These same people who profess their love of the unborn's soul-they don't care to make much of a contribution to the poor, they don't care to offer much assistance to the unwanted or the oppressed! How do they justify such a concern for the fetus and such a lack of concern for unwanted and abused children? They condemn others for the accident of conception; they condemn the poor-as if the poor can help being poor. One way the poor could help themselves would be to be in control of the size of their families. I thought that freedom of choice was obviously democratic-was obviously American! ~ John Irving,

804:These same people who tell us we must defend the lives of the unborn—they are the same people who seem not so interested in defending anyone but themselves after the accident of birth is complete! These same people who profess their love of the unborn’s soul—they don’t care to make much of a contribution to the poor, they don’t care to offer much assistance to the unwanted or the oppressed! How do they justify such a concern for the fetus and such a lack of concern for unwanted and abused children? They condemn others for the accident of conception; they condemn the poor—as if the poor can help being poor. One way the poor could help themselves would be to be in control of the size of their families. I thought that freedom of choice was obviously democratic—was obviously American! ~ John Irving,

805:The necessity that the foods selected and used shall provide an adequate quantity of fat-soluble activators (including the known fatsoluble vitamins) is so imperative and is so important in preventing a part of our modern degeneration that I shall illustrate its need with another practical case. A mother asked my assistance in planning the nutritional program for her boy. She reported that he was five years of age and that he had been in bed in hospitals with rheumatic fever, arthritis and an acute heart involvement most of the time for the past two and a half years. She had been told that her boy would not recover, so severe were the complications. As is so generally the case with rheumatic fever and endocarditis, this boy was suffering from severe tooth decay. In this connection the ~ Anonymous,

806:Agriculture is twenty percent of GDP. The most important crop is wheat. We are almost self-sufficient, overall almost eighty percent self-sufficient, in food.” In addition, he says, the country’s external debt of $7 billion is only ten percent of GDP, a proportion Greece, Spain, and Italy could envy. With foreign reserves of $17 billion, the country, in his view, could go on importing for another ten months. Syria is receiving assistance from Russia, Iran, and Iraq, which helps further to ease the burden. In any case, as in Iraq from 1990 to 2003, the sanctions are affecting the populace more than the regime. Further harming the people and the economy is the endemic corruption of some within the regime, who have treated the state as their personal business enterprise to be looted at will. ~ Charles Glass,

807:The prayer for daily bread reminds me that I am dependent on God for even the most mundane needs of my life. Only he has the power to control all the conditions, situations, locations, events, and people that need to be controlled in order for me to have the things that I need to have in order to live my life. Independency is a delusion. Even the most ardent atheist is dependent on God for his life and breath. No one is able to get what he needs for his physical existence on his own. No one lives a self-sufficient life. No one can say, “Look how successfully I have been able to care for me without any outside assistance.” No one! It really is true that “Every good and every perfect gift is from above” (James 1:17). So look up and give thanks. There really is a great and loving Supplier. ~ Paul David Tripp,

808:14. Rescue from Without:The hero may have to be brought back from his supernatural adventure by assistance from without. That is to say, the world may have to come and get him. For the bliss of the deep abode is not lightly abandoned in favor of the self-scattering of the wakened state. 'Who having cast off the world,' we read, 'would desire to return again? He would be only there.' And yet, in so far as one is alive, life will call. Society is jealous of those who remain away from it, and will come knocking at the door. If the hero... is unwilling, the disturber suffers an ugly shock; but on the other hand, if the summoned one is only delayed-sealed in by the beatitude of the state of perfect being (which resembles death)-an apparent rescue is effected, and the adventurer returns. ~ Joseph Campbell,

809:Many people generally think of it as a sincere desire to help the other person to be more realistic, behave in more constructive ways, to help them recognize others as worthwhile, unique individuals, to show that you value the relationship, or to help that person reduce self-destructive behaviors. Our motives are praiseworthy, we are trying to help the other person. Many times what you fail to recognize is that your vision of needed changes rises from your own needs and expectations. Yes, the changes may do all that is needed to make the person more effective and loveable, but the impetus is your need to have him or her be this way—not his or her need. The person did not request or seek your assistance to change, you decided it was necessary and began to work to make him or her accept your vision. ~ Anonymous,

810:It’s not that fact of him telling me he’s not going to kill me that assures me I’ve got some time to breathe. Predo could look me in the eye and tell me whiskey’s good and cigarettes are better and I’d still need a drink and a Lucky to believe he’s not lying. The man breeds lies. He spawns them asexually, with no need for any assistance. He exhales and lies fill the air. Alone in a room, he mutters lies to himself to keep from falling into the trap of truth-telling. In the day, sleeping in his bed, deep in the safest heart of Coalition headquarters, he dreams in lies. The better to keep his left hand from knowing what betrayals his right has planned. Stretched on the rack and burned with hot irons, Dexter Predo will be in no danger of revealing the truth. Living so far beyond its borders. ~ Charlie Huston,

811:Make use of your people's parts to the utmost, as your helpers, in an orderly way, under your guidance, or else they will make use of them in a disorderly and dividing way in opposition to you. It hath been a great cause of schism, when ministers would contemptuously cry down private men's preaching, and with desire not to make any use of the gifts that God hath given them for their assistance; but thrust them too far from holy things, as if they were a profane generation. The work is likely to go poorly on if there be no hands employed in it but the ministers. God giveth not any of His gifts to be buried, but for common use. By a prudent improvement of the gifts of the more able Christians, we may receive much help by them, and prevent their abuse, even as lawful marriage preventeth fornication. ~ Richard Baxter,

812:One day we shall domesticate him into a human being & then I shall be able to sketch him. For this is what we have done with ourselves & with God. The little boy will assist his own domestication; he is diligent & cooperative. He cooperates without knowing that the assistance we expect of him is for his own self-sacrifice. Recently, he has had much practice. And so he will go on progressing until little by little -- because of essential goodness with which we achieve our salvation -- he will pass from actual time to daily time, from meditation to expression, from existence to life. Making the great sacrifice of not being mad. I am not mad out of solidarity with thousands of people who, in order to construct the possible, have also sacrificed the truth which would constitute madness. ~ Clarice Lispector,

813:When we understand the character of God, when we grasp something of His holiness, then we begin to understand the radical character of our sin and hopelessness. Helpless sinners can survive only by grace. Our strength is futile in itself; we are spiritually impotent without the assistance of a merciful God. We may dislike giving our attention to God's wrath and justice, but until we incline ourselves to these aspects of God's nature, we will never appreciate what has been wrought for us by grace. Even Edwards's sermon on sinners in God's hands was not designed to stress the flames of hell. The resounding accent falls not on the fiery pit but on the hands of the God who holds us and rescues us from it. The hands of God are gracious hands. They alone have the power to rescue us from certain destruction. ~ R C Sproul,

814:I always carried lawbooks in my car. Sometimes, when a policeman was harassing a citizen, I would stand off a little and read the relevant portions of the penal code in a loud voice to all within hearing distance. In doing this, we were helping to educate those who gathered to observe these incidents. If the policeman arrested the citizen and took him to the station, we would follow and immediately post bail. Many community people could not believe at first that we had only their interest at heart. Nobody had ever given them any support or assistance when the police harassed them, but here we were, proud Black men, armed with guns and a knowledge of the law. Many citizens came right out of jail and into the Party, and the statistics of murder and brutality by policemen in our communities fell sharply. ~ Huey P Newton,

815:Not all that Mrs. Bennet, however, with the assistance of her five daughters, could ask on the subject, was sufficient to draw from her husband any satisfactory description of Mr. Bingley. They attacked him in various ways—with barefaced questions, ingenious suppositions, and distant surmises; but he eluded the skill of them all, and they were at last obliged to accept the second-hand intelligence of their neighbour, Lady Lucas. Her report was highly favourable. Sir William had been delighted with him. He was quite young, wonderfully handsome, extremely agreeable, and, to crown the whole, he meant to be at the next assembly with a large party. Nothing could be more delightful! To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love; and very lively hopes of Mr. Bingley's heart were entertained. ~ Jane Austen,

816:The pretense that the "abolition of slavery" was either a motive or justification for the war, is a fraud of the same character with that of "maintaining the national honor." Who, but such usurpers, robbers, and murderers as they, ever established slavery? Or what government, except one resting upon the sword, like the one we now have, was ever capable of maintaining slavery? And why did these men abolish slavery? Not from any love of liberty in general—not as an act of justice to the black man himself, but only "as a war measure," and because they wanted his assistance, and that of his friends, in carrying on the war they had undertaken for maintaining and intensifying that political, commercial, and industrial slavery, to which they have subjected the great body of the people, both black and white. ~ Lysander Spooner,

817:You’ll never be the heavyweight champion of the world,” he said, “but you should be able to duck anything Edward throws at you.” Theo wanted his turn, but John said it was too hot for more lessons. He looked up into the tree where Hannah sat swinging her feet, and smiled. “Maybe your sister will come down from her perch and offer us a nice cold glass of lemonade.” Hannah gave her hand to John and allowed him to help her. “Not that I need your assistance,” she said. “I’m merely practicing my manners.” We watched John and Hannah walk away, still holding hands. “He’s as bad as diphtheria,” Theo muttered. “What do you mean?” “Diphtheria made you into a perfect gentleman,” Theo said, “and John makes Hannah into a perfect lady. I’m sure I don’t know which is worse--being sick or falling in love. ~ Mary Downing Hahn,

818:And hey," Gabe added, "I don't even need the second bedroom, so we could set that up as a guest room, then you and Wade can stay when you visit." "You might want a roommate or something." "For what...you won't let me pay you any rent, so it's not like I need the financial assistance." "Well a boyfriend maybe?" "And he'd be sleeping in the second bedroom because?" "When he's mad 'cause you won't put out, for one." Gabe tried to shove me off him. "Don't be mean—like I wouldn't want to have sex with my boyfriend." "I'm just teasing Sally Sensitive, sheesh." "I do actually like having sex you know." Gabe frowned. I gasped, placing a hand on my chest. "Lordy mercy, my little Gabe's all growed up." Gabe laughed at me. "Finally ready to stuff his Italian sausage where the sun doesn't shine! ~ Ethan Day,

819:What could happen if we changed our emphasis from push to pull? What if much more of the $143 billion spent on official development assistance in 2016 was channeled to support direct market-creation efforts in poor countries, even when the circumstances seemed unlikely? Imagine how many markets could be created; imagine how many Tolarams, Nollywoods, M-PESAs, and other new-market creators could emerge; imagine how many jobs could be created. As I think about this problem, I can’t help but wonder how many fathers and mothers would be afforded the dignity of work and the resources to provide simple things for their families—like food, health care, and quality education. Imagine how many people would have a renewed sense of hope and purpose when they begin to see their suffering can become a thing of the past. ~ Clayton M Christensen,

820:When you think of investments and returns, call Mark 10. If you are depressed, call Psalm 27. If your pocketbook is empty, call Psalm 37. If people seem unkind, call John 15. If discouraged about your work, call Psalm 126. If you find the world growing small and yourself great, call Psalm 19. —AUTHOR UNKNOWN Emergency numbers may be dialed direct. No operator assistance is necessary. All lines to heaven are open 24 hours a day and seven days a week. Prayer: Father God, You say to call on You, that You will never forsake me. Thank You for giving me the Bible so I can be encouraged in times of emergency. Amen.   Action: Call one of the emergency phone numbers today to see what information you receive.   Today’s Wisdom: Without wise leadership, a nation is in trouble; but with good counselors there is safety. —PROVERBS 11:14 TLB ~ Emilie Barnes,

821:The startling truth is that our best efforts for civil rights, international peace, population control, conservation of natural resources, and assistance to the starving of the earth—urgent as they are—will destroy rather than help if made in the present spirit. For, as things stand, we have nothing to give. If our own riches and our own way of life are not enjoyed here, they will not be enjoyed anywhere else. Certainly they will supply the immediate jolt of energy and hope that methedrine, and similar drugs, give in extreme fatigue. But peace can be made only by those who are peaceful, and love can be shown only by those who love. No work of love will flourish out of guilt, fear, or hollowness of heart, just as no valid plans for the future can be made by those who have no capacity for living now. ~ Alan W Watts,

822:I believe that the great stretches of forests in northern Europe, with their constant seasonal changes, their restricted views, their astonish biological diversity, their secret gifts and perils and the knowledge that you have to go through them to get anywhere else, created the themes and ethics of the fairy tales we know best. There are secrets, hidden identities, cunning disguises; there are rhythms of change like the changes of the seasons; there are characters, both human and animal, whose assistance can be earned or spurned; and there is -- over and over again -- the journey or quest, which leads first to knowledge and then to happiness. The forest is the place of trial in fairy stories, both dangerous and exciting. Coming to terms with the forest, surviving its terrors, utilising its gifts and gaining its help is the way to 'happy ever after. ~ Sara Maitland,

823:No degree of knowledge attainable by man is able to set him above the want of hourly assistance, or to extinguish the desire of fond endearments, and tender officiousness; and therefore no one should think it unnecessary to learn those arts by which friendship may be gained. Kindness is preserved by a constant reciprocation of benefits or interchange of pleasures; but such benefits can only be bestowed as others are capable to receive, and such pleasures only imparted as others are qualified to enjoy. By this descent from the pinnacles of art no honour will be lost; for the condescensions of learning are always overpaid by gratitude. An elevated genius employed in little things appears, to use the simile of Longinus, like the sun in his evening declination; he remits his splendour but remains his magnitude, and pleases more, though he dazzles less. ~ Samuel Johnson,

824:An up-front enemy is rare now and is actually a blessing. People hardly ever attack you openly anymore, showing their intentions, their desire to destroy you; instead they are political and indirect. Although the world is more competitive than ever, outward aggression is discouraged, so people have learned to go underground, to attack unpredictably and craftily. Many use friendship as a way to mask aggressive desires: they come close to you to do more harm. (A friend knows best how to hurt you.) Or, without actually being friends, they offer assistance and alliance: they may seem supportive, but in the end they’re advancing their own interests at your expense. Then there are those who master moral warfare, playing the victim, making you feel guilty for something unspecified you’ve done. The battlefield is full of these warriors, slippery, evasive, and clever. ~ Robert Greene,

825:I think that any artistic decision that is based on whether or not you are going to make money it is not really an artistic decision. It is a business decision. And there are a lot of things that I can do to earn a living and a lot of things that I have already done to earn a living which produce the amount of capital needed to do this project. I came here to spend money on an English orchestra and record my music, so I can take it home and I can listen to it. And... if somebody else likes that kind of stuff, I will make it available on a record so that they can hear it. That is my part of the public service of spending the money to make this event happen. No foundation grant, no government assistance, no corporation, no comittee. Just a crazy guy who spent the money to hire English musicians to do a concert at the Barbican and make an album for Barking Pumpkin Records. ~ Frank Zappa,

826:There is going to come a time when we have to accept who we are without the assistance of religion. That will be the dawn of true faith. We leave the big decisions to invisible consultants and pray we get the answers we are looking for. The late great George Carlin once said he gave up praying to God and started praying to Joe Pesci because his prayers to Joe Pesci were answered with as much accuracy and frequency as those to God. [...] If we as people are still looking for answers, we should turn our eyes away from the heavens and look to each other. I know we do not play well together - hell, some of us do not even like being in the same room with each other - but the divine lies in all of us. We are miracles. We are "god." If we shared a little more, we would not be left feeling less. We hold the keys to our own destinies. It is time we started looking for the locks. ~ Corey Taylor,

827:Intelligent assistance involves leveraging artificial intelligence to enable the government, individual companies, and the nonprofit social sector to develop more sophisticated online and mobile platforms that can empower every worker to engage in lifelong learning on their own time, and to have their learning recognized and rewarded with advancement. Intelligent assistants arise when we use artificial intelligence to improve the interfaces between humans and their tools with software, so humans can not only learn faster but also act faster and act smarter. Lastly, we need to deploy AI to create more intelligent algorithms, or what Reid Hoffman calls “human networks”—so that we can much more efficiently connect people to all the job opportunities that exist, all the skills needed for each job, and all the educational opportunities to acquire those skills cheaply and easily. ~ Thomas L Friedman,

828:tying the laces. The bottom line was that Grandpa would have been willing to risk his life on the gamble that the shadows of Tanu and Coulter meant to offer meaningful assistance. He would have followed them if he could have done so alone. He simply was not willing to risk Seth’s life. To Seth, this proved that the risk was worth taking. If Grandpa loved him too much to let him take a worthwhile risk, then he would bypass Grandpa. Shoes secure, Seth slid his emergency kit out from under the bed. Then he tiptoed down the attic stairs, flinching at every creak. At the bottom of the steps the house remained dark and quiet. Seth hurried along the hall and down the stairs to the entry hall. He stole into Grandpa’s study, tugged a chain to turn on a desk lamp, and rummaged through Tanu’s bag of potions. After examining several bottles, Seth found the one he wanted, grabbed it, and closed the bag. ~ Brandon Mull,

829:In the event of a change in cabin pressure, the flight attendant on the video was saying, you put your oxygen mask on first, pulling the cord, and then you helped others in your party who needed your assistance. The video showed a nice-looking dad tugging the oxygen mask over his own face, his placid daughter sitting quietly beside him, breathing bad air. What kind of idiot came up with that rule? The didn't understand human nature at all. She imagined the compartment filling slowly with smoke and Noah beside her, gasping. Did they really think that she could straighten the mask on her own face and breathe in clean air while her asthmatic son struggled to take a breath? The assumption was that she and her child were two different entities with seperate hearts and lungs and minds. They didn't realise that when your child was gasping for air, you felt your own breath trapped in your chest. ~ Sharon Guskin,

830:You look beautiful in those colors, Kathleen.” His voice was low and soft. She felt her face prickle. “Don’t use my first name.” “By all means,” Devon mocked, glancing down at his towel-clad form, “let’s be formal. She made the mistake of following his gaze, and colored deeply at the sight of him…the intriguing dark hair on his chest, the way the muscle of his stomach seemed to have been carved like mahogany fretwork. A knock came at the bedroom door. Kathleen retreated deeper into the bathroom like a turtle withdrawing in its shell. “Come in, Sutton,” she heard Devon say. “Your clothes, sir.” “Thank you. Lay them out on the bed.” “Won’t you require assistance?” “Not today.” “You will dress yourself?” the valet asked, bewildered. “I’ve heard that some men do,” Devon replied sardonically. “You may leave now.” The valet heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Yes, sir. ~ Lisa Kleypas,

831:How about you get on my back? So in a way you’re not being carried – you’re riding me.” I paused and then winked. Kat stared. “What?” I laughed, and her eyes immediately narrowed. “You should see yourself right now. Like a kitten – that’s what I keep telling you. Your hackles are raised.” Her eyes rolled as she shuffled behind me. “You should conserve your energy and stop talking.” “Ouch.” “You’ll get over it.” She placed her hands on my shoulders. “Besides, you could be knocked down a peg or two.” ... “Baby, I’m so far up the ladder there aren’t any pegs under me to be knocked down.” “Wow”, she said. “That’s a new one.” “You loved it.” .. “Hold on, Kitten. I’m going to start to glow just a little, and we’re going to go fast.” “I like when you glow. It’s like having my own personal flashlight.” I grinned. “Glad I can be of assistance.” She patted my chest. “Giddy up. ~ Jennifer L Armentrout,

832:...The discrepancy is that the ethical self should be found immanently in the despair, that the individual won himself by persisting in the despair. True, he has used something within the category of freedom, choosing himself, which seem to remove the difficulty, one that presumably has not struck many, since philosophically doubting everything and then finding the true beginning goes one, two, three. But that does not help. In despairing, I use myself to despair, and therefore I can indeed despair of everything by myself. But if I do this, I cannot come back by myself. It is in this moment of decision that the individual needs divine assistance, whereas it is quite correct that in order to be at this point one must first have understood the existence-relation between the aesthetic and the ethical; that is to say, by being there in passion and inwardness, one surely becomes aware of the religious - and of the leap. ~ S ren Kierkegaard,

833:Will you need assistance with the boilers, as well?” “I can manage those on my own, but we’ll need two wheelbarrow loads of wood to fuel the fireboxes. There’s a barrow out by the woodshed. If you would start loading it while I move the boilers down to the pond, that would save considerable time.” “Aye, aye, Captain.” Nicole clicked her heels together and snapped a salute. Her employer seemed a bit nonplussed by her actions until she winked at him and allowed the smile she’d been fighting to bloom across her face. He laughed then and gave her a playful push in the direction of the shed. “Hop to, sailor, before I make you walk the plank for insubordination.” Nicole scurried away, giving her best imitation of a cowed crew member, bowing and scraping as she trotted over the packed dirt of the yard. Darius’s deep chuckles followed her, the rich sound warming a place inside her that she hadn’t even realized had been cold. ~ Karen Witemeyer,

834:On the physical plane, man, in order to see things beyond his normal vision, must make use of the telescope. Likewise, on the astral plane, he must call into operation some assistance to the simple astral vision, in order to receive a clear impression of things far off. This assistance, however, comes from within his own astral organism, and consists of a peculiar astral faculty which acts as the lens of a telescope and magnifies the rays received from afar, rendering them sufficiently large to be distinguished by the mind. This power is "telescopic" in effect, although it is really by a variation of that "miscroscopic" faculty noted under the head of simple clairvoyance. This telescopic faculty varies very much in psychics, some being able to see but a few miles, while others receive impressions just as easily from all parts of the earth, and a few have been able to occasionally perceive scenes on other planets. ~ William Walker Atkinson,

835:without any assistance or guidance from you i have loved you assiduously for 8 months 2 wks & a day i have been stood up four times i've left 7 packages on yr doorstep forty poems 2 plants & 3 handmade notecards i left town so i cd send to you have been no help to me on my job you call at 3:00 in the mornin on weekdays so i cd drive 27 1/2 miles cross the bay before i go to work charmin charmin but you are of no assistance i want you to know this waz an experiment to see how selifsh i cd be if i wd really carry on to snare a possible lover if i waz capable of debasin my self for the love of another if i cd stand not being wanted when i wanted to be wanted & i cannot so with no further assistance & no guidance from you i am endin this affair this note is attached to a plant i've been waterin since the day i met you you may water it yr damn self ~ Ntozake Shange,

836:Tick could feel his eyes start to droop again, so he pressed the stereo unit and turned up the volume. His and Sally’s favorite song was burned on every inch of the CD, so he could play it over and over. “Mustang Sally.” He started to sing along with Wilson Pickett at the top of his lungs, “Ride, Sally, ride!” He was two streets away from where he lived on David Court when he saw the strobe lights shooting upward to the sky. Blue, red, and white just like it was the Fourth of July. But it wasn’t the Fourth of July. He knew what the lights meant. Good cop that he was, he knew he was going to have to stop to offer any assistance if needed. Sally, the kids, and sleep would have to wait just a bit longer. He turned off the CD player and turned the corner, and his world came to a screeching halt. He saw the barricade, the yellow tape, the crazy arcing lights, the crowds of people, and too many police cars to count. All parked in front of his house, in ~ Anonymous,

837:In the morning this light breasts your windowpane and, having pried your eye open like a shell, runs ahead of you, strumming its lengthy rays - like a hot-footed schoolboy running his stick along the iron grate of the park or garden - along arcades, colonnades, red-brick chimneys, saints and lions. "Depict! Depict!" it cries to you, either mistaking you for some Canaletto or Carpaccio or Guardi, or because it doesn't trust your retina's ability to retain what it makes available, not to mention your brain's capacity to absorb it. Perhaps art is simply an organism's reaction against its retentive limitations. At any rate, you obey the command and grab your camera, supplementing both your brain cells and your pupil. Should this city ever be short of cash, it can go straight to Kodak for assistance - or else tax its products savagely. By the same token, as long as this place exists, as long as winter light shines upon it, Kodak shares are the best investment. ~ Joseph Brodsky,

838:It is also built sweetly through love and pleasure. When you have deep friendships with good people, you copy and then absorb some of their best traits. When you love a person deeply, you want to serve them and earn their regard. When you experience great art, you widen your repertoire of emotions. Through devotion to some cause, you elevate your desires and organize your energies. Moreover, the struggle against the weaknesses in yourself is never a solitary struggle. No person can achieve self-mastery on his or her own. Individual will, reason, compassion, and character are not strong enough to consistently defeat selfishness, pride, greed, and self-deception. Everybody needs redemptive assistance from outside—from family, friends, ancestors, rules, traditions, institutions, exemplars, and, for believers, God. We all need people to tell us when we are wrong, to advise us on how to do right, and to encourage, support, arouse, cooperate, and inspire us along the way. ~ David Brooks,

839:Living cells must have food in the form of sugar, they must breathe, and they must grow, at least a little. But without leaves-and therefore without photosynthesis-that's impossible. No being on the planet can maintain a centuries-long fast, not even the remains of a tree, and certainly not a stump that has had to survive on its own. It was clear that something else was happening with this stump. It must be getting assistance from neighboring trees, specifically from their roots. Scientists investigating similar situations have discovered that assistance may either be delivered remotely by fungal networks around the root tips-which facilitate nutrient exchange between trees-or the roots themselves may be interconnected. In the case of the stump I had stumbled upon, I couldn't find out what was going on, because I didn't want to injure the old stump by digging around it, but one thing was clear: the surrounding beeches were pumping sugar to the stump to keep it alive. ~ Peter Wohlleben,

840:The founder of a religion must be able to turn water into wine -- cure with a word the blind and lame, and raise with a simple touch the dead to life. It was necessary for him to demonstrate to the satisfaction of his barbarian disciple, that he was superior to nature. In times of ignorance this was easy to do. The credulity of the savage was almost boundless. To him the marvelous was the beautiful, the mysterious was the sublime. Consequently, every religion has for its foundation a miracle -- that is to say, a violation of nature -- that is to say, a falsehood. No one, in the world's whole history, ever attempted to substantiate a truth by a miracle. Truth scorns the assistance of a miracle. Nothing but falsehood ever attested itself by signs and wonders. No miracle ever was performed, and no sane man ever thought he had performed one, and until one is performed, there can be no evidence of the existence of any power superior to, and independent of, nature. ~ Robert G Ingersoll,

841:The earth was created with the assistance of the sun, and it should be left as it was. [...] The country was made without lines of demarcation, and it is no man's business to divide it. [...] I see the whites all over the country gaining wealth, and see their desire to give us lands which are worthless. [...] The earth and myself are of one mind. The measure of the land and the measure of our bodies are the same. Say to us if you can say it, that you were sent by the Creative Power to talk to us. Perhaps you think the Creator sent you here to dispose of us as you see fit. If I thought you were sent by the Creator I might be induced to think you had a right to dispose of me. Do not misunderstand me, but understand me fully with reference to my affection for the land. I never said the land was mine to do with as I chose. The one who has the right to dispose of it is the one who has created it. I claim a right to live on my land, and accord you the privilege to live on yours. ~ Chief Joseph,

842:Oh, God,” Jenna said. She didn’t have to say any more. Jenna and I had seen that weapon before, when The Eye raided a Prodigium club in London. “It’s The Eye,” I said, disbelievingly. And then, for probably the first time in Prodigium history, a demon, a warlock, and a vampire all beamed at one another as I repeated, “It’s The Eye!” And sure enough, streaming through the woods from the general direction of the Itineris were several dudes in black. “How?” Cal asked. And then one of the guys in black started running toward us. I guess it’s possible that it could’ve been some other kind of lanky Eye with dark curly hair, but I leaped at him anyway. Archer and I collided with enough force to knock the breath out of me, but I didn’t care. I could breathe later. “Thought you could use some assistance,” he said against my temple. “There are only about twenty of us-the only guys I could get to come with me. But still. It’s something, right?” I held him tighter. “Better than something. ~ Rachel Hawkins,

843:The wires in the ampule modulator unit are marked as follows according to international convention: blue = neutral or live; yellow = live or blue; blue and live = neutral and green; black = instant death. (Except where prohibited by law.) Switch the computer on. Your hard drive will automatically download. (Allow three to five days.) When downloading is complete, your screen will say: "Yeah, what?" Now it is time to install your software. Insert Disc A (marked "Disc D" or "Disc G") into Drive Slot B or J, and type: "Hello! Anybody home?" At the DOS command prompt, enter your License Verification Number. Your License Verification Number can be found by entering your Certified User Number, which can be found by entering your License Verification Number. If you are unable to find your License Verification or Certified User numbers, call the Software Support Line for assistance. (Please have your License Verification and Certified User numbers handy as the support o staff cannot otherwise assist you.) ~ Anonymous,

844:Recovery can take place only within then context of relationships; it cannot occur in isolation. In her renewed connection with other people, the survivor re-creates the psychological facilities that were damaged or deformed by the traumatic experience. These faculties include the basic operations of trust, autonomy, initiative, competence, identity, and intimacy. Just as these capabilities are formed in relationships with other people, they must be reformed in such relationships. The first principle of recovery is empowerment of the survivor. She must be the author and arbiter of her own recovery. Others may offer advice, support, assistance, affection, and care, but not cure. Many benevolent and well-intentioned attempts to assist the survivor founder because this basic principle of empowerment is not observed. No intervention that takes power away from the survivor can possibly foster her recovery, no matter how much it appears to be in her immediate best interest. ~ Judith Lewis Herman,

845:There are two Paths to the Innermost: the Way of the Mystic, which is the way of devotion and meditation, a solitary and subjective path; and the way of the occultist, which is the way of the intellect, of concentration, and of trained will; upon this path the co-operation of fellow workers is required, firstly for the exchange of knowledge, and secondly because ritual magic plays an important part in this work, and for this the assistance of several is needed in most of the greater operations. The mystic derives his knowledge through the direct communion of his higher self with the Higher Powers; to him the wisdom of the occultist is foolishness, for his mind does not work in that way; but, on the other hand, to a more intellectual and extrovert type, the method of the mystic is impossible until long training has enabled him to transcend the planes of form. We must therefore recognize these two distinct types among those who seek the Way of Initiation, and remember that there is a path for each. ~ Dion Fortune,

846:have more fully discoursed elsewhere; -but this revelation of the Spirit consists in his effectual operation, freeing our minds from darkness, ignorance, and prejudice, enabling them to discern spiritual things in a due manner. And such a Spirit of revelation is necessary unto them who would believe aright the Scripture, or any thing else that is divine and supernatural contained therein. And if men who, through the power of temptations and prejudices, are in the dark, or at a loss as to the great and fundamental principle of all religion, -- namely, the divine original and authority of the Scripture, -- will absolutely lean unto their own understandings, and have the whole difference determined by the natural powers and faculties of their own souls, without seeking after divine aid and assistance, or earnest prayer for the Spirit of wisdom and revelation to open the eyes of their understandings, they must be content to abide in their uncertainties, or to come off from them without any advantage to their souls. ~ John Owen,

847:And while the temperamentally active child will always be an energetic individual, how that looks can change over time. With guidance from you, your spirited child can learn to channel his energy in positive ways. Instead of jumping on Grandma’s couch, he may be jumping on a diving board. The slow-to-accept-change child may always find shifting from one activity to another a bit disconcerting, but with your assistance and support he can learn to cope with change. With a little forewarning and preparation, initially on your part and ultimately on his, he can learn to: arise in the morning, arrive at the dinner table promptly, and get into and out of the car without a major meltdown. By adapting your parenting techniques to fit his temperament and his style, and teaching him the skills he needs, you help him to live cooperatively with others and to be all that he can be. To deny him his energy, his need for preparation before shifts, or any of his other temperamental traits is telling him “don’t be”—don’t be who you are. ~ Mary Sheedy Kurcinka,

848:Besides,” she said, “there was always a chance I might escape.” He snorted. “And dragons might start eating grass.” “Even so, I had to try.” “I understand. If I could have, I would have done the same when the Twins first brought me here.” “And now?” “I still can’t, and even if I could, what purpose would it serve?” To that, she had no answer. Silence followed, and then she said, “Murtagh, if it’s not possible to free me from here, then I want your promise that you’ll help me escape by…other means. I wouldn’t ask…I wouldn’t place this burden upon you, but your assistance would make the task easier, and I may not have the opportunity to do it myself.” His lips grew thin and hard as she spoke, but he did not interrupt. “Whatever happens, I won’t allow myself to become a plaything for Galbatorix to order about as he will. I’ll do anything, anything at all to avoid that fate. Can you understand that?” His chin dipped in a short nod. “Then do I have your word?” He looked down and clenched his fists, his breathing ragged. “You do. ~ Christopher Paolini,

849:There are two Paths to the Innermost: the Way of the Mystic, which is the way of devotion and meditation, a solitary and subjective path; and the way of the occultist, which is the way of the intellect, of concentration, and of trained will; upon this path the co-operation of fellow workers is required, firstly for the exchange of knowledge, and secondly because ritual magic plays an important part in this work, and for this the assistance of several is needed in most of the greater operations. The mystic derives his knowledge through the direct communion of his higher self with the Higher Powers; to him the wisdom of the occultist is foolishness, for his mind does not work in that way; but, on the other hand, to a more intellectual and extrovert type, the method of the mystic is impossible until long training has enabled him to transcend the planes of form. We must therefore recognize these two distinct types among those who seek the Way of Initiation, and remember that there is a path for each. ~ Dion Fortune, Esoteric Orders and Their Work and The Training and Work of the Initiate,

850:She gazed over at her mother and took a deep breath. Perhaps her mother had never shown Abby affection, not really, but she had given her a knack for solitude, with its terrible lurches outward, and its smooth glide back to peace. Abby would toast her for that. It was really the world that was one’s brutal mother, the one that nursed and neglected you, and your own mother was only your sibling in that world. Abby lifted her glass. “May the worst always be behind you. May the sun daily warm your arms.…” She looked down at her cocktail napkin for assistance, but there was only a cartoon of a big-chested colleen, two shamrocks over her breasts. Abby looked back up. God’s word is quick! “May your car always start—” But perhaps God might also begin with tall, slow words; the belly bloat of a fib; the distended tale. “And may you always have a clean shirt,” she continued, her voice growing gallant, public and loud, “and a holding roof, healthy children and good cabbages—and may you be with me in my heart, Mother, as you are now, in this place; always and forever—like a flaming light. ~ Lorrie Moore,

851:In such cases the natural needs appropriate to the child’s age cannot be integrated, so they are repressed or split off. This person will later live in the past without realizing it and will continue to react to past dangers as if they were present. People who have asked for my assistance because of their depression have usually had to deal with a mother who was extremely insecure and who often suffered from depression herself. The child, most often an only child or the first-born, was seen as the mother’s possession. What the mother had once failed to find in her own mother she was able to find in her child: someone at her disposal who could be used as an echo and could be controlled, who was completely centered on her, would never desert her, and offered her full attention and admiration. If the child’s demands became too great (as those of her own mother once did), she was no longer so defenseless: she could refuse to allow herself to be tyrannized; she could bring the child up in such a way that he neither cried nor disturbed her. At last she could make sure that she received consideration, care, and respect. ~ Alice Miller,

852:Your assistance please, Warren," Elizabeth said, her hand on the sidesaddle pommel. "There are no platforms suitable for a lady to mount here." Warren handed his horse's reins to Edward. Edward crossed his arms and watched as the skinny lad placed his hands around Elizabeth's waist and hoisted her up. Or tried to. Her feet didn't leave the ground. She didn't appear to weigh much, but the lad hadn't grown into his gangly limbs yet. He was all bone and no muscle. Warren tried again, turning bright red with the effort. He managed to lift her off the ground this time, but only an inch. "God's balls!" he exploded as he let her down again. Elizabeth scowled at him. "Apologies, miss, but you're heavy." Elizabeth sighed. "Is there a particular girl you favor by any chance, Warren?" He appealed to Edward for help in answering the question, but Edward was to intrigued to interrupt. "Er, one of the scullery maids up at the Hall smiles at me sometimes. Betty's her name." "Then whatever you do, don't ever tell Betty she's heavy, even if she weighs as much as this horse." Edward bit back a grin. -Elizabeth, Warrren, & Monk ~ C J Archer,

853:On raconte que Til Ulespiègle, ayant été engagé comme peintre à la cour d’un prince, présente à l’assistance une toile vide en déclarant : «Qui n’est pas l’enfant de parents honnêtes, ne verra rien sur cette toile.» Or, aucun des seigneurs rassemblés ne voulut avouer qu’il ne voyait rien : chacun feignit d’admirer la toile vide. Il fut un temps où cette histoire pouvait passer pour une plaisanterie; nul n’osait prévoir qu’elle entrerait un jour dans les mœurs du «monde civilisé». De nos jours, n’importe qui peut nous montrer n’importe quoi au nom de «l’art pour l’art», et si nous protestons au nom de la vérité et de l’intelligence, on nous répond que nous ne comprenons rien, comme si nous avions une lacune mystérieuse nous empêchant de comprendre, non l’art chinois ou aztèque sans doute, mais le gribouillage quelconque d’un Européen qui vit à côté de nous. Selon un abus de langage fort répandu de nos jours, «comprendre» veut dire «accepter»; refuser, c’est ne pas comprendre; comme s’il n’arrivait jamais qu’on refuse une chose précisément parce qu’on la comprend, ou au contraire qu’on l’accepte parce qu’on ne la comprend pas ! ~ Frithjof Schuon,

854:Oui, partout, oui, toujours, oui, pour combattre les violences et les impostures, oui pour réhabiliter les lapidés et les accablés, oui, pour conclure logiquement et marcher droit, oui, pour consoler, pour secourir, pour relever, pour encourager, pour enseigner, oui, pour panser en attendant qu'on guérisse, oui, pour transformer la charité en fraternité, l'aumône en assistance, la fainéantise en travail, l'oisiveté en utilité, la centralisation en famille, l'iniquité en justice, le bourgeois en citoyen, la populace en peuple, la canaille en nation, les nations en humanité, la guerre en amour, le préjugé en examen, les frontières en soudures, les limites en ouvertures, les ornières en rails, les sacristies en temples, l'instinct du mal en volonté du bien, la vie en droit, les rois en hommes, oui, pour ôter des religions l'enfer et des sociétés le bagne, oui, pour être frère du misérable, du serf, du fellah, du prolétaire, du déshérité, de l'exploité, du trahi, du vaincu, du vendu, de l'enchaîné, du sacrifié, de la prostituée, du forçat, de l'ignorant, du sauvage, de l'esclave, du nègre, du condamné et du damné, oui, nous sommes tes fils, Révolution ! ~ Victor Hugo,

855:Oui, partout, oui, toujours, oui, pour combattre les violences et les impostures, oui, pour réhabiliter les lapidés et les accablés, oui, pour conclure logiquement et marcher droit, oui, pour consoler, pour secourir, pour relever, pour encourager, pour enseigner, oui, pour panser en attendant qu'on guérisse, oui, pour transformer la charité en fraternité, l'aumône en assistance, la fainéantise en travail, l'oisiveté en utilité, la centralisation en famille, l'iniquité en justice, le bourgeois en citoyen, la populace en peuple, la canaille en nation, les nations en humanité, la guerre en amour, le préjugé en examen, les frontières en soudures, les limites en ouvertures, les ornières en rails, les sacristies en temples, l'instinct du mal en volonté du bien, la vie en droit, les rois en hommes, oui, pour ôter des religions l'enfer et des sociétés le bagne, oui, pour être frère du misérable, du serf, du fellah, du prolétaire, du déshérité, de l'exploité, du trahi, du vaincu, du vendu, de l'enchaîné, du sacrifié, de la prostituée, du forçat, de l'ignorant, du sauvage, de l'esclave, du nègre, du condamné et du damné, oui, nous sommes tes fils, Révolution ! ~ Victor Hugo,

856:Oui, partout, oui, toujours, oui, pour combattre les violences et les impostures, oui pour réhabiliter les lapidés et les accablés, oui, pour conclure logiquement et marcher droit, oui, pour consoler, pour secourir, pour relever, pour encourager, pour enseigner, oui, pour panser en attendant qu'on guérisse, oui, pour transformer la charité en fraternité, l'aumône en assistance, la fainéantise en travail, l'oisiveté en utilité, la centralisation en famille, l'iniquité en justice, le bourgeois en citoyen, la populace en peuple, la canaille en nation, les nations en humanité, la guerre en amour, le préjugé en examen, les frontières en soudures, les limites en ouvertures, les ornières en rails, les sacristies en temples, l'instinct du mal en volonté du bien, la vie en droit, les rois en hommes, oui, pour ôter des religions l'enfer et des sociétés le bagne, oui, pour être frère du misérable, du serf, du fellah, du prolétaire, du déshérité, de l'ex- ploité, du trahi, du vaincu, du vendu, de l'enchaîné, du sacrifié, de la prostituée, du forçat, de l'ignorant, du sauvage, de l'esclave, du nègre, du condamné et du damné, oui, nous sommes tes fils, Révolution ! ~ Victor Hugo,

857:Oui, partout, oui, toujours, oui, pour combattre les violences et les impostures, oui, pour réhabiliter les lapidés et les accablés, oui, pour conclure logiquement et marcher droit, oui, pour consoler, pour secourir, pour relever, pour encourager, pour enseigner, oui, pour panser en attendant qu'on guérisse, oui, pour transformer la charité en fraternité, l'aumône en assistance, la fainéantise en travail, l'oisiveté en utilité, la centralisation en famille, l'iniquité en justice, le bourgeois en citoyen, la populace en peuple, la canaille en nation, les nations en humanité, la guerre en amour, le préjugé en examen, les frontières en soudures, les limites en ouvertures, les ornières en rails, les sacristies en temples, l'instinct du mal en volonté du bien, la vie en droit, les rois en hommes, oui, pour ôter des religions l'enfer et des sociétés le bagne, oui, pour être frère du misérable, du serf, du fellah, du prolétaire, du déshérité, de l'exploité, du trahi, du vaincu, du vendu, de l'enchaîné, du sacrifié, de la prostituée, du forçat, de l'ignorant, du sauvage, de l'esclave, du nègre, du condamné et du damné, oui, nous sommes tes fils, R��volution ! ~ Victor Hugo,

858:« Oui, partout, oui, toujours, oui, pour combattre les violences et les impostures, oui pour réhabiliter les lapidés et les accablés, oui, pour conclure logiquement et marcher droit, oui, pour consoler, pour secourir, pour relever, pour encourager, pour enseigner, oui, pour panser en attendant qu'on guérisse, oui, pour transformer la charité en fraternité, l'aumône en assistance, la fainéantise en travail, l'oisiveté en utilité, la centralisation en famille, l'iniquité en justice, le bourgeois en citoyen, la populace en peuple, la canaille en nation, les nations en humanité, la guerre en amour, le préjugé en examen, les frontières en soudures, les limites en ouvertures, les ornières en rails, les sacristies en temples, l'instinct du mal en volonté du bien, la vie en droit, les rois en hommes, oui, pour ôter des religions l'enfer et des sociétés le bagne, oui, pour être frère du misérable, du serf, du fellah, du prolétaire, du déshérité, de l'ex- ploité, du trahi, du vaincu, du vendu, de l'enchaîné, du sacrifié, de la prostituée, du forçat, de l'ignorant, du sauvage, de l'esclave, du nègre, du condamné et du damné, oui, nous sommes tes fils, Révolution ! » ~ Victor Hugo,

859:We had reached a “decisive moment” in the conflict, I began. Seventy-five hundred lives had been lost, and the regime was committing crimes against humanity. Most of the world had turned against Assad. The Arab League had expelled Syria and the U.N. General Assembly had rebuked the regime, though Russia and China used their vetoes to protect Assad in the Security Council. The Russians hadn’t yet intervened militarily, though Moscow and Beijing were supplying arms and other assistance to the regime. Syria is Iran’s only ally in the Arab world, and Iran’s proxy, Hezbollah, had deployed fighters to the conflict. There were already Revolutionary Guard officers in Syria, but the full extent of Iran’s involvement was a year away. ISIS hadn’t yet exploited the conflict to establish the center of its caliphate. Had the U.S. and Europe intervened in that first year of the conflict, eliminated Assad’s airpower advantage, and provided the FSA arms and munitions, including antitank weapons, I believe it would have been decisive. The regime would have collapsed and Assad, if he had survived, would likely have fled the country. Hundreds of thousands of lives might have been spared. ~ John McCain,

860:Miss Hathaway,” the countess said to Amelia in a tone of friendly concern, “the earl says Ramsay House has been unoccupied for so long, it must be a shambles.” Mildly startled by the woman’s directness, Amelia shook her head firmly. “Oh no, ‘shambles’ is too strong a word. All the place wants is a good thorough cleaning, and a few small repairs, and…” She paused uncomfortably. Lady Westcliff’s gaze was frank and sympathetic. “That bad, is it?” Amelia hitched her shoulders in a slight shrug. “There’s a great deal of work to be done at Ramsay House,” she admitted. “But I’m not afraid of work.” “If you need assistance or advice, Westcliff has infinite resources at his disposal. He can tell you where to find—” “You are very kind, my lady,” Amelia said hastily, “but there is no need for your involvement in our domestic affairs.” The last thing she wanted was for the Hathaways to appear to be a family of cheapjacks and beggars. “You may not be able to avoid our involvement,” Lady Westcliff said with a grin. “You’re in Westcliff’s sphere now, which means you’ll get advice whether or not you asked for it. And the worst part is, he’s almost always right. ~ Lisa Kleypas,

861:We need the implementation of the Smart Waterways Grid across India to harness 1,500 BCM of floodwater and connect the rivers and catchment areas as a single plane. The grid will receive 1,500 BCM of floodwater and act as a water grid so that water can be released to any deficient place and replenished during flood. It would act as a 15,000 kilometres-long national reservoir. It would be able to provide drinking water to 600 million people, irrigation to 150 million acres of land, and generate 60,000 MW of power. Due to ground water recharge, it would also save 4,000 MW of power. Each state can implement this mission with an outlay of approximately 50,000 crores with annual budgetary support, central government assistance, public-private consortia and with support from the World Bank in a BOOT (Build, Operate, Own and Transfer) based PPP model and this can be realized within 2020. Apart from this, an Integrated Water Resource Management system is also required to revive water bodies and tanks and build farm ponds and checkdams across India as well as increase irrigation infrastructure and groundwater potential, thereby enhancing the safe drinking water resources of the nation. ~ A P J Abdul Kalam,

862:when Catherine the Great told her chancellor that she wanted to ride out in the great Empire of Russia and meet the happy peasants everyone kept telling her lived there, the chancellor—his name was Potemkin—understood immediately that shit-caked, disease-ridden serfs begging from frostbitten lips and extending three-fingered hands to their absolute monarch would not entirely fill her with joy. So he grabbed a couple of hundred minor nobles and dressed them as peasants and paid them off. Then he built a bunch of fake villages and rode Catherine through them, and she was delighted to see that agricultural labour was surprisingly easy and the soil of Russia was amazingly fertile even without much assistance from mankind. She was thrilled at the beauty of her subjects and at their surprisingly educated voices as they sang and tilled the soil. She went back to the palace and eventually died at the age of sixty-seven, still at least notionally unaware that she ruled an impoverished, brutal nation ripening towards a staggering violence. (She died of a stroke. There was, contrary to the prurient slander, no horse penis involved.) In short, I have been building Potemkin villages: faking it. ~ Nick Harkaway,

863:one morning in my early twenties when feeling quite suicidal I got into my locked car and someone had done a reversal the Hawaiian necklace that hung on the rearview mirror had been turned around backwards in an event so queer in that moment I knew I was not alone in my struggles and that all would be okay if I simply forgot my troubles let it be known that you’ve got watchful guardian angels I’ll tell you of yet another way that they make me so grateful their presence and assistance is often noticed as such: a shot of high frequency energy is felt as they touch receiving a ringing in an ear while my mind goes meditative spiritually put back on track with a reminder of my objective because of the prayers I practice this is how I’m aided your experiences may vary out of not caring to be persuaded how often do you call out for help from on high? it’s their pleasure to assist if you’d just ask them to come by I can tell you straight away, they know your thoughts and exactly how you’re feeling when you’re distraught seeing you scanning this sentence as they’re in your presence do you feel their love or have you taken a rigid stance? ~ Jarett Sabirsh,

864:[A man], who is in prosperity, while he sees that others have to contend with great wretchedness and that he could help them, thinks: What concern is it of mine? Let everyone be as happy as Heaven pleases, or as he can make himself; I will take nothing from him nor even envy him, only I do not wish to contribute anything to his welfare or to his assistance in distress! Now no doubt, if such a mode of thinking were a universal law, the human race might very well subsist, and doubtless even better than in a state in which everyone talks of sympathy and good-will, or even takes care occasionally to put it into practice, but, on the other side, also cheats when he can, betrays the rights of men, or otherwise violates them. But although it is possible that a universal law of nature might exist in accordance with that maxim, it is impossible to will that such a principle should have the universal validity of a law of nature. For a will which resolved this would contradict itself, inasmuch as many cases might occur in which one would have need of the love and sympathy of others, and in which, by such a law of nature, sprung from his own will, he would deprive himself of all hope of the aid he desires. ~ Immanuel Kant,

865:Far from resisting the emergence of the new caste system, Clinton escalated the drug war beyond what conservatives had imagined possible a decade earlier. As the Justice Policy Institute has observed, “the Clinton Administration’s ‘tough on crime’ policies resulted in the largest increases in federal and state prison inmates of any president in American history.”99 Clinton eventually moved beyond crime and capitulated to the conservative racial agenda on welfare. This move, like his “get tough” rhetoric and policies, was part of a grand strategy articulated by the “new Democrats” to appeal to the elusive white swing voters. In so doing, Clinton—more than any other president—created the current racial undercaste. He signed the Personal Responsibility and Work Opportunity Reconciliation Act, which “ended welfare as we know it,” replacing Aid to Families with Dependent Children (AFDC) with a block grant to states called Temporary Assistance to Needy Families (TANF). TANF imposed a five-year lifetime limit on welfare assistance, as well as a permanent, lifetime ban on eligibility for welfare and food stamps for anyone convicted of a felony drug offense—including simple possession of marijuana. ~ Michelle Alexander,

866:Here’s my proposed innovation: The agency should create and regulate a market in which states can buy and sell all or part of their protection quota obligations. Both the agency and the selling state must enforce international standards to ensure that the receiving state protects the human rights of those it agrees to accept. Just as cap-and-trade schemes enhance environmental protection, this market would maximize the number of refugees protected by exploiting differences in states’ resources, politics, geography and attitudes toward newcomers. A more ethnically homogeneous or xenophobic state might eagerly pay a high price (in cash, credit, commodities, political support, development assistance or some other valuable) to more refugee-friendly states to assume its burden, rather than having to bring them in-country. Such payments already take place, in a way: The United States and other countries sometimes pay other states to harbor immigrants; Australia just agreed to give Cambodia $32 million to do so. Almost by definition, such a market would produce more protection than the status quo does, while ensuring that each state does its share in one form or another and that human rights are respected. ~ Anonymous,

867:January 6 “Yea, I will help thee.” Isaiah 41:10 YESTERDAY’S promise secured us strength for what we have to do, but this guarantees us aid in cases where we cannot act alone. The Lord says, “I will help thee.” Strength within is supplemented by help without. God can raise us up allies in our warfare if so it seems good in his sight; and even if he does not send us human assistance, he himself will be at our side, and this is better still. “Our August Ally” is better than legions of mortal helpers. His help is timely: he is a very present help in time of trouble. His help is very wise: he knows how to give each man help meet and fit for him. His help is most effectual, though vain is the help of man. His help is more than help, for he bears all the burden, and supplies all the need. “The Lord is my helper, I will not fear what man can do unto me.” Because he has already been our help, we feel confidence in him for the present and the future. Our prayer is, “Lord, be thou my helper;” our experience is, “The Spirit also helpeth our infirmities;” our expectation is, “I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help;” and our song soon will be, “Thou, Lord, hast holpen me. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

868:Liberals including James Tobin, Paul Samuelson, and John Kenneth Galbraith and conservatives like Milton Friedman and Friedrich Hayek have all advocated income guarantees in one form or another, and in 1968 more than 1,200 economists signed a letter in support of the concept addressed to the U.S. Congress.4 The president elected that year, Republican Richard Nixon, tried throughout his first term in office to enact it into law. In a 1969 speech he proposed a Family Assistance Plan that had many features of a basic income program. The plan had support across the ideological spectrum, but it also faced a large and diverse group of opponents.5 Caseworkers and other administrators of existing welfare programs feared that their jobs would be eliminated under the new regime; some labor leaders thought that it would erode support for minimum wage legislation; and many working Americans didn’t like the idea of their tax dollars going to people who could work, but chose not to. By the time of his 1972 reelection campaign, Nixon had abandoned the Family Assistance Plan, and universal income guarantee programs have not been seriously discussed by federal elected officials and policymakers since then.* Avoiding ~ Erik Brynjolfsson,

869:Back in the early 1990s, the FBI started worrying about its ability to conduct telephone surveillance. The FBI could do it with the old analog phone switches: a laborious process involving alligator clips, wires, and a tape recorder. The problem was that digital switches didn’t work that way. Isolating individual connections was harder, and the FBI became concerned about the potential loss of its ability to wiretap. So it lobbied Congress hard and got a law passed in 1994 called the Communications Assistance for Law Enforcement Act, or CALEA, requiring telcos to re-engineer their digital switches to have eavesdropping capabilities built in. Fast-forward 20 years, and the FBI again wants the IT industry to make surveillance easier for itself. A lot of communications no longer happen over the telephone. They’re happening over chat. They’re happening over e-mail. They’re happening over Skype. The FBI is currently lobbying for a legislative upgrade to CALEA, one that covers all communications systems: all voice, video, and text systems, including World of Warcraft and that little chat window attached to your online Scrabble game. The FBI’s ultimate goal is government prohibition of truly secure communications. Valerie ~ Bruce Schneier,

870:Emma laughed, and replied: "But I had the assistance of all your endeavours to counteract the indulgence of other people. I doubt whether my own sense would have corrected me without it." "Do you?—I have no doubt. Nature gave you understanding:—Miss Taylor gave you principles. You must have done well. My interference was quite as likely to do harm as good. It was very natural for you to say, what right has he to lecture me?—and I am afraid very natural for you to feel that it was done in a disagreeable manner. I do not believe I did you any good. The good was all to myself, by making you an object of the tenderest affection to me. I could not think about you so much without doating on you, faults and all; and by dint of fancying so many errors, have been in love with you ever since you were thirteen at least. [...] "How often, when you were a girl, have you said to me, with one of your saucy looks—'Mr. Knightley, I am going to do so-and-so; papa says I may, or I have Miss Taylor's leave'—something which, you knew, I did not approve. In such cases my interference was giving you two bad feelings instead of one." "What an amiable creature I was!—No wonder you should hold my speeches in such affectionate remembrance. ~ Jane Austen,

871:Private sector networks in the United States, networks operated by civilian U.S. government agencies, and unclassified U.S. military and intelligence agency networks increasingly are experiencing cyber intrusions and attacks,” said a U.S.-China Economic and Security Review Commission report to Congress that was published the same month Conficker appeared. “. . . Networks connected to the Internet are vulnerable even if protected with hardware and software firewalls and other security mechanisms. The government, military, businesses and economic institutions, key infrastructure elements, and the population at large of the United States are completely dependent on the Internet. Internet-connected networks operate the national electric grid and distribution systems for fuel. Municipal water treatment and waste treatment facilities are controlled through such systems. Other critical networks include the air traffic control system, the system linking the nation’s financial institutions, and the payment systems for Social Security and other government assistance on which many individuals and the overall economy depend. A successful attack on these Internet-connected networks could paralyze the United States [emphasis added]. ~ Mark Bowden,

872:We are marching in a compact group along a precipitous and difficult path, firmly holding each other by the hand. We are surrounded on all sides by enemies, and we have to advance almost constantly under their fire. We have combined, by a freely adopted decision, for the purpose of fighting the enemy, and not of retreating into the neighbouring marsh, the inhabitants of which, from the very outset, have reproached us with having separated ourselves into an exclusive group and with having chosen the path of struggle instead of the path of conciliation. And now some among us begin to cry out: Let us go into the marsh! And when we begin to shame them, they retort: What backward people you are! Are you not ashamed to deny us the liberty to invite you to take a better road! Oh, yes, gentlemen! You are free not only to invite us, but to go yourselves wherever you will, even into the marsh. In fact, we think that the marsh is your proper place, and we are prepared to render you every assistance to get there. Only let go of our hands, don't clutch at us and don't besmirch the grand word freedom, for we too are "free" to go where we please, free to fight not only against the marsh, but also against those who are turning towards the marsh! ~ Vladimir Lenin,

873:By apeculiar coincidence, the very day when I was giving my address in Washington, Mikhail Suslov was talking with your senators in the Kremlin. And he said, "In fact the significance of our trade is more political than economic. We can get along without your trade." That is a lie. The whole existence of our slaveowners from beginning to end relies on Western economic assistance....The Soviet economy has an extremely low level of efficiency. What is done here by a few people, by a few machines, in our country takes tremendous crowds of workers and enormous amounts of material. Therefore, the Soviet economy cannot deal with every problem at once: war, space (which is part of the war effort), heavy industry, light industry, and at the same time feed and clothe its own population. The forces of the entire Soviet economy are concentrated on war, where you don't help them. But everything lacking, everything needed to fill the gaps, everything necessary to free the people, or for other types of industry, they get from you. So indirectly you are helping their military preparations. You are helping the Soviet police state. ~ Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn,

874:Last year’s Boeing contract in Washington State saw members of the International Association of Machinists vote down a contract that would transfer their pensions to a 401k plan and increase their healthcare costs with minimal raises over eight years. “Because of the massive takeaways,” Local 751 President Thomas Wroblewski told his members, “the union is adamantly recommending members reject this offer.” After the members voted down the contract by 67 percent, Washington State found $8.5 billion in tax breaks for the company and International President Thomas Buffenbarger stepped in to carry this corporate sweetheart deal through the last mile. With Boeing threatening to move the assembly of the new 777X passenger jet to another state, the International demanded a re-vote and the intimidated membership agreed to the same deal they previously rejected. The collusion of a multinational corporation and the state in transferring billions of dollars of wealth from working-class people into the hands of the rich could hardly have been possible in this case without the assistance of the International leadership. Boeing workers got to keep their jobs—but the fight that they may have been prepared to have with their employer was swiftly shut down. ~ Anonymous,

875:The Nephilim (Aldebaran’s extraterrestrials in Maria’s messages) who survived the great deluge returned to Phoenicia; the Bible made reference to their return. They lived with the Phoenicians for 33 years and 33 days in Tyre, Sidon, Byblos, and Baalbeck. The number 33.33 represents the period of the Tana-wir or Tanwir, which means enlightenment. The number 33.33 became the most important and the most secret number in Phoenician occultism, architecture, and numerology, because it refers to their place of origin, Jabal Haramoun (Mt. Hermon in Lebanon) which is located exactly at 33.33° East and 33.33° North.)   The number 33 is equally important in the Masonic rite King Hiram created with the assistance of King Solomon. This number is closely related to the compass and square, which were given to the Phoenicians as a gift from the Anunnaki lords. This explains how and why the early Phoenicians excelled in building ships, navigation and land-seas maps making, and surpassed their neighbors in these fields, beyond belief! Worth mentioning here, that the Egyptian Sphinx was built some 11,000 years ago, before the Biblical Great Flood by the early Phoenicians, the Nephilim and an army of Djinns created by the Anunnaki. ~ Jean Maximillien De La Croix de Lafayette,

876:My hope is that our leaders will capitalize on our country's most admirable qualities. When people in other nations face a challenge or a problem, it would be good for them to look to Washington for assistance or as a sterling example. Our government should be known to be opposed to war, dedicated to the resolution of disputes by peaceful means and whenever possible, eager to accomplish this goal. We should be seen as the unswerving champion of human rights both among our own citizens and within the global community. America should be the focal point around which other nations can rally against threats to the quality of our common environment. We should be willing to lead by example in sharing our great wealth with those in need. Our own society should provide equal opportunity for all citizens and assure that they are provided the basic necessities of life. It would be no sacrifice in exemplifying these traits. Instead, our nation's well being would be enhanced by restoring the trust, admiration and friendship that our nation formerly enjoyed among other peoples. At the same time, all Americans could be united in a common commitment to revive and nourish the political and moral values that we have espoused and sought during the past 240 years. ~ Jimmy Carter,

877:Those who fail to exhibit positive attitudes, no matter the external reality, are seen as maladjusted and in need of assistance. Their attitudes need correction. Once we adopt an upbeat vision of reality, positive things will happen. This belief encourages us to flee from reality when reality does not elicit positive feelings. These specialists in "happiness" have formulated something they call the "Law of Attraction." It argues that we attract those things in life, whether it is money, relationships or employment, which we focus on. Suddenly, abused and battered wives or children, the unemployed, the depressed and mentally ill, the illiterate, the lonely, those grieving for lost loved ones, those crushed by poverty, the terminally ill, those fighting with addictions, those suffering from trauma, those trapped in menial and poorly paid jobs, those whose homes are in foreclosure or who are filing for bankruptcy because they cannot pay their medical bills, are to blame for their negativity. The ideology justifies the cruelty of unfettered capitalism, shifting the blame from the power elite to those they oppress. And many of us have internalized this pernicious message, which in times of difficulty leads to personal despair, passivity and disillusionment. ~ Chris Hedges,

878:As America’s diplomats face budget cuts, China’s coffers are more flush with each passing year. Beijing has poured money into development projects, including a $1.4-trillion slate of infrastructure initiatives around the world that would dwarf the Marshall Plan, adjusted for inflation. Its spending on foreign assistance is still a fraction of the United States’, but the trend line is striking, with funding growing by an average of more than 20 percent annually since 2005. The rising superpower is making sure the world knows it. In one recent year, the US State Department spent $666 million on public diplomacy, aimed at winning hearts and minds abroad. While it’s difficult to know exactly what China spends on equivalent programs, one analysis put the value of its “external propaganda” programs at about $10 billion a year. In international organizations, Beijing looms large behind a retreating Washington, DC. As the US proposes cuts to its UN spending, China has become the second-largest funder of UN peacekeeping missions. It now has more peacekeepers in conflicts around the world than the four other permanent Security Council members combined. The move is pragmatic: Beijing gets more influence, and plum appointments in the United Nations’ governing bodies. ~ Ronan Farrow,

879:Now then, Adam Young,’ said the Metatron, ‘while we can of course appreciate your assistance at this point, we must add that Armageddon should take place now. There may be some temporary inconvenience, but that should hardly stand in the way of the ultimate good.’ ‘Ah,’ whispered Crowley to Aziraphale, ‘what he means is, we have to destroy the world in order to save it.’ ‘Azz to what it standz in the way of, that hazz yet to be decided,’ buzzed Beelzebub. ‘But it muzzt be decided now, boy. That izz thy deztiny. It is written.’ Adam took a deep breath. The human watchers held theirs. Crowley and Aziraphale had forgotten to breathe some time ago. ‘I just don’t see why everyone and everything has to be burned up and everything,’ Adam said. ‘Millions of fish an’ whales an’ trees an’, an’ sheep and stuff. An’ not even for anything important. Jus’ to see who’s got the best gang. It’s like us an’ the Johnsonites. But even if you win, you can’t really beat the other side, because you don’t really want to. I mean, not for good. You’ll just start all over again. You’ll just keep on sending people like these two,’ he pointed to Crowley and Aziraphale, ‘to mess people around. It’s hard enough bein’ people as it is, without other people coming and messin’ you around. ~ Terry Pratchett,

880:In the succeeding thirty-two years of U.S. guidance, not only has Guatemala gradually become a terrorist state rarely matched in the scale of systematic murder of civilians, but its terrorist proclivities have increased markedly at strategic moments of escalated U.S. intervention. The first point was the invasion and counterrevolution of 1954, which reintroduced political murder and large-scale repression to Guatemala following the decade of democracy. The second followed the emergence of a small guerrilla movement in the early 1960s, when the United States began serious counterinsurgency (CI) training of the Guatemalan army. In 1966, a further small guerrilla movement brought the Green Berets and a major CI war in which 10,000 people were killed in pursuit of three or four hundred guerrillas. It was at this point that the "death squads" and "disappearances" made their appearance in Guatemala. The United States brought in police training in the 1970s, which was followed by the further institutionalization of violence. The "solution" to social problems in Guatemala, specifically attributable to the 1954 intervention and the form of U.S. assistance since that time, has been permanent state terror. With Guatemala, the United States invented the "counterinsurgency state. ~ Noam Chomsky,

881:She spun and faced me, one hand on her wounded posterior. Her eyes were wide, her nostrils flared with shock and anger. In my peripheral vision, I saw her weight shift to her back leg, and thought she was going to try for a ball shot with her forward foot. Instead, she stepped back. Her arms slipped to her sides and she drew up her shoulders and chin, the picture of suppressed regal rage. She looked at me. “Mo owari, okyakusama?” she asked, as contemptuously as she could. Are we finished, honorable customer? “Was that against the rules?” I asked, smiling into her eyes. She pulled up the dress and slipped her arms through the straps. Her face was still red with anger, and I couldn’t help admiring her composure in controlling it. She managed the zipper without assistance, then said, “That was three songs, so thirty thousand yen. And you should tip the doorman ten percent. Ken?” Ken must have been the Nigerian, because a second later the semicircular sofa was pulled aside and there he was. I took out my billfold and paid each of them. “Thank you,” I said to Naomi. I beamed like a well-satisfied customer. “That was… special.” She smiled back in a way that made me glad she didn’t have a weapon. “Kochira koso,” she replied. The pleasure was mine. She escorted me back to my seat. ~ Barry Eisler,

882:Native Americans cured Cartier's men of scurvy near Montreal in 1535. They repaired Francis Drake's Golden Hind in California so he could complete his round-the-world voyage in 1579. Lewis and Clark's expedition to the Pacific Northwest was made possible by tribe after tribe of American Indians, with help from two Shoshone guides, Sacagawea and Toby, who served as interpreters. When Admiral Peary discovered the North Pole, the first person there was probably neither the European American Peary nor the African American Matthew Henson, his assistant, but their four Inuit guides, men and women on whom the entire expedition relied. Our histories fail to mention such assistance. They portray proud Western conquerors bestriding the world like the Colossus at Rhodes. So long as our textbooks hide from us the roles that people of color have played in exploration, from at least 6000 BC to to the twentieth century, they encourage us to look to Europe and its extensions as the seat of all knowledge and intelligence. So long as they say "discover," they imply that whites are the only people who really matter. So long as they simply celebrate Columbus, rather than teach both sides of his exploit, they encourage us to identify with white Western exploitation rather than study it. ~ James W Loewen,

883:Perhaps the most remarkable elder-care innovation developed in Japan so far is the Hybrid Assistive Limb (HAL)—a powered exoskeleton suit straight out of science fiction. Developed by Professor Yoshiyuki Sankai of the University of Tsukuba, the HAL suit is the result of twenty years of research and development. Sensors in the suit are able to detect and interpret signals from the brain. When the person wearing the battery-powered suit thinks about standing up or walking, powerful motors instantly spring into action, providing mechanical assistance. A version is also available for the upper body and could assist caretakers in lifting the elderly. Wheelchair-bound seniors have been able to stand up and walk with the help of HAL. Sankai’s company, Cyberdyne, has also designed a more robust version of the exoskeleton for use by workers cleaning up the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear plant in the wake of the 2011 disaster. The company says the suit will almost completely offset the burden of over 130 pounds of tungsten radiation shielding worn by workers.* HAL is the first elder-care robotic device to be certified by Japan’s Ministry of Economy, Trade, and Industry. The suits lease for just under $2,000 per year and are already in use at over three hundred Japanese hospitals and nursing homes.21 ~ Martin Ford,

884:Fine. You won’t tell me why your crew worked me over. You won’t let me see Derek. That’s your prerogative. We’ll do it your way. James Damael Shrapshire, in your capacity as the Pack’s chief security officer, you have permitted Pack members under your command to deliberately injure an employee of the Order. At least three individuals involved in the assault wore the shapeshifter warrior form. Under the Georgia Code, a shapeshifter in a warrior form is equivalent to being armed with a deadly weapon. Therefore, your actions fall under O.C.G.A. Section 16-5-21(c), aggravated assault on a peace officer engaged in the performance of her duties, which is punishable by mandatory imprisonment of no less than five and no more than twenty years. A formal complaint will be filed with the Order within twenty-four hours. I advise you to seek the assistance of counsel.” Jim stared at me. The hardness drained from his eyes, and in their depths I saw astonishment. I held his stare for a long moment. “Don’t call; don’t stop by. You need something done, go through official channels. And the next time you meet me, mind your p’s and q’s, because I’ll fuck you over in a heartbeat the second you step over the line. Now return my sword, because I’m walking out of here, and I dare any of your idiots to try and stop me. ~ Ilona Andrews,

885:In the court of Nero, a person of learning, of unquestioned merit, and of unsuspected loyalty, was put to death for no other reason, than that he had a pedantic countenance which displeased the emperor. This very monster of mankind appeared in the beginning of his reign to be a person of virtue. Many of the greatest tyrants on the records of history have begun their reigns in the fairest manner. But the truth is, this unnatural power corrupts both the heart and the understanding. And to prevent the least hope of amendment, a king is ever surrounded by a crowd of infamous flatterers, who find their account in keeping him from the least light of reason, till all ideas of rectitude and justice are utterly erased from his mind. When Alexander had in his fury inhumanly butchered one of his best friends and bravest captains; on the return of reason he began to conceive an horror suitable to the guilt of such a murder. In this juncture his council came to his assistance. But what did his council? They found him out a philosopher who gave him comfort. And in what manner did this philosopher comfort him for the loss of such a man, and heal his conscience, flagrant with the smart of such a crime? You have the matter at length in Plutarch. He told him, "that let a sovereign do what he wilt, all his actions are just and lawful, because they are his. ~ Edmund Burke,

886:The post-totalitarian system touches people at every step, but it does so with its ideological gloves on. This is why life in the system is so thoroughly permeated with hypocrisy and lies: government by bureaucracy is called popular government; the working class is enslaved in the name of the working class; the complete degradation of the individual is presented as his or her ultimate liberation; depriving people of information is called making it available; the use of power to manipulate is called the public control of power, and the arbitrary abuse of power is called observing the legal code; the repression of culture is called its development; the expansion of imperial influence is presented as support for the oppressed; the lack of free expression becomes the highest form of freedom; farcical elections become the highest form of democracy; banning independent thought becomes the most scientific of world views; military occupation becomes fraternal assistance. Because the regime is captive to its own lies, it must falsify everything. It falsifies the past. It falsifies the present, and it falsifies the future. It falsifies statistics. It pretends not to possess an omnipotent and unprincipled police apparatus. It pretends to respect human rights. It pretends to persecute no one. It pretends to fear nothing. It pretends to pretend nothing. ~ V clav Havel,

887:An Easy World It's an easy world to live in if you choose to make it so; You never need to suffer, save the griefs that all must know; If you'll stay upon the level and will 'do the best you can You will never lack the friendship of a kindly fellow man. Life's an easy road to travel if you'll only walk it straight; There are many here to help you in your little bouts with fate; When the clouds begin to gather and your hopes begin to fade, If you've only toiled in honor you won't have to call for aid. But if you've bartered friendship and the faith on which it rests For a temporary winning; if you've cheated in the tests, If with promises you've broken, you have chilled the hearts of men ; It is vain to look for friendship for it will not come again. Oh, the world is full of kindness, thronged with men who want to be Of some service to their neighbors and they'll run to you or me When we're needing their assistance if we've lived upon the square, But they'll spurn us in our trouble if we've always been unfair. It's an easy world to live in; all you really need to do Is the decent thing and proper and then friends will flock to you; But let dishonor trail you and some stormy day you'll find To your heart's supremest sorrow that you've made the world unkind. ~ Edgar Albert Guest,

888:Neglected I DON'T get much attention now, Although I'm not complaining; I'm forced to get on anyhow, Another king is reigning. She doesn't run to wait on me, However rushed I may be, Whene'er I need assistance, she Is busy with the baby. Time was my shirts were all laid out And all my duds were handy; And those were days, without a doubt, When things were fine and dandy; But now the time she gave to me She's giving to another, It keeps her busy just to be A fond and doting mother. Oh, I cut quite a figure then, To something I amounted; I stood above all other men, With her, I, only, counted. Then, often I was petted, too, And cheered when things went badly; But now another's come to woo And I'm neglected sadly. And now I come and go each day, Just merely tolerated; And often I am in the way, As she has plainly stated. My wants I'm forced to fill myself, However hard it may be; Oh, I've been put upon the shelf, And put there by a baby. And yet upon that shelf I'd stay, And all complainings smother; The lad who took my wife away 499 Has given me his mother. And every night I kneel and pray That never will the day be That I shall fail to hear her say: 'I'm busy with the baby!' ~ Edgar Albert Guest,

889:We have the money. We've just made choices about how to spend it. Over the years, lawmakers on both sides of the aisle have restricted housing aid to the poor but expanded it to the affluent in the form of tax benefits for homeowners. Today, housing-related tax expenditures far outpace those for housing assistance. In 2008, the year Arleen was evicted from Thirteenth Street, federal expenditures for direct housing assistance totaled less than $40.2 billion, but homeowner tax benefits exceeded $171 billion. That number, $171 billion, was equivalent to the 2008 budgets for the Department of Education, the Department of Veterans Affairs, the Department of Homeland Security, the Department of Justice, and the Department of Agriculture combined. Each year, we spend three times what a universal housing voucher program is estimated to cost (in total) on homeowner benefits, like the mortgage-interest deduction and the capital-gains exclusion. Most federal housing subsidies benefit families with six-figure incomes. If we are going to spend the bulk of our public dollars on the affluent - at least when it comes to housing - we should own up to that decision and stop repeating the politicians' canard about one of the richest countries on the planet being unable to afford doing more. If poverty persists in America, it is not for lack of resources. ~ Matthew Desmond,

890:We have the money. We’ve just made choices about how to spend it. Over the years, lawmakers on both sides of the aisle have restricted housing aid to the poor but expanded it to the affluent in the form of tax benefits for homeowners. 57 Today, housing-related tax expenditures far outpace those for housing assistance. In 2008, the year Arleen was evicted from Thirteenth Street, federal expenditures for direct housing assistance totaled less than $40.2 billion, but homeowner tax benefits exceeded $171 billion. That number, $171 billion, was equivalent to the 2008 budgets for the Department of Education, the Department of Veterans Affairs, the Department of Homeland Security, the Department of Justice, and the Department of Agriculture combined. 58 Each year, we spend three times what a universal housing voucher program is estimated to cost (in total ) on homeowner benefits, like the mortgage-interest deduction and the capital-gains exclusion. Most federal housing subsidies benefit families with six-figure incomes. 59 If we are going to spend the bulk of our public dollars on the affluent—at least when it comes to housing—we should own up to that decision and stop repeating the politicians’ canard about one of the richest countries on the planet being unable to afford doing more. If poverty persists in America, it is not for lack of resources. ~ Matthew Desmond,

891:You should probably go now.” He lifted his head and saw Brie standing in the open patio doors, wearing the same clothes she had worn home from the hospital. “Brie,” he said, rising. “I’ve talked to the detectives several times. Jerome Powell, the rapist, was tracked as far as New Mexico, then the trail was lost,” she said, very businesslike. “I can tell you from experience, the odds are at least ninety-five percent he’s gone—pulled a territorial. I’m going to start counseling and group therapy right away—and I’ve decided not to go back to work for a while. Jack and Mel insist on staying the rest of the week, but you should go. Visit your family.” “Would you like to come and sit with me?” he asked. She shook her head. “I’ll talk to the D.A. every day, see if he turns up anything new. Of course I’m staying here. If I need any assistance in the police department, I have an ex-husband who’s feeling very guilty. And very helpful.” She took a breath. “I wanted to say goodbye. And to thank you for trying to help.” “Brie,” he said, taking a step toward her, his arms open. She held up a hand, and the look that came into her eyes stopped him where he was. She shook her head, kept her hand raised against him. “You understand,” she said, warning him not to get too close, not to touch her. “Of course,” he said. “Drive carefully,” she said, disappearing into the house. ~ Robyn Carr,

892:Wednesday evening arrived, eight o'clock came, and eight members of the committee were punctual in their attendance. Mr Loggins, the solicitor, of Boswell-court, sent an excuse, and Mr Samuel Briggs, the ditto of Furnival's Inn, sent his brother, much to his (the brother's) satisfaction, and greatly to the discomfiture of Mr Percy Noakes. Between the Briggses and the Tauntons there existed a degree of implacable hatred, quite unprecedented. The animosity between the Montagues and Capulets was nothing to that which prevailed between these two illustrious houses. Mrs Briggs was a widow, with three daughters and two sons; Mr Samuel, the eldest, was an attorney, and Mr Alexander, the youngest, was under articles to his brother. They resided in Portland-street, Oxford-street, and moved in the same orbit as the Tauntons - hence their mutual dislike. If the Miss Briggs appeared in smart bonnets, the Miss Tauntons eclipsed them with smarter. If Mrs Taunton appeared in a cap of all the hues of the rainbow, Mrs Briggs forthwith mounted a toque, with all the patterns of a kaleidoscope. If Miss Sophia Taunton learnt a new song, two of the Miss Briggses came out with a new duet. The Tauntons had once gained a temporary triumph with the assistance of a harp, but the Briggses brought three guitars into the field, and effectually routed the enemy. There was no end to the rivalry between them. ~ Charles Dickens,

893:Who are you? Where do you fit into poetry and myth? Do you know who I think you are, Ramsay? I think you are Fifth Business. You don't know what that is? Well, in opera in a permanent company of the kind we keep up in Europe you must have a prima donna -- always a soprano, always the heroine, often a fool; and a tenor who always plays the lover to her; and then you must have a contralto, who is a rival to the soprano, or a sorceress or something; and a basso, who is the villain or the rival or whatever threatens the tenor. "So far, so good. But you cannot make a plot work without another man, and he is usually a baritone, and he is called in the profession Fifth Business, because he is the odd man out, the person who has no opposite of the other sex. And you must have Fifth Business because he is the one who knows the secret of the hero's birth, or comes to the assistance of the heroine when she thinks all is lost, or keeps the hermitess in her cell, or may even be the cause of somebody's death if that is part of the plot. The prima donna and the tenor, the contralto and the basso, get all the best music and do all the spectacular things, but you cannot manage the plot without Fifth Business! It is not spectacular, but it is a good line of work, I can tell you, and those who play it sometimes have a career that outlasts the golden voices. Are you Fifth Business? You had better find out. ~ Robertson Davies,

894:The Free Trader's Lament Oft from a trading-boat I purchased spice And shells and corals, brought for my inspection From the fair tropics-paid a Christian price And was content in my fool's paradise, Where never had been heard the word 'Protection.' 'T was my sole island; there I dwelt alone No customs-house, collector nor collection, But a man came, who, in a pious tone Condoled with me that I had never known The manifest advantage of Protection. So, when the trading-boat arrived one day, He threw a stink-pot into its mid-section. The traders paddled for their lives away, Nor came again into that haunted bay, The blessed home thereafter of Protection. Then down he sat, that philanthropic man, And spat upon some mud of his selection, And worked it, with his knuckles in a pan, To shapes of shells and coral things, and span A thread of song in glory of Protection. He baked them in the sun. His air devout Enchanted me. I made a genuflexion: 'God help you, gentle sir,' I said. 'No doubt,' He answered gravely, 'I'll get on without Assistance now that we have got Protection.' Thenceforth I bought his wares-at what a price For shells and corals of such imperfection! 'Ah, now,' said he, 'your lot is truly nice.' But still in all that isle there was no spice To season to my taste that dish, Protection. ~ Ambrose Bierce,

895:When the Peace is established, this higher or Divine Force from above can descend and work in us. It descends usually first into the head and liberates the inner mind mind centres, then into the heart centre and liberates fully the psychic and emotional being, then into the navel and other vital centres and liberates the inner vital, then into the Muladhara and below and liberates the inner vital, then into the navel and other vital centres and liberates the inner physical being. It works at the same time for perfection as well as liberation; it takes up the whole nature part by part and deals with it, rejecting what has to be rejected, sublimating what has to be sublimated, creating what has to be created. It integrates, harmonises, establishes a new rhythm in the nature. It can bring down too a higher and yet higher force and range of the higher nature until, if that be the aim of the sadhana, it becomes possible to bring down the supramental force and existence. All this is prepared, assistance, farthered by the work of the psychic being in the heart centre; the more it is open, in front, active, the quicker, safer, easier the working of the Force can be. The more love and bhakti and surrender grow in the heart, the more rapid and perfect becomes the evolution of the sadhana. For the descent and transformation imply at the same time an increasing contact and union with the Divine. ~ Sri Aurobindo, The Mother With Letters On The Mother,

896:Consulates monitor American welfare programs and make sure Mexicans make the most of them. Some programs are closed to illegal immigrants but food stamps (the program is known since 2008 as Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program or SNAP) are not. Many illegal immigrants hesitate to apply for them for fear their status will be discovered and they will be deported. Mexican Consul Luis Miguel Ortiz Haro of Santa Ana in Orange County, California, went on Spanish-language television to tell Mexicans it was safe to apply. “It won’t affect your immigration status,” he explained. More than 1,200 people applied for food stamps the next day. Consulates also have a program called Ventanillas de Salud (Health Windows), which publicizes American hospitals and clinics that treat illegal immigrants for free. In 2007, the consul in Los Angeles proudly noted that 300,000 Mexicans in the area had benefited from the consulate’s medical advice. Cost to taxpayers for medical treatment for illegal immigrants in Los Angeles Country runs to about $400 million a year. In 2005, as it does every year, the consulate in Los Angeles gave the school district nearly 100,000 textbooks. The history books are the ones used in Mexico. They refer to the American flag as “the enemy flag” and say “we love our country because it is ours.” In Salinas, California, the consul general for the area organized a “Mexican Flag Day” to promote Mexican patriotism at an American public school. ~ Jared Taylor,

897:That was so-Gryffin always has so much pain. That you can take it away like that - it's almost like magic." Chase shrugged in the dark. "Kindness is a form of magic," he said. "So everyone should be capable of at least a little. Good night. See you in the morning." And he nodded to me and strode off. Kindness is a form of magic. Then magic had sprinkled itself across me many times, when I had not noticed its fey sparkle. I had been used to thinking of my life as bleak and full of darkness, but for the first time it occurred to me how often a stranger had stepped forward to offer me comfort and assistance, no matter how briefly. Ian Shelby. Sarah Parmer. Aylre the Safe-Keeper. The man who had stopped Carlon from beating me in the streets. Chase Beerin. They had been kind to me; most had, in different ways, been kind to Gryffin as well. Looked at that way, my life was a weave of brightness laid over a trembling black, a scrap of midnight velvet spangled with many jewels. I had another thought as I stood there, trying desperately to understand a completely altered view of my existence. Someday I might be the one to offer kindness to someone else in grim and dire circumstances. Someday I might be the one with wealth or knowledge or strength or power that could be used to alleviate another person's distress. Such a thought had literally never crossed my mind before. More than once I had been saved. Someday I might save someone else in return. ~ Sharon Shinn,

898:And what is it you desire of us in exchange for your assistance, King Halfpaw?” She glanced at Eragon and smiled, then added, “We can offer you as much cream as you want, but beyond that, our resources are limited. If your warriors expect to be paid for their troubles, I fear they will be sorely disappointed.” “Cream is for kittens, and gold holds no interest for us,” said Grimrr. As he spoke, he lifted his right hand and inspected his nails with a heavy-lidded gaze. “Our terms are thus: Each of us will be given a dagger to fight with, if we do not already have one. Each of us shall have two suits of armor made to fit, one for when on two legs we stand, and one for when on four. We need no other equipment than that--no tents, no blankets, no plates, no spoons. Each of us will be promised a single duck, grouse, chicken, or similar bird per day, and every second day, a bowl of freshly chopped liver. Even if we do not choose to eat it, the food will be set aside for us. Also, should you win this war, then whoever becomes your next king or queen--and all who claim that title thereafter--will keep a padded cushion next to their throne, in a place of honor, for one of us to sit on, if we so wish.” “You bargain like a dwarven lawgiver,” said Nasuada in a dry tone. She leaned over to Jörmundur, and Eragon heard her whisper, “Do we have enough liver to feed them all?” “I think so,” Jörmundur replied in an equally hushed voice. “But it depends on the size of the bowl. ~ Christopher Paolini,

899:She heard footsteps thumping from the crew quarters and Jacin appeared in the cargo bay, eyes wide. “What happened? Why is the ship screaming?” “Nothing. Everything’s fine,” Cinder stammered. “No, everything is not fine,” said Iko. “How can they be invited? I’ve never seen a bigger injustice in all my programmed life, and believe me, I have seen some big injustices.” Jacin raised an eyebrow at Cinder. “We just learned that my former guardian received an invitation to the wedding.” She opened the tab beside her stepmother’s name, thinking maybe it was a mistake. But of course not. Linh Adri had been awarded 80,000 univs and an official invitation to the royal wedding as an act of gratitude for her assistance in the ongoing manhunt for her adopted and estranged daughter, Linh Cinder. “Because she sold me out,” she said, sneering. “Figures.” “See? Injustice. Here we are, risking our lives to rescue Kai and this whole planet, and Adri and Pearl get to go to the royal wedding. I’m disgusted. I hope they spill soy sauce on their fancy dresses.” Jacin’s concern turned fast to annoyance. “Your ship has some messed-up priorities, you know that?” “Iko. My name is Iko. If you don’t stop calling me the ‘ship,’ I am going to make sure you never have hot water during your showers again, do you understand me?” “Yeah, hold that thought while I go disable the speaker system.” “What? You can’t mute me. Cinder! ~ Marissa Meyer,

900:A phenomenon familiar to both students of science and historians of science provides a clue. The former regularly report that they have read through a chapter of their text, understood it perfectly, but nonetheless had difficulty solving a number of the problems at the chapter's end. Ordinarily, also, those difficulties dissolve int he same way. The student discovers, with or without the assistance of his instructor, a way to see his problem as like a problem he has already encountered. Having seen the resemblance, grasped the analogy between two or more distinct problems, he can interrelate symbols and attach them to nature in the ways that have proved effective before. The law-sketch, say f = ma, has functioned as a tool, informing the student what similarities to look for, signaling the gestalt in which the situation is to be seen. The resultant ability to see a variety of situations as like each other, as subjects for f = ma or some other symbolic generalization, is, I think, the main thing a student acquires by doing exemplary problems, whether with a pencil and paper in a well-designed laboratory. After he has completed a certain number, which may vary widely from one individual to the next, he views the situations that confront him as a scientist in the same gestalt as other members of his specialists' group. For him they are no longer the same situations he had encountered when his training began. He has meanwhile assimilated a time-tested and group-licensed way of seeing. ~ Thomas S Kuhn,

901:I had started on the marriage and motherhood beat by accident with a post on my personal, read only by friends, blog called ‘Fifty Shades of Men’. I had written it after buying Fifty Shades of Grey to spice up what Dave and I half-jokingly called our grown up time, and had written a meditation on how the sex wasn’t the sexiest part of the book. “Dear publishers, I will tell you why every woman with a ring on her finger and a car seat in her SUV is devouring this book like the candy she won’t let herself eat.” I had written. “It’s not the fantasy of an impossibly handsome guy who can give you an orgasm just by stroking your nipples. It is instead the fantasy of a guy who can give you everything. Hapless, clueless, barely able to remain upright without assistance, Ana Steele is that unlikeliest of creatures, a college student who doesn’t have an email address, a computer, or a clue. Turns out she doesn’t need any of those things. Here is the dominant Christian Grey and he’ll give her that computer plus an iPad, a beamer, a job, and an identity, sexual and otherwise. No more worrying about what to wear. Christian buys her clothes. No more stress about how to be in the bedroom. Christian makes those decisions. For women who do too much—which includes, dear publishers, pretty much all the women who have enough disposable income to buy your books—this is the ultimate fantasy: not a man who will make you come, but a man who will make agency unnecessary, a man who will choose your adventure for you. ~ Jennifer Weiner,

902:When Jack turned from Mel, Rick took one look at the storm gathering on Jack’s face, the way he clenched his fists open and closed, and stepped out of his way. Jack walked over to Lassiter and stuck out a hand to assist him in standing. “Good thing you stopped him,” Lassiter said, putting out his hand for assistance. “I’d have had his ass.” Jack pulled him to his feet with a snarl, and once he was upright, threw a punch into his face that blew him across the street four feet. He walked the few feet and stood over Lassiter, looking down at him. “Now you gonna have mine?” he asked. Lassiter looked up at him, blood immediately spurting from his nose. “What the hell...?” He got clumsily to his feet and faced off with Jack, his fists up as a boxer would do. He shuffled his feet a little, dancing, ready to land a blow with a closed fist. Jack actually laughed, completely loose, relaxed. “You’re kidding me, right?” he said. He wiggled his fingers. “Come on.” Lassiter came at him, then retreated suddenly, whirled in a crouch and came up with a high kick aimed at Jack’s head. But Jack stopped the assault of Lassiter’s foot with a fast hand that grabbed his ankle. Jack yanked hard and Lassiter landed on his back, his ankle still in Jack’s grip. “What you going to do, buddy? Kick me?” “Let go!” Jack dropped the leg and reached down to pull him to his feet by the front of his expensive shirt. He threw a punch into his gut, doubling Lassiter over. Then another one to his face, reeling him backward onto the ground. At ~ Robyn Carr,

903:Well before she became famous — or infamous, depending on where you cast your vote — Loftus's findings on memory distortion were clearly commodifiable. In the 1970s and 1980s she provided assistance to defense attorneys eager to prove to juries that eyewitness accounts are not the same as camcorders. "I've helped a lot of people," she says. Some of those people: the Hillside Strangler, the Menendez brothers, Oliver North, Ted Bundy. "Ted Bundy?" I ask, when she tells this to me. Loftus laughs. "This was before we knew he was Bundy. He hadn't been accused of murder yet." "How can you be so confident the people you're representing are really innocent?" I ask. She doesn't directly answer. She says, "In court, I go by the evidence.... Outside of court, I'm human and entitled to my human feelings. "What, I wonder are her human feelings about the letter from a child-abuse survivor who wrote, "Let me tell you what false memory syndrome does to people like me, as if you care. It makes us into liars. False memory syndrome is so much more chic than child abuse.... But there are children who tonight while you sleep are being raped, and beaten. These children may never tell because 'no one will believe them.'" "Plenty of "Plenty of people will believe them," says Loftus. Pshaw! She has a raucous laugh and a voice with a bit of wheedle in it. She is strange, I think, a little loose inside. She veers between the professional and the personal with an alarming alacrity," she could easily have been talking about herself. ~ Lauren Slater,

904:Future visitors from outer space, who mount archaeological digs of our planet, will surely find ways to distinguish designed machines such as planes and microphones, from evolved machines such as bat wings and ears. It is an interesting exercise to think about how they will make the distinction. They may face some tricky judgements in the messy overlap between natural evolution and human design. If the alien scientists can study living specimens, not just archaeological relics, what will they make of fragile, highly strung racehorses and greyhounds, or snuffling bulldogs who can scarcely breathe and can't be born without Caesarian assistance, of blear-eyed Pekinese baby surrogates, of walking udders such as Friesian cows, walking rashers such as Landrace pigs, or walking woolly jumpers such as Merino sheep? Molecular machines - nanotechnology - crafted for human benefit on the same scale as the bacterial flagellar motor, may pose the alien scientists even harder problems... Given that the illusion of design conjured by Darwinian natural selection is so breathtakingly powerful, how do we, in practice, distinguish its products from deliberately designed artefacts?... [Graham] Cairns-Smith was writing in a different context, but his point works here too. An arch is irreducible in the sense that if you remove part of it, the whole collapses. Yet it is possible to build it gradually by means of scaffolding[, which after] the subsequent removal of the scaffolding... no longer appears in the visible picture... ~ Richard Dawkins,

905:In January 2004 President George W. Bush put NASA in high gear, heading back to the moon with a space vision that was to have set in motion future exploration of Mars and other destinations. The Bush space policy focused on U.S. astronauts first returning to the moon as early as 2015 and no later than 2020. Portraying the moon as home to abundant resources, President Bush did underscore the availability of raw materials that might be harvested and processed into rocket fuel or breathable air. “We can use our time on the moon to develop and test new approaches and technologies and systems that will allow us to function in other, more challenging, environments. The moon is a logical step toward further progress and achievement,” he remarked in rolling out his space policy. To fulfill the Bush space agenda required expensive new rockets—the Ares I launcher and the large, unfunded Ares V booster—plus a new lunar module, all elements of the so-called Constellation Program. The Bush plan forced retirement of the space shuttle in 2010 to pay for the return to the moon, but there were other ramifications as well. Putting the shuttle out to pasture created a large human spaceflight gap in reaching the International Space Station. The price tag for building the station is roughly $100 billion, and without the space shuttle, there’s no way to reach it without Russian assistance. In the end, the stars of the Constellation Program were out of financial alignment. It was an impossible policy to implement given limited NASA money. ~ Buzz Aldrin,

906:Angels are active and involved in our lives on a regular basis and in amazing ways. They “work” directly for God as messengers, protectors, rescuers, and interceders. There are many types of angels, though none have ever lived on earth the way our guides have (more on them later). They’re Spirit, not physical beings, so they don’t have bodies like we do. I’m told they can take on the appearance of animals or people. There’s an order, or ranking, to the population of angels that include archangels, guardian angels, cherubim, seraphim, basic angels, and others (that’s not the ranking, that’s just a list of angels). I know there are high-ranking angels, or archangels, who have various jobs and missions, and they are above other angels that inspire and intercede for us as well. Pat has regular experiences with Archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael. Michael, for example, is a protector and adept at performing acts of justice and power. She calls on him for assistance when she has difficult clients or people with something very dark attached to them, like when she worked with a young woman who played with a Ouija board. Pat also tells clients who are fearful to call on Michael when they’re nervous or anxious about something. Gabriel is connected to kindness. Raphael is in charge of healing, so Pat calls on him for her clients since she’s a healer. Spirit tells me that angels are powerful and seriously busy. They offer protection, guidance, deliver messages, encourage us, strengthen us, and help to answer our prayers. ~ Theresa Caputo,

907:Golf Luck As a golfer I'm not one who cops the money; I shall always be a member of the dubs; There are times my style is positively funny; I am awkward in my handling of the clubs. I am not a skillful golfer, nor a plucky, But this about myself I proudly sayWhen I win a hole by freaky stroke or lucky, I never claim I played the shot that way. There are times, despite my blundering behavior, When fortune seems to follow at my heels; Now and then I play supremely in her favor, And she lets me pull the rankest sort of steals; She'll give to me the friendliest assistance, I'll jump a ditch at times when I should not, I'll top the ball and get a lot of distanceBut I don't claim that's how I played the shot. I've hooked a ball when just that hook I needed, And wondered how I ever turned the trick; I've thanked my luck for what a friendly tree did, Although my fortune made my rival sick; Sometimes my shots turn out just as I planned 'em, The sort of shots I usually play, But when up to the cup I chance to land 'em, I never claim I played 'em just that way. There's little in my game that will commend me; I'm not a shark who shoots the course in par; I need good fortune often to befriend me; I have my faults and know just what they are. I play golf in a desperate do-or-die way, And into traps and trouble oft I stray, But when by chance the breaks are coming my way, I do not claim I played the shots that way. ~ Edgar Albert Guest,

908:The Earth was created by the assistance of the sun, and it should be left as it was. The country was made with no lines of demarcation, and it's no man's business to divide it. I see the whites all over the country gaining wealth, and I see the desire to give us lands which are worthless. The Earth and myself are of one mind. Perhaps you think the Creator sent you here to dispose of us as you see fit. If I thought you were sent by the creator, I might he induced to think you had a right to dispose of me. Do not misunderstand me; but understand me fully with reference to my affection for the land. I never said the land was mine to do with as I choose. The one who has a right to dispose of it is the one who created it. I claim a right to live on my land, and accord you the privilege to return to yours. Brother, we have listened to your talk coming from our father, the Great White Chief in Washington, and my people have called upon me to reply to you. The winds which pass through these aged pines we hear the moaning of departed ghosts, and if the voice of our people could have been heard, that act would never have been done. But alas though they stood around they could neither be seen nor heard. Their tears fell like drops of rain. I hear my voice in the depths of the forest but no answering voice comes back to me. All is silent around me. My words must therefore be few. I can now say no more. He is silent for he has nothing to answer when the sun goes down. ~ Chief Joseph,

909:Golf Pride As a golfer I'm not one who cops the money, I shall always be a member of the dubs; There are times my style is positively funny, I am awkward in my handling of the clubs; I am not a skillful golfer, nor a plucky, But this about myself I proudly say When I win a hole by freaky stroke or lucky, I never claim I played the shot that way. There are times, despite my blundering behavior, When fortune seems to follow at my heels; Now and then I toil supremely in her favor, She lets me pull the rankest sort of steals; She'll give to me the friendliest assistance, I'll jump a ditch at times when I should not, I'll top the ball and get a lot of distance But I don't claim that's how I played the shot. I've hooked a ball when just that hook I needed, And wondered how I ever turned the trick; I've thanked my luck for what a friendly tree did, Although my fortune made my rival sick; Sometimes my shots are just as I had planned 'em, The sort of shots which usually I play, But when up to the cup I chance to land 'em, I never claim I played 'em just that way. There's little in my game that will commend me, I'm not a shark who shoots the course in par; I need good fortune often to befriend me, I have my faults and know just what they are; I play golf in a desperate do -or- die way, And into traps and trouble oft I stray; But when by chance the breaks are coming my way, I do not claim I played the shots that way. ~ Edgar Albert Guest,

910:For if single women are looking for government to create a "hubby state" for them, what is certainly true is that their male counterparts have a long enjoy the fruits of a related "wifey state," in which the nation and its government supported male independence in a variety of ways. Men, and especially married wealthy white men, have a long relied on government assistance. It's a government that has historically supported white men's home and business ownership through grants, loans, incentives, and tax breaks. It has allowed them to accrue wealth and offer them shortcuts and bonuses for passing it down to their children. Government established white men's right to vote and thus exert control over the government at the nation's founding and has protected their enfranchisement. It has also bolstered the economic and professional prospects of men by depressing the economic prospects of women: by failing to offer women equivalent economic and civic protections, thus helping to create conditions whereby women were forced to be dependent on those men, creating a gendered class of laborers who took low paying or unpaid jobs doing the domestic and childcare work that further enabled men to dominate public spheres. But the growth of a massive population of women who are living outside those dependent circumstances puts new pressures on the government: to remake conditions in a way that will be more hospitable to female independence, to a citizenry now made up of plenty of women living economically, professionally, sexually, and socially liberated lives. ~ Rebecca Traister,

911:If you’re asking the schools to be the answer, you’re also asking a lot. If you take a kid from a bad background and expect the overburdened teachers to turn him around in seven hours a day, it might or might not happen. What about the other seventeen hours in a day? People often ask us if, through our research and experience, we can now predict which children are likely to become dangerous in later life. Roy Hazelwood’s answer is, “Sure. But so can any good elementary school teacher.” And if we can get them treatment early enough and intensively enough, it might make a difference. A significant role-model adult during the formative years can make a world of difference. Bill Tafoya, the special agent who served as our “futurist” at Quantico, advocated a minimum of a ten-year commitment of money and resources on the magnitude of what we sent into the Persian Gulf. He calls for a wide-scale reinstatement of Project Head Start, one of the most effective long-term, anticrime programs in history. He doesn’t think more police are the answer, but he would bring in “an army of social workers” to provide assistance for battered women, homeless families with children, to find good foster homes. And he would back it all up with tax incentive programs. I’m not sure this is the total answer, but it would certainly be an important start. Because the sad fact is, the shrinks can battle all they want, and my people and I can use psychology and behavioral science to help catch the criminals, but by the time we get to use our stuff, the severe damage has already been done. ~ John Edward Douglas,

912:Hispanic households are more likely than blacks to use “means-tested” programs, or what we consider welfare. In 2005, fully half of all Hispanic families used welfare programs as opposed to 47 percent for black, and 18 percent for whites. Welfare use rises from the second to the third generation of Mexican immigrants. The Center for Immigration Studies found that every household of illegal immigrants consumed an estimated $2,700 more in federal government services in 2002 than it paid in federal taxes, adding about $10.4 billion to the deficit. The largest federal costs were Medicaid ($2.5 billion), medical treatment for the uninsured ($2.2 billion), food assistance ($1.9 billion), prisons ($1.6 billion), and school aid ($1.4 billion). These figures do not include state and local spending. Non-citizens are ineligible for many forms of welfare. The study therefore concluded that if illegal immigrants were legalized, their increased welfare use would nearly triple the net federal outflow per family from $2,700 a year to $7,700 a year. Some defenders of immigration claim it will save social security. It will not. Immigrants grow old, just like everyone else, and many bring their aged parents from their home country. They would contribute to the health of social security only if their earnings were well above the native average, which they are not. A study by the Center for Immigration Studies concludes that there is likely to be a Social Security payments crunch, but immigration will not be the solution: “Americans will simply have to look elsewhere to deal with this problem. ~ Jared Taylor,

913:... Every one knew how laborious the usual method is of attaining to arts and sciences; whereas, by his contrivance, the most ignorant person, at a reasonable charge, and with a little bodily labour, might write books in philosophy, poetry, politics, laws, mathematics, and theology, without the least assistance from genius or study." He then led me to the frame, about the sides, whereof all his pupils stood in ranks. It was twenty feet square, placed in the middle of the room. The superfices was composed of several bits of wood, about the bigness of a die, but some larger than others. They were all linked together by slender wires. These bits of wood were covered, on every square, with paper pasted on them; and on these papers were written all the words of their language, in their several moods, tenses, and declensions; but without any order. The professor then desired me "to observe; for he was going to set his engine at work." The pupils, at his command, took each of them hold of an iron handle, whereof there were forty fixed round the edges of the frame; and giving them a sudden turn, the whole disposition of the words was entirely changed. He then commanded six-and-thirty of the lads, to read the several lines softly, as they appeared upon the frame; and where they found three or four words together that might make part of a sentence, they dictated to the four remaining boys, who were scribes. This work was repeated three or four times, and at every turn, the engine was so contrived, that the words shifted into new places, as the square bits of wood moved upside down. ~ Jonathan Swift, Gullivers Travels,

914:How remarkable,” Amelia said casually. “There’s still something left of you.” Plucking a handkerchief from her sleeve, she strode forward and tenderly wiped sweat and a smear of blood from his cheeks. Noticing his unfocused gaze, she said, “I’m the one in the middle, dear.” “Ah. There you are.” Leo’s head bobbed up and down like a string puppet’s. He glanced at Merripen, who was providing far more support than Leo’s own legs were. “My sister,” he said. “Terrifying girl.” “Before Merripen puts you in the carriage,” Amelia said, “are you going to cast up your accounts, Leo?” “Certainly not,” came the unhesitating reply. “Hathaways always hold their liquor.” Amelia stroked aside the dirty brown locks that dangled like strands of yarn over his eyes. “It would be nice if you would try to hold a bit less of it in the future, dear.” “Ah, but sis…” As Leo looked down at her, she saw a flash of his old self, a spark in the vacant eyes, and then it was gone. “I have such a powerful thirst.” Amelia felt the smart of tears at the corners of her eyes, tasted salt at the back of her throat. Swallowing it back, she said in a steady voice, “For the next few days, Leo, your thirst will be slaked exclusively by water or tea. Into the carriage with him, Merripen.” Leo twisted to glance at the man who held him steady. “For God’s sake, you’re not going to put me in her custody, are you?” “Would you rather dry out in the care of a Bow Street gaolkeeper?” Merripen asked politely. “He would be a damn sight more merciful.” Grumbling, Leo lurched toward the carriage with Merripen’s assistance. ~ Lisa Kleypas,

915:For with respect to those things which immediately concern the union, and for which the union was purposely established, and is intended to secure, each state is to the United States what each individual is to the state he lives in. And it is on this grand point, this movement upon one centre, that our existence as a nation, our happiness as a people, and our safety as individuals, depend. It may happen that some state or other may be somewhat over or under rated, but this cannot be much. The experience which has been had upon the matter, has nearly ascertained their several abilities. But even in this case, it can only admit of an appeal to the United States, but cannot authorize any state to make the alteration itself, any more than our internal government can admit an individual to do so in the case of an act of assembly; for if one state can do it, then may another do the same, and the instant this is done the whole is undone. Neither is it supposable that any single state can be a judge of all the comparative reasons which may influence the collective body in arranging the quotas of the continent. The circumstances of the several states are frequently varying, occasioned by the accidents of war and commerce, and it will often fall upon some to help others, rather beyond what their exact proportion at another time might be; but even this assistance is as naturally and politically included in the idea of a union as that of any particular assigned proportion; because we know not whose turn it may be next to want assistance, for which reason that state is the wisest which sets the best example. ~ Thomas Paine,

916:Jesus Christ!" Foraker's shocked exclamation burned across the bridge like a buzzsaw, and Caslet's mouth fell open as his plot suddenly changed. One instant, his ship was charging into the teeth of two opponents' fire; the next instant, there were no opponents. The warships' acceleration had carried them within less than three hundred thousand clicks of the Manty merchantman, which had suddenly rolled back down to present her own broadside to them. Eight incredibly powerful grasers smashed out from the "unarmed freighter" like the wrath of God, and the second raider destroyer simply vanished. A single pair of hits on the light cruiser burned through her sidewall as if it hadn't even existed, and her after third blew apart in a hurricane of splintered and vaporized plating. Three of Shannon's shipboard lasers added their own fury to her damage, chewing huge holes in what was left of her hull, but they were strictly an afterthought, for that ship was already a helpless hulk. "We're being hailed, Skipper," Lieutenant Dutton said shakenly from Communications. Caslet just looked at him, unable to speak, then looked back down at his plot and swallowed as the unmistakable impeller signatures of a full dozen LACs drifted up from the "freighter's" gravitic shadow and locked their weapons on his ship. "Speaker," he rasped. "Unknown cruiser, this is Captain Honor Harrington of Her Majesty's Armed Merchant Cruiser Wayfarer," a soprano voice said quietly. "I appreciate your assistance, and I wish I could offer you the reward your gallantry deserves, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to surrender. ~ David Weber,

917:I am going to the ball now, Lord Martin. Doubtless my dance card will be full. Do you still wish to reserve a spot?" So much for not being foolish. She should have just let him forget, which he surely would have done as soon as he saw all the other women in the ballroom. He crossed his wrists over the newel post at the top and leaned upon it. "Yes, I would like to reserve a spot. If I may have first choice, I'll take the last dance please." "Well, you had best hope I don't grow tired and leave early." He replied with smooth confidence. "You won't." She pursed her lips. "Don't be so sure." "How can I not be?" he replied. "Because I think you enjoy a good party, Mrs. Wheaton. More than you let on. Or maybe you don't even know it yet. Maybe you've never experienced a night that was truly exhilarating." He was gazing down at her with presumptuous assistance, as if he knew exactly what she was about, and it shook her inwardly, because curse him, he was right. She had experienced very little excitement in her life because she had witnessed the consequences of women who loved exciting men. She'd seen her mother's broken heart over her father's many disgraces with other women, and Penelope's heartbreak over Martin and others after him. Most importantly, she knew about rejection. She had been living with it all her life, since as early as she could remember, beginning with the most painful rejection of all- her father's. And later, her husband's. She knew how much it hurt and had learned to avoid it by never seeking attention. Instead, she was deliberately unapproachable. Her mask of contempt was her shield. ~ Julianne MacLean,

918:Notwithstanding the fact that infidels in all ages have battled for the rights of man, and have at all times been the fearless advocates of liberty and justice, we are constantly charged by the church with tearing down without building again. The church should by this time know that it is utterly impossible to rob men of their opinions. The history of religious persecution fully establishes the fact that the mind necessarily resists and defies every attempt to control it by violence. The mind necessarily clings to old ideas until prepared for the new. The moment we comprehend the truth, all erroneous ideas are of necessity cast aside. A surgeon once called upon a poor cripple and kindly offered to render him any assistance in his power. The surgeon began to discourse very learnedly upon the nature and origin of disease; of the curative properties of certain medicines; of the advantages of exercise, air and light, and of the various ways in which health and strength could be restored. These remarks ware so full of good sense, and discovered so much profound thought and accurate knowledge, that the cripple, becoming thoroughly alarmed, cried out, 'Do not, I pray you, take away my crutches. They are my only support, and without them I should be miserable indeed!' 'I am not going,' said the surgeon, 'to take away your crutches. I am going to cure you, and then you will throw the crutches away yourself.' For the vagaries of the clouds the infidels propose to substitute the realities of earth; for superstition, the splendid demonstrations and achievements of science; and for theological tyranny, the chainless liberty of thought. ~ Robert G Ingersoll,

919:All of this was happening in private. U.S. electors knew nothing of Sater’s Kremlin outreach scheme. Trump did, though. So did Cohen. Cohen said he talked to Trump about the Moscow tower three times. When it appeared that the project was faltering, despite a letter of intent, Cohen took a bold step. He sent an email to someone big: Putin’s press secretary, Dmitry Peskov. The email was a petition, a meekly phrased plea for help. It was sent in mid-January 2016. Cohen wrote: Over the past few months I have been working with a company based in Russia regarding the development of a Trump Tower-Moscow project in Moscow City. Without getting into lengthy specifics, the communication between our two sides has stalled. As this project is too important, I am hereby requesting your assistance. I respectfully request someone, preferably you, contact me so that I might discuss the specifics as well as arranging meetings with the appropriate individuals. I thank you in advance for your assistance and look forward to hearing from you soon. Cohen dispatched the email to a generic address, rather than to Peskov’s personal account. Nonetheless, the email would have been found and closely examined. The email’s recipient, Peskov, wasn’t only Putin’s long-serving mouthpiece—he was also in charge of the operation to compromise Clinton, according to the Steele dossier, and someone who saw Russia’s president practically every day. Cohen insisted there was no collusion. And yet this is precisely what his email looked like: a direct (and covert) request for assistance from Team Trump to Team Putin. Was this politics or business or both? As always with Trump, it was hard to tell. ~ Luke Harding,

920:Miss Addie!” Edward, too, rushed to her side, but Gideon reached her first and pranced around her. “I’m all right,” she said as John arrived. He knelt beside her and slipped his arm around her. “Are you injured?” She had no idea of her true condition with him so close. Assessing the pain level, she leaned her head against his shoulder. His presence was the best medicine. “I-I don’t think so.” Edward threw himself atop her, and she pulled him onto her lap when she realized he was crying. “It’s okay, darling.” “You’re bleeding,” the child wailed. John moved away, and she hugged Edward, relishing the little-boy scent of grass and dog. “It’s merely a scratch, Edward. Proof of valor.” John was still near enough that she could smell his bay rum hair tonic. “I should call the doctor,” John said. He placed his hand on her shoulder. “No, no, I think I can get up with your assistance.” Aware she was showing more of her leg than was seemly, Addie flipped her skirt into place. She brushed a kiss across Edward’s cheek and scooted him onto the grass. “Papa’s going to help me up.” She grasped John’s arm and allowed him to lift her to her feet. “Does anything hurt?” he asked. She smiled into his face. “Only my pride.” “Let’s get you inside.” She glanced at the heap of wheels and metal. “No, I want to get back on the bicycle.” His mouth gaped. “You aren’t afraid?” “I’m terrified. But if I don’t get back on now, I might never do it. The fall will expand in my mind. I want to learn this.” She released his arm and stepped away, though she preferred to stay close to him. “The bicycle appears unharmed.” “But you’re not. You’re bleeding.” She bent her elbow up to have a look. “As I said, it’s merely a scratch. ~ Colleen Coble,

921:My Birthday A dozen years since in this house what commotion, What bustle, what stir, and what joyful ado; Every soul in the family at my devotion, When into the world I came twelve years ago. I've been told by my friends (if they do not belie me) My promise was such as no parent would scorn; The wise and the aged who prophesied by me Augured nothing but good of me when I was born. But vain are the hopes which are formed by a parent, Fallacious the marks which in infancy shine; My frail constitution soon made it apparent, I nourished within me the seeds of decline. On a sick bed I lay, through the flesh my bones started, My grief-wasted frame to a skeleton fell; My physicians foreboding took leave and departed, And they wished me dead now, who wishëd me well. Life and soul were kept in by a mother's assistance, Who struggled with faith, and prevailed 'gainst despair; Like an angel she watched o'er the lamp of existence, And never would leave while a glimmer was there. By her care I'm alive now-but what retribution Can I for a life twice bestowed thus confer? Were I to be silent, each year's revolution Proclaims-each new birthday is owing to her. The chance-rooted tree that by waysides is planted, Where no friendly hand will watch o'er its young shoots, Has less blame if in autumn, when produce is wanted, 78 Enriched by small culture it put forth small fruits. But that which with labour in hot-beds is reared, Secured by nice art from the dews and the rains, Unsound at the root may with justice be feared, If it pay not with interest the tiller's hard pains. ~ Charles Lamb,

922:Twould take me half a lifetime to describe to you the wonders and the horrors of the future world. The garderobe, what they call the ODEC, is housed within a large chamber—a strange room with mechanical monstrosities and a dreadful buzz in the air as if lightning were always just about to strike, a sound they are all indifferent to, much as I became indifferent to the odors of Southwark. And this chamber in turn is inside a vast building, which is on a street full of vast buildings, in a city of streets with vast buildings. Larger than cathedrals some of them, but without ornament or even shape. Like building blocks for giants, so they are. No imagination or love of beauty at all. Everything functions without human or magical assistance, but I confess most breathlessly that whatever power keeps humanity and its many mechanical servants humming . . . it is far more dazzling than any magic I have ever seen performed. And I tell you straight out: suspicious this makes me, for what is the cause to bring magic back when it has been replaced by something clearly more serviceable? So the first riddle I put my mind to was this: in a world where carriages travel without beasts to pull them, and food is effortlessly abundant, and there is ample light to sunder any darkness, from all manner of peculiar torches, none of them given to burning down a place even if it is all wood, and where all and sundry wear grander clothes than most anyone in London and an astonishing variety what’s more . . . something there must be, some commodity or advantage, that magic can attain but mankind cannot yet. Nothing material can it be, for no magic I ever knew summoned such luxuries for royalty as everyday folk here take as commonplace. ~ Neal Stephenson,

923:In this way we can create in our own selves a person who can satisfy at least some of the needs that have been waiting for fulfillment since birth, if not earlier. Then we can give ourselves the attention, the respect, the understanding for our emotions, the sorely needed protection, and the unconditional love that our parents withheld from us. To make this happen, we need one special experience: the experience of love for the child we once were. Without it, we have no way of knowing what love consists of. If we want to achieve this experience with the help of therapy, then we need assistance from a therapist who can accept us for what we are, who can give us the protection, respect, sympathy, and understanding we need in order to realize how we have become what we are. This is the fundamental experience that enables us to adopt the role of parents for the wronged children we once were. What we do not need is an educator, someone who “has plans” for us, nor a psychoanalyst who has learned that in the face of childhood traumas the main thing is to remain neutral and interpret the analysand’s reports as fantasies. No, we need precisely the opposite: a partial companion, someone who can share with us the horror and indignation that is bound to arise when our emotions gradually reveal to her, and to us, how the little child suffered, what it went through all alone when body and soul were fighting for years on end to preserve a life threatened by constant danger. We need such a companion—what I have called an “enlightened witness”—if we ourselves are to act as companions for the child within, if we are to understand its “body language,” to engage with its needs instead of ignoring them in the same way that our parents once did. ~ Alice Miller,

924:...My father muttered something to me, and I responded with a mumbled "What". He shouted, "You heard me," thundered up from his chair, pulled his belt out of its loops, and inflicted a beating that seemed never to end. I curled my arms around my body as he stood over me like a titan and delivered the blows. This was the only incident of its kind in our family. My father was never physically abusive toward my mother or sister and he was never again physically extreme with me. However, this beating and his worsening tendency to rages directed at my mother - which I heard in fright through the thin walls of our home - made me resolve, with icy determination, that only the most formal relationship would exist between my father and me, and for perhaps thirty years, neither he nor I did anything to repair the rift. The rest of my childhood, we hardly spoke; there was little he said to me that was not critical, and there was little I said back that was not terse or mumbled. When I graduated from high school, he offered to buy me a tuxedo. I refused because I had learned from him to reject all aid and assistance; he detested extravagance and pleaded with us not to give him gifts. I felt, through a convoluted logic, that in my refusal, I was being a good son. I wish now that I had let him buy me a tuxedo, that I had let him be a dad. Having cut myself off from him, and by association the rest of the family, I was incurring psychological debts that would come due years later in the guise of romantic misconnections and a wrongheaded quest for solitude. I have heard it said that a complicated childhood can lead to a life in the arts. I tell you this story of my father and me to let you know I am qualified to be a comedian. ~ Steve Martin,

925:In 2003, a Dutch clinical psychologist named Christof van Nimwegen began a fascinating study of computer-aided learning that a BBC writer would later call “one of the most interesting examinations of current computer use and the potential downsides of our increasing reliance on screen-based interaction with information systems.”26 Van Nimwegen had two groups of volunteers work through a tricky logic puzzle on a computer. The puzzle involved transferring colored balls between two boxes in accordance with a set of rules governing which balls could be moved at which time. One of the groups used software that had been designed to be as helpful as possible. It offered on-screen assistance during the course of solving the puzzle, providing visual cues, for instance, to highlight permitted moves. The other group used a bare-bones program, which provided no hints or other guidance. In the early stages of solving the puzzle, the group using the helpful software made correct moves more quickly than the other group, as would be expected. But as the test proceeded, the proficiency of the members of the group using the bare-bones software increased more rapidly. In the end, those using the unhelpful program were able to solve the puzzle more quickly and with fewer wrong moves. They also reached fewer impasses—states in which no further moves were possible—than did the people using the helpful software. The findings indicated, as van Nimwegen reported, that those using the unhelpful software were better able to plan ahead and plot strategy, while those using the helpful software tended to rely on simple trial and error. Often, in fact, those with the helpful software were found “to aimlessly click around” as they tried to crack the puzzle. ~ Nicholas Carr,

926:Nevertheless, scholars keep obsessing about selfish motives, simply because both economics and behaviorism have indoctrinated them that incentives drive everything that animals or humans do. I don’t believe a word of it, though, and a recent ingenious experiment on children drives home why. The German psychologist Felix Warneken investigated how young chimpanzees and children assist human adults. The experimenter was using a tool but dropped it in midjob: would they pick it up? The experimenter’s hands were full: would they open a cupboard for him? Both species did so voluntarily and eagerly, showing that they understood the experimenter’s problem. Once Warneken started to reward the children for their assistance, however, they became less helpful. The rewards, it seems, distracted them from sympathizing with the clumsy experimenter.50 I am trying to figure how this would work in real life. Imagine that every time I offered a helping hand to a colleague or neighbor—keeping a door open or picking up their mail—they stuffed a few dollars in my shirt pocket. I’d be deeply offended, as if all I cared about was money! And it would surely not encourage me to do more for them. I might even start avoiding them as being too manipulative. It is curious to think that human behavior is entirely driven by tangible rewards, given that most of the time rewards are nowhere in sight. What are the rewards for someone who takes care of a spouse with Alzheimer’s? What payoffs does someone derive from sending money to a good cause? Internal rewards (feeling good) may very well come into play, but they work only via the amelioration of the other’s situation. They are nature’s way of making sure that we are other-oriented rather than self-oriented. ~ Frans de Waal,

927:What’s wrong, lass? She’s got more fire in her than she looks. She’ll be a fine ride for ye.” “How do I get on her?”  The question surprised him, but he ignored it as he bent to offer her his assistance in mounting the horse. No sooner had Blaire situated herself on the mare than the mare started whining and trying to pull at the reins that kept her fastened to the edge of the stables.  “What do I do with her, Eoin?” “Just stroke her, lean forward and whisper in her ear, calm her as ye would yer own horse.”  He turned and climbed onto Griffin, leaning forward to untie the reins of both horses so that they could set off toward the village. He rode ahead a short distance, waiting for Blaire and the mare to join him, but when he heard no hooves he turned to see Blaire and the mare sitting at the side of the stables where he’d left them.   Clicking, he steered Griffin back toward the stables. “What’s the matter with ye, lass? Do ye no longer want to go?” “No, I do want to. I just don’t know how to do this.” Eoin frowned as he pulled back on Griffin’s reins, stopping him next to Sheila. He knew Blaire could ride. He’d seen her do it many times, with many different horses. Why was she feigning ignorance now? Perhaps, she was afraid that he’d be angry with her for not wanting to accompany him. Or mayhap she wanted a reason to ride with him on the same horse.  While he wasn’t sure of the reason, he enjoyed the second possibility much more. “Would ye like to ride with me, lass? Griffin may be old, but he can carry ye and me together, easily.” “Aye, I think that would be best.” Ah, so she did want to ride next to him. He smiled inwardly at himself, pleased at the notion, as he lifted her from Sheila’s back and placed her snugly in between his legs astride Griffin. ~ Bethany Claire,

928:Regression effects are ubiquitous, and so are misguided causal stories to explain them. A well-known example is the “Sports Illustrated jinx,” the claim that an athlete whose picture appears on the cover of the magazine is doomed to perform poorly the following season. Overconfidence and the pressure of meeting high expectations are often offered as explanations. But there is a simpler account of the jinx: an athlete who gets to be on the cover of Sports Illustrated must have performed exceptionally well in the preceding season, probably with the assistance of a nudge from luck—and luck is fickle. I happened to watch the men’s ski jump event in the Winter Olympics while Amos and I were writing an article about intuitive prediction. Each athlete has two jumps in the event, and the results are combined for the final score. I was startled to hear the sportscaster’s comments while athletes were preparing for their second jump: “Norway had a great first jump; he will be tense, hoping to protect his lead and will probably do worse” or “Sweden had a bad first jump and now he knows he has nothing to lose and will be relaxed, which should help him do better.” The commentator had obviously detected regression to the mean and had invented a causal story for which there was no evidence. The story itself could even be true. Perhaps if we measured the athletes’ pulse before each jump we might find that they are indeed more relaxed after a bad first jump. And perhaps not. The point to remember is that the change from the first to the second jump does not need a causal explanation. It is a mathematically inevitable consequence of the fact that luck played a role in the outcome of the first jump. Not a very satisfactory story—we would all prefer a causal account—but that is all there is. ~ Daniel Kahneman,

929:1.      Establishing artificial time constraints: Allow the person being targeted to feel that there is an end in sight. 2.      Accommodating nonverbals: Ensure that both your body language as well as your voice is non-threatening.           3.      Slower rate of speech: Don’t oversell and talk too fast. You lose credibility quickly and come on too strong and threatening. 4.      Sympathy or assistance theme: Human beings are genetically coded to provide assistance and help. It also appeals to their ego that they may know more than you. 5.      Ego suspension: Most likely the hardest technique but without a doubt the most effective. Don’t build yourself up, build someone else up and you will have strong rapport. 6.      Validate others: Human beings crave being connected and accepted. Validation feeds this need and few give it. Be the great validator and have instant, great rapport. 7.      Ask… How? When? Why? : When you want to dig deep and make a connection, there is no better or safer way than asking these questions. They will tell you what they are willing to talk about. 8.      Connect with quid pro quo: Some people are just more guarded than others. Allow them to feel comfortable by giving a little about you. Don’t overdo it. 9.      Gift giving (reciprocal altruism): Human beings are genetically coded to reciprocate gifts given. Give a gift, either intangible or material, and seek a conversation and rapport in return. 10.  Managing expectations: Avoid both disappointment as well as the look of a bad salesman by ensuring that your methods are focused on benefitting the targeted individual and not you. Ultimately you will win, but your mindset needs to focus on them. You now have the top ten secrets on how to build rapport with anyone in just a few minutes.  There is nothing in these pages that ~ Robin Dreeke,

930:was to prepare more land, for I had now seed enough to sow above an acre of ground. Before I did this, I had a week's work at least to make me a spade, which, when it was done, was but a sorry one indeed, and very heavy, and required double labour to work with it. However, I got through that, and sowed my seed in two large flat pieces of ground, as near my house as I could find them to my mind, and fenced them in with a good hedge, the stakes of which were all cut off that wood which I had set before, and knew it would grow; so that, in a year's time, I knew I should have a quick or living hedge, that would want but little repair. This work did not take me up less than three months, because a great part of that time was the wet season, when I could not go abroad. Within-doors, that is when it rained and I could not go out, I found employment in the following occupations - always observing, that all the while I was at work I diverted myself with talking to my parrot, and teaching him to speak; and I quickly taught him to know his own name, and at last to speak it out pretty loud, “Poll,” which was the first word I ever heard spoken in the island by any mouth but my own. This, therefore, was not my work, but an assistance to my work; for now, as I said, I had a great employment upon my hands, as follows: I had long studied to make, by some means or other, some earthen vessels, which, indeed, I wanted sorely, but knew not where to come at them. However, considering the heat of the climate, I did not doubt but if I could find out any clay, I might make some pots that might, being dried in the sun, be hard enough and strong enough to bear handling, and to hold anything that was dry, and required to be kept so; and as this was necessary in the preparing corn, meal, &c., which was the thing I was doing, I resolved ~ Daniel Defoe,

931:February 5 MORNING “The Father sent the Son to be the Saviour of the world.” — 1 John 4:14 IT is a sweet thought that Jesus Christ did not come forth without His Father’s permission, authority, consent, and assistance. He was sent of the Father, that He might be the Saviour of men. We are too apt to forget that, while there are distinctions as to the persons in the Trinity, there are no distinctions of honour. We too frequently ascribe the honour of our salvation, or at least the depths of its benevolence, more to Jesus Christ than we do the Father. This is a very great mistake. What if Jesus came? Did not His Father send Him? If He spake wondrously, did not His Father pour grace into His lips, that He might be an able minister of the new covenant? He who knoweth the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Ghost as he should know them, never setteth one before another in his love; he sees them at Bethlehem, at Gethsemane, and on Calvary, all equally engaged in the work of salvation. O Christian, hast thou put thy confidence in the Man Christ Jesus? Hast thou placed thy reliance solely on Him? And art thou united with Him? Then believe that thou art united unto the God of heaven. Since to the Man Christ Jesus thou art brother, and holdest closest fellowship, thou art linked thereby with God the Eternal, and “the Ancient of days” is thy Father and thy friend. Didst thou ever consider the depth of love in the heart of Jehovah, when God the Father equipped His Son for the great enterprise of mercy? If not, be this thy day’s meditation. The Father sent Him! Contemplate that subject. Think how Jesus works what the Father wills. In the wounds of the dying Saviour see the love of the great I AM. Let every thought of Jesus be also connected with the Eternal, ever-blessed God, for “It pleased the Lord to bruise Him; He hath put Him to grief. ~ Charles Haddon Spurgeon,

932:But as the cause of perturbations is now discovered, 162for all of them arise from the judgment or opinion, or volition, I shall put an end to this discourse. But we ought to be assured, since the boundaries of good and evil are now discovered, as far as they are discoverable by man, that nothing can be desired of philosophy greater or more useful than the discussions which we have held these four days. For besides instilling a contempt of death, and relieving pain so as to enable men to bear it, we have added the appeasing of grief, than which there is no greater evil to man. For though every perturbation of mind is grievous, and differs but little from madness, yet we are used to say of others when they are under any perturbation, as of fear, joy, or desire, that they are agitated and disturbed; but of those who give themselves up to grief, that they are miserable, afflicted, wretched, unhappy. So that it doth not seem to be by accident, but with reason proposed by you, that I should discuss grief, and the other perturbations separately; for there lies the spring and head of all our miseries; but the cure of grief, and of other disorders, is one and the same in that they are all voluntary, and founded on opinion; we take them on ourselves because it seems right so to do. Philosophy undertakes to eradicate this error, as the root of all our evils: let us therefore surrender ourselves to be instructed by it, and suffer ourselves to be cured; for while these evils have possession of us, we not only cannot be happy, but cannot be right in our minds. We must either deny that reason can effect anything, while, on the other hand, nothing can be done right without reason, or else, since philosophy depends on the deductions of reason, we must seek from her, if we would be good or happy, every help and assistance for living well and happily. ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero,

933:Curran rested the back of his head on the edge of the hot tub and closed his eyes. I stared at the way his face looked, etched against the darkness of the wall. He really was a handsome bastard. Poised like this, he seemed very human. Nobody to impress. Nobody to command. Just him, in the hot water, tired, hurting, stealing a few precious moments of rest, and so irresistibly erotic. Well, that last one came out of nowhere. It was the beer. Had to be. Despite all his growling and threats, his arrogance, I liked being next to him. He made me feel safe. It was a bizarre emotion. I was never safe. I closed my eyes. That seemed like the only reasonable way out of the situation. If I couldn’t see him, I couldn’t drool over him. “So you didn’t want to see me hurt?” he said. His voice was deceptively smooth and soft, the deep, throaty, sly purr of a giant cat who wanted something. Admitting that I took his well-being into consideration might have been a fatal mistake. “I didn’t want you to have to kill Derek.” “And if he had gone loup?” “I would have taken care of it.” “How exactly were you planning on pushing Jim aside? He was the highest alpha. The duty was his.” “I pulled rank,” I told him. “I declared that since you had accepted the Order’s assistance, I outranked everybody.” He laughed. “And they believed you?” “Yep. I also glared menacingly for added effect. Unfortunately, I can’t make my eyes glow the way yours do.” “Like this?” he breathed in my ear. My eyes snapped open. He stood inches away, anchored on the tub floor, his arms leaning on the tub wall on each side of me. His eyes were molten gold, but it wasn’t the hard, lethal glow of an alpha stare. This gold was warm and enticing, touched with a hint of longing. “Don’t make me break this bottle over your head,” I whispered. “You won’t.” He grinned. “You don’t want to see me hurt. ~ Ilona Andrews,

934:...DAMNATION!' No device of the printer's art, not even capital letters, can indicate the intensity of that shriek of rage. Emerson is known to his Egyptian workers by the admiring sobriquet of Father of Curses. The volume as well as the content of his remarks earned him the title; but this shout was extraordinary even by Emerson's standards, so much so that the cat Bastet, who had become more or less accustomed to him, started violently, and fell with a splash into the bathtub. The scene that followed is best not described in detail. My efforts to rescue the thrashing feline were met with hysterical resistance; water surged over the edge of the tub and onto the floor; Emerson rushed to the rescue; Bastet emerged in one mighty leap, like a whale broaching, and fled -- cursing, spitting, and streaming water. She and Emerson met in the doorway of the bathroom. The ensuing silence was broken by the quavering voice of the safragi, the servant on duty outside our room, inquiring if we required his assistance. Emerson, seated on the floor in a puddle of soapy water, took a long breath. Two of the buttons popped off his shirt and splashed into the water. In a voice of exquisite calm he reassured the servant, and then transferred his bulging stare to me. I trust you are not injured, Peabody. Those scratches...' The bleeding has almost stopped, Emerson. It was not Bastet's fault.' It was mine, I suppose,' Emerson said mildly. Now, my dear, I did not say that. Are you going to get up from the floor?' No,' said Emerson. He was still holding the newspaper. Slowly and deliberately he separated the soggy pages, searching for the item that had occasioned his outburst. In the silence I heard Bastet, who had retreated under the bed, carrying on a mumbling, profane monologue. (If you ask how I knew it was profane, I presume you have never owned a cat.) ~ Elizabeth Peters,

935:Question: Will there always be a church upon earth? Answer: Yes. This is evident, first of all, from the promises of God. "Upon this rock I will build My church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it" (Matt 16:18). If ever the church would be eradicated, the gates of hell, that is, the might of the devil, would have prevailed against her. This, however, will never occur, and thus the church will always remain. This is also evident in Matt 28:20, where we read, "Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world." The apostles would not live that long, but their spiritual seed (that is, their children, the one generation after the other), and the Holy Scriptures recorded by them, would remain. Christ promises His assistance to these all the days until the end of the world, and in these children and by their writings they still live and speak. Thus the church continues to exist and will always remain in existence. Secondly, this is also confirmed by the offices of the Lord Jesus. As Prophet, Priest, and King, He will endure forever. There can, however, be no body without a head, no king without subjects, no teaching prophets without pupils, no priest without a people for whom he prays, and no bridegroom without a bride. "Thou art a priest for ever" (Ps 110:4); "And in the days of these kings shall the God of heaven set up a kingdom, which shall never be destroyed" (Dan 2:44); "For He must reign, till He hath put all enemies under His feet. The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death" (1 Cor 15:25-26). Thirdly, add to this experience that the Bible reveals to us the church from Adam to Christ, and after Christ, during the time of the apostles. Both church and secular history bear witness to the fact that the church has existed from the time of the apostles until now. Since she still exists, we therefore conclude that she will continue to exist in spite of all those who wish the contrary. ~ Anonymous,

936:THE DEMANDS MADE by a work of this nature upon the generosity of specialists are very numerous, and the Editor would be wanting in all title to the generous treatment he has received were he not willing to make the fullest possible acknowledgment of his indebtedness. His thanks are due in the first place to the scholarly and accomplished Bahadur Shah, baggage elephant 174 on the Indian Register, who, with his amiable sister Pudmini, most courteously supplied the history of ‘Toomai of the Elephants’ and much of the information contained in ‘Servants of the Queen’. The adventures of Mowgli were collected at various times and in various places from a multitude of informants, most of whom desire to preserve the strictest anonymity. Yet, at this distance, the Editor feels at liberty to thank a Hindu gentleman of the old rock, an esteemed resident of the upper slopes of Jakko, for his convincing if somewhat caustic estimate of the national characteristics of his caste–the Presbytes. Sahi, a savant of infinite research and industry, a member of the recently disbanded Seeonee Pack, and an artist well known at most of the local fairs of Southern India, where his muzzled dance with his master attracts the youth, beauty, and culture of many villages, have contributed most valuable data on people, manners, and customs. These have been freely drawn upon, in the stories of ‘Tiger-Tiger!’ ‘Kaa’s Hunting’, and ‘Mowgli’s Brothers’. For the outlines of ‘Rikki-tikki-tavi’ the Editor stands indebted to one of the leading herpetologists of Upper India, a fearless and independent investigator who, resolving ‘not to live but know’, lately sacrificed his life through over-application to the study of our Eastern Thanatophidia. A happy accident of travel enabled the Editor, when a passenger on the Empress of India, to be of some slight assistance to a fellow-voyager. How richly his poor services were repaid, readers of the ‘White Seal’ may judge for themselves. ~ Jonathan Swift,

937:1. What is this force, Lucilius, that drags us in one direction when we are aiming in another, urging us on to the exact place from which we long to withdraw? What is it that wrestles with our spirit, and does not allow us to desire anything once for all? We veer from plan to plan. None of our wishes is free, none is unqualified, none is lasting. 2. "But it is the fool," you say, "who is inconsistent; nothing suits him for long." But how or when can we tear ourselves away from this folly? No man by himself has sufficient strength to rise above it; he needs a helping hand, and some one to extricate him. 3. Epicurus remarks that certain men have worked their way to the truth without any one's assistance, carving out their own passage. And he gives special praise to these, for their impulse has come from within, and they have forged to the front by themselves. Again, he says, there are others who need outside help, who will not proceed unless someone leads the way, but who will follow faithfully. Of these, he says, Metrodorus was one; this type of man is also excellent, but belongs to the second grade. We ourselves are not of that first class, either; we shall be well treated if we are admitted into the second. Nor need you despise a man who can gain salvation only with the assistance of another; the will to be saved means a great deal, too. 4. You will find still another class of man, – and a class not to be despised, – who can be forced and driven into righteousness, who do not need a guide as much as they require someone to encourage and, as it were, to force them along. This is the third variety. If you ask me for a man of this pattern also, Epicurus tells us that Hermarchus was such. And of the two last-named classes, he is more ready to congratulate the one, but he feels more respect for the other; for although both reached the same goal, it is a greater credit to have brought about the same result with the more difficult material upon which to work. ~ Seneca,

938:Every tree, therefore, is valuable to the community and worth keeping around for as long as possible. And that is why even sick individuals are supported and nourished until they recover. Next time, perhaps it will be the other way round, and the supporting tree might be the one in need of assistance. When thick silver-gray beeches behave like this, they remind me of a herd of elephants. Like the herd, they, too, look after their own, and they help their sick and weak back up onto their feet. They are even reluctant to abandon their dead. Every tree is a member of this community, but there are different levels of membership. For example, most stumps rot away into humus and disappear within a couple of hundred years (which is not very long for a tree). Only a few individuals are kept alive over the centuries, like the mossy "stones" I've just described. What's the difference? Do tree societies have second-class citizens just like human societies? It seems they do, though the idea of "class" doesn't quite fit. It is rather the degree of connection-or maybe even affection-that decides how helpful a tree's colleagues will be. You can check this out for yourself simply by looking up into the forest canopy. The average tree grows its branches out until it encounters the branch tips of a neighboring tree of the same height. It doesn't grow any wider because the air and better light in this space are already taken. However, it heavily reinforces the branches it has extended, so you get the impression that there's quite a shoving match going on up there. But a pair of true friends is careful right from the outset not to grow overly thick branches in each other's direction. The trees don't want to take anything away from each other, and so they develop sturdy branches only at the outer edges of their crowns, that is to say, only in the direction of "non-friends." Such partners are often so tightly connected at the roots that sometimes they even die together. ~ Peter Wohlleben,

939:To Mr. Edward Howard On His New Utopia Thou damn'd antipodes to common sense! Thou foil to Flecknoe! Prithee tell from whence Does all this mighty stock of dullness spring, Which in such loads thou to the stage dost bring? Is't all thy own, or hast thou from Snow Hill Th'assistance of some ballad-making quill? No, they fly higher yet; thy plays are such I'd swear they were translated out of Dutch: And who the devil was e'er yet so drunk To own the volumes of Mynheer Van Dunk? Fain would I know what diet thou dost keep, If thou dost always or dost never sleep. Sure hasty pudding is thy chiefest dish; With lights and livers and with stinking fish, Oxcheek, tripe, garbage, thou dost treat thy brain, Which nobly pays this tribute back again. With daisy roots thy dwarfish muse is fed: A giant's body with a pigmy's head. Canst thou not find 'mongst all thy num'rous race One friend so kind to tell thee that thy play's Laugh'd at by box, pit, gallery, nay stage And grown the nauseous grievance of this age? Think on't a while, and thou wilt quickly find Thy body made for labor, not thy mind. No other use of paper thou should'st make But carrying loads of reams upon thy back. Carry vast burdens 'till thy shoulders shrink, But curs'd be he that gives thee pen and ink: Those dang'rous weapons should be kept from fools, As nurses from their children keep edge tools. For thy dull muse a muckender were fit To wipe the slav'rings of her infant wit, Which, though 'tis late, if justice could be found, Should like blind, new-born puppies yet be drown'd. For were it not we must respect afford To any muse that's grandchild to a lord, Thine in the ducking stool should take her seat, Drench'd like herself in a great chair of state, Where like a muse of quality she'll die, 21 And thou thyself shalt make her elegy In the same strain thou writ'st thy comedy. ~ Charles Sackville,

940:That concentration camps were ultimately provided for the same groups in all countries, even though there were considerable difference in the treatment of their inmates, was all the more characteristic as the selection of the groups was left exclusively to the initiative of the totalitarian regimes: if the Nazis put a person in a concentration camp and if he made a successful escape, say, to Holland, the Dutch would put him in an internment camp. Thus, long before the outbreak of the war the police in a number of Western countries, under the pretext of "national security," had on their own initiative established close connections with the Gestapo and the GPU [Russian State security agency], so that one might say there existed an independent foreign policy of the police. This police-directed foreign policy functioned quite independently of the official governments; the relations between the Gestapo and the French police were never more cordial than at the time of Leon Blum's popular-front government, which was guided by a decidedly anti-German policy. Contrary to the governments, the various police organizations were never overburdened with "prejudices" against any totalitarian regime; the information and denunciations received from GPU agents were just as welcome to them as those from Fascist or Gestapo agents. They knew about the eminent role of the police apparatus in all totalitarian regimes, they knew about its elevated social status and political importance, and they never bothered to conceal their sympathies. That the Nazis eventually met with so disgracefully little resistance from the police in the countries they occupied, and that they were able to organize terror as much as they did with the assistance of these local police forces, was due at least in part to the powerful position which the police had achieved over the years in their unrestricted and arbitrary domination of stateless and refugees. ~ Hannah Arendt,

941:Nostromo is the most anxiously meditated of the longer novels which belong to the period following upon the publication of the Typhoon volume of short stories. I don’t mean to say that I became then conscious of any impending change in my mentality and in my attitude towards the tasks of my writing life. And perhaps there was never any change, except in that mysterious, extraneous thing which has nothing to do with the theories of art; a subtle change in the nature of the inspiration; a phenomenon for which I can not in any way be held responsible. What, however, did cause me some concern was that after finishing the last story of the Typhoon volume it seemed somehow that there was nothing more in the world to write about. This so strangely negative but disturbing mood lasted some little time; and then, as with many of my longer stories, the first hint for Nostromo came to me in the shape of a vagrant anecdote completely destitute of valuable details. As a matter of fact in 1875 or ’6, when very young, in the West Indies or rather in the Gulf of Mexico, for my contacts with land were short, few, and fleeting, I heard the story of some man who was supposed to have stolen single-handed a whole lighter-full of silver, somewhere on the Tierra Firme seaboard during the troubles of a revolution. On the face of it this was something of a feat. But I heard no details, and having no particular interest in crime qua crime I was not likely to keep that one in my mind. And I forgot it till twenty-six or seven years afterwards I came upon the very thing in a shabby volume picked up outside a second-hand book-shop. It was the life story of an American seaman written by himself with the assistance of a journalist. In the course of his wanderings that American sailor worked for some months on board a schooner, the master and owner of which was the thief of whom I had heard in my very young days. I have no doubt of that because there could hardly have been two exploits of that peculiar kind in the same part of the world and both connected with a South American revolution. ~ Joseph Conrad,

942:Elizabeth,” he interrupted in a husky whisper, and suddenly his eyes were smoldering as he held out his hand, sensing victory before Elizabeth ever realized she was defeated. “Come here.” Of its own accord Elizabeth’s hand lifted, his fingers closed around it, and suddenly she was hauled forward; arms like steel bands encircled her, and a warm, searching mouth descended on hers. Parted lips, tender and insistent, stroked hers, molding and shaping them to fit his, and then the kiss deepened abruptly while hands tightened on her back and shoulders, caressing and possessive. A soft moan interrupted the silence, but Elizabeth didn’t know the sound came from her; she was reaching up, her hands grasping broad shoulders, clinging to them for support in a world that had suddenly become dark and exquisitely sensual, where nothing mattered except the body and mouth locked hungrily to hers. When he finally dragged his mouth from hers Ian kept his arms around her, and Elizabeth laid her cheek against his crisp white shirt, feeling his lips brush the hair atop her head. “That was an even bigger mistake than I feared it would be,” he said, and then he added almost absently, “God help us both.” Strangely, it was that last remark that frightened Elizabeth back to her senses. The fact that he thought they’d gone so far that they’d both need some sort of divine assistance hit her like a bucket of ice water. She pulled out of his arms and began smoothing creases from her skirt. When she felt able, she lifted her face to his and said with a poise born of sheer terror, “None of this should have happened. However, if we both return to the ballroom and contrive to spend time with others, perhaps no one will think we were together out here. Good-bye, Mr. Thornton.” “Good night, Miss Cameron.” Elizabeth was too desperate to escape to remark on his gentle emphasis on the words “good night,” which he’d deliberately used instead of “good-bye,” nor did she notice at the time that he didn’t seem to realize she was correctly Lady Cameron, not Miss Cameron. ~ Judith McNaught,

943:-1 PETER 5:3 Over and over I have attempted to be an example by doing rather than telling. I feel that God's great truths are "caught" and not always "taught." In the book of Deuteronomy, Moses (the author) says the following about God's commandments, statutes, and judgments: "You shall teach them diligently to your sons and shall talk of them when you sit in your house and when you walk by the way and when you lie down and when you rise up" (6:7). In other words, at all times we are to be examples. It is amazing how much we can teach by example in every situation: at home, at the beach, while jogging, when resting, when eating-in every part of the day. It's amazing how often I catch our children and grandchildren imitating the values we exhibited in our home-something as little as a lighted candle to warm the heart, to a thank you when food is being served in a restaurant. Little eyes are peering around to see how we behave when we think no one is looking. Are we consistent with what we say we believe? If we talk calmness and patience, how do we respond when standing in a slow line at the market? How does our conversation go when there is a slowdown on Friday evening's freeway drive? Do we go by the rules on the freeway (having two people or more in the car while driving in the carpool lane, going the speed limit, and obeying all traffic signs)? How can we show God's love? By helping people out when they are in need of assistance, even when it is not convenient. We can be good neighbors. Sending out thank you cards after receiving a gift shows our appreciation for the gift and the person. Being kind to animals and the environment when we go to the park for a campout or picnic shows good stewardship. We are continually setting some kind of example whether we know it or not. PRAYER Father God, let my life be an example to those around me, especially the little ones who are learning the ways of faith. May I exhibit proper conduct even when no one is around. I want to be obedient to Your guiding principles. Thank You for Your example. Amen. ~ Emilie Barnes,

944:One needed reform, and the eighth proposal in my ten-point blueprint, is to address declining voter participation by making voting mandatory. Established democracies, according to the International Institute for Democracy and Electoral Assistance, have seen “a slow but steady decline in turnout since the 1970s.”8 In November 2014, only 36 percent of eligible voters in the United States cast a vote—the lowest turnout in more than seventy years. And while estimates show more than 58 percent of eligible voters voted in the 2016 US presidential election, turnout was down from 2008 (when it was 62 percent). Since 1900, the percentage of voters voting in US presidential elections has scarcely gone above 60 percent. Many of the world’s countries whose turnout rates are highest—including Australia, Singapore, Belgium, and Liechtenstein, where the 93 percent turnout rate is the highest in Western Europe—enforce compulsory voting laws. As of August 2016, of the thirty-five member states of the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), five had forms of compulsory voting. In those countries, turnout rates were near 100 percent. There are more than twenty countries where voting is compulsory, including Australia, Belgium, Bolivia, Brazil, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Egypt, Mexico, Peru, and Singapore. In Australia, voter turnout is usually around 90 percent. A more direct comparison within the European Union member states reveals remarkable turnouts from states where voting is mandatory, with 89.6 percent in Belgium and 85.6 percent in Luxembourg. For the sake of comparison, voter turnout was only 42.4 percent in France, 43.8 percent in Spain, and a mere 35.6 percent in the United Kingdom.9 Most often, compulsory voting is enforced through fines on those who don’t vote. Typically these fines are relatively small; in Australia it is AUD 20 the first time you don’t vote and have no good reason, and AUD 50 afterward, while it ranges from 10 to 20 pesos in Argentina.10 Many times, the penalty amounts to little more than a symbolic slap on the wrist. ~ Dambisa Moyo,

945:It is a great pity that this tendency towards religious thought can find no better outlet than the Jewish pettifoggery of the Old Testament. For religious people who, in the solitude of winter, continually seek ultimate light on their religious problems with the assistance of the Bible, must eventually become spiritually deformed. The wretched people strive to extract truths from these Jewish chicaneries, where in fact no truths exist. As a result they become embedded in some rut of thought or other and, unless they possess an exceptionally commonsense mind, degenerate into religious maniacs. It is deplorable that the Bible should have been translated into German, and that the whole of the German people should have thus become exposed to the whole of this Jewish mumbo-jumbo. So long as the wisdom, particularly of the Old Testament, remained exclusively in the Latin of the Church, there was little danger that sensible people would become the victims of illusions as the result of studying the Bible. But since the Bible became common property, a whole heap of people have found opened to them lines of religious thought which—particularly in conjunction with the German characteristic of persistent and somewhat melancholy meditation—as often as not turned them into religious maniacs. When one recollects further that the Catholic Church has elevated to the status of Saints a whole number of madmen, one realises why movements such as that of the Flagellants came inevitably into existence in the Middle Ages in Germany. As a sane German, one is flabbergasted to think that German human beings could have let themselves be brought to such a pass by Jewish filth and priestly twaddle, that they were little different from the howling dervish of the Turks and the negroes, at whom we laugh so scornfully. It angers one to think that, while in other parts of the globe religious teaching like that of Confucius, Buddha and Mohammed offers an undeniably broad basis for the religious-minded, Germans should have been duped by a theological exposition devoid of all honest depth. ~ Adolf Hitler,

946:The Lord enjoins us to do good to all without exception, though the greater part, if estimated by their own merit, are most unworthy of it. But Scripture subjoins a most excellent reason, when it tells us that we are not to look to what men in themselves deserve, but to attend to the image of God, which exists in all, and to which we owe all honor and love. But in those who are of the household of faith, the same rule is to be more carefully observed, inasmuch as that image is renewed and restored in them by the Spirit of Christ. Therefore, whoever be the man that is presented to you as needing your assistance, you have no ground for declining to give it to him. Say he is a stranger. The Lord has given him a mark which ought to be familiar to you: for which reason he forbids you to despise your own flesh (Gal. 6:10). Say he is mean and of no consideration. The Lord points him out as one whom he has distinguished by the luster of his own image (Isaiah 58:7). Say that you are bound to him by no ties of duty. The Lord has substituted him as it were into his own place, that in him you may recognize the many great obligations under which the Lord has laid you to himself. Say that he is unworthy of your least exertion on his account; but the image of God, by which he is recommended to you, is worthy of yourself and all your exertions. But if he not only merits no good, but has provoked you by injury and mischief, still this is no good reason why you should not embrace him in love, and visit him with offices of love. He has deserved very differently from me, you will say. But what has the Lord deserved? Whatever injury he has done you, when he enjoins you to forgive him, he certainly means that it should be imputed to himself. In this way only we attain to what is not to say difficult but altogether against nature, to love those that hate us, render good for evil, and blessing for cursing, remembering that we are not to reflect on the wickedness of men, but look to the image of God in them, an image which, covering and obliterating their faults, should by its beauty and dignity allure us to love and embrace them. ~ John Calvin,

947:She shifted gears as they left Worth Avenue, hurtling them along the beach at just sublight speed. “Jesus, Addison, you are so blind,” she finally exploded. “She comes in playing the damsel in distress, and you buy all of it.” “She did n—” “‘Oh, Richard, I need your help,’” she mimicked, doing a startlingly good impression of Patricia’s soft, cultured Brit—especially since the two women had barely spoken a total of five words to one another. “’I’ve left Peter, and I so badly want to make a new start, but I just don’t know how to do it on my own. You’re so big and strong and successful, can’t you see it in your heart to help me?’” Samantha canted her eyes at him. “Did it go a little like that?” Christ. “Maybe,” he hedged. “But—” “See? She wants you back.” “Well, she can’t have me. I’m taken. But she asked for my help, and I’m partially the reason she’s in this position.” “No, she put herself on her back and then you put her in the next position.” “Even so—” “You can’t resist putting on your shining armor, can you?” she said more calmly, blowing out her breath. “And if I know it, then she knows it, too.” “Honestly, Samantha, I think it’s more a matter of Patricia actually being helpless than her acting that way to gain my assistance. I doubt she could find a grocery store on her own, much less the toothpaste aisle.” “But she’s not after toothpaste.” As they stopped at a light, Richard leaned over and grabbed Samantha’s face, kissing her hard on her surprised mouth. “Don’t worry about this. You won’t have to deal with her.” “Maybe not, but you will. And keep in mind that she’s got a subscriber website where she gives advice about how not to get screwed in a divorce.” “She does?” “Yes. Interesting stuff. You really need to spend more time surfing the ’net.” “Shit.” Before Samantha could follow up her smug look with more commentary, he took a breath. “I’ll make dumping the website a condition of my helping her.” “Great. She won’t need the site, anyway, because she’ll be busy screwing you over in person, instead.” “No one screws me over, Samantha. Ever.” “Yet, smart guy. Yet. ~ Suzanne Enoch,

948:I think you might be cracking my ribs,” Lucetta mumbled into his chest, her words having him release his death grip on her before he took a step—but only a step—away from her. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you” was all he could think to say. Lucetta smiled. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you as well, and”—she nodded to Stanley, Ernie, and Mr. Skukman, who were currently sitting on top of Silas Ruff, while Tilda stood guard at the door they’d blown open, looking rather menacing as she kept a pistol at the ready—“I’m delighted to see you brought some assistance as well.” She nodded toward the blown-apart door. “Assistance proficient in the use of dynamite, if I’m not mistaken.” “That was me,” Ernie said, sending Lucetta a grin. “Not that I use dynamite all that often anymore,” he hurried to assure her. “But my expertise with the substance does come in remarkably handy at the oddest of times.” “Should I ask why Ernie’s an expert with dynamite?” Lucetta asked, turning back to Bram. “I would suggest not,” Bram said. Wrinkling her nose, Lucetta nodded. “You’re probably right, but tell me, how did you find me?” “Using a wide variety of interesting contacts spread throughout the city.” Bram blew out a breath. “Everyone’s been so worried about you.” “I’ve been fine,” Lucetta began, nodding when he quirked a brow her way. “Honestly, I have been. I mean, yes, the men Silas hired to abduct me scared me half to death—especially the man I heard was some sort of tracker—but as soon as they delivered me here, they left and I never saw them again. Truth be told, until today, it’s just been me along with a pack of intimidating women Silas hired to make certain I didn’t escape from this cozy little nest he’s been holding me in.” “Silas left you alone until today?” “Curious as that may seem, yes. He only showed up about an hour ago.” She smiled. “I do believe he had a most romantic dinner planned for the two of us, but matters got off to a rough start when he demanded I play him a piece by Bach, and discovered I . . . Well, let’s just say that, if you’d compared my playing with Ruby’s, your sister would sound downright competent at the keys.” Brushing ~ Jen Turano,

949:Skunk? Was there skunk in Ireland? Taking out an evidence bag, she tried to pinpoint the area it seemed strongest, but it was impossible to tell. In any case, she swabbed a small area from the wall and then the ground, bagged them, and in addition picked up a sample of grit from the same area on the floor. The tower, with its two battered old wooden slat windows, was completely empty, save for some pigeon droppings. As birds didn’t urinate, Reilly already knew the foul smell definitely wasn’t coming from them. Moving tighter into the wall, she began stepping in concentric circles inwards, her gaze scanning the ground area. Then, her keen eye noticed some tiny bluish dots that were slightly incongruous amongst the grit and the droppings. She pulled out her tweezers and, bending low, carefully lifted one up for inspection. With some idea of what it was, she held it to her nose, sniffed, and removed all doubt. Rubber. Reilly’s mind raced, wondering if this was of any significance. Had the killer dropped it? Probably not. Whoever had hoisted that poor man up into the tree and slashed open his torso surely wouldn’t have then gone to the trouble of coming all the way up here to watch him die. Or would he? She craned her neck, looking upwards into the gloom, then made her way to the window. As she did, she let out a breath. There, framed perfectly in the opening as if it were a painting, was the hawthorn tree, the misfortunate victim dramatically hanging front and center. Leaving little doubt in Reilly’s mind that such positioning was completely intentional. It took a while, but eventually the local police managed to arrange for a mobile elevating platform to be sent to the site from the nearest town. The ME, having repositioned the man’s innards as best she could, wrapped the mutilated body in the tarpaulin and, with the platform operator’s assistance, accompanied it down to the ground, where she could examine it more closely. Reilly took a lint roller from her bag, took samples from the body and then concentrated her efforts around the perimeter of the tree, walking in concentric circles around the base amongst the humongous roots poking through the soil. Granted the victim was not a heavy man, but even so, it ~ Casey Hill,

950:Gareth didn't need to open his eyes to know his brother was there, gazing down at him with his black stare that was severe enough to freeze the Devil in his lair of fire. And he didn't need to see Lucien's stark face to know what he would read there:  blatant disapproval. Fury. He felt Lucien's cool hand on his cheek. "Ah, Gareth," the duke said blandly, in a tone that didn't fool anyone in the room. "Another scrape you've got yourself into, I see. What is it this time, eh? No, let me guess. You were posing as a target and taking bets that none of your friends could hit you. Or perhaps you got so foxed that you fell from Crusader and impaled yourself on a fence? Do tell, dear boy. I have all night." "Go to hell, Luce." "I'm sure I will, but I'll have an explanation from you first." Bastard. Gareth refused to respond to the mocking taunts. Instead, he reached up, his fingers closing around Lucien's immaculate velvet sleeve. "Don't send her away, Luce. She's here. She needs us.... We owe it to Charles to take care of her and the baby." Footsteps came running down the hall, into the room. "Over here, Dr. Highworth!" Chilcot cried, suddenly. Lucien never moved. "Take care of whom, Gareth?" he inquired, with deadly menace. Weakly, Gareth turned his head on the pillow and looked up at his brother through a swirling fog of pain and alcohol. "Juliet Paige," he whispered, meeting Lucien's cool, veiled gaze. "The woman Charles was to marry ... she's here ... downstairs ... with his baby. Don't send her away, Lucien. I swear I'll kill you if you do." "My dear boy," Lucien murmured, with a chilling little smile, "I would not dream of it." But he had straightened up and was already moving toward the door. Gareth raised himself on one elbow even as the doctor tried to hold him down. "Lucien ... damn you, don't!" The duke kept walking. "Lucien!"  With the last of his strength, Gareth lunged from the bed, but the effort — and the Irish whiskey — did him in at last. As his feet hit the rug, his legs gave out beneath him, and he crashed heavily to the floor in a dead faint. Doctor, servants, and friends all rushed to his assistance. The duke never looked back.   ~ Danelle Harmon~ Danelle Harmon~ Danelle Harmon~ Danelle Harmon ~ Danelle Harmon,

951:(1) The church-state issue. If parents could use their vouchers to pay tuition at parochial schools, would that violate the First Amendment? Whether it does or not, is it desirable to adopt a policy that might strengthen the role of religious institutions in schooling? The Supreme Court has generally ruled against state laws providing assistance to parents who send their children to parochial schools, although it has never had occasion to rule on a full-fledged voucher plan covering both public and nonpublic schools. However it might rule on such a plan, it seems clear that the Court would accept a plan that excluded church-connected schools but applied to all other private and public schools. Such a restricted plan would be far superior to the present system, and might not be much inferior to a wholly unrestricted plan. Schools now connected with churches could qualify by subdividing themselves into two parts: a secular part reorganized as an independent school eligible for vouchers, and a religious part reorganized as an after-school or Sunday activity paid for directly by parents or church funds. The constitutional issue will have to be settled by the courts. But it is worth emphasizing that vouchers would go to parents, not to schools. Under the GI bills, veterans have been free to attend Catholic or other colleges and, so far as we know, no First Amendment issue has ever been raised. Recipients of Social Security and welfare payments are free to buy food at church bazaars and even to contribute to the collection plate from their government subsidies, with no First Amendment question being asked. Indeed, we believe that the penalty that is now imposed on parents who do not send their children to public schools violates the spirit of the First Amendment, whatever lawyers and judges may decide about the letter. Public schools teach religion, too—not a formal, theistic religion, but a set of values and beliefs that constitute a religion in all but name. The present arrangements abridge the religious freedom of parents who do not accept the religion taught by the public schools yet are forced to pay to have their children indoctrinated with it, and to pay still more to have their children escape indoctrination. ~ Milton Friedman,

952:harm in allowing them to retain their positions.” “Well, they certainly do fit the roles for caretakers of a haunted castle, but you have yet to truly explain why you bought the place.” Plucking a long piece of grass out of the ground, Bram rolled it between his fingers. “Who doesn’t want to live in a haunted castle?” Lucetta arched a perfect brow his way. “Oh, very well,” he said. “I’ll tell you, but only because I’m not certain I’m quite ready to add nagging to the long list of supposed charms I’ve had to accept about you recently.” “I don’t nag,” Lucetta muttered. “That may well be debatable, but . . . back to my story. You see, the previous owner, Mr. Woodward, had recently suffered some extensive losses in the market, and because of that, he did not have the luxury of taking a financial loss on Ravenwood once rumors spread that it was haunted. However, since his wife refused to step foot inside the castle once she came to the belief it was well and truly haunted, he found himself in a bit of a bind, so . . . I stepped in and bought it from him.” “Good heavens, Mr. Skukman was right. You do enjoy rescuing people,” he heard Lucetta say under her breath before she lifted her head and sent him a smile that showed a great deal of teeth. “It was very nice of you to buy Ravenwood from that man.” Bram shoved aside the peculiar thought that she didn’t actually seem to like the idea that he enjoyed rescuing people, and summoned up a smile of his own. “I had the means to buy Ravenwood, and I love the castle, so helping out Mr. Woodward wasn’t an act of any great consequence.” “I’m certain it was to him.” He turned his attention to the sheep, all of which were back to grazing as Igor slunk around them. Looking back at Lucetta, Bram caught her eye. “Just as I’ve come to discover you don’t care to have people remark on your skills on stage, I don’t particularly care to talk about the assistance I extend to people.” He smiled. “Reverend Gilmore, a dear friend I met about a year ago, once told me that he believes God puts people on certain paths. And when you cross paths with a person who is in need, and you have the solution to that need, well, God expects you to put that solution to use. I don’t know about you, but I’m not one to argue with God.” Lucetta’s ~ Jen Turano,

953:The second letter was sealed plainly, with no crest. I flung myself onto my pillows, broke the seal impatiently, and read: My Dear Countess: You say you would prefer discourse to gifts. I am yours to command. I will confess my hesitancy was due largely to my own confusion. It seems, from my vantage anyway, that you are surrounded by people in whom you could confide and from whom you could obtain excellent advice. Your turning to a faceless stranger for both could be ascribed to a taste for the idiosyncratic if not to mere caprice. I winced and dropped the paper to the table. “Well, I asked for the truth,” I muttered, and picked it up again. But I am willing to serve as foil, if foil you require. Judging from what you reported of your conversation with your lady of high rank, the insights you requested are these: First, with regard to her hint that someone else in power lied about rendering assistance at a crucial moment the year previous, you will not see either contender for power with any clarity until you ascertain which of them is telling the truth. Second, she wishes to attach you to her cause. From my limited understanding of said lady, I suspect she would not so bestir herself unless she believed you to be in, at least potentially, a position of influence. There was no signature, no closing. I read it through three times, then folded it carefully and fitted it inside one of my books. Pulling a fresh sheet of paper before me, I wrote: Dear Unknown: The only foil--actually, fool--here is me, which isn’t any pleasure to write. But I don’t want to talk about my past mistakes, I just want to learn to avoid making the same or like ones in future. Your advice about the event of last year (an escape) I thought of already and have begun my investigation. As for this putative position of power, it’s just that. I expect you’re being confused by my proximity to power--my brother being friend to the possible king and my living here in the Residence. But believe me, no one could possibly be more ignorant or less influential than I. With a sense of relief I folded that letter up, sealed it, and gave it to Mora to send along the usual route. Then I went gratefully to sleep. ~ Sherwood Smith,

954:The Dialectical Dilemma for the Patient The borderline individual is faced with an apparently irreconcilable dilemma. On the one hand, she has tremendous difficulties with self-regulation of affect and subsequent behavioral competence. She frequently but somewhat unpredictably needs a great deal of assistance, often feels helpless and hopeless, and is afraid of being left alone to fend for herself in a world where she has failed over and over again. Without the ability to predict and control her own well-being, she depends on her social environment to regulate her affect and behavior. On the other hand, she experiences intense shame at behaving dependently in a society that cannot tolerate dependency, and has learned to inhibit expressions of negative affect and helplessness whenever the affect is within controllable limits. Indeed, when in a positive mood, she may be exceptionally competent across a variety of situations. However, in the positive mood state she has difficulty predicting her own behavioral capabilities in a different mood, and thus communicates to others an ability to cope beyond her capabilities. Thus, the borderline individual, even though at times desperate for help, has great difficulty asking for help appropriately or communicating her needs. The inability to integrate or synthesize the notions of helplessness and competence, of noncontrol and control, and of needing and not needing help can lead to further emotional distress and dysfunctional behaviors. Believing that she is competent to “succeed,” the person may experience intense guilt about her presumed lack of motivation when she falls short of objectives. At other times, she experiences extreme anger at others for their lack of understanding and unrealistic expectations. Both the intense guilt and the intense anger can lead to dysfunctional behaviors, including suicide and parasuicide, aimed at reducing the painful emotional states. For the apparently competent person, suicidal behavior is sometimes the only means of communicating to others that she really can’t cope and needs help; that is, suicidal behavior is a cry for help. The behavior may also function as a means to get others to alter their unrealistic expectations—to “prove” to the world that she really cannot do what is expected. ~ Marsha M Linehan,

955:novels [4]. It follows that authentic text—text written for native speakers—is inappropriate for unassisted ER by all but the most advanced learners. For this reason, many educators advocate the use of learner literature, that is, stories written specifically for L2 learners, or adapted from authentic text [5]. For learners of English, there are over 40 graded reader series, consisting of over 1650 books with a variety of difficulty levels and genres [6].However, the time and expense in producing graded readers results in high purchase costs and limited availability in languages other than English and common L2‘s like Spanish and French. At a cost of £2.50 for a short English reader in 2001 [7] purchasing several thousand readers to cater for a school wide ER program requires a significant monetary investment. More affordable options are required, especially for schools in developing nations. Day and Bamford [8] recommend several alternatives when learner literature is not available. These include children's and young adult books, stories written by learners, newspapers, magazines and comic books. Some educators advocate the use of authentic texts in preference to simplified texts. Berardo [9] claims that the language in learner literature is ―artificial and unvaried‖, ―unlike anything that the learner will encounter in the real world‖ and often ―do not reflect how the language is really used‖. Berardo does concede that simplified texts are ―useful for preparing learners for reading 'real' texts. ‖ 2. ASSISTED READING Due to the large proportion of unknown vocabulary, beginner and intermediate learners require assistance when using authentic text for ER. Two popular forms of assistance are dictionaries and glossing. There are pros and cons of each approach. 1 A group of words that share the same root word, e.g. , run, ran, runner, runs, running. Permission to make digital or hard copies of all or part of this work for personal or classroom use is granted without fee provided that copies are not made or distributed for profit or commercial advantage and that copies bear this notice and the full citation on the first page. To copy otherwise, or republish, to post on servers or to redistribute to lists, requires prior specific permission and/or a fee.NZCSRSC’11, April 18-21, 2011, Palmerston North, New Zealand ~ Anonymous,

956:The frequent hearing of my mistress reading the bible--for she often read aloud when her husband was absent--soon awakened my curiosity in respect to this mystery of reading, and roused in me the desire to learn. Having no fear of my kind mistress before my eyes, (she had given me no reason to fear,) I frankly asked her to teach me to read; and without hesitation, the dear woman began the task, and very soon, by her assistance, I was master of the alphabet, and could spell words of three or four letters...Master Hugh was amazed at the simplicity of his spouse, and, probably for the first time, he unfolded to her the true philosophy of slavery, and the peculiar rules necessary to be observed by masters and mistresses, in the management of their human chattels. Mr. Auld promptly forbade the continuance of her [reading] instruction; telling her, in the first place, that the thing itself was unlawful; that it was also unsafe, and could only lead to mischief.... Mrs. Auld evidently felt the force of his remarks; and, like an obedient wife, began to shape her course in the direction indicated by her husband. The effect of his words, on me, was neither slight nor transitory. His iron sentences--cold and harsh--sunk deep into my heart, and stirred up not only my feelings into a sort of rebellion, but awakened within me a slumbering train of vital thought. It was a new and special revelation, dispelling a painful mystery, against which my youthful understanding had struggled, and struggled in vain, to wit: the white man's power to perpetuate the enslavement of the black man. "Very well," thought I; "knowledge unfits a child to be a slave." I instinctively assented to the proposition; and from that moment I understood the direct pathway from slavery to freedom. This was just what I needed; and got it at a time, and from a source, whence I least expected it.... Wise as Mr. Auld was, he evidently underrated my comprehension, and had little idea of the use to which I was capable of putting the impressive lesson he was giving to his wife.... That which he most loved I most hated; and the very determination which he expressed to keep me in ignorance, only rendered me the more resolute in seeking intelligence. ~ Frederick Douglass,

957:On a long flight, after periods of crisis and many hours of fatigue, mind and body may become disunited until at times they seem completely different elements, as though the body were only a home with which the mind has been associated but by no means bound. Consciousness grows independent of the ordinary senses. You see without assistance from the eyes, over distances beyond the visual horizon. There are moments when existence appears independent even of the mind. The importance of physical desire and immediate surroundings is submerged in the apprehension of universal values. For unmeasurable periods, I seem divorced from my body, as though I were an awareness spreading out through space, over the earth and into the heavens, unhampered by time or substance, free from the gravitation that binds to heavy human problems of the world. My body requires no attention. It's not hungry. It's neither warm or cold. It's resigned to being left undisturbed. Why have I troubled to bring it here? I might better have left it back at Long Island or St. Louis, while the weightless element that has lived within it flashes through the skies and views the planet. This essential consciousness needs no body for its travels. It needs no plane, no engine, no instruments, only the release from flesh which circumstances I've gone through make possible. Then what am I – the body substance which I can see with my eyes and feel with my hands? Or am I this realization, this greater understanding which dwells within it, yet expands through the universe outside; a part of all existence, powerless but without need for power; immersed in solitude, yet in contact with all creation? There are moments when the two appear inseparable, and others when they could be cut apart by the merest flash of light. While my hand is on the stick, my feet on the rudder, and my eyes on the compass, this consciousness, like a winged messenger, goes out to visit the waves below, testing the warmth of water, the speed of wind, the thickness of intervening clouds. It goes north to the glacial coasts of Greenland, over the horizon to the edge of dawn, ahead to Ireland, England, and the continent of Europe, away through space to the moon and stars, always returning, unwillingly, to the mortal duty of seeing that the limbs and muscles have attended their routine while it was gone. ~ Charles A Lindbergh,

958:One of Matsudaira Sagami no kami’s retainers went to Kyoto on a matter of debt collection and took up lodgings by renting living quarters in a townhouse. One day while standing out front watching the people go by, he heard a passerby say, “They say that Lord Matsudaira’s men are involved in a fight right now.” The retainer thought, “How worrisome that some of my companions are involved in a fight. There are some men to relieve those at Edo staying here. Perhaps these are the men involved.” He asked the passerby of the location, but when he arrived out of breath, his companions had already been cut down and their adversaries were at the point of delivering the coup de grace. He quickly let out a yell, cut the two men down, and returned to his lodgings. This matter was made known to an official of the shogunate, and the man was called up before him and questioned. “You gave assistance in your companions’ fight and thus disregarded the government’s ordinance. This is true beyond a doubt, isn’t it?” The man replied, “I am from the country, and it is difficult for me to understand everything that Your Honor is saying. Would you please repeat that?” The official got angry and said, “Is there something wrong with your ears? Didn’t you abet a fight, commit bloodshed, disregard the government’s ordinance, and break the law?” The man then replied, “I have at length understood what you are saying. Although you say that I have broken the law and disregarded the government’s ordinance, I have by no means done so. The reason for this is that all living things value their lives, and this goes without saying for human beings. I, especially, value my life. However, I thought that to hear a rumor that one’s friends are involved in a fight and to pretend not to hear this is not to preserve the Way of the Samurai, so I ran to the place of action. To shamelessly return home after seeing my friends struck down would surely have lengthened my life, but this too would be disregarding the Way. In preserving the Way, one will throw away his own precious life. Thus, in order to preserve the Way of the Samurai and not to disregard the Samurai Ordinances, I quickly threw away my life at that place. I beg that you execute me immediately.” The official was very impressed and later dismissed the matter, communicating to Lord Matsudaira, “You have a very able samurai in your service. Please treasure him. ~ Yamamoto Tsunetomo,

959:Engine room fire alarm’?” Rusty said. There was a moment of confusion before it kicked in. “ENGINE ROOM FIRE ALARM?” * * * “What the hell is that sound?” Harvey Tharpe said, rubbing his eyes as he opened the cabin door. Being on this yacht was better than being on the lifeboat but not much. They were packed in like sardines. There was food but being woken up in the middle of the night by a blaring “Squeee! Squeee! ” was not his idea of fun. The former businessman had been “robust” before being cast adrift on a lifeboat in a zombie apocalypse. He still had his height and some solidity. So he was more than a bit surprised when the short, blonde skipper of the boat, wearing not much more than a camisole and panties smashed him out of the way like an NFL linebacker on her way aft. “MOVE PEOPLE!” the boat captain shouted, continuing to hammer her way through the crowd of refugees. * * * “Fuck a freaking duck,” Sophia said, opening the door to the engine compartment. The smoke wasn’t so bad she needed a respirator but it was bad. And they were dead in the water. All the power except the shrieking alarm was out. She threw the main battery disconnect, then picked up one of the industrial fire extinguishers and played it over the exterior of the main breakers which were the source of the fire. “Skipper?” Paula said, picking another one up. “We need to get it open before we use them all up,” Sophia said, putting her hand on the extinguisher. “Get Rusty to get all the passengers up, out and on the sundeck.” She slid one hand into a rubber glove and popped open the main breaker panel. The whole thing was smoldering so she played the rest of the fire extinguisher over it until it was cold. A tick checker showed that the whole thing was electrically cold as well. Now if only the batteries hadn’t discharged their whole load into the panel and killed themselves as well. “What can I do, Skipper?” Patrick said groggily. The “engineer” was wearing not much more than the skipper. “Get a hand-held,” Sophia said. “See if there’s a sub in range. Tell them we had a major electrical fire. Fire is under control. No power at this time. May be repairable but we may need assistance. Don’t at this time but may. Got it? Do not call mayday or PON-PON. Do not.” “Got it, Skipper,” Patrick said. “And get these people the HELL OUT OF MY ENGINE COMPARTENT! ~ John Ringo,

960:We live in a more individualistic society. If you humbly believe that you are not individually strong enough to defeat your own weaknesses, then you know you must be dependent on redemptive assistance from outside. But if you proudly believe the truest answers can be found in the real you, the voice inside, then you are less likely to become engaged with others. Sure enough, there has been a steady decline in intimacy. Decades ago, people typically told pollsters that they had four or five close friends, people to whom they could tell everything. Now the common answer is two or three, and the number of people with no confidants has doubled. Thirty-five percent of older adults report being chronically lonely, up from 20 percent a decade ago.21 At the same time, social trust has declined. Surveys ask, “Generally speaking, would you say that most people can be trusted or that you can’t be too careful in dealing with people?” In the early 1960s, significant majorities said that people can generally be trusted. But in the 1990s the distrusters had a 20-percentage-point margin over the trusters, and those margins have increased in the years since.22 People have become less empathetic—or at least they display less empathy in how they describe themselves. A University of Michigan study found that today’s college students score 40 percent lower than their predecessors in the 1970s in their ability to understand what another person is feeling. The biggest drop came in the years after 2000.23 Public language has also become demoralized. Google ngrams measure word usage across media. Google scans the contents of books and publications going back decades. You can type in a word and see, over the years, which words have been used more frequently and which less frequently. Over the past few decades there has been a sharp rise in the usage of individualist words and phrases like “self” and “personalized,” “I come first” and “I can do it myself,” and a sharp decline in community words like “community,” “share,” “united,” and “common good.”24 The use of words having to do with economics and business has increased, while the language of morality and character building is in decline.25 Usage of words like “character,” “conscience,” and “virtue” all declined over the course of the twentieth century.26Usage of the word “bravery” has declined by 66 percent over the course of the twentieth century. “Gratitude” is down 49 percent. “Humbleness” is down 52 percent and “kindness” is down 56 percent. ~ David Brooks,

961:I listened to you,” she vehemently said at last. “I loved you, and I trusted you, and I fought not to lose you after my brother’s death.” “You never trusted me,” Narian contradicted, interrupting whatever else she had intended to say. “And with good reason. You believe the only way to repay a betrayal if with a betrayal. You betrayed me in the worst way imaginable. You lied to me my entire life, trained me and used me as a weapon, never telling me the real reason I was of value to you.” His blue eyes flashed, their sapphire brilliance rivaling the ever-changing emerald sparks in hers. “But I will no longer be manipulated for your causes, and I will not become another warlord. You can consider yourself repaid.” The High Priestess’s rage built to a frightening level, her body almost shaking with the effort to retain control. Her shield maidens watched in fear from where they stood near her throne, while I locked my knees to force myself to stay in place. Then she backhanded Narian across the face, forcefully enough that he stumbled. “You will regret what you have done, Narian,” she swore as he brought a hand to his cheek. “The Hytanicans will not succeed. You will pay for protecting their leaders from execution and for your willingness to step aside.” “They may very well succeed. Don’t pretend otherwise. This is no longer a game of tug of war, Your Highness. It is a game of chess. And as you well know, Cannan and London have always been masterful strategists.” “London?” “Yes, he is alive and well. I suspect he is responsible for the chaos that surrounds us.” At the mention of London, my eyes snapped to Narian, and my heart ached to hear more. But something in Nantilam’s visage changed, and she turned away to take up her throne. “So you have lent no assistance to the Hytanicans--you have not armed them, have not repositioned our troops to aid their strike, have not left our soldiers without strong leadership?” “No, I have not. Our forces are in place, and I took all the usual precautions before traveling here as you ordered.” “Then it may indeed be interesting to see what the Hytanicans can do. Cannan as a commander long rivaled my brother, and London…well, a man such as London is rare. If he and I had not been enemies, I would have chosen him to father my own child.” My heart lurched at this revelation, but Narian showed no reaction, continuing to stand stiffly before her. The High Priestess met his eyes, evaluating him for another long moment. ~ Cayla Kluver,

962:You’ll be pleased to learn that these fancy cork jackets really do a remarkable job of keeping a person afloat,” she heard spill out of her mouth after a full minute had passed. Everett, annoyingly enough, kept reading, but then his head snapped up and he narrowed his eyes on her. “I do beg your pardon, Millie, I was completely engrossed in my book, but . . . what did you just say? Something about keeping a person afloat?” “I said these jackets are remarkably effective.” She twirled around to show off the jacket she was wearing. Everett shot out of the chair before she could finish her twirling. “Where are the children?” he demanded as he rushed for the door, scowling down at her when she, seemingly unable to help herself, moved to block his way. “They’re languishing, which means lingering, in the ocean, having a most marvelous time of it, I might add.” Everett actually picked her up and set her aside right before he froze. “Elizabeth was right, Miss Longfellow. You really are a lunatic.” “And you, Mr. Mulberry, are rapidly turning out to be a rather unlikeable sort,” Millie shot back. “Do you honestly believe if the children had gone overboard that I’d waste time seeking out your assistance instead of jumping into the ocean after them?” “You don’t know how to swim.” “Which is why I’m wearing this jacket, and which is also why, because you know I can’t swim, you should have stayed topside with the children instead of burying yourself in here with what appears to be some type of novel.” She peered over at the desk, but couldn’t make out what he was reading. “Did you forget the children’s fascination with walking the plank?” “They were considering walking a plank?” “Don’t be silly,” Millie said with a sniff. “After what happened the last time they tried that game, I do think their interest in that has dimmed simultaneously.” Everett’s brows drew together. “Simultaneously?” Fumbling with the cork jacket, Millie stuck her hand in a pocket and retrieved her dictionary. Flipping through the pages, she glanced over different words. “Ah, here we go. I think significantly might have been what I meant to say.” She lifted her head and refused to sigh when she realized Everett was now scowling her way. “Why would you bring up the whole plank business when you knew the children had abandoned their interest in it?” he asked. “You annoyed me.” “The amount of money I’m currently paying you to nanny the children should hold any and all annoyance you may think you feel for me at bay.” “Even if you paid me twice what you are, I’d still get annoyed with you on a frequent basis.” “I’m ~ Jen Turano,

963:So Medtronic adjusted not only its marketing efforts, but also the services it provided to directly target potential patients. For example, in conjunction with local cardiologists, Medtronic organized heart-health screening clinics across the country—providing prospective patients with free, direct access to specialists and high-tech equipment without having to go through an overwhelmed GP first. The question of paying for a pacemaker and the attendant medical services was no small concern. So Medtronic created a loan program to help patients pay for the pacemaker procedure. The company initially assumed that patients might be drawn to loans that actually expired upon the patient’s death, so that they were not saddling the family with the burden of debt—the emotional and social component of their Job to Be Done. And, as the Medtronic team learned from patients themselves, that was what they often wanted. But friends and family wanted something different: they tended to rally around a patient to find the money necessary. In those cases, the patient was more likely simply to need a bridge loan until those funds could be gathered. Medtronic made sure that the loan process was not daunting for the family: a loan is typically approved within two days, requiring minimum paperwork and entailing no asset mortgage. The experience of navigating the complex web of health care in India could be overwhelming for both patients and their families. So the company began to work with local hospitals to create a patient counselor role, initially calling them “Sherpas,” that helped patients navigate the often mind-boggling bureaucracy of a hospital, keeping their procedure and aftercare as top priorities. The patient counselor role became so popular that hospitals asked if the company would allow patients obtaining pacemakers through traditional routes to seek assistance from a counselor, too. Seeing an opportunity to further identify Jobs to Be Done from within the hospital system, Medtronic jumped at the chance. “At the end of the day, we realized the role was such an important position, we adjusted the role. And we were OK with it,” Monson recalls. “It ingrained the value of that person into the entire hospital system, and thus our business model. And it made us the partner of choice. To me that was a clear example of hitting a Job to Be Done.” The first Medtronic pacemaker distributed through the Healthy Heart for All (HHFA) program in India was implanted in late 2010. Medtronic currently has partnerships with more than one hundred hospitals in thirty cities. India is considered to be one of the most high-potential growth markets for the company. ~ Clayton M Christensen,

964:In retrospect, it is easy to see that Hitler's successful gamble in the Rhineland brought him a victory more staggering and more fatal in its immense consequences than could be comprehended at the time. At home it fortified his popularity and his power, raising them to heights which no German ruler of the past had ever enjoyed. It assured his ascendancy over his generals, who had hesitated and weakened at a moment of crisis when he had held firm. It taught them that in foreign politics and even in military affairs his judgment was superior to theirs. They had feared that the French would fight; he knew better. And finally, and above all, the Rhineland occupation, small as it was as a military operation, opened the way, as only Hitler (and Churchill, alone, in England) seemed to realize, to vast new opportunities in a Europe which was not only shaken but whose strategic situation was irrevocably changed by the parading of three German battalions across the Rhine bridges. Conversely, it is equally easy to see, in retrospect, that France's failure to repel the Wehrmacht battalions and Britain's failure to back her in what would have been nothing more than a police action was a disaster for the West from which sprang all the later ones of even greater magnitude. In March 1936 the two Western democracies were given their last chance to halt, without the risk of a serious war, the rise of a militarized, aggressive, totalitarian Germany and, in fact - as we have seen Hitler admitting - bring the Nazi dictator and his regime tumbling down. They let the chance slip by. For France, it was the beginning of the end. Her allies in the East, Russia, Poland, Czechoslovakia, Rumania and Yugoslavia, suddenly were faced with the fact that France would not fight against German aggression to preserve the security system which the French government itself had taken the lead in so laboriously building up. But more than that. These Eastern allies began to realize that even if France were not so supine, she would soon not be able to lend them much assistance because of Germany's feverish construction of a West Wall behind the Franco-German border. The erection of this fortress line, they saw, would quickly change the strategic map of Europe, to their detriment. They could scarcely expect a France which did not dare, with her one hundred divisions, to repel three German battalions, to bleed her young manhood against impregnable German fortifications which the Wehrmacht attacked in the East. But even if the unexpected took place, it would be futile. Henceforth the French could tie down in the West only a small part of the growing German Army. The rest would be free for operations against Germany's Eastern neighbors. ~ William L Shirer,

965:[T]he old stories of human relationships with animals can't be discounted. They are not primitive; they are primal. They reflect insights that came from considerable and elaborate systems of knowledge, intellectual traditions and ways of living that were tried, tested, and found true over many thousands of years and on all continents. But perhaps the truest story is with the animals themselves because we have found our exemplary ways through them, both in the older world and in the present time, both physically and spiritually. According to the traditions of the Seneca animal society, there were medicine animals in ancient times that entered into relationships with people. The animals themselves taught ceremonies that were to be performed in their names, saying they would provide help for humans if this relationship was kept. We have followed them, not only in the way the early European voyagers and prenavigators did, by following the migrations of whales in order to know their location, or by releasing birds from cages on their sailing vessels and following them towards land, but in ways more subtle and even more sustaining. In a discussion of the Wolf Dance of the Northwest, artists Bill Holm and William Reid said that 'It is often done by a woman or a group of women. The dance is supposed to come from the wolves. There are different versions of its origin and different songs, but the words say something like, 'Your name is widely known among the wolves. You are honored by the wolves.' In another recent account, a Northern Cheyenne ceremonialist said that after years spent recovering from removals and genocide, indigenous peoples are learning their lost songs back from the wolves who retained them during the grief-filled times, as thought the wolves, even though threatened in their own numbers, have had compassion for the people.... It seems we have always found our way across unknown lands, physical and spiritual, with the assistance of the animals. Our cultures are shaped around them and we are judged by the ways in which we treat them. For us, the animals are understood to be our equals. They are still our teachers. They are our helpers and healers. They have been our guardians and we have been theirs. We have asked for, and sometimes been given, if we've lived well enough, carefully enough, their extraordinary powers of endurance and vision, which we have added to our own knowledge, powers and gifts when we are not strong enough for the tasks required of us. We have deep obligations to them. Without other animals, we are made less. (from her essay "First People") ~ Linda Hogan,

966:Neoliberal economics, the logic of which is tending today to win out throughout the world thanks to international bodies like the World Bank or the International Monetary Fund and the governments to whom they, directly or indirectly, dictate their principles of ‘governance’,10 owes a certain number of its allegedly universal characteristics to the fact that it is immersed or embedded in a particular society, that is to say, rooted in a system of beliefs and values, an ethos and a moral view of the world, in short, an economic common sense, linked, as such, to the social and cognitive structures of a particular social order. It is from this particular economy that neoclassical economic theory borrows its fundamental assumptions, which it formalizes and rationalizes, thereby establishing them as the foundations of a universal model. That model rests on two postulates (which their advocates regard as proven propositions): the economy is a separate domain governed by natural and universal laws with which governments must not interfere by inappropriate intervention; the market is the optimum means for organizing production and trade efficiently and equitably in democratic societies. It is the universalization of a particular case, that of the United States of America, characterized fundamentally by the weakness of the state which, though already reduced to a bare minimum, has been further weakened by the ultra-liberal conservative revolution, giving rise as a consequence to various typical characteristics: a policy oriented towards withdrawal or abstention by the state in economic matters; the shifting into the private sector (or the contracting out) of ‘public services’ and the conversion of public goods such as health, housing, safety, education and culture – books, films, television and radio – into commercial goods and the users of those services into clients; a renunciation (linked to the reduction in the capacity to intervene in the economy) of the power to equalize opportunities and reduce inequality (which is tending to increase excessively) in the name of the old liberal ‘self-help’ tradition (a legacy of the Calvinist belief that God helps those who help themselves) and of the conservative glorification of individual responsibility (which leads, for example, to ascribing responsibility for unemployment or economic failure primarily to individuals, not to the social order, and encourages the delegation of functions of social assistance to lower levels of authority, such as the region or city); the withering away of the Hegelian–Durkheimian view of the state as a collective authority with a responsibility to act as the collective will and consciousness, and a duty to make decisions in keeping with the general interest and contribute to promoting greater solidarity. Moreover, ~ Pierre Bourdieu,

967:Hannah Winter was sixty all of a sudden, as women of sixty are. Just yesterday - or the day before, at most - she had been a bride of twenty in a wine-coloured silk wedding gown, very stiff and rich. And now here she was, all of a sudden, sixty. (...) This is the way it happened! She was rushing along Peacock Alley to meet her daughter Marcia. Anyone who knows Chicago knows that smoke-blackened pile, the Congress Hotel; and anyone who knows the Congress Hotel has walked down that glittering white marble crypt called Peacock Alley. It is neither so glittering nor so white nor, for that matter, so prone to preen itself as it was in the hotel's palmy '90s. But it still serves as a convenient short cut on a day when Chicago's lake wind makes Michigan Boulevard a hazard, and thus Hannah Winter was using it. She was to have met Marcia at the Michigan Boulevard entrance at two, sharp. And here it was 2.07. When Marcia said two, there she was at two, waiting, lips slightly compressed. (...) So then here it was 2.07, and Hannah Winter, rather panicky, was rushing along Peacock Alley, dodging loungers, and bell-boys, and traveling salesmen and visiting provincials and the inevitable red-faced delegates with satin badges. In her hurry and nervous apprehension she looked, as she scuttled down the narrow passage, very much like the Rabbit who was late for the Duchess's dinner. Her rubber-heeled oxfords were pounding down hard on the white marble pavement. Suddenly she saw coming swiftly toward her a woman who seemed strangely familiar - a well-dressed woman, harassed-looking, a tense frown between her eyes, and her eyes staring so that they protruded a little, as one who runs ahead of herself in her haste. Hannah had just time to note, in a flash, that the woman's smart hat was slightly askew and that, though she walked very fast, her trim ankles showed the inflexibility of age, when she saw that the woman was not going to get out of her way. Hannah Winter swerved quickly to avoid a collision. So did the other woman. Next instant Hannah Winter brought up with a crash against her own image in that long and tricky mirror which forms a broad full-length panel set in the marble wall at the north end of Peacock Alley. Passerby and the loungers on near-by red plush seats came running, but she was unhurt except for a forehead bump that remained black-and-blue for two weeks or more. The bump did not bother her, nor did the slightly amused concern of those who had come to her assistance. She stood there, her hat still askew, staring at this woman - this woman with her stiff ankles, her slightly protruding eyes, her nervous frown, her hat a little sideways - this stranger - this murderess who had just slain, ruthlessly and forever, a sallow, high-spirited girl of twenty in a wine-coloured silk wedding gown. ~ Edna Ferber,

968:Lottie pressed her face into the crook of his neck and shoulder. She had to stop him now, before her will was completely demolished. “No. Please stop. I’m sorry.” His hand slid from her blouse, and he touched her damp lips with his fingers. “Have I frightened you?” he whispered. Lottie shook her head, somehow resisting the urge to curl into his embrace like a sun-warmed cat. “No… I’ve frightened myself.” For some reason her admission made him smile. His fingers moved to her throat, tracing the fragile line with a sensitivity that made her breath catch. Tugging the peasant blouse back up to her shoulder, he retied the frayed ribbon that secured the neckline. “Then I’ll stop,” he said. “Come— I’ll take you to the house.” He stayed close to her as they continued through the forest, occasionally moving to push a branch out of the way, or taking her hand to guide her over a rough place on the path. As familiar as she was with the woods of Stony Cross Park, Lottie had no need of his assistance. But she accepted the help with demur. And she did not protest when he paused again, his lips finding hers easily in the darkness. His mouth was hot and sweet as he kissed her compulsively… swift kisses, languid ones, kisses that ranged from intense need to wicked flirtation. Drugged with pleasure, Lottie let her hands wander to the thick dishevelment of his hair, the iron-hard nape of his neck. When the blistering heat rose to an untenable degree, Lord Sydney groaned softly. “Charlotte…” “Lottie,” she told him breathlessly. He pressed his lips to her temple and cuddled her against his powerful body as if she were infinitely fragile. “I never thought I would find someone like you,” he whispered. “I’ve looked for you so long… needed you…” Lottie shivered and dropped her head to his shoulder. “This isn’t real,” she said faintly. His lips touched her neck, finding a place that made her arch involuntarily. “What’s real, then?” She gestured to the yew hedge that bordered the estate garden. “Everything back there.” His arms tightened, and he spoke in a muffled voice. “Let me come to your room. Just for a little while.” Lottie responded with a trembling laugh, knowing exactly what would happen if she allowed that. “Absolutely not.” Soft, hot kisses drifted over her skin. “You’re safe with me. I would never ask for more than you were willing to give.” Lottie closed her eyes, her head spinning. “The problem is,” she said ruefully, “I am willing to give you entirely too much.” She felt the curve of his smile against her cheek. “Is that a problem?” “Oh, yes.” Pulling away from him, Lottie held her hands to her hot face and sighed unsteadily. “We must stop this. I don’t trust myself with you.” “You shouldn’t,” he agreed hoarsely. -Lottie & Nick ~ Lisa Kleypas,

969:The next time you drive into a Walmart parking lot, pause for a second to note that this Walmart—like the more than five thousand other Walmarts across the country—costs taxpayers about $1 million in direct subsidies to the employees who don’t earn enough money to pay for an apartment, buy food, or get even the most basic health care for their children. In total, Walmart benefits from more than $7 billion in subsidies each year from taxpayers like you. Those “low, low prices” are made possible by low, low wages—and by the taxes you pay to keep those workers alive on their low, low pay. As I said earlier, I don’t think that anyone who works full-time should live in poverty. I also don’t think that bazillion-dollar companies like Walmart ought to funnel profits to shareholders while paying such low wages that taxpayers must pick up the ticket for their employees’ food, shelter, and medical care. I listen to right-wing loudmouths sound off about what an outrage welfare is and I think, “Yeah, it stinks that Walmart has been sucking up so much government assistance for so long.” But somehow I suspect that these guys aren’t talking about Walmart the Welfare Queen. Walmart isn’t alone. Every year, employers like retailers and fast-food outlets pay wages that are so low that the rest of America ponies up a collective $153 billion to subsidize their workers. That’s $153 billion every year. Anyone want to guess what we could do with that mountain of money? We could make every public college tuition-free and pay for preschool for every child—and still have tens of billions left over. We could almost double the amount we spend on services for veterans, such as disability, long-term care, and ending homelessness. We could double all federal research and development—everything: medical, scientific, engineering, climate science, behavioral health, chemistry, brain mapping, drug addiction, even defense research. Or we could more than double federal spending on transportation and water infrastructure—roads, bridges, airports, mass transit, dams and levees, water treatment plants, safe new water pipes. Yeah, the point I’m making is blindingly obvious. America could do a lot with the money taxpayers spend to keep afloat people who are working full-time but whose employers don’t pay a living wage. Of course, giant corporations know they have a sweet deal—and they plan to keep it, thank you very much. They have deployed armies of lobbyists and lawyers to fight off any efforts to give workers a chance to organize or fight for a higher wage. Giant corporations have used their mouthpiece, the national Chamber of Commerce, to oppose any increase in the minimum wage, calling it a “distraction” and a “cynical effort” to increase union membership. Lobbyists grow rich making sure that people like Gina don’t get paid more. The ~ Elizabeth Warren,

970:Let, then, thy soul by faith be exercised with such thoughts and apprehensions as these: “I am a poor, weak creature; unstable as water, I cannot excel. This corruption is too hard for me, and is at the very door of ruining my soul; and what to do I know not. My soul is become as parched ground, and an habitation of dragons. I have made promises and broken them; vows and engagements have been as a thing of nought. Many persuasions have I had that I had got the victory and should be delivered, but I am deceived; so that I plainly see, that without some eminent succour and assistance, I am lost, and shall be prevailed on to an utter relinquishment of God. But yet, though this be my state and condition, let the hands that hang down be lifted up, and the feeble knees be strengthened. Behold, 32the Lord Christ, that hath all fulness of grace in his heart, all fulness of power in his hand, he is able to slay all these his enemies. There is sufficient provision in him for my relief and assistance. He can take my drooping, dying soul and make me more than a conqueror.33 ‘Why sayest thou, O my soul, My way is hid from the Lord, and my judgment is passed over from my God? Hast thou not known, hast thou not heard, that the everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, fainteth not, neither is weary? there is no searching of his understanding. He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength. Even the youths shall faint and be weary, and the young men shall utterly fall: but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; they shall walk, and not faint,’ Isa. xl. 27–31. He can make the ‘dry, parched ground of my soul to become a pool, and my thirsty, barren heart as springs of water;’ yea, he can make this ‘habitation of dragons,’ this heart, so full of abominable lusts and fiery temptations, to be a place for ‘grass’ and fruit to himself,” Isa. xxxv. 7. So God staid Paul, under his temptation, with the consideration of the sufficiency of his grace: “My grace is sufficient for thee,” 2 Cor. xii. 9. Though he were not immediately so far made partaker of it as to be freed from his temptation, yet the sufficiency of it in God, for that end and purpose, was enough to stay his spirit. I say, then, by faith, be much in the consideration of that supply and the fulness of it that is in Jesus Christ, and how he can at any time give thee strength and deliverance. Now, if hereby thou dost not find success to a conquest, yet thou wilt be staid in the chariot, that thou shalt not fly out of the field until the battle be ended; thou wilt be kept from an utter despondency and a lying down under thy unbelief, or a turning aside to false means and remedies, that in the issue will not relieve thee. The efficacy of this consideration will be found only in the practice. ~ John Owen,

971:Eternal, unconfined, unextended, without cause and without effect, the Holy Lamp mysteriously burns. Without quantity or quality, unconditioned and sempiternal, is this Light. It is not possible for anyone to advise or approve; for this Lamp is not made with hands; it exists alone for ever; it has no parts, no person; it is before "I am." Few can behold it, yet it is always there. For it there is no "here" nor "there," no "then" nor "now;" all parts of speech are abolished, save the noun; and this noun is not found either in {106} human speech or in Divine. It is the Lost Word, the dying music of whose sevenfold echo is I A O and A U M. Without this Light the Magician could not work at all; yet few indeed are the Magicians that have know of it, and far fewer They that have beheld its brilliance! The Temple and all that is in it must be destroyed again and again before it is worthy to receive that Light. Hence it so often seems that the only advice that any master can give to any pupil is to destroy the Temple. "Whatever you have" and "whatever you are" are veils before that Light. Yet in so great a matter all advice is vain. There is no master so great that he can see clearly the whole character of any pupil. What helped him in the past may hinder another in the future. Yet since the Master is pledged to serve, he may take up that service on these simple lines. Since all thoughts are veils of this Light, he may advise the destruction of all thoughts, and to that end teach those practices which are clearly conductive to such destruction. These practices have now fortunately been set down in clear language by order of the A.'.A.'.. In these instructions the relativity and limitation of each practice is clearly taught, and all dogmatic interpretations are carefully avoided. Each practice is in itself a demon which must be destroyed; but to be destroyed it must first be evoked. Shame upon that Master who shirks any one of these practices, however distasteful or useless it may be to him! For in the detailed knowledge of it, which experience alone can give him, may lie his opportunity for crucial assistance to a pupil. However dull the drudgery, it should be undergone. If it were possible to regret anything in life, which is fortunately not the case, it would be the hours wasted in fruitful practices which might have been more profitably employed on sterile ones: for NEMO<> in tending his garden seeketh not to single out the flower that shall be NEMO after him. And we are not told that NEMO might have used other things than those which he actually does use; it seems possible that if he had not the acid or the knife, or the fire, or the oil, he might miss tending just that one flower which was to be NEMO after him! ~ Aleister Crowley, Liber ABA, The Lamp,

972:SYNCHRONICITY 'The earth is alive, and it feels with you. It follows your footsteps, your search, with equal anxiety, because it will be transfigured in your triumph. The end of Kaliyuga and the entry into a new Golden Age depend on the results of your war. The earth by itself cannot finish the work that Nature leaves incomplete. Today the earth has joined forces with man in his destructive passion. The great catastrophe will occur in the first years of the Age of Aquarius. But if you can find the entrance to the Invisible Double of this earth, fulfilling the mystery of 'loveless A-Mor', the volcanoes will become calm, the earthquake will cease and the catastrophe will be avoided. 'There is an essential 'synchronicity' between the soul and the landscape. What you achieve in yourself will have repercussions in even the remotest corner of the universe, like the ringing of a bell which announces a triumph or a defeat, producing irreversible effects in a secret centre where Destiny acts. The Archetype is indivisible and, if you once confront it in an essential manner, the effects are universal and valid for all eternity. The old Chinese saying expresses it well: 'If a man, sitting in his room, thinks the right thoughts, he will be heard thousands of leagues away.' And the alchemical saying, too: 'It doesn't matter how alone you are. If you do true work, unknown friends will come to your aid.' 'What I have called "synchronicity', Nietzsche called 'lucky occurrences filled with meaning'. It becomes a poetic dialogue, a concerto for two violins, between the man-magician and Nature. The world presents you with a 'lucky occurrence filled with meaning', it hands you a subtle, almost secret message, something which happens without apparent reason, a-causal, but which you feel is full of meaning. This being exactly what the world is looking for, that you should extract that meaning from it, which you alone are capable of seeing, because it 'synchronises', it fully coincides with your immediate state of mind, with an event in your life, so that it is able to transform itself, with your assistance, into legend and destiny. A lucky occurrence which transformed itself into Destiny. And once you have achieved this, everything will appear to become the same as before, as if nothing had happened. Nevertheless, everything has changed fundamentally and for all time, although the only ones to know it will be you and the earth — which is now your earth, your world, since it has given itself up to you so that you can make it fruitful. 'The earth has made itself invisible inside you', as Rilke would say, it has become an individualised universe inside you. And although perhaps nothing may have changed, 'it might seem as if it were so, it might seem as if it were so', to use your own words. And you will be a creative God of the world; because you have conceived a Non-Existent Flower. You have given a meaning to your flower. ~ Miguel Serrano,

973:THE NIGHTGOWN was only the first of the garments in the box. There were seven nightgowns, in fact—one for each day of the week—of delicate silk, lovely georgette, and beautiful tiffany. As Alexandra pulled them out, she draped them on the bed. She’d never seen a nightgown that wasn’t white, but these were almond and pale blush pink, powder blue and soft peach, with delicate edgings of lace and intricate, exquisite embroidery. “They’re stunning,” she said. “Madame Rodale has nothing like them in her book of fashion plates.” Tris just grinned. He seemed different tonight. More relaxed, less worried. She didn’t know what had prompted his sudden good humor, but she didn’t want to question it. She’d rather enjoy it instead. After the afternoon she’d had—starting with Elizabeth’s letter and ending with three fruitless interviews—she wasn’t about to risk the one thing that seemed to be going right. “Are you going to try one on for me?” he asked. Her face heated. He chose a nightgown off the bed, palest lavender with black lace and violet embroidery. “This one,” he said, handing it to her. “Do you require assistance with your dress?” “Just the buttons,” she said, and turned to let him unfasten them. She shifted the nightgown in her hands. It felt so light. “There,” he said when the back of her green dress gaped open. He kissed her softly on the nape of her neck, then settled on one of the striped chairs, sipping from the glass of port he’d brought upstairs with him. “Use the dressing room. I’ll be waiting.” In the dressing room, she shakily stripped out of her frock, chemise, shoes, and stockings, then dropped the nightgown over her head and smoothed it down over her hips. The fabric whispered against her legs. She turned to see herself in the looking glass. Sweet heaven. She’d never imagined nightgowns like this existed. Her nightgowns all had high collars that tied at the throat. This one had a wide, low neckline. Her nightgowns all had long, full sleeves. This one had tiny puffed sleeves that began halfway off her shoulders. Her nightgowns were made of yards and yards of thick, billowing fabric. This one was a slender column that left no curve to the imagination. It was wicked. “Are you ready yet?” Tris called. Alexandra swallowed hard, reminding herself that he’d seen her in less clothing. And he was her husband. Still, wearing the nightgown for him somehow felt more intimate than wearing nothing at all. She was as ready as she’d ever be. Drawing a deep breath, she exited the dressing room, walked quickly through the sitting room, and paused in the bedroom’s doorway. She dropped her gaze, then raised her lashes, giving him the look—the one Juliana had said would make men fall at her feet. Judging from the expression on Tris’s face, it was a good thing he was sitting. The way he looked at her made her heartbeat accelerate. He rose and moved toward her. She met him halfway, licking suddenly dry lips. “Will you kiss me?” she asked softly, reaching up to sweep that always unruly lock off his forehead. It worked this time. He kissed her but good. ~ Lauren Royal,

974:she feels lucky to have a job, but she is pretty blunt about what it is like to work at Walmart: she hates it. She’s worked at the local Walmart for nine years now, spending long hours on her feet waiting on customers and wrestling heavy merchandise around the store. But that’s not the part that galls her. Last year, management told the employees that they would get a significant raise. While driving to work or sorting laundry, Gina thought about how she could spend that extra money. Do some repairs around the house. Or set aside a few dollars in case of an emergency. Or help her sons, because “that’s what moms do.” And just before drifting off to sleep, she’d think about how she hadn’t had any new clothes in years. Maybe, just maybe. For weeks, she smiled at the notion. She thought about how Walmart was finally going to show some sign of respect for the work she and her coworkers did. She rolled the phrase over in her mind: “significant raise.” She imagined what that might mean. Maybe $2.00 more an hour? Or $2.50? That could add up to $80 a week, even $100. The thought was delicious. Then the day arrived when she received the letter informing her of the raise: 21 cents an hour. A whopping 21 cents. For a grand total of $1.68 a day, $8.40 a week. Gina described holding the letter and looking at it and feeling like it was “a spit in the face.” As she talked about the minuscule raise, her voice filled with anger. Anger, tinged with fear. Walmart could dump all over her, but she knew she would take it. She still needed this job. They could treat her like dirt, and she would still have to show up. And that’s exactly what they did. In 2015, Walmart made $14.69 billion in profits, and Walmart’s investors pocketed $10.4 billion from dividends and share repurchases—and Gina got 21 cents an hour more. This isn’t a story of shared sacrifice. It’s not a story about a company that is struggling to keep its doors open in tough times. This isn’t a small business that can’t afford generous raises. Just the opposite: this is a fabulously wealthy company making big bucks off the Ginas of the world. There are seven members of the Walton family, Walmart’s major shareholders, on the Forbes list of the country’s four hundred richest people, and together these seven Waltons have as much wealth as about 130 million other Americans. Seven people—not enough to fill the lineup of a softball team—and they have more money than 40 percent of our nation’s population put together. Walmart routinely squeezes its workers, not because it has to, but because it can. The idea that when the company does well, the employees do well, too, clearly doesn’t apply to giants like this one. Walmart is the largest employer in the country. More than a million and a half Americans are working to make this corporation among the most profitable in the world. Meanwhile, Gina points out that at her store, “almost all the young people are on food stamps.” And it’s not just her store. Across the country, Walmart pays such low wages that many of its employees rely on food stamps, rent assistance, Medicaid, and a mix of other government benefits, just to stay out of poverty. The ~ Elizabeth Warren,

975:If government had declined to build racially separate public housing in cities where segregation hadn’t previously taken root, and instead had scattered integrated developments throughout the community, those cities might have developed in a less racially toxic fashion, with fewer desperate ghettos and more diverse suburbs. If the federal government had not urged suburbs to adopt exclusionary zoning laws, white flight would have been minimized because there would have been fewer racially exclusive suburbs to which frightened homeowners could flee. If the government had told developers that they could have FHA guarantees only if the homes they built were open to all, integrated working-class suburbs would likely have matured with both African Americans and whites sharing the benefits. If state courts had not blessed private discrimination by ordering the eviction of African American homeowners in neighborhoods where association rules and restrictive covenants barred their residence, middle-class African Americans would have been able gradually to integrate previously white communities as they developed the financial means to do so. If churches, universities, and hospitals had faced loss of tax-exempt status for their promotion of restrictive covenants, they most likely would have refrained from such activity. If police had arrested, rather than encouraged, leaders of mob violence when African Americans moved into previously white neighborhoods, racial transitions would have been smoother. If state real estate commissions had denied licenses to brokers who claimed an “ethical” obligation to impose segregation, those brokers might have guided the evolution of interracial neighborhoods. If school boards had not placed schools and drawn attendance boundaries to ensure the separation of black and white pupils, families might not have had to relocate to have access to education for their children. If federal and state highway planners had not used urban interstates to demolish African American neighborhoods and force their residents deeper into urban ghettos, black impoverishment would have lessened, and some displaced families might have accumulated the resources to improve their housing and its location. If government had given African Americans the same labor-market rights that other citizens enjoyed, African American working-class families would not have been trapped in lower-income minority communities, from lack of funds to live elsewhere. If the federal government had not exploited the racial boundaries it had created in metropolitan areas, by spending billions on tax breaks for single-family suburban homeowners, while failing to spend adequate funds on transportation networks that could bring African Americans to job opportunities, the inequality on which segregation feeds would have diminished. If federal programs were not, even to this day, reinforcing racial isolation by disproportionately directing low-income African Americans who receive housing assistance into the segregated neighborhoods that government had previously established, we might see many more inclusive communities. Undoing the effects of de jure segregation will be incomparably difficult. To make a start, we will first have to contemplate what we have collectively done and, on behalf of our government, accept ~ Richard Rothstein,

976:We can always pass some time visiting my herd of sheep.” “I think I’ve seen all the animals I care to see today, thank you very much, and even though the thought of avoiding whatever unpleasantness is transpiring between Abigail and Iris is tempting, I really won’t be comfortable leaving Abigail for long, even with Archibald and Mr. Kenton to keep an eye on her.” “That’s very thoughtful of you,” Bram said, sending Lucetta a charming smile that had her knees going a little wobbly. Shoving aside the idea that he was far too attractive when he smiled, and ignoring the curious condition of her knees, Lucetta fell into step beside him and began chatting about the weather, of all things. As they walked into a stand of trees, the temperature dropped, easing some of the heat that still remained on Lucetta’s neck, heat that immediately returned when Bram drew her to a stop and smiled at her again. “If you’ll turn around, I’ll help you with those buttons,” he said. His suggestion had the heat traveling up her neck and settling on her face, a reaction that took her by complete surprise. Being an actress, she’d become used to having many people button her up over the years, male and female, but their assistance had never bothered her before. Out of necessity, she’d rarely given much thought to modesty over the past few years, but now, surrounded only by trees and a gentleman who had one of the nicest smiles she’d ever seen, thoughts of modesty were pushing their way to the forefront of her mind. “Tell me about your sheep,” she said as she stood rooted to the spot, unable to turn around, and unwilling to take him up on his offer to help with her buttons just yet. She was thankful when Bram didn’t press her to turn. “It’s a diverse herd, made up of a wide variety of once abused and neglected sheep, all of them having a mistrust of humans.” He shook his head. “They’re becoming fairly well adjusted now, and I have high hopes that the longer they’re here, the more they’ll realize they’re finally safe and will settle into happy lives, chomping high grass on the castle grounds.” “Where did you get them?” Bram shrugged. “Here and there. It’s become known that I’m always willing to take in strays, so . . . people drop off all sorts of animals at Ravenwood, or people send me letters, letting me know of animals that might need my help. My staff and I spend a lot of time tracking down neglected animals, and once we find them, we bring them here to live out the rest of their lives.” Lucetta’s heart gave a lurch. “You’re a collector of misfits.” Bram smiled. “I like misfits, probably because I’ve always been a bit of a misfit as well.” He moved an inch closer to her. “Shall I button you up?” “I should probably do it myself.” His smile turned remarkably sweet. “I won’t look, in fact, I can close my eyes if it’ll make you feel better.” Drawing in a deep breath even as she realized she was being a complete ninny because there was no way she could reach the buttons on the back of her gown, she presented Bram with her back. A second later she nearly jumped out of her skin when his finger slid against the nape of her neck, pushing hair still wet from her bath out of the way before he began securing one button after another. “There, all done, and I didn’t peek—not once.” He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around to face him. Still ~ Jen Turano,

977:Flauvic was standing by the middle window, one slim hand resting on a golden latch. I realized that one window panel was, in fact, a door, and that a person could step through onto the rocks that just bordered the pool. Flauvic was looking down, the silvery light reflecting off rain clouds overhead, and water below throwing glints in his long golden hair. He had to know I was there. I said, “You do like being near to water, don’t you?” He looked up quickly. “Forgive me for not coming to the door,” he said directly--for him. “I must reluctantly admit that I have been somewhat preoccupied with the necessity of regaining my tranquility.” I was surprised that he would admit to any such thing. “Not caused by me, I hope?” I walked across the fine tiled floor. He lifted a hand in a gesture of airy dismissal. “Family argument,” he said. Smiling a little, he added, “Forbearance is not, alas, a hallmark of the Merindar habit of mind.” Again I was surprised, for he seemed about as forbearing as anyone I’d ever met--but I was chary of appearing to be a flatterer, and so I said only, “I’m sorry for it, then. Ought I to go? If the family’s peace has been cut up, I suppose a visitor won’t be welcome.” Flauvic turned away from the window and crossed the rest of the floor to join me. “If you mean you’d rather not walk into my honored parent’s temper--or more to the point, my sister’s--fear not. They departed early this morning to our family’s estates. I am quite alone here.” He smiled slightly. “Would you like to lay aside your hat and gloves?” “Not necessary,” I said, stunned by this unexpected turn of events. Had the Marquise given up her claim to the crown, or was there some other--secret--reason for her sudden withdrawal? If they had argued, I was sure it had not been about missing social events. I looked up--for he was half a head taller than I--into his gold-colored eyes, and though their expression was merely contemplative, and his manner mild, I felt my neck go hot. Turning away from that direct, steady gaze, I just couldn’t find the words to ask him about his mother’s political plans. So I said, “I came to ask a favor of you.” “Speak, then,” he said, his voice just a shade deeper than usual. I looked over my shoulder and realized then that he was laughing. Not out loud, but internally. All the signs were there; the shadows at the corners of his mouth, the sudden brightness of his gaze. He was laughing at me--at my reaction. I sighed. “It concerns the party I must give for my brother’s coming marriage,” I said shortly, and stole another quick look. His amusement was gone--superficially, anyway. “You must forgive my obtuseness,” he murmured. “But you could have requested your assistance by letter.” “I did. Oh.” I realized what he meant, and then remembered belatedly one of Nee’s more delicate hints about pursuit--and pursuers. “Oh!” So he hadn’t guessed why I’d come; he thought I’d come courting. And, well, here we were alone. My first reaction was alarm. I did find him attractive--I realized it just as I was standing there--but in the way I’d admire a beautifully cut diamond or a sunset above sheer cliffs. Another person, finding herself in my place, could probably embark happily into dalliance and thus speed along her true purpose. But the prospect simply terrified me. ~ Sherwood Smith,

978:Steldor, maybe you could try to deter your father, you know, from making arrangements for me so soon. Would another year or two really matter?” He responded with a dry laugh. “Deter my father? Shaselle, trying to deter my father once he’s made up his mind is like yelling whoa at a stampede of wild horses.” “Doesn’t stop you,” I muttered, crossing my arms with a huff. Again that cynical chuckle. “I assure you, it does.” “No, it doesn’t.” I pushed off the rough stone to stare at him. Annoyance came to me ever more quickly these days, and now the disagreeable temperament my mother and older sister condemned was emerging. I pointed back up the road. “Explain that scarecrow to me, if you’re so obedient! I know your father was upset with you after you posted your rules, but you went ahead anyway, without his blessing.” Steldor clamped a hand over my mouth, the other holding the back of my neck, then he leaned close to hiss, “I’d prefer if my involvement in both of those incidents remained undisclosed.” My cheeks burned, and I pushed his hands away. “Sorry. That was stupid. But isn’t there anything you can do? You have the captain’s ear.” “What I have is his attention,” he corrected, having accepted my apology and brushed aside our tense exchange. “Not intentionally, mind you, but I’ll be keeping it over the next few weeks. He’ll probably be distracted from you anyway.” “You’re planning another stunt?” He winked. “Would you expect anything less of Galen and me?” “Can I help you?” The up-and-down nature of our conversation persisted, and he shook his head vehemently. “This is dangerous, what we’ve been doing. We laugh, but these aren’t games. If we’re caught, we’ll be arrested. There’s a reason my father disapproves, in spite of his own ambitions.” He let his rebuff hang in the hot air while I again felt color rising in my cheeks. “Just go home, Shaselle. Put on a dress. Be a lady, and stay out of trouble. Understand?” “I hate them, too, you know,” I said, his dismissal and the humiliation that came with it rankling me. “It’s not just your homeland that the Cokyrians have sullied--it’s my homeland, too. And those bastards killed my father.” “And bitches,” he added, catching me off guard. “Wouldn’t want to forget the women.” I didn’t know how to respond, so I gaped at him foolishly until he stepped onto the cobblestone of the thoroughfare. “Come on. Let me take you home.” We walked in silence back to the western residential area where I lived, though he stopped at the beginning of my street to let me traverse the rest of the distance by myself. “I shouldn’t be seen around here. Not where Galen’s assigned--the Cokyrians are trying to keep us apart to avoid plots big and small, and will be suspicious if we’re seen in the same area.” I nodded and turned to go, but he grabbed my arm. “I know how you feel, Shaselle. I know you want to do something, and it’s not even that I don’t think you could. I just can’t let you be involved, for the sake of your safety. And mine,” he added as an afterthought. “My father would kill me if I let you help and you came to harm. Just please, let this go, and I swear I’ll do my best to influence him on your marriage issue.” Now that I was thinking rationally, offering my assistance had been absurd--I had no special skills aside from horseback riding, and certainly no military training , so accepting Steldor’s offered compromise was not difficult. ~ Cayla Kluver,

979:Upon this earth, the land of the Victorious Ones, Once lived a Saint, known as the second Buddha; His fame was heard in all the Ten Directions. To Him, the Jewel atop the eternal Banner of Dharma I pay homage and give offerings. Is He not the holy Master, the great Midripa? Upon the Lotus-seat of Midripa My Father Guru places his reliance; He drinks heavenly nectar With the supreme view of Mahamudra; He has realized the innate Truth in utter freedom. He is the supreme one, Jetsun Marpa. Undefiled by faults or vices, He is the Transformation Body of Buddha. He says: Before Enlightenment, All things in the outer world Are deceptive and confusing; Clinging to outer forms, One is ever thus entangled. After Enlightenment, one sees all things and objects As but magic shadow-plays, And all objective things Become his helpful friends. In the uncreated Dharmakaya all are pure; Nothing has ever manifested In the Realm of Ultimate Truth. He says: Before Enlightenment, The ever-running Mind-consciousness within Is shut in a confusing blindness Which is the source of passions, actions, and desires. After Enlightenment, it becomes the    Self-illuminating Wisdom All merits and virtues spring from it. In Ultimate Truth there is not even Wisdom; Here one enters the Realm where Dharma is exhausted. The coproreal form Is built of the Four Elements; Before one attains Enlightenment, All illness and all suffering come from it. After Enlightenment, it becomes the two-in-one Body Of Buddha clear as the cloudless firmament! Thus rooted out are the base Samsaric clingings. In Absolute Truth there is no body. The malignant male and femal demons Who create myriad troubles and obstructions, Seem real before one has Enlightenment; But when one realizes their nature truly, They become Protectors of the Dharma, And by their help and freely-given assistance One attains to numerous accomplishments. In Ultimate Truth there are no Buddhas and no demons; One enters here the Realm where Dharma is exhausted. Among all Vehicles, this ultimate teaching Is found only in the Tantras. It says in the Highest Division of the Tantra: When the various elements gather in the Nadis, One sees the demon-forms appear. If one knows not that they are but mind-created Visions, and deems them to be real, One is indeed most foolish and most stupid. In time past, wrapped up in clinging blindness, I lingered in the den of confusion, Deeming benevolent deities and malignant Demons to be real and subsistent. Now, through the Holy Ones grace and blessing I realize that both Samsara and Nirvana Are neither existent nor non-existent; And I see all forms as Mahamudra. Realizing the groundless nature of ignorance, My former awareness, clouded and unstable Like reflections of the moon in rippling water, Becomes transparent, clear as shining crystal. Its sun-like brilliance is free from obscuring clouds, Its light transcends all forms of blindness, Ignorance and confusion thus vanish without trace. This is the truth I have experienced within. Again, the foolish concept demons iself Is groundless, void, and yet illuminating! Oh, this indeed is marvelous and wonderful! Milarepa    Translated by Garma C. C. Chang    ~ Jetsun Milarepa, Upon this earth, the land of the Victorious Ones ,

980:Normally, Bentner would have beamed approvingly at the pretty portrait the girls made, but this morning, as he put out butter and jam, he had grim news to impart and a confession to make. As he swept the cover off the scones he gave his news and made his confession. “We had a guest last night,” he told Elizabeth. “I slammed the door on him.” “Who was it?” “A Mr. Ian Thornton.” Elizabeth stifled a horrified chuckle at the image that called to mind, but before she could comment Bentner said fiercely, “I regretted my actions afterward! I should have invited him inside, offered him refreshment, and slipped some of that purgative powder into his drink. He’d have had a bellyache that lasted a month!” “Bentner,” Alex sputtered, “you are a treasure!” “Do not encourage him in these fantasies,” Elizabeth warned wryly. “Bentner is so addicted to mystery novels that he occasionally forgets that what one does in a novel cannot always be done in real life. He actually did a similar thing to my uncle last year.” “Yes, and he didn’t return for six months,” Bentner told Alex proudly. “And when he does come,” Elizabeth reminded him with a frown to sound severe, “he refuses to eat or drink anything.” “Which is why he never stays long,” Bentner countered, undaunted. As was his habit whenever his mistress’s future was being discussed, as it was now, Bentner hung about to make suggestions as they occurred to him. Since Elizabeth had always seemed to appreciate his advice and assistance, he found nothing odd about a butler sitting down at the table and contributing to the conversation when the only guest was someone he’d known since she was a girl. “It’s that odious Belhaven we have to rid you of first,” Alexandra said, returning to their earlier conversation. “He hung about last night, glowering at anyone who might have approached you.” She shuddered. “And the way he ogles you. It’s revolting. It’s worse than that; he’s almost frightening.” Bentner heard that, and his elderly eyes grew thoughtful as he recalled something he’d read about in one of his novels. “As a solution it is a trifle extreme,” he said, “but as a last resort it could work.” Two pairs of eyes turned to him with interest, and he continued, “I read it in The Nefarious Gentleman. We would have Aaron abduct this Belhaven in our carriage and bring him straightaway to the docks, where we’ll sell him to the press gangs.” Shaking her head in amused affection, Elizabeth said, “I daresay he wouldn’t just meekly go along with Aaron.” “And I don’t think,” Alex added, her smiling gaze meeting Elizabeth’s, “a press gang would take him. They’re not that desperate.” “There’s always black magic,” Bentner continued. “In Deathly Endeavors there was a perpetrator of ancient rites who cast an evil spell. We would require some rats’ tails, as I recall, and tongues of-“ “No,” Elizabeth said with finality. “-lizards,” Bentner finished determinedly. “Absolutely not,” his mistress returned. “And fresh toad old, but procuring that might be tricky. The novel didn’t say how to tell fresh from-“ “Bentner!” Elizabeth exclaimed, laughing. “You’ll cast us all into a swoon if you don’t desist at once.” When Bentner had padded away to seek privacy for further contemplation of solutions, Elizabeth looked at Alex. “Rats’ tails and lizards’ tongues,” she said, chuckling. “No wonder Bentner insists on having a lighted candle in his room all night.” “He must be afraid to close his eyes after reading such things,” Alex agreed. ~ Judith McNaught,

981:Whether this propensity be one of those original principles in human nature of which no further account can be given; or whether, as seems more probable, it be the necessary consequence of the faculties of reason and speech, it belongs not to our present subject to inquire. It is common to all men, and to be found in no other race of animals, which seem to know neither this nor any other species of contracts. Two greyhounds, in running down the same hare, have sometimes the appearance of acting in some sort of concert. Each turns her towards his companion, or endeavours to intercept her when his companion turns her towards himself. This, however, is not the effect of any contract, but of the accidental concurrence of their passions in the same object at that particular time. Nobody ever saw a dog make a fair and deliberate exchange of one bone for another with another dog. Nobody ever saw one animal by its gestures and natural cries signify to another, this is mine, that yours; I am willing to give this for that. When an animal wants to obtain something either of a man or of another animal, it has no other means of persuasion but to gain the favour of those whose service it requires. A puppy fawns upon its dam, and a spaniel endeavours by a thousand attractions to engage the attention of its master who is at dinner, when it wants to be fed by him. Man sometimes uses the same arts with his brethren, and when he has no other means of engaging them to act according to his inclinations, endeavours by every servile and fawning attention to obtain their good will. He has not time, however, to do this upon every occasion. In civilised society he stands at all times in need of the cooperation and assistance of great multitudes, while his whole life is scarce sufficient to gain the friendship of a few persons. In almost every other race of animals each individual, when it is grown up to maturity, is entirely independent, and in its natural state has occasion for the assistance of no other living creature. But man has almost constant occasion for the help of his brethren, and it is in vain for him to expect it from their benevolence only. He will be more likely to prevail if he can interest their self-love in his favour, and show them that it is for their own advantage to do for him what he requires of them. Whoever offers to another a bargain of any kind, proposes to do this. Give me that which I want, and you shall have this which you want, is the meaning of every such offer; and it is in this manner that we obtain from one another the far greater part of those good offices which we stand in need of. It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own interest. We address ourselves, not to their humanity but to their self-love, and never talk to them of our own necessities but of their advantages. Nobody but a beggar chooses to depend chiefly upon the benevolence of his fellow-citizens. Even a beggar does not depend upon it entirely. The charity of well-disposed people, indeed, supplies him with the whole fund of his subsistence. But though this principle ultimately provides him with all the necessaries of life which he has occasion for, it neither does nor can provide him with them as he has occasion for them. The greater part of his occasional wants are supplied in the same manner as those of other people, by treaty, by barter, and by purchase. With the money which one man gives him he purchases food. The old clothes which another bestows upon him he exchanges for other old clothes which suit him better, or for lodging, or for food, or for money, with which he can buy either food, clothes, or lodging, as he has occasion. ~ Adam Smith,

982:The morning following Shaselle’s arrest and release, I descended the Grand Staircase to the entry hall below and was drawn toward the antechamber by raised voices. I entered to find one of my worst nightmares unfolding--Steldor and Narian were in heated argument, both seeming to have discounted where they were and who might overhear. They stood opposite one another across the room from me, Steldor likely having come from Cannan’s office, while Narian had probably been passing through on his way to the Hearing Hall. I stared transfixed, not knowing what they were arguing about, but certain they would not appreciate my interference. “What business have you in the Bastion?” my betrothed demanded. “Business that is not yours, Cokyrian,” Steldor spat. Narian glowered at the former King. “Much as you might detest the thought, Steldor, I am no longer your enemy.” “These scars on my back argue differently.” “I was merciful in leaving you alive. You asked for execution and I ordered a lashing. If not for your ridiculous pride, you’d acknowledge that.” Steldor laughed mirthlessly. “I owe you nothing after all you’ve taken from me.” “Alera is not a possession,” Narian astutely shot back. “Alera hadn’t entered my mind.” The curl in Steldor’s lip revealed the lie, and the hostility he exuded would have made most men run in the other direction. But Narian wasn’t most men. “And yet I see you around this Bastion, her home, more than any soldier or son need be. You yearn for any chance glimpse of her.” “I come to the palace on business, you mongrel pup.” “Then pray tell, what business is that?” I stood miserably by, for it was apparent neither of them was aware of my presence. Still, the argument had come full circle, and I prayed it would soon be over. “I don’t have to tell you anything,” Steldor seethed. “You are not my superior.” His dark eyes glinted malevolently, a look he had once or twice directed at me during our unfortunate marriage. “True enough. But you are nonetheless one of my subjects.” Steldor’s fists clenched and unclenched at his sides, telling me how close he was to unleashing his hellish temper. Before I could intervene, he threw a right cross at Narian’s chin, which the commander adroitly dodged, stepping back and raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I suggest you walk away, Steldor,” he said, unnervingly calm. “I did so once,” my former husband retorted. “I don’t intend to do so again.” Narian perused his opponent, judging his strengths and weaknesses, then struck Steldor in the middle of his chest with the heel of his palm, sending him staggering backward. In a flash, a dagger appeared in Steldor’s hand, and panic seized me. Would they spill each other’s blood right here, right now? “Stop!” I cried. “Both of you!” They straightened warily at the sound of my voice, and I hurried to stand between them, so distraught my hands were shaking. “I don’t know what this is about,” I beseeched, hoping Cannan would hear and lend assistance. “But please, for my sake, leave things be.” They glared at each other over the top of my head, then Steldor moved away, his eyes on Narian until he could place a hand on the door leading into the Grand Entry. “Queen Alera,” he pointedly acknowledged me. “I humbly honor your request.” With a disdainful smirk for Narian, he tossed the knife onto the floor, then exited, pulling the door firmly closed behind him. Narian crossed to snatch up the weapon, examining it carefully before showing it to me. “Do you plan to tell me that you recognize this blade?” he asked, and I stared at him, dumbfounded. With a stiff nod, he strode through the same door Steldor had used, leaving me alone. ~ Cayla Kluver,

983:Practices Of paddleboard People A paddleboard is helpful for paddling while kneeling or standing. Before, paddleboards had been comprised of wood. This kind of paddleboards are gentle in pounds and straightforward to apply. Individuals use paddleboards for browsing enormous waves. You can have seen a wide variety if paddleboards in merchants close to you. Many of these boards are excellent enjoyable for browsing the waves. If you take pleasure in h2o sporting activities, these boards is often great for you. Consumers who adore drinking water sports really enjoy browsing and paddling. An amazing numerous drinking water sports are certainly aggressive. There is no age barrier on the use of these boards. You can expect to find it rather challenging to balance on this sort of a board. Adults would also be ready to know but with issue. You can also obtain them in huge departmental retailers in the region. There are online outlets buy paddleboards for buying these types of paddleboards. Children find it simpler to face about the board and do it every one of the time. Sitting down and paddling is far simplier and easier then standing on them. Several of the boards have grips that let you stand or sit easily. Some boards are created not having assistance to the ft. It could be excellent for consultants to make use of these types of boards without any guidance. Many people choose to lie over a paddleboard while paddling. People today love this sport because it will provide wonderful and it's simple. This is certainly not a risky sport. There can be unique paddleboards made from fine quality fiberglass. Carbon fiber paddleboards may perhaps be highly-priced nevertheless they are lightweight. These paddleboards created from carbon fiber are light but pricey. A paddleboard needs to be properly designed to be capable of do nicely to the drinking water. It's not necessarily straightforward to create an ideal paddleboard. The usage of these types of boards is now very well known. Young children have got a ton of fun over a paddleboard. You can actually actually generate a paddleboard at home. There exists a good deal of information online about making paddleboards. There exists a good deal of free info on blogs about paddleboards. You should purchase distinctive kits online and then make your very own paddleboard. Standing up while working with a paddleboard is extremely complicated for most many people. It really is vital to find out the right way to balance on this kind of boards. Paddling just isn't like every other sport but it really isn't an Olympic activity. Persons use these types of boards on seas and ocean beaches. Gurus use these types of boards for surfing the waves. The complete loved ones can love this activity. There are actually sites that present excellent strategies for implementing these boards. Have you at any time noticed most of the unique forms of paddle boards on the market at present? There are numerous methods for using the paddleboards. This is certainly not a sport that will cost you a good deal of cash. That is nearly as good as browsing on the significant waves. You'll have lots of enjoyable if you master how to get up within the board. Water sports are becoming ever more poplar all over the planet. Paddling about the waves could be great fun. A great deal of recommendations go in the earning of a paddle board. It will take a professional to structure a paddleboard. In case the board is clearly intended it'll pass smoothly about the drinking water. A lot of people who use these paddleboards understand that it takes knowledge to produce a streamlined board. These boards usually are not just unexciting flat boards. For a few persons it is not only a sport. ~ Andy Cohen,

984:Is it possible that the Pentateuch could not have been written by uninspired men? that the assistance of God was necessary to produce these books? Is it possible that Galilei ascertained the mechanical principles of 'Virtual Velocity,' the laws of falling bodies and of all motion; that Copernicus ascertained the true position of the earth and accounted for all celestial phenomena; that Kepler discovered his three laws—discoveries of such importance that the 8th of May, 1618, may be called the birth-day of modern science; that Newton gave to the world the Method of Fluxions, the Theory of Universal Gravitation, and the Decomposition of Light; that Euclid, Cavalieri, Descartes, and Leibniz, almost completed the science of mathematics; that all the discoveries in optics, hydrostatics, pneumatics and chemistry, the experiments, discoveries, and inventions of Galvani, Volta, Franklin and Morse, of Trevithick, Watt and Fulton and of all the pioneers of progress—that all this was accomplished by uninspired men, while the writer of the Pentateuch was directed and inspired by an infinite God? Is it possible that the codes of China, India, Egypt, Greece and Rome were made by man, and that the laws recorded in the Pentateuch were alone given by God? Is it possible that Æschylus and Shakespeare, Burns, and Beranger, Goethe and Schiller, and all the poets of the world, and all their wondrous tragedies and songs are but the work of men, while no intelligence except the infinite God could be the author of the Pentateuch? Is it possible that of all the books that crowd the libraries of the world, the books of science, fiction, history and song, that all save only one, have been produced by man? Is it possible that of all these, the bible only is the work of God? ~ Robert G Ingersoll,

985:At this second appearing to take the oath of the Presidential office there is less occasion for an extended address than there was at the first. Then a statement somewhat in detail of a course to be pursued seemed fitting and proper. Now, at the expiration of four years, during which public declarations have been constantly called forth on every point and phase of the great contest which still absorbs the attention and engrosses the energies of the nation, little that is new could be presented. The progress of our arms, upon which all else chiefly depends, is as well known to the public as to myself, and it is, I trust, reasonably satisfactory and encouraging to all. With high hope for the future, no prediction in regard to it is ventured. On the occasion corresponding to this four years ago all thoughts were anxiously directed to an impending civil war. All dreaded it, all sought to avert it. While the inaugural address was being delivered from this place, devoted altogether to saving the Union without war, insurgent agents were in the city seeking to destroy it without war--seeking to dissolve the Union and divide effects by negotiation. Both parties deprecated war, but one of them would make war rather than let the nation survive, and the other would accept war rather than let it perish, and the war came. One-eighth of the whole population were colored slaves, not distributed generally over the Union, but localized in the southern part of it. These slaves constituted a peculiar and powerful interest. All knew that this interest was somehow the cause of the war. To strengthen, perpetuate, and extend this interest was the object for which the insurgents would rend the Union even by war, while the Government claimed no right to do more than to restrict the territorial enlargement of it. Neither party expected for the war the magnitude or the duration which it has already attained. Neither anticipated that the cause of the conflict might cease with or even before the conflict itself should cease. Each looked for an easier triumph, and a result less fundamental and astounding. Both read the same Bible and pray to the same God, and each invokes His aid against the other. It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God's assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men's faces, but let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered. That of neither has been answered fully. The Almighty has His own purposes. "Woe unto the world because of offenses; for it must needs be that offenses come, but woe to that man by whom the offense cometh." If we shall suppose that American slavery is one of those offenses which, in the providence of God, must needs come, but which, having continued through His appointed time, He now wills to remove, and that He gives to both North and South this terrible war as the woe due to those by whom the offense came, shall we discern therein any departure from those divine attributes which the believers in a living God always ascribe to Him? Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet, if God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unrequited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still it must be said "the judgments of the Lord are true and righteous altogether." With malice toward none, with charity for all, with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish the work we are in, to bind up the nation's wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations. ~ Abraham Lincoln,

986:The Wall Street Journal (The Wall Street Journal) - Clip This Article on Location 1055 | Added on Tuesday, May 5, 2015 5:10:24 PM OPINION Baltimore Is Not About Race Government-induced dependency is the problem—and it’s one with a long history. By William McGurn | 801 words For those who see the rioting in Baltimore as primarily about race, two broad reactions dominate. One group sees rampaging young men fouling their own neighborhoods and concludes nothing can be done because the social pathologies are so overwhelming. In some cities, this view manifests itself in the unspoken but cynical policing that effectively cedes whole neighborhoods to the thugs. The other group tut-tuts about root causes. Take your pick: inequality, poverty, injustice. Or, as President Obama intimated in an ugly aside on the rioting, a Republican Congress that will never agree to the “massive investments” (in other words, billions more in federal spending) required “if we are serious about solving this problem.” There is another view. In this view, the disaster of inner cities isn’t primarily about race at all. It’s about the consequences of 50 years of progressive misrule—which on race has proved an equal-opportunity failure. Baltimore is but the latest liberal-blue city where government has failed to do the one thing it ought—i.e., put the cops on the side of the vulnerable and law-abiding—while pursuing “solutions” that in practice enfeeble families and social institutions and local economies. These supposed solutions do this by substituting federal transfers for fathers and families. They do it by favoring community organizing and government projects over private investment. And they do it by propping up failing public-school systems that operate as jobs programs for the teachers unions instead of centers of learning. If our inner-city African-American communities suffer disproportionately from crippling social pathologies that make upward mobility difficult—and they do—it is in large part because they have disproportionately been on the receiving end of this five-decade-long progressive experiment in government beneficence. How do we know? Because when we look at a slice of white America that was showered with the same Great Society good intentions—Appalachia—we find the same dysfunctions: greater dependency, more single-parent families and the absence of the good, private-sector jobs that only a growing economy can create. Remember, in the mid-1960s when President Johnson put a face on America’s “war on poverty,” he didn’t do it from an urban ghetto. He did it from the front porch of a shack in eastern Kentucky’s Martin County, where a white family of 10 eked out a subsistence living on an income of $400 a year. In many ways, rural Martin County and urban Baltimore could not be more different. Martin County is 92% white while Baltimore is two-thirds black. Each has seen important sources of good-paying jobs dry up—Martin County in coal mining, Baltimore in manufacturing. In the last presidential election, Martin Country voted 6 to 1 for Mitt Romney while Baltimore went 9 to 1 for Barack Obama. Yet the Great Society’s legacy has been depressingly similar. In a remarkable dispatch two years ago, the Lexington Herald-Leader’s John Cheves noted that the war on poverty sent $2.1 billion to Martin County alone (pop. 12,537) through programs including “welfare, food stamps, jobless benefits, disability compensation, school subsidies, affordable housing, worker training, economic development incentives, Head Start for poor children and expanded Social Security, Medicare and Medicaid.” The result? “The problem facing Appalachia today isn’t Third World poverty,” writes Mr. Cheves. “It’s dependence on government assistance.” Just one example: When Congress imposed work requirements and lifetime caps for welfare during the Clinton administration, claims of disability jumped. Mr. Cheves quotes ~ Anonymous,

987:The Cry Of The People Fire! Fire! Fire! the cry rang out on the night air, The roving winds caught it up, and the very heavens resounded. Louder and louder still, by voices grown hoarse with terror, The cry went up and out and a nation stood still to listen. 'Come, for the love of God, and help us fight the demon! Come and help us to chain the fiend that is making us homeless: His hot and scorching breath has melted our hard-earned fortunes, And, not contented with this, he is snatching our loved ones from us. The air is thick with the stream that pours in clouds from his nostrils: Come, for the love of God, and help us to fetter or slay him.' The ear of the Nation heard, the heart of the Nation responded: The smith left anvil and forge, and hastened to render assistance; The clergyman went from the pulpit, the lawyer went from his office, The houses of trade were closed, and a Nation was in commotion. For the hungry tongue of Fire was lapping the skirts of the city, The royal Queen of the West, and her people were crying in anguish. Nobly and well they worked, till they chained and fettered the demon, Bound him hand and foot, and hindered his work of destruction. Over the land on wires, over the mighty cable, Flashed the terrible truth: 'Ruin and destitution Reigns where but yesterday there was lavish wealth and plenty.' And up from the South came aid, and aid came down from the Northland, And it came from East and West, wholesome food for the hungry, Shelter for houseless heads, and clothes to cover the naked. Hark! there's a sound abroad, like the cry of a suffering people, Loud and louder it swells, and echoes from ocean to ocean, The raving winds catch it up, and from throats that are hoarse with crying The wail goes up and out, but is answered only by echoes. 'Come for the love of God, and help us to fetter the demon 573 That is taking the bread from our mouths, and the mouths of our helpless children; He is walking abroad in the land, and all things perish before him: Homesteads crumble away, and fortunes vanish like snow wreaths; And, not contented with this, he is slaying our best and our fairest, Stealing the brains of the wise, and bringing the young to the gallows; He is making the home forlorn, and crowding the jails and the prisons, He moves the hand of the thief-he drives the assassin's dagger.' The ear of the Nation is deaf, the heart of the Nation is hardened: The smith at his anvil and forge sings in the midst of his labor; The clergyman stands in his pulpit, and prays for the soul of the sinner, But says no word of the fiend who wrecked and ruined the mortal; The lawyer smokes his cigar or sips his glass of Burgundy; The merchant, day after day, thinks only of buying and selling. And up and down through the land, night and day, walks the demon, Poverty, sorrow, and shame follow the print of his footsteps. The cry of the people goes up, a cry of anguish and pleading, But only a few respond, a few too feeble to chain him. The multitude stands aloof, or aids the fiend of destruction, While he tramples under his hoofs hundreds and thousands of victimsAnd the multitude's ear is deaf to the wail of the beggared orphans. Shame, oh! shame to the Nation that leaves the demon of Traffic Free to roam through the land, and pillage and rob the helpless. Shame to the multitude that will not render assistance, But leaves a few to do what many can only accomplish. Arouse! ye listless hosts! and answer the suffering people! Spring to the aid of the million, as ye sprang to the aid of the thousand: As you fettered the demon Fire, fetter the demon Traffic, Who slays his tens of thousands, where the other slew only hundreds. ~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox,

988:I looked up--for he was half a head taller than I--into his gold-colored eyes, and though their expression was merely contemplative, and his manner mild, I felt my neck go hot. Turning away from that direct, steady gaze, I just couldn’t find the words to ask him about his mother’s political plans. So I said, “I came to ask a favor of you.” “Speak, then,” he said, his voice just a shade deeper than usual. I looked over my shoulder and realized then that he was laughing. Not out loud, but internally. All the signs were there; the shadows at the corners of his mouth, the sudden brightness of his gaze. He was laughing at me--at my reaction. I sighed. “It concerns the party I must give for my brother’s coming marriage,” I said shortly, and stole another quick look. His amusement was gone--superficially, anyway. “You must forgive my obtuseness,” he murmured. “But you could have requested your assistance by letter.” “I did. Oh.” I realized what he meant, and then remembered belatedly one of Nee’s more delicate hints about pursuit--and pursuers. “Oh!” So he hadn’t guessed why I’d come; he thought I’d come courting. And, well, here we were alone. My first reaction was alarm. I did find him attractive--I realized it just as I was standing there--but in the way I’d admire a beautifully cut diamond or a sunset above sheer cliffs. Another person, finding herself in my place, could probably embark happily into dalliance and thus speed along her true purpose. But the prospect simply terrified me. He touched my arm, lightly, just enough to guide us back to his window. “It is not merely the sight of water that I find salubrious,” he said. “Its function as a metaphor for study is as…as adaptable--” “You were going to say fluid,” I cut in, almost giddy with relief at the deft change of subject. Once again I saw that brightness in his eyes that indicated internal laughter. “I wasn’t,” he insisted. “I would never be so maladroit.” Forgive my maladroitness… For an instant I was back in that corner room in the State Wing, with Shevraeth standing opposite me. I dismissed the memory as Flauvic went on, “As adaptable, to resume our discourse, as its inherent properties. The clarity, the swift change and movement, the ability to fill the boundaries it encounters, all these accommodating characteristics blind those who take its utility and artistry for granted and overlook its inexorable power.” As if to underline his words--it really was uncanny--the threatening downpour chose that moment to strike, and for a long moment we stood side by side as rain thundered on the glass, running down in rivulets that blurred the scene beyond. Then he turned his back to it. “How may I be of service?” “My brother’s party. I want it to be special,” I said. “I should have been planning it long before. I just found out that it’s a custom, and to cover my ignorance I would like to make it seem I’ve been planning it a long time, so I need some kind of new idea. I want to know what the latest fashion for parties in the Empire’s Court is, and I thought the best thing I could do would be to come to you.” “So you do not, in fact, regard me as an arbiter of taste?” He placed a hand over his heart, mock-solemn. “You wound me.” His tone said, You wound me again. Once again I blushed, and hated it. “You know you’re an arbiter of taste, Flauvic,” I said with some asperity. “If you think I’m here just to get you to parrot out Erev-li-Erval’s latest fad, then you’re--well, I know you don’t believe it. And I didn’t think you fished for compliments.” He laughed out loud, a musical sound that suddenly rendered him very much more like the age we shared. It also made him, just for that moment, devastatingly attractive. I realized that I had to get out of there before I got myself into trouble that it would take a lifetime to get out of. ~ Sherwood Smith,

989:What are the common wages of labour, depends everywhere upon the contract usually made between those two parties, whose interests are by no means the same. The workmen desire to get as much, the masters to give as little as possible. The former are disposed to combine in order to raise, the latter in order to lower the wages of labour. It is not, however, difficult to foresee which of the two parties must, upon all ordinary occasions, have the advantage in the dispute, and force the other into a compliance with their terms. The masters, being fewer in number, can combine much more easily; and the law, besides, authorizes, or at least does not prohibit their combinations, while it prohibits those of the workmen. We have no acts of parliament against combining to lower the price of work; but many against combining to raise it. In all such disputes the masters can hold out much longer. A landlord, a farmer, a master manufacturer, a merchant, though they did not employ a single workman, could generally live a year or two upon the stocks which they have already acquired. Many workmen could not subsist a week, few could subsist a month, and scarce any a year without employment. In the long run the workman may be as necessary to his master as his master is to him; but the necessity is not so immediate. We rarely hear, it has been said, of the combinations of masters, though frequently of those of workmen. But whoever imagines, upon this account, that masters rarely combine, is as ignorant of the world as of the subject. Masters are always and everywhere in a sort of tacit, but constant and uniform combination, not to raise the wages of labour above their actual rate. To violate this combination is everywhere a most unpopular action, and a sort of reproach to a master among his neighbours and equals. We seldom, indeed, hear of this combination, because it is the usual, and one may say, the natural state of things, which nobody ever hears of. Masters, too, sometimes enter into particular combinations to sink the wages of labour even below this rate. These are always conducted with the utmost silence and secrecy, till the moment of execution, and when the workmen yield, as they sometimes do, without resistance, though severely felt by them, they are never heard of by other people. Such combinations, however, are frequently resisted by a contrary defensive combination of the workmen; who sometimes too, without any provocation of this kind, combine of their own accord to raise the price of their labour. Their usual pretences are, sometimes the high price of provisions; sometimes the great profit which their masters make by their work. But whether their combinations be offensive or defensive, they are always abundantly heard of. In order to bring the point to a speedy decision, they have always recourse to the loudest clamour, and sometimes to the most shocking violence and outrage. They are desperate, and act with the folly and extravagance of desperate men, who must either starve, or frighten their masters into an immediate compliance with their demands. The masters upon these occasions are just as clamorous upon the other side, and never cease to call aloud for the assistance of the civil magistrate, and the rigorous execution of those laws which have been enacted with so much severity against the combinations of servants, labourers, and journeymen. The workmen, accordingly, very seldom derive any advantage from the violence of those tumultuous combinations, which, partly from the interposition of the civil magistrate, partly from the necessity superior steadiness of the masters, partly from the necessity which the greater part of the workmen are under of submitting for the sake of present subsistence, generally end in nothing, but the punishment or ruin of the ringleaders. But though in disputes with their workmen, masters must generally have the advantage, there is, however, a certain rate be. ~ Adam Smith,

990:Fra Pedro Golden lights and lengthening shadows, Flings the splendid sun declining, O'er the monastery garden Rich in flower, fruit and foliage. Through the avenue of nut trees, Pace two grave and ghostly friars, Snowy white their gowns and girdles, Black as night their cowls and mantles. Lithe and ferret-eyed the younger, Black his scapular denoting A lay brother; his companion Large, imperious, towers above him. 'T is the abbot, great Fra Pedro, Famous through all Saragossa For his quenchless zeal in crushing Heresy amidst his townfolk. Handsome still with hood and tonsure, E'en as when the boy Pedrillo, Insolent with youth and beauty, Who reviled the gentle Rabbi. Lo, the level sun strikes sparkles From his dark eyes brightly flashing. Stern his voice: 'These too shall perish. I have vowed extermination. 'Tell not me of skill or virtue, Filial love or woman's beautyJews are Jews, as serpents serpents, In themselves abomination.' Earnestly the other pleaded, 'If my zeal, thrice reverend master, E'er afforded thee assistance, Serving thee as flesh serves spirit, 80 'Hounding, scourging, flaying, burning, Casting into chains or exile, At thy bidding these vile wretches, Hear and heed me now, my master. 'These be nowise like their brethren, Ben Jehudah is accounted Saragossa's first physician, Loved by colleague as by patient. 'And his daughter Donna Zara Is our city's pearl of beauty, Like the clusters of the vineyard Droop the ringlets o'er her temples. 'Like the moon in starry heavens Shines her face among her people, And her form hath all the languor, Grace and glamour of the palm-tree. 'Well thou knowest, thrice reverend master, This is not their first affliction, Was it not our Holy Office Whose bribed menials fired their dwelling? 'Ere dawn broke, the smoke ascended, Choked the stairways, filled the chambers, Waked the household to the terror Of the flaming death that threatened. 'Then the poor bed-ridden mother Knew her hour had come; two daughters, Twinned in form, and mind, and spirit, And their father-who would save them? 'Towards her door sprang Ben Jehudah, Donna Zara flew behind him Round his neck her white arms wreathing, Drew him from the burning chamber. 'There within, her sister Zillah 81 Stirred no limb to shun her torture, Held her mother's hand and kissed her, Saying, 'We will go together.' 'This the outer throng could witness, As the flames enwound the dwelling, Like a glory they illumined Awfully the martyred daughter. 'Closer, fiercer, round they gathered, Not a natural cry escaped her, Helpless clung to her her mother, Hand in hand they went together. 'Since that 'Act of Faith' three winters Have rolled by, yet on the forehead Of Jehudah is imprinted Still the horror of that morning. 'Saragossa hath respected His false creed; a man of sorrows, He hath walked secure among us, And his art repays our sufferance.' Thus he spoke and ceased. The Abbot Lent him an impatient hearing, Then outbroke with angry accent, 'We have borne three years, thou sayest? ''T is enough; my vow is sacred. These shall perish with their brethren. Hark ye! In my veins' pure current Were a single drop found Jewish, 'I would shrink not from outpouring All my life blood, but to purge it. Shall I gentler prove to others? Mercy would be sacrilegious. 'Ne'er again at thy soul's peril, Speak to me of Jewish beauty, Jewish skill, or Jewish virtue. 82 I have said. Do thou remember.' Down behind the purple hillside Dropped the sun; above the garden Rang the Angelus' clear cadence Summoning the monks to vespers. ~ Emma Lazarus,

991:You seem disappointed that I am not more responsive to your interest in "spiritual direction". Actually, I am more than a little ambivalent about the term, particularly in the ways it is being used so loosely without any sense of knowledge of the church's traditions in these matters. If by spiritual direction you mean entering into a friendship with another person in which an awareness and responsiveness to God's Spirit in the everydayness of your life is cultivated, fine. Then why call in an awkward term like "spiritual direction"? Why not just "friend"? Spiritual direction strikes me as pretentious in these circumstances, as if there were some expertise that can be acquired more or less on its own and then dispensed on demand. The other reason for my lack of enthusiasm is my well-founded fear of professionalism in any and all matters of the Christian life. Or maybe the right label for my fear is "functionalism". The moment an aspect of Christian living (human life, for that matter) is defined as a role, it is distorted, debased - and eventually destroyed. We are brothers and sisters with one another, friends and lovers, saints and sinners. The irony here is that the rise of interest in spiritual direction almost certainly comes from the proliferation of role-defined activism in our culture. We are sick and tired of being slotted into a function and then manipulated with Scripture and prayer to do what someone has decided (often with the help of some psychological testing) that we should be doing to bring glory to some religious enterprise or other. And so when people begin to show up who are interested in us just as we are - our souls - we are ready to be paid attention to in this prayerful, listening, non-manipulative, nonfunctional way. Spiritual direction. But then it begins to develop a culture and language and hierarchy all its own. It becomes first a special interest, and then a specialization. That is what seems to be happening in the circles you are frequenting. I seriously doubt that it is a healthy (holy) line to be pursuing. Instead, why don't you look over the congregation on Sundays and pick someone who appears to be mature and congenial. Ask her or him if you can meet together every month or so - you feel the need to talk about your life in the company of someone who believes that Jesus is present and active in everything you are doing. Reassure the person that he or she doesn't have to say anything "wise". You only want them to be there for you to listen and be prayerful in the listening. After three or four such meetings, write to me what has transpired, and we'll discuss it further. I've had a number of men and women who have served me in this way over the years - none carried the title "spiritual director", although that is what they have been. Some had never heard of such a term. When I moved to Canada a few years ago and had to leave a long-term relationship of this sort, I looked around for someone whom I could be with in this way. I picked a man whom I knew to be a person of integrity and prayer, with seasoned Christian wisdom in his bones. I anticipated that he would disqualify himself. So I pre-composed my rebuttal: "All I want you to do is two things: show up and shut up. Can you do that? Meet with me every six weeks or so, and just be there - an honest, prayerful presence with no responsibility to be anything other than what you have become in your obedient lifetime." And it worked. If that is what you mean by "spiritual director," okay. But I still prefer "friend". You can see now from my comments that my gut feeling is that the most mature and reliable Christian guidance and understanding comes out of the most immediate and local of settings. The ordinary way. We have to break this cultural habit of sending out for an expert every time we feel we need some assistance. Wisdom is not a matter of expertise. The peace of the Lord, Eugene ~ Eugene H Peterson,

992:PRATYAHARA PRATYAHARA is the first process in the mental part of our task. The previous practices, Asana, Pranayama, Yama, and Niyama, are all acts of the body, while mantra is connected with speech: Pratyahara is purely mental.    And what is Pratyahara? This word is used by different authors in different senses. The same word is employed to designate both the practice and the result. It means for our present purpose a process rather strategical than practical; it is introspection, a sort of general examination of the contents of the mind which we wish to control: Asana having been mastered, all immediate exciting causes have been removed, and we are free to think what we are thinking about.    A very similar experience to that of Asana is in store for us. At first we shall very likely flatter ourselves that our minds are pretty calm; this is a defect of observation. Just as the European standing for the first time on the edge of the desert will see nothing there, while his Arab can tell him the family history of each of the fifty persons in view, because he has learnt how to look, so with practice the thoughts will become more numerous and more insistent.    As soon as the body was accurately observed it was found to be terribly restless and painful; now that we observe the mind it is seen to be more restless and painful still. (See diagram opposite.)    A similar curve might be plotted for the real and apparent painfulness of Asana. Conscious of this fact, we begin to try to control it: "Not quite so many thoughts, please!" "Don't think quite so fast, please!" "No more of that kind of thought, please!" It is only then that we discover that what we thought was a school of playful porpoises is really the convolutions of the sea-serpent. The attempt to repress has the effect of exciting.    When the unsuspecting pupil first approaches his holy but wily Guru, and demands magical powers, that Wise One replies that he will confer them, points out with much caution and secrecy some particular spot on the pupil's body which has never previously attracted his attention, and says: "In order to obtain this magical power which you seek, all that is necessary is to wash seven times in the Ganges during seven days, being particularly careful to avoid thinking of that one spot." Of course the unhappy youth spends a disgusted week in thinking of little else.    It is positively amazing with what persistence a thought, even a whole train of thoughts, returns again and again to the charge. It becomes a positive nightmare. It is intensely annoying, too, to find that one does not become conscious that one has got on to the forbidden subject until one has gone right through with it. However, one continues day after day investigating thoughts and trying to check them; and sooner or later one proceeds to the next stage, Dharana, the attempt to restrain the mind to a single object.    Before we go on to this, however, we must consider what is meant by success in Pratyahara. This is a very extensive subject, and different authors take widely divergent views. One writer means an analysis so acute that every thought is resolved into a number of elements (see "The Psychology of Hashish," Section V, in Equinox II).    Others take the view that success in the practice is something like the experience which Sir Humphrey Davy had as a result of taking nitrous oxide, in which he exclaimed: "The universe is composed exclusively of ideas."    Others say that it gives Hamlet's feeling: "There's nothing good or bad but thinking makes it so," interpreted as literally as was done by Mrs. Eddy.    However, the main point is to acquire some sort of inhibitory power over the thoughts. Fortunately there is an unfailing method of acquiring this power. It is given in Liber III. If Sections 1 and 2 are practised (if necessary with the assistance of another person to aid your vigilance) you will soon be able to master the final section. ~ Aleister Crowley, Liber ABA,

993:Cantiga De Santa Maria, No. 181 Pero que seja a gente d'outra lei [e] descreuda, os que a Virgen mais aman, a esses ela ajuda. Fremosa miragre desto fez a Virgen groriosa na cidade de Marrocos, que é mui gran' e fremosa, a un rei que era ende sennor, que perigoosa guerra con outro avia, per que gran mester ajuda. Avia de quen lla désse: ca assi corn' el cercado jazia dentr' en Marrocos ca o outro ja passado era per un grande rio que Morabe é chamado con muitos de cavaleiros e mui gran gente miuda. E corrian pelas portas da vila, e quant' achavan que fosse fora dos muros todo per força fillavan. E porend' os de Marrocos al Rei tal conssello davan que saisse da cidade con bõa gent' esleuda. D'armas e que mantenente cono outro rei lidasse e logo fora da vila a sina sacar mandasse da Virgen Santa Maria, e que per ren non dultasse que os logo non vencesse, pois la ouvesse tenduda. Demais, que sair fesesse dos crishõos o concello conas cruzes da eigreja. E el creeu seu consello; e poi-la sina sacaron daquela que é espello dos angeos e dos santos, e dos mouros foi viuda. Wue eran da outra parte, atal espant' en colleron que, pero gran poder era, logo todos se venceron, e as tendas que trouxeran e o al todo perderon, e morreu y muita gente dessa fea e barvuda. E per Morabe passaron que ante passad' ouveran, en sen que perdud' avian todo quant' ali trouxeran, atan gran medo da sina e das cruzes y preseran, que fogindo non avia niun redea teuda. E assi Santa Maria ajudou a seus amigos, pero que d'outra lei eran, a britar seus eemigos que, macar que eran muitos, nonos preçaron dous figos, e assi foi ssa mercee de todos mui connoçuda. English 10 The Virgin will aid those who most love Her, although they may be of another faith and disbelievers. The Glorious Virgin performed a beautiful miracle illustrating this theme in the city of Marrakech, which is large and beautiful, for a king who was then its ruler. He was waging bitter war with another king and for this reason, he was in great need of assistance from anyone who could give it to him. He was besieged inside Marrakech, for the other king had already crossed a large river called Morabe with many knights and a great army of foot soldiers. They ran toward the gates of the city and all they found outside the walls they took by force. Therefore, those of Marrakech advised the king to go out of the city with a few good, carefully chosen men at arms and fight it out right there with the other king and to order the banner of the Holy Virgin Mary taken out of the city and to doubt not that he would defeat the enemy at once as soon as he had unfurled it. Furthermore, they advised him 11 to have the Christian congregation go out with the crosses from the church. He took their advice and when they took out the banner of that One who is mirror of angels and saints and it was seen by the Moors on the other side, they were so alarmed by it that although it was a powerful army, all were soon defeated. AThey lost the tents they had brought and everything else. Many people of that ugly bearded crew died there. They fled back across the Morabe River and although they had lost all they had brought there, such great fright of the banner and the crosses seized them that none of them drew back on the reins as they fled. Thus Holy Mary helped Her friends, although they were of another faith, to defeat their enemies, for although they were many, they did not give two figs about them. In that way was Her mercy made manifest to all. ~ Alfonso X El Sabio,

994:HERE I sit with my paper, my pen my ink, First of this thing, and that thing, and t'other thing think ; I Then my thoughts come so pell and I mell all into my mind, That the sense or the subject I never can find : This word is wrong placed, no regard to the sense, The present and future, instead of past tense, Then my grammar I want; O dear! what a bore, I think I shall never attempt to write more, With patience I then my thoughts must arraign, Have them all in due order like mutes in a train, Like them too must wait in due patience and thought, Or else my fine works will all come to nought. My wit too 's so copious, it flows like a river, But disperses its waters on black and white never ; Like smoke it appears independent and free, But ah luckless smoke! it all passes like thee Then at length all my patience entirely lost, My paper and pens in the fire are tossed ; But come, try again you must never despair, Our Murray's or Entick's are not all so rare, Implore their assistance they'll come to your aid, Perform all your business without being paid, They'll tell you the present tense, future and past, Which should come first, and which should come last, This Murray will do then to Entick repair, To find out the meaning of any word rare. This they friendly will tell, and ne'er make you blush, With a jeering look, taunt, or an O fie! tush! Then straight all your thoughts in black and white put, Not minding the if's, the be's, and the but, Then read it all over, see how it will run, How answers the wit, the retort, and the pun, Your writings may then with old Socrates vie, May on the same shelf with Demosthenes lie, May as Junius be sharp, or as Plato be sage, The pattern or satire to all of the age; But stop a mad author I mean not to turn, Nor with thirst of applause does my heated brain burn, Sufficient that sense, wit, and grammar combined, My letters may make some slight food for the mind ; That my thoughts to my friends I may freely impart, In all the warm language that flows from the heart. Hark! futurity calls! it loudly complains, It bids me step forward and just hold the reins, My excuse shall be humble, and faithful, and true, Such as I fear can be made but by few Of writers this age has abundance and plenty, Three score and a thousand, two millions and twenty, Three score of them wits who all sharply vie, To try what odd creature they best can belie, A thousand are prudes who for Charity write, And fill up their sheets with spleen, envy, and spite, One million are bards, who to Heaven aspire, And stuff their works full of bombast, rant, and fire, T'other million are wags who in Grub-street attend, And just like a cobbler the old writings mend, The twenty are those who for pulpits indite, And pore over sermons all Saturday night. And now my good friends who come after I mean, As I ne'er wore a cassock, or dined with a dean, Or like cobblers at mending I never did try, Nor with poets in lyrics attempted to vie; As for prudes these good souls I both hate and detest, So here I believe the matter must rest. I've heard your complaint my answer I've made, And since to your calls all the tribute I've paid, Adieu my good friend ; pray never despair, But grammar and sense and everything dare, Attempt but to write dashing, easy, and free, Then take out your grammar and pay him his fee, Be not a coward, shrink not to a tense, But read it all over and make it out sense. What a tiresome girl! pray soon make an end, Else my limited patience you'll quickly expend. Well adieu, I no longer your patience will try So swift to the post now the letter shall fly. ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, HERE I sit with my paper ,

995:Alexandreis I Sing the Man that never Equal knew, Whose Mighty Arms all Asia did subdue, Whose Conquests through the spacious World do ring, That City-Raser, King-destroying King, Who o're the Warlike Macedons did Reign, And worthily the Name of Great did gain. This is the Prince (if Fame you will believe, To ancient Story any credit give.) Who when the Globe of Earth he had subdu'd, With Tears the easie Victory pursu'd; Because that no more Worlds there were to win, No further Scene to act his Glorys in. Ah that some pitying Muse would now inspire My frozen style with a Poetique fire, And Raptures worthy of his Matchless Fame, Whose Deeds I sing, whose never fading Name Long as the world shall fresh and deathless last, No less to future Ages, then the past. Great my presumption is, I must confess, But if I thrive, my Glory's ne're the less; Nor will it from his Conquests derogate A Female Pen his Acts did celebrate. If thou O Muse wilt thy assistance give, Such as made Naso and great Maro live, With him whom Melas fertile Banks did bear, Live, though their Bodies dust and ashes are; Whose Laurels were not fresher, than their Fame Is now, and will for ever be the same. If the like favour thou wilt grant to me, O Queen of Verse, I'll not ungrateful be, My choicest hours to thee I'll Dedicate, 'Tis thou shalt rule, 'tis thou shalt be my Fate. But if Coy Goddess thou shalt this deny, And from my humble suit disdaining fly, I'll stoop and beg no more, since I know this, Writing of him, I cannot write amiss: His lofty Deeds will raise each feeble line, And God-like Acts will make my Verse Divine. 16 'Twas at the time the golden Sun doth rise, And with his Beams enlights the azure skies, When lo a Troop in Silver Arms drew near, The glorious Sun did nere so bright appear; Dire Scarlet Plumes adorn'd their haughty Crests, And crescent Shields did shade their shining Brests; Down from their shoulders hung a Panthers Hide, A Bow and Quiver ratled by their side; Their hands a knotty well try'd Speare did bear, Jocund they seem'd, and quite devoyd of fear. These warlike Virgins were, that do reside Near Thermodons smooth Banks and verdant side, The Plains of Themiscyre their Birth do boast, Thalestris now did head the beauteous Host; She emulating that Illustrious Dame, Who to the aid of Troy and Priam came, And her who the Retulian Prince did aid, Though dearly both for their Assistance paid. But fear she scorn'd, nor the like fate did dread, Her Host she often to the field had lead, As oft in Triumph had return'd again, Glory she only sought for all her pain. This Martial Queen had heard how lowdly fame, Eccho'd our Conquerors redoubted Name, Her Soul his Conduct and his Courage fir'd, To see the Hero she so much admir'd; And to Hyrcania for this cause she went, Where Alexander (wholly then intent On Triumphs and such Military sport) At Truce with War held both his Camp and Court. And while before the Town she did attend Her Messengers return, she saw ascend A cloud of Dust, that cover'd all the skie, And still at every pause there stroke her eye. The interrupted Beams of Burnisht Gold, As dust the Splendour hid, or did unfold; Loud Neighings of the Steeds, and Trumpets sound Fill'd all the Air, and eccho'd from the ground: The gallant Greeks with a brisk March drew near, And their great Chief did at their Head appear. 17 And now come up to th'Amazonian Band, They made a Hault and a respectful Stand: And both the Troops (with like amazement strook) Did each on other with deep silence look. Th'Heroick Queen (whose high pretence to War Cancell'd the bashful Laws and nicer Bar Of Modesty, which did her Sex restrain) First boldly did advance before her Train, And thus she spake. All but a God in Name, And that a debt Time owes unto thy Fame. ~ Anne Killigrew,

996:Although a devout student of the Bible, Paracelsus instinctively adopted the broad patterns of essential learning, as these had been clarified by Pythagoras of Samos and Plato of Athens. Being by nature a mystic as well as a scientist, he also revealed a deep regard for the Neoplatonic philosophy as expounded by Plotinus, Iamblichus, and Proclus. Neo­platonism is therefore an invaluable aid to the interpretation of the Paracelsian doctrine.    Paracelsus held that true knowledge is attained in two ways, or rather that the pursuit of knowledge is advanced by a two-fold method, the elements of which are completely interdependent. In our present terminology, we can say that these two parts of method are intuition and experience. To Paracelsus, these could never be divided from each other.    The purpose of intuition is to reveal certain basic ideas which must then be tested and proven by experience. Experience, in turn, not only justifies intuition, but contributes certain additional knowledge by which the impulse to further growth is strengthened and developed. Paracelsus regarded the separation of intuition and experience to be a disaster, leading inevitably to greater error and further disaster. Intuition without experience allows the mind to fall into an abyss of speculation without adequate censorship by practical means. Experience without intuition could never be fruitful because fruitfulness comes not merely from the doing of things, but from the overtones which stimulate creative thought. Further, experience is meaningless unless there is within man the power capable of evaluating happenings and occurrences. The absence of this evaluating factor allows the individual to pass through many kinds of experiences, either misinterpreting them or not inter­ preting them at all. So Paracelsus attempted to explain intuition and how man is able to apprehend that which is not obvious or apparent. Is it possible to prove beyond doubt that the human being is capable of an inward realization of truths or facts without the assistance of the so-called rational faculty?    According to Paracelsus, intuition was possible because of the existence in nature of a mysterious substance or essence-a universal life force. He gave this many names, but for our purposes, the simplest term will be appropriate. He compared it to light, further reasoning that there are two kinds of light: a visible radiance, which he called brightness, and an invisible radiance, which he called darkness. There is no essential difference between light and darkness. There is a dark light, which appears luminous to the soul but cannot be sensed by the body. There is a visible radiance which seems bright to the senses, but may appear dark to the soul. We must recognize that Paracelsus considered light as pertaining to the nature of being, the total existence from which all separate existences arise. Light not only contains the energy needed to support visible creatures, and the whole broad expanse of creation, but the invisible part of light supports the secret powers and functions of man, particularly intuition. Intuition, therefore, relates to the capacity of the individual to become attuned to the hidden side of life. By light, then, Paracelsus implies much more than the radiance that comes from the sun, a lantern, or a candle. To him, light is the perfect symbol, emblem, or figure of total well-being. Light is the cause of health. Invisible light, no less real if unseen, is the cause of wisdom. As the light of the body gives strength and energy, sustaining growth and development, so the light of the soul bestows understanding, the light of the mind makes wisdom possible, and the light of the spirit confers truth. Therefore, truth, wisdom, understanding, and health are all manifesta­ tions or revelations ot one virtue or power. What health is to the body, morality is to the emotions, virtue to the soul, wisdom to the mind, and reality to the spirit. This total content of living values is contained in every ray of visible light. This ray is only a manifestation upon one level or plane of the total mystery of life. Therefore, when we look at a thing, we either see its objective, physical form, or we apprehend its inner light Everything that lives, lives in light; everything that has an existence, radiates light. All things derive their life from light, and this light, in its root, is life itself. This, indeed, is the light that lighteth every man who cometh into the world. ~ Manly P Hall, Paracelsus,

997:The Appeal Of The Chorus If A veteran author had wished to engage Our assistance to-day, for a speech from the stage, We scarce should have granted so bold a request: But this author of ours, as the bravest and best, Deserves an indulgence denied to the rest, For the courage and vigor, the scorn and the hate, With which he encounters the pests of the State; A thoroughbred seaman, intrepid and warm, Steering outright, in the face of the storm. But now for the gentle reproaches he bore On the part of his friends, for refraining before To embrace the profession, embarking for life In theatrical storms and poetical strife. He begs us to state that for reasons of weight He has lingered so long and determined so late. For he deemed the achievements of comedy hard, The boldest attempt of a desperate bard! The Muse he perceived was capricious and coy; Though many were courting her, few could enjoy. And he saw without reason, from season to season, Your humor would shift, and turn poets adrift, Requiting old friends with unkindness and treason, Discarded in scorn as exhausted and worn. Seeing Magnes's fate, who was reckoned of late For the conduct of comedy captain and head; That so oft on the stage, in the flower of his age, Had defeated the Chorus his rivals had led; With his sounds of all sort, that were uttered in sport, With whims and vagaries unheard of before, With feathers and wings, and a thousand gay things, That in frolicsome fancies his Choruses wore-When his humor was spent, did your temper relent, To requite the delight that he gave you before? We beheld him displaced, and expelled and disgraced, When his hair and his wit were grown aged and hoar. 19 Then he saw, for a sample, the dismal example Of noble Cratinus so splendid and ample, Full of spirit and blood, and enlarged like a flood; Whose copious current tore down with its torrent, Oaks, ashes, and yew, with the ground where they grew, And his rivals to boot, wrenched up by the root; And his personal foes, who presumed to oppose, All drowned and abolished, dispersed and demolished, And drifted headlong, with a deluge of song. And his airs and his tunes, and his songs and lampoons, Were recited and sung by the old and the young: At our feasts and carousals, what poet but he? And 'The fair Amphibribe' and 'The Sycophant Tree,' 'Masters and masons and builders of verse!' Those were the tunes that all tongues could rehearse; But since in decay you have cast him away, Stript of his stops and his musical strings, Battered and shattered, a broken old instrument, Shoved out of sight among rubbishy things. His garlands are faded, and what he deems worst, His tongue and his palate are parching with thirst. And now you may meet him alone in the street, Wearied and worn, tattered and torn, All decayed and forlorn, in his person and dress, Whom his former success should exempt from distress, With subsistence at large at the general charge, And a seat with the great at the table of State, There to feast every day and preside at the play In splendid apparel, triumphant and gay. Seeing Crates, the next, always teased and perplexed, With your tyrannous temper tormented and vexed; That with taste and good sense, without waste or expense, From his snug little hoard, provided your board With a delicate treat, economic and neat. Thus hitting or missing, with crowns or with hissing, Year after year he pursued his career, For better or worse, till he finished his course. These precedents held him in long hesitation; 20 He replied to his friends, with a just observation, 'That a seaman in regular order is bred To the oar, to the helm, and to look out ahead; With diligent practice has fixed in his mind The signs of the weather, and changes of wind. And when every point of the service is known, Undertakes the command of a ship of his own.' For reasons like these, If your judgment agrees That he did not embark Like an ignorant spark, Or a troublesome lout, To puzzle and bother, and blunder about, Give him a shout, At his first setting out! And all pull away With a hearty huzza For success to the play! Send him away, Smiling and gay, Shining and florid, With his bald forehead! ~ Aristophanes,

998:The Baffled Knight, Or Lady's Policy There was a knight was drunk with wine, A riding along the way, sir; And there he met with a lady fine, Among the cocks of hay, sir. 'Shall you and I, O lady faire, Among the grass lye down-a, And I will have a special care Of rumpling of your gown-a?' 'Upon the grass there is a dewe Will spoil my damask gown, sir; My gowne and kirtle they are newe, And cost me many a crowne, sir.' 'I have a cloak of scarlet red, Upon the ground I'll throwe it; Then, lady faire, come, lay thy head; We'll play, and none shall knowe it.' 'O yonder stands my steed so free Among the cocks of hay, sir; And if the pinner should chance to see, He'll take my steed away, sir.' 'Upon my finger I have a ring, It's made of finest gold-a, And, lady, it thy steed shall bring Out of the pinner's fold-a.' 'O go with me to my father's hall; Fair chambers there are three, sir; And you shall have the best of all, And I'll your chamberlaine bee, sir.' He mounted himself on his steed so tall, And her on her dapple gray, sir; And there they rode to her father's hall, Fast pricking along the way, sir. 704 To her father's hall they arrived strait; 'Twas moated round about-a; She slipt herself within the gate, And lockt the knight without-a. 'Here is a silver penny to spend, And take it for your pain, sir; And two of my father's men I'll send To wait on you back again, sir.' He from his scabbard drew his brand, And wiped it upon his sleeve-a: 'And cursed,' he said, 'be every man That will a maid believe-a!' She drew a bodkin from her haire, And whip'd it pon her gown-a: 'And curs'd be every maiden faire That will with men lye down-a! 'A herb there is, that lowly grows, And some do call it rue, sir; The smallest dunghill cock that crows Would make a capon of you, sir. 'A flower there is, that shineth bright, Some call it mary-gold-a; He that wold not when he might, He shall not when he wold-a.' The knight was riding another day, With cloak and hat and feather, He met again with that lady gay, Who was angling in the river. 'Now, lady faire, I've met with you, You shall no more escape me; Remember, how not long agoe You falsely did intrap me.' The lady blushed scarlet red, 705 And trembled at the stranger: 'How shall I guard my maidenhead From this approaching danger?' He from his saddle down did light, In all his riche attyer, And cryed, 'As I am a noble knight, I do thy charms admyer.' He took the lady by the hand, Who seemlingly consented; And would no more disputing stand: She had a plot invented. 'Looke yonder, good Sir Knight, I pray, Methinks I now discover, A riding upon his dapple gray, My former constant lover.' On tip-toe peering stood the knight, Fast by the river's brink-a; The lady pusht with all her might: 'Sir Knight, now swim or sink-a.' O'er head and ears he plunged in, The bottom faire he sounded; Then rising up, he cried amain, 'Help, helpe, or else I'm drownded!' 'Now, fare-you-well, Sir Knight, adieu! You see what comes of fooling; That is the fittest place for you; Your courage wanted cooling.' Ere many days, in her father's park, Just at the close of eve-a Again she met with her angry sparke; Which made this lady grieve-a. 'False lady, here thou'rt in my powre, And no one now can hear thee; And thou shalt sorely rue the hour 706 That e'er thou dar'dst to jeer me.' 'I pray, Sir Knight, be not so warm With a young silly maid-a; I vow and swear I thought no harm: 'Twas a gentle jest I playd-a.' 'A gentle jest, in soothe,' he cryd, 'To tumble me in and leave me! What if I had in the river dy'd? That fetch will not deceive me. 'Once more I'll pardon thee this day, Tho' injur'd out of measure; But then prepare without delay To yield thee to my pleasure.' 'Well then, if I must grant your suit, Yet think of your boots and spurs, sir: Let me pull off both spur and boot, Or else you cannot stir, sir.' He set him down upon the grass And begg'd her kind assistance; 'Now,' smiling thought this lovely lass, 'I'll make you keep your distance.' Then pulling off his boots half-way: 'Sir Knight, now I'm your betters; You shall not make of me your prey; Sit there like a knave in fetters.' The knight when she had served soe, He fretted, fum'd, and grumbled; For he could neither stand nor goe, But like a cripple tumbled. 'Farewell, Sir Knight, the clock strikes ten, Yet do not move nor stir, sir; I'll send you my father's serving men To pull of your boots and spurs, sir. 707 'This merry jest you must excuse, You are but a stingless nettle; You'd never have stood for boots and shoes, Had you been a man of mettle.' All night in grievous rage he lay, Rolling upon the plain-a; Next morning a shepherd past that way, Who set him right again-a. Then mounting upon his steed so tall, By hill and dale he swore-a: 'I'll ride at once to her father's hall; She shall escape no more-a. 'I'll take her father by the beard; I'll challenge all her kindred; Each dastard soul shall stand affeard; My wrath shall no more be hindred.' He rode unto her father's house, Which every side was moated; The lady heard his furious vows, And all his vengeance noted. Thought shee, 'Sir Knight, to quench your rage, Once more I will endeavour; This water shall your fury 'swage, Or else it shall burn for ever.' Then faining penitence and feare, She did invite a parley: 'Sir Knight, if you'll forgive me heare, Henceforth I'll love you dearly. 'My father he is now from home, And I am all alone, sir; Therefore a-cross the water come; And I am all your own, sir.' 'False maid, thou canst no more deceive; I scorn the treacherous bait-a; 708 If thou would'st have me thee believe, Now open me the gate-a.' 'The bridge is drawn, the gate is barr'd; My father he has the keys, sir; But I have for my love prepar'd A shorter way and easier. 'Over the moate I've laid a plank Full seventeen feet in measure; Then step a-cross to the other bank, And there we'll take our pleasure.' These words she had no sooner spoke But strait he came tripping over: The plank was saw'd, it snapping broke, And sous'd the unhappy lover. ~ Anonymous Olde English,

999:The Kalevala - Rune I BIRTH OF WAINAMOINEN. In primeval times, a maiden, Beauteous Daughter of the Ether, Passed for ages her existence In the great expanse of heaven, O'er the prairies yet enfolded. Wearisome the maiden growing, Her existence sad and hopeless, Thus alone to live for ages In the infinite expanses Of the air above the sea-foam, In the far outstretching spaces, In a solitude of ether, She descended to the ocean, Waves her coach, and waves her pillow. Thereupon the rising storm-wind Flying from the East in fierceness, Whips the ocean into surges, Strikes the stars with sprays of ocean Till the waves are white with fervor. To and fro they toss the maiden, Storm-encircled, hapless maiden; With her sport the rolling billows, With her play the storm-wind forces, On the blue back of the waters; On the white-wreathed waves of ocean, Play the forces of the salt-sea, With the lone and helpless maiden; Till at last in full conception, Union now of force and beauty, Sink the storm-winds into slumber; Overburdened now the maiden Cannot rise above the surface; Seven hundred years she wandered, Ages nine of man's existence, Swam the ocean hither, thither, Could not rise above the waters, Conscious only of her travail; Seven hundred years she labored Ere her first-born was delivered. Thus she swam as water-mother, Toward the east, and also southward, Toward the west, and also northward; Swam the sea in all directions, Frightened at the strife of storm-winds, Swam in travail, swam unceasing, Ere her first-born was delivered. Then began she gently weeping, Spake these measures, heavy-hearted: 'Woe is me, my life hard-fated! Woe is me, in this my travail! Into what have I now fallen? Woe is me, that I unhappy, Left my home in subtle ether, Came to dwell amid the sea-foam, To be tossed by rolling billows, To be rocked by winds and waters, On the far outstretching waters, In the salt-sea's vast expanses, Knowing only pain and trouble! Better far for me, O Ukko! Were I maiden in the Ether, Than within these ocean-spaces, To become a water-mother! All this life is cold and dreary, Painful here is every motion, As I linger in the waters, As I wander through the ocean. Ukko, thou O God, up yonder, Thou the ruler of the heavens, Come thou hither, thou art needed, Come thou hither, I implore thee, To deliver me from trouble, To deliver me in travail. Come I pray thee, hither hasten, Hasten more that thou art needed, Haste and help this helpless maiden!' When she ceased her supplications, Scarce a moment onward passes, Ere a beauteous duck descending, Hastens toward the water-mother, Comes a-flying hither, thither, Seeks herself a place for nesting. Flies she eastward, flies she westward, Circles northward, circles southward, Cannot find a grassy hillock, Not the smallest bit of verdure; Cannot find a spot protected, Cannot find a place befitting, Where to make her nest in safety. Flying slowly, looking round her, She descries no place for resting, Thinking loud and long debating, And her words are such as follow: 'Build I in the winds my dwelling, On the floods my place of nesting? Surely would the winds destroy it, Far away the waves would wash it.' Then the daughter of the Ether, Now the hapless water-mother, Raised her shoulders out of water, Raised her knees above the ocean, That the duck might build her dwelling, Build her nesting-place in safety. Thereupon the duck in beauty, Flying slowly, looking round her, Spies the shoulders of the maiden, Sees the knees of Ether's daughter, Now the hapless water-mother, Thinks them to be grassy hillocks, On the blue back of the ocean. Thence she flies and hovers slowly, Lightly on the knee she settles, Finds a nesting-place befitting, Where to lay her eggs in safety. Here she builds her humble dwelling, Lays her eggs within, at pleasure, Six, the golden eggs she lays there, Then a seventh, an egg of iron; Sits upon her eggs to hatch them, Quickly warms them on the knee-cap Of the hapless water-mother; Hatches one day, then a second, Then a third day sits and hatches. Warmer grows the water round her, Warmer is her bed in ocean, While her knee with fire is kindled, And her shoulders too are burning, Fire in every vein is coursing. Quick the maiden moves her shoulders, Shakes her members in succession, Shakes the nest from its foundation, And the eggs fall into ocean, Dash in pieces on the bottom Of the deep and boundless waters. In the sand they do not perish, Not the pieces in the ocean; But transformed, in wondrous beauty All the fragments come together Forming pieces two in number, One the upper, one the lower, Equal to the one, the other. From one half the egg, the lower, Grows the nether vault of Terra: From the upper half remaining, Grows the upper vault of Heaven; From the white part come the moonbeams, From the yellow part the sunshine, From the motley part the starlight, From the dark part grows the cloudage; And the days speed onward swiftly, Quickly do the years fly over, From the shining of the new sun From the lighting of the full moon. Still the daughter of the Ether, Swims the sea as water-mother, With the floods outstretched before her, And behind her sky and ocean. Finally about the ninth year, In the summer of the tenth year, Lifts her head above the surface, Lifts her forehead from the waters, And begins at last her workings, Now commences her creations, On the azure water-ridges, On the mighty waste before her. Where her hand she turned in water, There arose a fertile hillock; Wheresoe'er her foot she rested, There she made a hole for fishes; Where she dived beneath the waters, Fell the many deeps of ocean; Where upon her side she turned her, There the level banks have risen; Where her head was pointed landward, There appeared wide bays and inlets; When from shore she swam a distance, And upon her back she rested, There the rocks she made and fashioned, And the hidden reefs created, Where the ships are wrecked so often, Where so many lives have perished. Thus created were the islands, Rocks were fastened in the ocean, Pillars of the sky were planted, Fields and forests were created, Checkered stones of many colors, Gleaming in the silver sunlight, All the rocks stood well established; But the singer, Wainamoinen, Had not yet beheld the sunshine, Had not seen the golden moonlight, Still remaining undelivered. Wainamoinen, old and trusty, Lingering within his dungeon Thirty summers altogether, And of winters, also thirty, Peaceful on the waste of waters, On the broad-sea's yielding bosom, Well reflected, long considered, How unborn to live and flourish In the spaces wrapped in darkness, In uncomfortable limits, Where he had not seen the moonlight, Had not seen the silver sunshine. 10 Thereupon these words be uttered, Let himself be heard in this wise: 'Take, O Moon, I pray thee, take me, Take me, thou, O Sun above me, Take me, thou O Bear of heaven, From this dark and dreary prison, From these unbefitting portals, From this narrow place of resting, From this dark and gloomy dwelling, Hence to wander from the ocean, Hence to walk upon the islands, On the dry land walk and wander, Like an ancient hero wander, Walk in open air and breathe it, Thus to see the moon at evening, Thus to see the silver sunlight, Thus to see the Bear in heaven, That the stars I may consider.' Since the Moon refused to free him, And the Sun would not deliver, Nor the Great Bear give assistance, His existence growing weary, And his life but an annoyance, Bursts he then the outer portals Of his dark and dismal fortress; With his strong, but unnamed finger, Opens he the lock resisting; With the toes upon his left foot, With the fingers of his right hand, Creeps he through the yielding portals To the threshold of his dwelling; On his knees across the threshold, Throws himself head foremost, forward Plunges into deeps of ocean, Plunges hither, plunges thither, Turning with his hands the water; Swims he northward, swims he southward, Swims he eastward, swims he westward, Studying his new surroundings. Thus our hero reached the water, Rested five years in the ocean, Six long years, and even seven years, 11 Till the autumn of the eighth year, When at last he leaves the waters, Stops upon a promontory, On a coast bereft of verdure; On his knees he leaves the ocean, On the land he plants his right foot, On the solid ground his left foot, Quickly turns his hands about him, Stands erect to see the sunshine, Stands to see the golden moonlight, That he may behold the Great Bear, That he may the stars consider. Thus our hero, Wainamoinen, Thus the wonderful enchanter Was delivered from his mother, Ilmatar, the Ether's daughter. ~ Elias Lönnrot,

1000:Ye Idyll Of Ye Hippopopotamus With a Methodist hymn in his musical throat, The Sun was emitting his ultimate note; His quivering larynx enwrinkled the sea Like an Ichthyosaurian blowing his tea; When sweetly and pensively rattled and rang This plaint which an Hippopopotamus sang: 'O, Camomile, Calabash, Cartilage-pie, Spread for my spirit a peppermint fry; Crown me with doughnuts, and drape me with cheese, Settle my soul with a codliver sneeze. Lo, how I stand on my head and repineLollipop Lumpkin can never be mine!' Down sank the Sun with a kick and a plunge, Up from the wave rose the head of a Sponge; Ropes in his ringlets, eggs in his eyes, Tip-tilted nose in a way to surprise. These the conundrums he flung to the breeze, The answers that Echo returned to him these: 'Cobblestone, Cobblestone, why do you sighWhy do you turn on the tears?' 'My mother is crazy on strawberry jam, And my father has petrified ears.' 'Liverwort, Liverwort, why do you droopWhy do you snuffle and scowl?' 'My brother has cockle-burs into his eyes, And my sister has married an owl.' 'Simia, Simia, why do you laughWhy do you cackle and quake?' 'My son has a pollywog stuck in his throat, And my daughter has bitten a snake.' 660 Slow sank the head of the Sponge out of sight, Soaken with sea-water-then it was night. The Moon had now risen for dinner to dress, When sweetly the Pachyderm sang from his nest; He sang through a pestle of silvery shape, Encrusted with custard-empurpled with crape; And this was the burden he bore on his lips, And blew to the listening Sturgeon that sips From the fountain of opium under the lobes Of the mountain whose summit in buffalo robes The winter envelops, as Venus adorns An elephant's trunk with a chaplet of thorns: 'Chasing mastodons through marshes upon stilts of light ratan, Hunting spiders with a shotgun and mosquitoes with an axe, Plucking peanuts ready roasted from the branches of the oak, Waking echoes in the forest with our hymns of blessed bosh, We roamed-my love and I. By the margin of the fountain spouting thick with clabbered milk, Under spreading boughs of bass-wood all alive with cooing toads, Loafing listlessly on bowlders of octagonal design, Standing gracefully inverted with our toes together knit, We loved-my love and I.' Hippopopotamus comforts his heart Biting half-moons out of strawberry tart. Epitaph on George Francis Train. (Inscribed on a Pork-barrel.) Beneath this casket rots unknown A Thing that merits not a stone, Save that by passing urchin cast; Whose fame and virtues we express By transient urn of emptiness, With apt inscription (to its past Relating-and to his): 'Prime Mess.' No honour had this infidel, That doth not appertain, as well, To altered caitiff on the drop; No wit that would not likewise pass For wisdom in the famished ass 661 Who breaks his neck a weed to crop, When tethered in the luscious grass. And now, thank God, his hateful name Shall never rescued be from shame, Though seas of venal ink be shed; No sophistry shall reconcile With sympathy for Erin's Isle, Or sorrow for her patriot dead, The weeping of this crocodile. Life's incongruity is past, And dirt to dirt is seen at last, The worm of worm afoul doth fall. The sexton tolls his solemn bell For scoundrel dead and gone to-well, It matters not, it can't recall This convict from his final cell. Jerusalem, Old and New. Didymus Dunkleton Doty Don John Is a parson of high degree; He holds forth of Sundays to marvelling crowds Who wonder how vice can still be When smitten so stoutly by Didymus DonDisciple of Calvin is he. But sinners still laugh at his talk of the New Jerusalem-ha-ha, te-he! And biting their thumbs at the doughty Don-John This parson of high degreeThey think of the streets of a village they know, Where horses still sink to the knee, Contrasting its muck with the pavement of gold That's laid in the other citee. They think of the sign that still swings, uneffaced By winds from the salt, salt sea, Which tells where he trafficked in tipple, of yoreDon Dunkleton Johnny, D. D. Didymus Dunkleton Doty Don John Still plays on his fiddle-D. D., His lambkins still bleat in full psalmody sweet, And the devil still pitches the key. Communing with Nature. One evening I sat on a heavenward hill, The winds were asleep and all nature was still, 662 Wee children came round me to play at my knee, As my mind floated rudderless over the sea. I put out one hand to caress them, but held With the other my nose, for these cherubim smelled. I cast a few glances upon the old sun; He was red in the face from the race he had run, But he seemed to be doing, for aught I could see, Quite well without any assistance from me. And so I directed my wandering eye Around to the opposite side of the sky, And the rapture that ever with ecstasy thrills Through the heart as the moon rises bright from the hills, Would in this case have been most exceedingly rare, Except for the fact that the moon was not there. But the stars looked right lovingly down in the sea, And, by Jupiter, Venus was winking at me! The gas in the city was flaring up bright, Montgomery Street was resplendent with light; But I did not exactly appear to advance A sentiment proper to that circumstance. So it only remains to explain to the town That a rainstorm came up before I could come down. As the boots I had on were uncommonly thin My fancy leaked out as the water leaked in. Though dampened my ardour, though slackened my strain, I'll 'strike the wild lyre' who sings the sweet rain! Conservatism and Progress. Old Zephyr, dawdling in the West, Looked down upon the sea, Which slept unfretted at his feet, And balanced on its breast a fleet That seemed almost to be Suspended in the middle air, As if a magnet held it there, Eternally at rest. Then, one by one, the ships released Their folded sails, and strove Against the empty calm to press North, South, or West, or East, In vain; the subtle nothingness Was impotent to move. Ten Zephyr laughed aloud to see: 663 'No vessel moves except by me, And, heigh-ho! I shall sleep.' But lo! from out the troubled North A tempest strode impatient forth, And trampled white the deep; The sloping ships flew glad away, Laving their heated sides in spray. The West then turned him red with wrath, And to the North he shouted: 'Hold there! How dare you cross my path, As now you are about it?' The North replied with laboured breathHis speed no moment slowing:'My friend, you'll never have a path, Unless you take to blowing.' Inter Arma Silent Leges. (An Election Incident.) About the polls the freedmen drew, To vote the freemen down; And merrily their caps up-flew As Grant rode through the town. From votes to staves they next did turn, And beat the freemen down; Full bravely did their valour burn As Grant rode through the town. Then staves for muskets they forsook, And shot the freemen down; Right royally their banners shook As Grant rode through the town. Hail, final triumph of our cause! Hail, chief of mute renown! Grim Magistrate of Silent Laws, A-riding freedom down! Quintessence. 'To produce these spicy paragraphs, which have been unsuccessfully imitated by every newspaper in the State, requires the combined efforts of five able-bodied persons associated on the editorial staff of this journal.'-New York Herald. Sir Muscle speaks, and nations bend the ear: 664 'Hark ye these Notes-our wit quintuple hear; Five able-bodied editors combine Their strength prodigious in each laboured line!' O wondrous vintner! hopeless seemed the task To bung these drainings in a single cask; The riddle's read-five leathern skins contain The working juice, and scarcely feel the strain. Saviours of Rome! will wonders never cease? A ballad cackled by five tuneful geese! Upon one Rosinante five stout knights Ride fiercely into visionary fights! A cap and bells five sturdy fools adorn, Five porkers battle for a grain of corn, Five donkeys squeeze into a narrow stall, Five tumble-bugs propel a single ball! Resurgam. Dawns dread and red the fateful morn Lo, Resurrection's Day is born! The striding sea no longer strides, No longer knows the trick of tides; The land is breathless, winds relent, All nature waits the dread event. From wassail rising rather late, Awarding Jove arrives in state; O'er yawning graves looks many a league, Then yawns himself from sheer fatigue. Lifting its finger to the sky, A marble shaft arrests his eye This epitaph, in pompous pride, Engraven on its polished side: 'Perfection of Creation's plan, Here resteth Universal Man, Who virtues, segregated wide, Collated, classed, and codified, Reduced to practice, taught, explained, And strict morality maintained. Anticipating death, his pelf He lavished on this monolith; Because he leaves nor kin nor kith He rears this tribute to himself, That Virtue's fame may never cease. Hic jacet-let him rest in peace!' 665 With sober eye Jove scanned the shaft, Then turned away and lightly laughed 'Poor Man! since I have careless been In keeping books to note thy sin, And thou hast left upon the earth This faithful record of thy worth, Thy final prayer shall now be heard: Of life I'll not renew thy lease, But take thee at thy carven word, And let thee rest in solemn peace!' ~ Ambrose Bierce,

1001:The Kalevala - Rune Xxxiii KULLERVO AND THE CHEAT-CAKE. Thereupon the lad, Kullervo, Laid his luncheon in his basket, Drove the herd to mountain-pastures, O'er the hills and through the marshes, To their grazings in the woodlands, Speaking as he careless wandered: 'Of the youth am I the poorest, Hapless lad and full of trouble, Evil luck to me befallen! I alas! must idly wander O'er the hills and through the valleys, As a watch-dog for the cattle!' Then she sat upon the greensward, In a sunny spot selected, Singing, chanting words as follow: 'Shine, O shine, thou Sun of heaven, Cast thy rays, thou fire of Ukko, On the herdsman of the blacksmith, On the head of Kullerwoinen, On this poor and luckless shepherd, Not in Ilmarinen's smithy, Nor the dwellings of his people; Good the table of the hostess, Cuts the best of wheaten biscuit, Honey-cakes she cuts in slices, Spreading each with golden butter; Only dry bread has the herdsman, Eats with pain the oaten bread-crusts,' Filled with chaff his and biscuit, Feeds upon the worst of straw-bread, Pine-tree bark, the broad he feeds on, Sipping water from the birch-bark, Drinking from the tips of grasses I Go, O Sun, and go, O barley, Haste away, thou light of Ukko, Hide within the mountain pine-trees, 521 Go, O wheat, to yonder thickets, To the trees of purple berries, To the junipers and alders, Safely lead the herdsman homeward To the biscuit golden-buttered, To the honeyed cakes and viands!' While the shepherd lad was singing Kullerwoinen's song and echo, Ilmarinen's wife was feasting On the sweetest bread of Northland, On the toothsome cakes of barley, On the richest of provisions; Only laid aside some cabbage, For the herdsman, Kullerwoinen; Set apart some wasted fragments, Leavings of the dogs at dinner, For the shepherd, home returning. From the woods a bird came flying, Sang this song to Kullerwoinen: ''Tis the time for forest-dinners, For the fatherless companion Of the herds to eat his viands, Eat the good things from his basket!' Kullerwoinen heard the songster, Looked upon the Sun's long shadow, Straightway spake the words that follow: 'True, the singing of the song-bird, It is time indeed for feasting, Time to eat my basket-dinner.' Thereupon young Kullerwoinen Called his herd to rest in safety, Sat upon a grassy hillock, Took his basket from his shoulders, Took therefrom the and oat-loaf, Turned it over in his fingers, Carefully the loaf inspected, Spake these words of ancient wisdom: 'Many loaves are fine to look on, On the outside seem delicious, On the inside, chaff and tan-bark!' Then the shepherd, Kullerwoinen, Drew his knife to cut his oat-loaf, 522 Cut the hard and arid biscuit; Cuts against a stone imprisoned, Well imbedded in the centre, Breaks his ancient knife in pieces; When the shepherd youth, Kullervo, Saw his magic knife had broken, Weeping sore, he spake as follows: 'This, the blade that I bold sacred, This the one thing that I honor, Relic of my mother's people! On the stone within this oat-loaf, On this cheat-cake of the hostess, I my precious knife have broken. How shall I repay this insult, How avenge this woman's malice, What the wages for deception?' From a tree the raven answered: 'O thou little silver buckle, Only son of old Kalervo, Why art thou in evil humor, Wherefore sad in thy demeanor? Take a young shoot from the thicket, Take a birch-rod from the valley, Drive thy herd across the lowlands, Through the quicksands of the marshes; To the wolves let one half wander, To the bear-dens, lead the other; Sing the forest wolves together, Sing the bears down from the mountains, Call the wolves thy little children, And the bears thy standard-bearers; Drive them like a cow-herd homeward, Drive them home like spotted cattle, Drive them to thy master's milk-yards; Thus thou wilt repay the hostess For her malice and derision.' Thereupon the wizard answered, These the words of Kullerwoinen: 'Wait, yea wait, thou bride of Hisi! Do I mourn my mother's relic, Mourn the keep-sake thou hast broken? Thou thyself shalt mourn as sorely 523 When thy, cows come home at evening!' From the tree he cuts a birch-wand, From the juniper a whip-stick, Drives the herd across the lowlands, Through the quicksands of the marshes, To the wolves lets one half wander, To the bear-dens leads the other; Calls the wolves his little children, Calls the bears his standard-bearers, Changes all his herd of cattle Into wolves and bears by magic. In the west the Sun is shining, Telling that the night is coming. Quick the wizard, Kullerwoinen, Wanders o'er the pine-tree mountain, Hastens through the forest homeward, Drives the wolves and bears before him Toward the milk-yards of the hostess; To the herd he speaks as follows, As they journey on together: 'Tear and kill the wicked hostess, Tear her guilty flesh in pieces, When she comes to view her cattle, When she stoops to do her milking!' Then the wizard, Kullerwoinen, From an ox-bone makes a bugle, Makes it from Tuonikki's cow-horn, Makes a flute from Kiryo's shin-bone, Plays a song upon his bugle, Plays upon his flute of magic, Thrice upon the home-land hill-tops, Six times near the coming gate-ways. Ilmarinen's wife and hostess Long had waited for the coming Of her herd with Kullerwoinen, Waited for the milk at evening, Waited for the new-made butter, Heard the footsteps in the cow-path, On the heath she beard the bustle, Spake these joyous words of welcome: 'Be thou praised, O gracious Ukko, That my herd is home returning! 524 But I hear a bugle sounding, 'Tis the playing of my herdsman, Playing on a magic cow-horn, Bursting all our ears with music!' Kullerwoinen, drawing nearer, To the hostess spake as follows: 'Found the bugle in the woodlands, And the flute among the rushes; All thy herd are in the passage, All thy cows within the hurdles, This the time to build the camp-fire, This the time to do the milking!' Ilmarinen's wife, the hostess, Thus addressed an aged servant: 'Go, thou old one, to the milking, Have the care of all my cattle, Do not ask for mine assistance, Since I have to knead the biscuit.' Kullerwoinen spake as follows: 'Always does the worthy hostess, Ever does the wisdom-mother Go herself and do the milking, Tend the cows within the hurdles!' Then the wife of Ilmarinen Built a field-fire in the passage, Went to milk her cows awaiting, Looked upon her herd in wonder, Spake these happy words of greeting: 'Beautiful, my herd of cattle, Glistening like the skins of lynxes, Hair as soft as fur of ermine, Peaceful waiting for the milk-pail!' On the milk-stool sits the hostess, Milks one moment, then a second, Then a third time milks and ceases; When the bloody wolves disguising, Quick attack the hostess milking, And the bears lend their assistance, Tear and mutilate her body With their teeth and sharpened fingers. Kullerwoinen, cruel wizard, Thus repaid the wicked hostess, 525 Thus repaid her evil treatment. Quick the wife of Ilmarinen Cried aloud in bitter anguish, Thus addressed the youth, Kullervo: 'Evil son, thou bloody herdsman, Thou hast brought me wolves in malice, Driven bears within my hurdles! These the words of Kullerwoinen: 'Have I evil done as shepherd, Worse the conduct of the hostess; Baked a stone inside my oat-cake, On the inside, rock and tan-bark, On the stone my knife, was broken, Treasure of my mother's household, Broken virtue of my people!' Ilmarinen's wife made answer: 'Noble herdsman, Kullerwoinen, Change, I pray thee, thine opinion, Take away thine incantations, From the bears and wolves release me, Save me from this spell of torture I will give thee better raiment, Give the best of milk and butter, Set for thee the sweetest table; Thou shalt live with me in welcome, Need not labor for thy keeping. If thou dost not free me quickly, Dost not break this spell of magic, I shall sink into the Death-land, Shall return to Tuonela.' This is Kullerwoinen's answer: 'It is best that thou shouldst perish, Let destruction overtake thee, There is ample room in Mana, Room for all the dead in Kalma, There the worthiest must slumber, There must rest the good and evil.' Ilmarinen's wife made answer: 'Ukko, thou O God in heaven, Span the strongest of thy cross-bows, Test the weapon by thy wisdom, Lay an arrow forged from copper, 526 On the cross-bow of thy forging; Rightly aim thy flaming arrow, With thy magic hurl the missile, Shoot this wizard through the vitals, Pierce the heart of Kullerwoinen With the lightning of the heavens, With thine arrows tipped with copper.' Kullerwoinen prays as follows: 'Ukko, God of truth and justice. Do not slay thy magic servant, Slay the wife of Ilmarinen, Kill in her the worst of women, In these hurdles let her perish, Lest she wander hence in freedom, To perform some other mischief, Do some greater deed of malice!' Quick as lightning fell the hostess, Quick the wife of Ilmarinen Fell and perished in the hurdles, On the ground before her cottage Thus the death of Northland's hostess, Cherished wife of Ilmarinen, Once the Maiden of the Rainbow, Wooed and watched for many summers, Pride and joy of Kalevala! ~ Elias Lönnrot,

1002: III - THE STUDY FAUST (Entering, with the poodle.) Behind me, field and meadow sleeping, I leave in deep, prophetic night, Within whose dread and holy keeping The better soul awakes to light. The wild desires no longer win us, The deeds of passion cease to chain; The love of Man revives within us, The love of God revives again. Be still, thou poodle; make not such racket and riot! Why at the threshold wilt snuffing be? Behind the stove repose thee in quiet! My softest cushion I give to thee. As thou, up yonder, with running and leaping Amused us hast, on the mountain's crest, So now I take thee into my keeping, A welcome, but also a silent, guest. Ah, when, within our narrow chamber The lamp with friendly lustre glows, Flames in the breast each faded ember, And in the heart, itself that knows. Then Hope again lends sweet assistance, And Reason then resumes her speech: One yearns, the rivers of existence, The very founts of Life, to reach. Snarl not, poodle! To the sound that rises, The sacred tones that my soul embrace, This bestial noise is out of place. We are used to see, that Man despises What he never comprehends, And the Good and the Beautiful vilipends, Finding them often hard to measure: Will the dog, like man, snarl his displeasure? But ah! I feel, though will thereto be stronger, Contentment flows from out my breast no longer. Why must the stream so soon run dry and fail us, And burning thirst again assail us? Therein I've borne so much probation! And yet, this want may be supplied us; We call the Supernatural to guide us; We pine and thirst for Revelation, Which nowhere worthier is, more nobly sent, Than here, in our New Testament. I feel impelled, its meaning to determine, With honest purpose, once for all, The hallowed Original To change to my beloved German. (He opens a volume, and commences.) 'Tis written: "In the Beginning was the Word." Here am I balked: who, now can help afford? The Word?impossible so high to rate it; And otherwise must I translate it. If by the Spirit I am truly taught. Then thus: "In the Beginning was the Thought" This first line let me weigh completely, Lest my impatient pen proceed too fleetly. Is it the Thought which works, creates, indeed? "In the Beginning was the Power," I read. Yet, as I write, a warning is suggested, That I the sense may not have fairly tested. The Spirit aids me: now I see the light! "In the Beginning was the Act," I write. If I must share my chamber with thee, Poodle, stop that howling, prithee! Cease to bark and bellow! Such a noisy, disturbing fellow I'll no longer suffer near me. One of us, dost hear me! Must leave, I fear me. No longer guest-right I bestow; The door is open, art free to go. But what do I see in the creature? Is that in the course of nature? Is't actual fact? or Fancy's shows? How long and broad my poodle grows! He rises mightily: A canine form that cannot be! What a spectre I've harbored thus! He resembles a hippopotamus, With fiery eyes, teeth terrible to see: O, now am I sure of thee! For all of thy half-hellish brood The Key of Solomon is good. SPIRITS (in the corridor) Some one, within, is caught! Stay without, follow him not! Like the fox in a snare, Quakes the old hell-lynx there. Take heedlook about! Back and forth hover, Under and over, And he'll work himself out. If your aid avail him, Let it not fail him; For he, without measure, Has wrought for our pleasure. FAUST First, to encounter the beast, The Words of the Four be addressed: Salamander, shine glorious! Wave, Undine, as bidden! Sylph, be thou hidden! Gnome, be laborious! Who knows not their sense (These elements), Their properties And power not sees, No mastery he inherits Over the Spirits. Vanish in flaming ether, Salamander! Flow foamingly together, Undine! Shine in meteor-sheen, Sylph! Bring help to hearth and shelf. Incubus! Incubus! Step forward, and finish thus! Of the Four, no feature Lurks in the creature. Quiet he lies, and grins disdain: Not yet, it seems, have I given him pain. Now, to undisguise thee, Hear me exorcise thee! Art thou, my gay one, Hell's fugitive stray-one? The sign witness now, Before which they bow, The cohorts of Hell! With hair all bristling, it begins to swell. Base Being, hearest thou? Knowest and fearest thou The One, unoriginate, Named inexpressibly, Through all Heaven impermeate, Pierced irredressibly! Behind the stove still banned, See it, an elephant, expand! It fills the space entire, Mist-like melting, ever faster. 'Tis enough: ascend no higher, Lay thyself at the feet of the Master! Thou seest, not vain the threats I bring thee: With holy fire I'll scorch and sting thee! Wait not to know The threefold dazzling glow! Wait not to know The strongest art within my hands! MEPHISTOPHELES (while the vapor is dissipating, steps forth from behind the stove, in the costume of a Travelling Scholar.) Why such a noise? What are my lord's commands? FAUST This was the poodle's real core, A travelling scholar, then? The casus is diverting. MEPHISTOPHELES The learned gentleman I bow before: You've made me roundly sweat, that's certain! FAUST What is thy name? MEPHISTOPHELES A question small, it seems, For one whose mind the Word so much despises; Who, scorning all external gleams, The depths of being only prizes. FAUST With all you gentlemen, the name's a test, Whereby the nature usually is expressed. Clearly the latter it implies In names like Beelzebub, Destroyer, Father of Lies. Who art thou, then? MEPHISTOPHELES Part of that Power, not understood, Which always wills the Bad, and always works the Good. FAUST What hidden sense in this enigma lies? MEPHISTOPHELES I am the Spirit that Denies! And justly so: for all things, from the Void Called forth, deserve to be destroyed: 'Twere better, then, were naught created. Thus, all which you as Sin have rated, Destruction,aught with Evil blent, That is my proper element. FAUST Thou nam'st thyself a part, yet show'st complete to me? MEPHISTOPHELES The modest truth I speak to thee. If Man, that microcosmic fool, can see Himself a whole so frequently, Part of the Part am I, once All, in primal Night, Part of the Darkness which brought forth the Light, The haughty Light, which now disputes the space, And claims of Mother Night her ancient place. And yet, the struggle fails; since Light, howe'er it weaves, Still, fettered, unto bodies cleaves: It flows from bodies, bodies beautifies; By bodies is its course impeded; And so, but little time is needed, I hope, ere, as the bodies die, it dies! FAUST I see the plan thou art pursuing: Thou canst not compass general ruin, And hast on smaller scale begun. MEPHISTOPHELES And truly 'tis not much, when all is done. That which to Naught is in resistance set, The Something of this clumsy world,has yet, With all that I have undertaken, Not been by me disturbed or shaken: From earthquake, tempest, wave, volcano's brand, Back into quiet settle sea and land! And that damned stuff, the bestial, human brood, What use, in having that to play with? How many have I made away with! And ever circulates a newer, fresher blood. It makes me furious, such things beholding: From Water, Earth, and Air unfolding, A thousand germs break forth and grow, In dry, and wet, and warm, and chilly; And had I not the Flame reserved, why, really, There's nothing special of my own to show! FAUST So, to the actively eternal Creative force, in cold disdain You now oppose the fist infernal, Whose wicked clench is all in vain! Some other labor seek thou rather, Queer Son of Chaos, to begin! MEPHISTOPHELES Well, we'll consider: thou canst gather My views, when next I venture in. Might I, perhaps, depart at present? FAUST Why thou shouldst ask, I don't perceive. Though our acquaintance is so recent, For further visits thou hast leave. The window's here, the door is yonder; A chimney, also, you behold. MEPHISTOPHELES I must confess that forth I may not wander, My steps by one slight obstacle controlled, The wizard's-foot, that on your threshold made is. FAUST The pentagram prohibits thee? Why, tell me now, thou Son of Hades, If that prevents, how cam'st thou in to me? Could such a spirit be so cheated? MEPHISTOPHELES Inspect the thing: the drawing's not completed. The outer angle, you may see, Is open left the lines don't fit it. FAUST Well,Chance, this time, has fairly hit it! And thus, thou'rt prisoner to me? It seems the business has succeeded. MEPHISTOPHELES The poodle naught remarked, as after thee he speeded; But other aspects now obtain: The Devil can't get out again. FAUST Try, then, the open window-pane! MEPHISTOPHELES For Devils and for spectres this is law: Where they have entered in, there also they withdraw. The first is free to us; we're governed by the second. FAUST In Hell itself, then, laws are reckoned? That's well! So might a compact be Made with you gentlemen and binding,surely? MEPHISTOPHELES All that is promised shall delight thee purely; No skinflint bargain shalt thou see. But this is not of swift conclusion; We'll talk about the matter soon. And now, I do entreat this boon Leave to withdraw from my intrusion. FAUST One moment more I ask thee to remain, Some pleasant news, at least, to tell me. MEPHISTOPHELES Release me, now! I soon shall come again; Then thou, at will, mayst question and compel me. FAUST I have not snares around thee cast; Thyself hast led thyself into the meshes. Who traps the Devil, hold him fast! Not soon a second time he'll catch a prey so precious. MEPHISTOPHELES An't please thee, also I'm content to stay, And serve thee in a social station; But stipulating, that I may With arts of mine afford thee recreation. FAUST Thereto I willingly agree, If the diversion pleasant be. MEPHISTOPHELES My friend, thou'lt win, past all pretences, More in this hour to soo the thy senses, Than in the year's monotony. That which the dainty spirits sing thee, The lovely pictures they shall bring thee, Are more than magic's empty show. Thy scent will be to bliss invited; Thy palate then with taste delighted, Thy nerves of touch ecstatic glow! All unprepared, the charm I spin: We're here together, so begin! SPIRITS Vanish, ye darking Arches above him! Loveliest weather, Born of blue ether, Break from the sky! O that the darkling Clouds had departed! Starlight is sparkling, Tranquiller-hearted Suns are on high. Heaven's own children In beauty bewildering, Waveringly bending, Pass as they hover; Longing unending Follows them over. They, with their glowing Garments, out-flowing, Cover, in going, Landscape and bower, Where, in seclusion, Lovers are plighted, Lost in illusion. Bower on bower! Tendrils unblighted! Lo! in a shower Grapes that o'ercluster Gush into must, or Flow into rivers Of foaming and flashing Wine, that is dashing Gems, as it boundeth Down the high places, And spreading, surroundeth With crystalline spaces, In happy embraces, Blossoming forelands, Emerald shore-lands! And the winged races Drink, and fly onward Fly ever sunward To the enticing Islands, that flatter, Dipping and rising Light on the water! Hark, the inspiring Sound of their quiring! See, the entrancing Whirl of their dancing! All in the air are Freer and fairer. Some of them scaling Boldly the highlands, Others are sailing, Circling the islands; Others are flying; Life-ward all hieing, All for the distant Star of existent Rapture and Love! MEPHISTOPHELES He sleeps! Enough, ye fays! your airy number Have sung him truly into slumber: For this performance I your debtor prove. Not yet art thou the man, to catch the Fiend and hold him! With fairest images of dreams infold him, Plunge him in seas of sweet untruth! Yet, for the threshold's magic which controlled him, The Devil needs a rat's quick tooth. I use no leng thened invocation: Here rustles one that soon will work my liberation. The lord of rats and eke of mice, Of flies and bed-bugs, frogs and lice, Summons thee hither to the door-sill, To gnaw it where, with just a morsel Of oil, he paints the spot for thee: There com'st thou, hopping on to me! To work, at once! The point which made me craven Is forward, on the ledge, engraven. Another bite makes free the door: So, dream thy dreams, O Faust, until we meet once more! FAUST (awaking) Am I again so foully cheated? Remains there naught of lofty spirit-sway, But that a dream the Devil counterfeited, And that a poodle ran away? ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, THE STUDY (The Exorcism) ,

1003:An Essay On Man: Epistle Ii I. Know then thyself, presume not God to scan; The proper study of mankind is man. Plac'd on this isthmus of a middle state, A being darkly wise, and rudely great: With too much knowledge for the sceptic side, With too much weakness for the stoic's pride, He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest; In doubt to deem himself a god, or beast; In doubt his mind or body to prefer; Born but to die, and reas'ning but to err; Alike in ignorance, his reason such, Whether he thinks too little, or too much: Chaos of thought and passion, all confus'd; Still by himself abus'd, or disabus'd; Created half to rise, and half to fall; Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all; Sole judge of truth, in endless error hurl'd: The glory, jest, and riddle of the world! Go, wondrous creature! mount where science guides, Go, measure earth, weigh air, and state the tides; Instruct the planets in what orbs to run, Correct old time, and regulate the sun; Go, soar with Plato to th' empyreal sphere, To the first good, first perfect, and first fair; Or tread the mazy round his follow'rs trod, And quitting sense call imitating God; As Eastern priests in giddy circles run, And turn their heads to imitate the sun. Go, teach Eternal Wisdom how to rule— Then drop into thyself, and be a fool! Superior beings, when of late they saw A mortal Man unfold all Nature's law, Admir'd such wisdom in an earthly shape, And showed a Newton as we shew an Ape. Could he, whose rules the rapid comet bind, 35 Describe or fix one movement of his mind? Who saw its fires here rise, and there descend, Explain his own beginning, or his end? Alas what wonder! Man's superior part Uncheck'd may rise, and climb from art to art; But when his own great work is but begun, What Reason weaves, by Passion is undone. Trace science then, with modesty thy guide; First strip off all her equipage of pride; Deduct what is but vanity, or dress, Or learning's luxury, or idleness; Or tricks to show the stretch of human brain, Mere curious pleasure, or ingenious pain; Expunge the whole, or lop th' excrescent parts Of all our Vices have created Arts; Then see how little the remaining sum, Which serv'd the past, and must the times to come! II. Two principles in human nature reign; Self-love, to urge, and reason, to restrain; Nor this a good, nor that a bad we call, Each works its end, to move or govern all: And to their proper operation still, Ascribe all good; to their improper, ill. Self-love, the spring of motion, acts the soul; Reason's comparing balance rules the whole. Man, but for that, no action could attend, And but for this, were active to no end: Fix'd like a plant on his peculiar spot, To draw nutrition, propagate, and rot; Or, meteor-like, flame lawless through the void, Destroying others, by himself destroy'd. Most strength the moving principle requires; Active its task, it prompts, impels, inspires. Sedate and quiet the comparing lies, Form'd but to check, delib'rate, and advise. Self-love still stronger, as its objects nigh; 36 Reason's at distance, and in prospect lie: That sees immediate good by present sense; Reason, the future and the consequence. Thicker than arguments, temptations throng, At best more watchful this, but that more strong. The action of the stronger to suspend, Reason still use, to reason still attend. Attention, habit and experience gains; Each strengthens reason, and self-love restrains. Let subtle schoolmen teach these friends to fight, More studious to divide than to unite, And grace and virtue, sense and reason split, With all the rash dexterity of wit: Wits, just like fools, at war about a name, Have full as oft no meaning, or the same. Self-love and reason to one end aspire, Pain their aversion, pleasure their desire; But greedy that its object would devour, This taste the honey, and not wound the flow'r: Pleasure, or wrong or rightly understood, Our greatest evil, or our greatest good. III. Modes of self-love the passions we may call: 'Tis real good, or seeming, moves them all: But since not every good we can divide, And reason bids us for our own provide; Passions, though selfish, if their means be fair, List under reason, and deserve her care; Those, that imparted, court a nobler aim, Exalt their kind, and take some virtue's name. In lazy apathy let Stoics boast Their virtue fix'd, 'tis fix'd as in a frost; Contracted all, retiring to the breast; But strength of mind is exercise, not rest: The rising tempest puts in act the soul, Parts it may ravage, but preserves the whole. On life's vast ocean diversely we sail, Reason the card, but passion is the gale; 37 Nor God alone in the still calm we find, He mounts the storm, and walks upon the wind. Passions, like elements, though born to fight, Yet, mix'd and soften'd, in his work unite: These 'tis enough to temper and employ; But what composes man, can man destroy? Suffice that reason keep to nature's road, Subject, compound them, follow her and God. Love, hope, and joy, fair pleasure's smiling train, Hate, fear, and grief, the family of pain, These mix'd with art, and to due bounds confin'd, Make and maintain the balance of the mind: The lights and shades, whose well accorded strife Gives all the strength and colour of our life. Pleasures are ever in our hands or eyes, And when in act they cease, in prospect, rise: Present to grasp, and future still to find, The whole employ of body and of mind. All spread their charms, but charm not all alike; On diff'rent senses diff'rent objects strike; Hence diff'rent passions more or less inflame, As strong or weak, the organs of the frame; And hence one master passion in the breast, Like Aaron's serpent, swallows up the rest. As man, perhaps, the moment of his breath, Receives the lurking principle of death; The young disease, that must subdue at length, Grows with his growth, and strengthens with his strength: So, cast and mingled with his very frame, The mind's disease, its ruling passion came; Each vital humour which should feed the whole, Soon flows to this, in body and in soul. Whatever warms the heart, or fills the head, As the mind opens, and its functions spread, Imagination plies her dang'rous art, And pours it all upon the peccant part. Nature its mother, habit is its nurse; Wit, spirit, faculties, but make it worse; 38 Reason itself but gives it edge and pow'r; As Heav'n's blest beam turns vinegar more sour. We, wretched subjects, though to lawful sway, In this weak queen some fav'rite still obey: Ah! if she lend not arms, as well as rules, What can she more than tell us we are fools? Teach us to mourn our nature, not to mend, A sharp accuser, but a helpless friend! Or from a judge turn pleader, to persuade The choice we make, or justify it made; Proud of an easy conquest all along, She but removes weak passions for the strong: So, when small humours gather to a gout, The doctor fancies he has driv'n them out. Yes, nature's road must ever be preferr'd; Reason is here no guide, but still a guard: 'Tis hers to rectify, not overthrow, And treat this passion more as friend than foe: A mightier pow'r the strong direction sends, And sev'ral men impels to sev'ral ends. Like varying winds, by other passions toss'd, This drives them constant to a certain coast. Let pow'r or knowledge, gold or glory, please, Or (oft more strong than all) the love of ease; Through life 'tis followed, ev'n at life's expense; The merchant's toil, the sage's indolence, The monk's humility, the hero's pride, All, all alike, find reason on their side. Th' eternal art educing good from ill, Grafts on this passion our best principle: 'Tis thus the mercury of man is fix'd, Strong grows the virtue with his nature mix'd; The dross cements what else were too refin'd, And in one interest body acts with mind. As fruits, ungrateful to the planter's care, On savage stocks inserted, learn to bear; The surest virtues thus from passions shoot, Wild nature's vigor working at the root. What crops of wit and honesty appear 39 From spleen, from obstinacy, hate, or fear! See anger, zeal and fortitude supply; Ev'n av'rice, prudence; sloth, philosophy; Lust, through some certain strainers well refin'd, Is gentle love, and charms all womankind; Envy, to which th' ignoble mind's a slave, Is emulation in the learn'd or brave; Nor virtue, male or female, can we name, But what will grow on pride, or grow on shame. Thus nature gives us (let it check our pride) The virtue nearest to our vice allied: Reason the byass turns to good from ill, And Nero reigns a Titus, if he will. The fiery soul abhorr'd in Catiline, In Decius charms, in Curtius is divine: The same ambition can destroy or save, And make a patriot as it makes a knave. IV. This light and darkness in our chaos join'd, What shall divide? The God within the mind. Extremes in nature equal ends produce, In man they join to some mysterious use; Though each by turns the other's bound invade, As, in some well-wrought picture, light and shade, And oft so mix, the diff'rence is too nice Where ends the virtue, or begins the vice. Fools! who from hence into the notion fall, That vice or virtue there is none at all. If white and black blend, soften, and unite A thousand ways, is there no black or white? Ask your own heart, and nothing is so plain; 'Tis to mistake them, costs the time and pain. V. Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, As, to be hated, needs but to be seen; 40 Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, We first endure, then pity, then embrace. But where th' extreme of vice, was ne'er agreed: Ask where's the North? at York, 'tis on the Tweed; In Scotland, at the Orcades; and there, At Greenland, Zembla, or the Lord knows where: No creature owns it in the first degree, But thinks his neighbour farther gone than he! Ev'n those who dwell beneath its very zone, Or never feel the rage, or never own; What happier natures shrink at with affright, The hard inhabitant contends is right. VI. Virtuous and vicious ev'ry man must be, Few in th' extreme, but all in the degree; The rogue and fool by fits is fair and wise; And ev'n the best, by fits, what they despise. 'Tis but by parts we follow good or ill, For, vice or virtue, self directs it still; Each individual seeks a sev'ral goal; But heav'n's great view is one, and that the whole: That counterworks each folly and caprice; That disappoints th' effect of ev'ry vice; That, happy frailties to all ranks applied, Shame to the virgin, to the matron pride, Fear to the statesman, rashness to the chief, To kings presumption, and to crowds belief, That, virtue's ends from vanity can raise, Which seeks no int'rest, no reward but praise; And build on wants, and on defects of mind, The joy, the peace, the glory of mankind. Heav'n forming each on other to depend, A master, or a servant, or a friend, Bids each on other for assistance call, 'Till one man's weakness grows the strength of all. Wants, frailties, passions, closer still ally The common int'rest, or endear the tie: To these we owe true friendship, love sincere, Each home-felt joy that life inherits here; 41 Yet from the same we learn, in its decline, Those joys, those loves, those int'rests to resign; Taught half by reason, half by mere decay, To welcome death, and calmly pass away. Whate'er the passion, knowledge, fame, or pelf, Not one will change his neighbour with himself. The learn'd is happy nature to explore, The fool is happy that he knows no more; The rich is happy in the plenty giv'n, The poor contents him with the care of heav'n. See the blind beggar dance, the cripple sing, The sot a hero, lunatic a king; The starving chemist in his golden views Supremely blest, the poet in his Muse. See some strange comfort ev'ry state attend, And pride bestow'd on all, a common friend; See some fit passion ev'ry age supply, Hope travels through, nor quits us when we die. Behold the child, by nature's kindly law, Pleas'd with a rattle, tickl'd with a straw: Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight, A little louder, but as empty quite: Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage, And beads and pray'r books are the toys of age: Pleas'd with this bauble still, as that before; 'Till tir'd he sleeps, and life's poor play is o'er! Meanwhile opinion gilds with varying rays Those painted clouds that beautify our days; Each want of happiness by hope supplied, And each vacuity of sense by Pride: These build as fast as knowledge can destroy; In folly's cup still laughs the bubble, joy; One prospect lost, another still we gain; And not a vanity is giv'n in vain; Ev'n mean self-love becomes, by force divine, The scale to measure others' wants by thine. See! and confess, one comfort still must rise, 'Tis this: Though man's a fool, yet God is wise. 42 ~ Alexander Pope,

1004:I - NIGHT (A lofty-arched, narrow, Gothic chamber. FAUST, in a chair at his desk, restless.) FAUST I've studied now Philosophy And Jurisprudence, Medicine, And even, alas! Theology, From end to end, with labor keen; And here, poor fool! with all my lore I stand, no wiser than before: I'm Magisteryea, Doctorhight, And straight or cross-wise, wrong or right, These ten years long, with many woes, I've led my scholars by the nose, And see, that nothing can be known! That knowledge cuts me to the bone. I'm cleverer, true, than those fops of teachers, Doctors and Magisters, Scribes and Preachers; Neither scruples nor doubts come now to smite me, Nor Hell nor Devil can longer affright me. For this, all pleasure am I foregoing; I do not pretend to aught worth knowing, I do not pretend I could be a teacher To help or convert a fellow-creature. Then, too, I've neither lands nor gold, Nor the world's least pomp or honor hold No dog would endure such a curst existence! Wherefore, from Magic I seek assistance, That many a secret perchance I reach Through spirit-power and spirit-speech, And thus the bitter task forego Of saying the things I do not know, That I may detect the inmost force Which binds the world, and guides its course; Its germs, productive powers explore, And rummage in empty words no more! O full and splendid Moon, whom I Have, from this desk, seen climb the sky So many a midnight,would thy glow For the last time beheld my woe! Ever thine eye, most mournful friend, O'er books and papers saw me bend; But would that I, on mountains grand, Amid thy blessed light could stand, With spirits through mountain-caverns hover, Float in thy twilight the meadows over, And, freed from the fumes of lore that swa the me, To health in thy dewy fountains ba the me! Ah, me! this dungeon still I see. This drear, accursed masonry, Where even the welcome daylight strains But duskly through the painted panes. Hemmed in by many a toppling heap Of books worm-eaten, gray with dust, Which to the vaulted ceiling creep, Against the smoky paper thrust, With glasses, boxes, round me stacked, And instruments together hurled, Ancestral lumber, stuffed and packed Such is my world: and what a world! And do I ask, wherefore my heart Falters, oppressed with unknown needs? Why some inexplicable smart All movement of my life impedes? Alas! in living Nature's stead, Where God His human creature set, In smoke and mould the fleshless dead And bones of beasts surround me yet! Fly! Up, and seek the broad, free land! And this one Book of Mystery From Nostradamus' very hand, Is't not sufficient company? When I the starry courses know, And Nature's wise instruction seek, With light of power my soul shall glow, As when to spirits spirits speak. Tis vain, this empty brooding here, Though guessed the holy symbols be: Ye, Spirits, comeye hover near Oh, if you hear me, answer me! (He opens the Book, and perceives the sign of the Macrocosm.) Ha! what a sudden rapture leaps from this I view, through all my senses swiftly flowing! I feel a youthful, holy, vital bliss In every vein and fibre newly glowing. Was it a God, who traced this sign, With calm across my tumult stealing, My troubled heart to joy unsealing, With impulse, mystic and divine, The powers of Nature here, around my path, revealing? Am I a God?so clear mine eyes! In these pure features I behold Creative Nature to my soul unfold. What says the sage, now first I recognize: "The spirit-world no closures fasten; Thy sense is shut, thy heart is dead: Disciple, up! untiring, hasten To ba the thy breast in morning-red!" (He contemplates the sign.) How each the Whole its substance gives, Each in the other works and lives! Like heavenly forces rising and descending, Their golden urns reciprocally lending, With wings that winnow blessing From Heaven through Earth I see them pressing, Filling the All with harmony unceasing! How grand a show! but, ah! a show alone. Thee, boundless Nature, how make thee my own? Where you, ye beasts? Founts of all Being, shining, Whereon hang Heaven's and Earth's desire, Whereto our withered hearts aspire, Ye flow, ye feed: and am I vainly pining? (He turns the leaves impatiently, and perceives the sign of the Earth-Spirit.) How otherwise upon me works this sign! Thou, Spirit of the Earth, art nearer: Even now my powers are loftier, clearer; I glow, as drunk with new-made wine: New strength and heart to meet the world incite me, The woe of earth, the bliss of earth, invite me, And though the shock of storms may smite me, No crash of shipwreck shall have power to fright me! Clouds gather over me The moon conceals her light The lamp's extinguished! Mists rise,red, angry rays are darting Around my head!There falls A horror from the vaulted roof, And seizes me! I feel thy presence, Spirit I invoke! Reveal thyself! Ha! in my heart what rending stroke! With new impulsion My senses heave in this convulsion! I feel thee draw my heart, absorb, exhaust me: Thou must! thou must! and though my life it cost me! (He seizes the book, and mysteriously pronounces the sign of the Spirit. A ruddy flame flashes: the Spirit appears in the flame.) SPIRIT Who calls me? FAUST (with averted head) Terrible to see! SPIRIT Me hast thou long with might attracted, Long from my sphere thy food exacted, And now FAUST Woe! I endure not thee! SPIRIT To view me is thine aspiration, My voice to hear, my countenance to see; Thy powerful yearning moveth me, Here am I!what mean perturbation Thee, superhuman, shakes? Thy soul's high calling, where? Where is the breast, which from itself a world did bear, And shaped and cherishedwhich with joy expanded, To be our peer, with us, the Spirits, banded? Where art thou, Faust, whose voice has pierced to me, Who towards me pressed with all thine energy? He art thou, who, my presence breathing, seeing, Trembles through all the depths of being, A writhing worm, a terror-stricken form? FAUST Thee, form of flame, shall I then fear? Yes, I am Faust: I am thy peer! SPIRIT In the tides of Life, in Action's storm, A fluctuant wave, A shuttle free, Birth and the Grave, An eternal sea, A weaving, flowing Life, all-glowing, Thus at Time's humming loom 'tis my hand prepares The garment of Life which the Deity wears! FAUST Thou, who around the wide world wendest, Thou busy Spirit, how near I feel to thee! SPIRIT Thou'rt like the Spirit which thou comprehendest, Not me! (Disappears.) FAUST (overwhelmed) Not thee! Whom then? I, image of the Godhead! Not even like thee! (A knock). O Death!I know it'tis my Famulus! My fairest luck finds no fruition: In all the fullness of my vision The soulless sneak disturbs me thus! (Enter WAGNER, in dressing-gown and night-cap, a lamp in his hand. FAUST turns impatiently.) WAGNER Pardon, I heard your declamation; 'Twas sure an old Greek tragedy you read? In such an art I crave some preparation, Since now it stands one in good stead. I've often heard it said, a preacher Might learn, with a comedian for a teacher. FAUST Yes, when the priest comedian is by nature, As haply now and then the case may be. WAGNER Ah, when one studies thus, a prisoned creature, That scarce the world on holidays can see, Scarce through a glass, by rare occasion, How shall one lead it by persuasion? FAUST You'll ne'er attain it, save you know the feeling, Save from the soul it rises clear, Serene in primal strength, compelling The hearts and minds of all who hear. You sit forever gluing, patching; You cook the scraps from others' fare; And from your heap of ashes hatching A starveling flame, ye blow it bare! Take children's, monkeys' gaze admiring, If such your taste, and be content; But ne'er from heart to heart you'll speak inspiring, Save your own heart is eloquent! WAGNER Yet through delivery orators succeed; I feel that I am far behind, indeed. FAUST Seek thou the honest recompense! Beware, a tinkling fool to be! With little art, clear wit and sense Suggest their own delivery; And if thou'rt moved to speak in earnest, What need, that after words thou yearnest? Yes, your discourses, with their glittering show, Where ye for men twist shredded thought like paper, Are unrefreshing as the winds that blow The rustling leaves through chill autumnal vapor! WAGNER Ah, God! but Art is long, And Life, alas! is fleeting. And oft, with zeal my critic-duties meeting, In head and breast there's something wrong. How hard it is to compass the assistance Whereby one rises to the source! And, haply, ere one travels half the course Must the poor devil quit existence. FAUST Is parchment, then, the holy fount before thee, A draught wherefrom thy thirst forever slakes? No true refreshment can restore thee, Save what from thine own soul spontaneous breaks. WAGNER Pardon! a great delight is granted When, in the spirit of the ages planted, We mark how, ere our times, a sage has thought, And then, how far his work, and grandly, we have brought. FAUST O yes, up to the stars at last! Listen, my friend: the ages that are past Are now a book with seven seals protected: What you the Spirit of the Ages call Is nothing but the spirit of you all, Wherein the Ages are reflected. So, oftentimes, you miserably mar it! At the first glance who sees it runs away. An offal-barrel and a lumber-garret, Or, at the best, a Punch-and-Judy play, With maxims most pragmatical and hitting, As in the mouths of puppets are befitting! WAGNER But then, the world the human heart and brain! Of these one covets some slight apprehension. FAUST Yes, of the kind which men attain! Who dares the child's true name in public mention? The few, who thereof something really learned, Unwisely frank, with hearts that spurned concealing, And to the mob laid bare each thought and feeling, Have evermore been crucified and burned. I pray you, Friend, 'tis now the dead of night; Our converse here must be suspended. WAGNER I would have shared your watches with delight, That so our learned talk might be extended. To-morrow, though, I'll ask, in Easter leisure, This and the other question, at your pleasure. Most zealously I seek for erudition: Much do I know but to know all is my ambition. [Exit. FAUST (solus) That brain, alone, not loses hope, whose choice is To stick in shallow trash forevermore, Which digs with eager hand for buried ore, And, when it finds an angle-worm, rejoices! Dare such a human voice disturb the flow, Around me here, of spirit-presence fullest? And yet, this once my thanks I owe To thee, of all earth's sons the poorest, dullest! For thou hast torn me from that desperate state Which threatened soon to overwhelm my senses: The apparition was so giant-great, It dwarfed and withered all my soul's pretences! I, image of the Godhead, who began Deeming Eternal Truth secure in nearness Ye choirs, have ye begun the sweet, consoling chant, Which, through the night of Death, the angels ministrant Sang, God's new Covenant repeating? CHORUS OF WOMEN With spices and precious Balm, we arrayed him; Faithful and gracious, We tenderly laid him: Linen to bind him Cleanlily wound we: Ah! when we would find him, Christ no more found we! CHORUS OF ANGELS Christ is ascended! Bliss hath invested him, Woes that molested him, Trials that tested him, Gloriously ended! FAUST Why, here in dust, entice me with your spell, Ye gentle, powerful sounds of Heaven? Peal rather there, where tender natures dwell. Your messages I hear, but faith has not been given; The dearest child of Faith is Miracle. I venture not to soar to yonder regions Whence the glad tidings hither float; And yet, from childhood up familiar with the note, To Life it now renews the old allegiance. Once Heavenly Love sent down a burning kiss Upon my brow, in Sabbath silence holy; And, filled with mystic presage, chimed the church-bell slowly, And prayer dissolved me in a fervent bliss. A sweet, uncomprehended yearning Drove forth my feet through woods and meadows free, And while a thousand tears were burning, I felt a world arise for me. These chants, to youth and all its sports appealing, Proclaimed the Spring's rejoicing holiday; And Memory holds me now, with childish feeling, Back from the last, the solemn way. Sound on, ye hymns of Heaven, so sweet and mild! My tears gush forth: the Earth takes back her child! CHORUS OF DISCIPLES Has He, victoriously, Burst from the vaulted Grave, and all-gloriously Now sits exalted? Is He, in glow of birth, Rapture creative near? Ah! to the woe of earth Still are we native here. We, his aspiring Followers, Him we miss; Weeping, desiring, Master, Thy bliss! CHORUS OF ANGELS Christ is arisen, Out of Corruption's womb: Burst ye the prison, Break from your gloom! Praising and pleading him, Lovingly needing him, Brotherly feeding him, Preaching and speeding him, Blessing, succeeding Him, Thus is the Master near, Thus is He here! ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, NIGHT ,

1005:VI - WITCHES' KITCHEN (Upon a low hearth stands a great caldron, under which a fire is burning. Various figures appear in the vapors which rise from the caldron. An ape sits beside it, skims it, and watches lest it boil over. The he-ape, with the young ones, sits near and warms himself. Ceiling and walls are covered with the most fantastic witch-implements.) FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES FAUST These crazy signs of witches' craft repel me! I shall recover, dost thou tell me, Through this insane, chaotic play? From an old hag shall I demand assistance? And will her foul mess take away Full thirty years from my existence? Woe's me, canst thou naught better find! Another baffled hope must be lamented: Has Nature, then, and has a noble mind Not any potent balsam yet invented? MEPHISTOPHELES Once more, my friend, thou talkest sensibly. There is, to make thee young, a simpler mode and apter; But in another book 'tis writ for thee, And is a most eccentric chapter. FAUST Yet will I know it. MEPHISTOPHELES Good! the method is revealed Without or gold or magic or physician. Betake thyself to yonder field, There hoe and dig, as thy condition; Restrain thyself, thy sense and will Within a narrow sphere to flourish; With unmixed food thy body nourish; Live with the ox as ox, and think it not a theft That thou manur'st the acre which thou reapest; That, trust me, is the best mode left, Whereby for eighty years thy youth thou keepest! FAUST I am not used to that; I cannot stoop to try it To take the spade in hand, and ply it. The narrow being suits me not at all. MEPHISTOPHELES Then to thine aid the witch must call. FAUST Wherefore the hag, and her alone? Canst thou thyself not brew the potion? MEPHISTOPHELES That were a charming sport, I own: I'd build a thousand bridges meanwhile, I've a notion. Not Art and Science serve, alone; Patience must in the work be shown. Long is the calm brain active in creation; Time, only, streng thens the fine fermentation. And all, belonging thereunto, Is rare and strange, howe'er you take it: The Devil taught the thing, 'tis true, And yet the Devil cannot make it. (Perceiving the Animals) See, what a delicate race they be! That is the maid! the man is he! (To the Animals) It seems the mistress has gone away? THE ANIMALS Carousing, to-day! Off and about, By the chimney out! MEPHISTOPHELES What time takes she for dissipating? THE ANIMALS While we to warm our paws are waiting. MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUST) How findest thou the tender creatures? FAUST Absurder than I ever yet did see. MEPHISTOPHELES Why, just such talk as this, for me, Is that which has the most attractive features! (To the Animals) But tell me now, ye cursed puppets, Why do ye stir the porridge so? THE ANIMALS We're cooking watery soup for beggars. MEPHISTOPHELES Then a great public you can show. THE HE-APE (comes up and fawns on MEPHISTOPHELES) O cast thou the dice! Make me rich in a trice, Let me win in good season! Things are badly controlled, And had I but gold, So had I my reason. MEPHISTOPHELES How would the ape be sure his luck enhances. Could he but try the lottery's chances! (In the meantime the young apes have been playing with a large ball, which they now roll forward.) THE HE-APE The world's the ball: Doth rise and fall, And roll incessant: Like glass doth ring, A hollow thing, How soon will't spring, And drop, quiescent? Here bright it gleams, Here brighter seems: I live at present! Dear son, I say, Keep thou away! Thy doom is spoken! 'Tis made of clay, And will be broken. MEPHISTOPHELES What means the sieve? THE HE-APE (taking it down) Wert thou the thief, I'd know him and shame him. (He runs to the SHE-APE, and lets her look through it.) Look through the sieve! Know'st thou the thief, And darest not name him? MEPHISTOPHELES (approaching the fire) And what's this pot? HE-APE AND SHE-APE The fool knows it not! He knows not the pot, He knows not the kettle! MEPHISTOPHELES Impertinent beast! THE HE-APE Take the brush here, at least, And sit down on the settle! (He invites MEPHISTOPHELES to sit down.) FAUST (who during all this time has been standing before a mirror, now approaching and now retreating from it) What do I see? What heavenly form revealed Shows through the glass from Magic's fair dominions! O lend me, Love, the swiftest of thy pinions, And bear me to her beauteous field! Ah, if I leave this spot with fond designing, If I attempt to venture near, Dim, as through gathering mist, her charms appear! A woman's form, in beauty shining! Can woman, then, so lovely be? And must I find her body, there reclining, Of all the heavens the bright epitome? Can Earth with such a thing be mated? MEPHISTOPHELES Why, surely, if a God first plagues Himself six days, Then, self-contented, Bravo! says, Must something clever be created. This time, thine eyes be satiate! I'll yet detect thy sweetheart and ensnare her, And blest is he, who has the lucky fate, Some day, as bridegroom, home to bear her. (FAUST gazes continually in the mirror. MEPHISTOPHELES, stretching himself out on the settle, and playing with the brush, continues to speak.) So sit I, like the King upon his throne: I hold the sceptre, here, and lack the crown alone. THE ANIMALS (who up to this time have been making all kinds of fantastic movements together bring a crown to MEPHISTOPHELES with great noise.) O be thou so good With sweat and with blood The crown to belime! (They handle the crown awkwardly and break it into two pieces, with which they spring around.) 'Tis done, let it be! We speak and we see, We hear and we rhyme! FAUST (before the mirror) Woe's me! I fear to lose my wits. MEPHISTOPHELES (pointing to the Animals) My own head, now, is really nigh to sinking. THE ANIMALS If lucky our hits, And everything fits, 'Tis thoughts, and we're thinking! FAUST (as above) My bosom burns with that sweet vision; Let us, with speed, away from here! MEPHISTOPHELES (in the same attitude) One must, at least, make this admission They're poets, genuine and sincere. (The caldron, which the SHE-APE has up to this time neglected to watch, begins to boil over: there ensues a great flame, which blazes out the chimney. The WITCH comes careering down through the flame, with terrible cries.) THE WITCH Ow! ow! ow! ow! The damnd beast the cursd sow! To leave the kettle, and singe the Frau! Accursd fere! (Perceiving FAUST and MEPHISTOPHELES.) What is that here? Who are you here? What want you thus? Who sneaks to us? The fire-pain Burn bone and brain! (She plunges the skimming-ladle into the caldron, and scatters flames towards FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, and the Animals. The Animals whimper.) MEPHISTOPHELES (reversing the brush, which he has been holding in his hand, and striding among the jars and glasses) In two! in two! There lies the brew! There lies the glass! The joke will pass, As time, foul ass! To the singing of thy crew. (As the WITCH starts back, full of wrath and horror) Ha! know'st thou me? Abomination, thou! Know'st thou, at last, thy Lord and Master? What hinders me from smiting now Thee and thy monkey-sprites with fell disaster? Hast for the scarlet coat no reverence? Dost recognize no more the tall cock's-feather? Have I concealed this countenance? Must tell my name, old face of leather? THE WITCH O pardon, Sir, the rough salute! Yet I perceive no cloven foot; And both your ravens, where are they now? MEPHISTOPHELES This time, I'll let thee 'scape the debt; For since we two together met, 'Tis verily full many a day now. Culture, which smooth the whole world licks, Also unto the Devil sticks. The days of that old Northern phantom now are over: Where canst thou horns and tail and claws discover? And, as regards the foot, which I can't spare, in truth, 'Twould only make the people shun me; Therefore I've worn, like many a spindly youth, False calves these many years upon me. THE WITCH (dancing) Reason and sense forsake my brain, Since I behold Squire Satan here again! MEPHISTOPHELES Woman, from such a name refrain! THE WITCH Why so? What has it done to thee? MEPHISTOPHELES It's long been written in the Book of Fable; Yet, therefore, no whit better men we see: The Evil One has left, the evil ones are stable. Sir Baron call me thou, then is the matter good; A cavalier am I, like others in my bearing. Thou hast no doubt about my noble blood: See, here's the coat-of-arms that I am wearing! (He makes an indecent gesture.) THE WITCH (laughs immoderately) Ha! ha! That's just your way, I know: A rogue you are, and you were always so. MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUST) My friend, take proper heed, I pray! To manage witches, this is just the way. THE WITCH Wherein, Sirs, can I be of use? MEPHISTOPHELES Give us a goblet of the well-known juice! But, I must beg you, of the oldest brewage; The years a double strength produce. THE WITCH With all my heart! Now, here's a bottle, Wherefrom, sometimes, I wet my throttle, Which, also, not the slightest, stinks; And willingly a glass I'll fill him. (Whispering) Yet, if this man without due preparation drinks, As well thou know'st, within an hour 'twill kill him. MEPHISTOPHELES He is a friend of mine, with whom it will agree, And he deserves thy kitchen's best potation: Come, draw thy circle, speak thine adjuration, And fill thy goblet full and free! THE WITCH (with fantastic gestures draws a circle and places mysterious articles therein; meanwhile the glasses begin to ring, the caldron to sound, and make a musical accompaniment. Finally she brings a great book, and stations in the circle the Apes, who are obliged to serve as reading-desk, and to hold the torches. She then beckons FAUST to approach.) FAUST (to MEPHISTOPHELES) Now, what shall come of this? the creatures antic, The crazy stuff, the gestures frantic, All the repulsive cheats I view, Are known to me, and hated, too. MEPHISTOPHELES O, nonsense! That's a thing for laughter; Don't be so terribly severe! She juggles you as doctor now, that, after, The beverage may work the proper cheer. (He persuades FAUST to step into the circle.) THE WITCH (begins to declaim, with much emphasis, from the book) See, thus it's done! Make ten of one, And two let be, Make even three, And rich thou 'It be. Cast o'er the four! From five and six (The witch's tricks) Make seven and eight, 'Tis finished straight! And nine is one, And ten is none. This is the witch's once-one's-one! FAUST She talks like one who raves in fever. MEPHISTOPHELES Thou'lt hear much more before we leave her. 'Tis all the same: the book I can repeat, Such time I've squandered o'er the history: A contradiction thus complete Is always for the wise, no less than fools, a mystery. The art is old and new, for verily All ages have been taught the matter, By Three and One, and One and Three, Error instead of Truth to scatter. They prate and teach, and no one interferes; All from the fellowship of fools are shrinking. Man usually believes, if only words he hears, That also with them goes material for thinking! THE WITCH (continues) The lofty skill Of Science, still From all men deeply hidden! Who takes no thought, To him 'tis brought, 'Tis given unsought, unbidden! FAUST What nonsense she declaims before us! My head is nigh to split, I fear: It seems to me as if I hear A hundred thousand fools in chorus. MEPHISTOPHELES O Sibyl excellent, enough of adjuration! But hither bring us thy potation, And quickly fill the beaker to the brim! This drink will bring my friend no injuries: He is a man of manifold degrees, And many draughts are known to him. (The WITCH, with many ceremonies, pours the drink into a cup; as FAUST sets it to his lips, a light flame arises.) Down with it quickly! Drain it off! 'Twill warm thy heart with new desire: Art with the Devil hand and glove, And wilt thou be afraid of fire? (The WITCH breaks the circle: FAUST steps forth.) MEPHISTOPHELES And now, away! Thou dar'st not rest. THE WITCH And much good may the liquor do thee! MEPHISTOPHELES (to the WITCH) Thy wish be on Walpurgis Night expressed; What boon I have, shall then be given unto thee. THE WITCH Here is a song, which, if you sometimes sing, You'll find it of peculiar operation. MEPHISTOPHELES (to FAUST) Come, walk at once! A rapid occupation Must start the needful perspiration, And through thy frame the liquor's potence fling. The noble indolence I'll teach thee then to treasure, And soon thou'lt be aware, with keenest thrills of pleasure, How Cupid stirs and leaps, on light and restless wing. FAUST One rapid glance within the mirror give me, How beautiful that woman-form! MEPHISTOPHELES No, no! The paragon of all, believe me, Thou soon shalt see, alive and warm. (Aside) Thou'lt find, this drink thy blood compelling, Each woman beautiful as Helen! ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, WITCHES KITCHEN ,

1006:The Kalevala - Rune Xxxix WAINAMOINEN'S SAILING. Wainamoinen, old and faithful, Spake these words to Ilmarinen: 'O thou wonder-working brother, Let us go to Sariola, There to gain the magic Sampo, There to see the lid in colors.' Ilmarinen gave this answer: 'Hard indeed to seize the Sampo, Neither can the lid be captured From the never-pleasant Northland, From the dismal Sariola. Louhi took away the Sampo, Carried off the lid in colors To the stone-mount of Pohyola; Hid it in the copper mountain, Where nine locks secure the treasure. Many young roots sprout around it, Grow nine fathoms deep in sand-earth, One great root beneath the mountain, In the cataract a second, And a third beneath the castle Built upon the mount of ages.' Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: 'Brother mine, and wonder-worker, Let us go to Sariola, That we may secure the Sampo; Let us build a goodly vessel, Bring the Sampo to Wainola, Bring away the lid in colors, From the stone-berg of Pohyola, From the copper-bearing mountain. Where the miracle lies anchored.' Ilmarinen thus made answer: 'By the land the way is safer, Lempo travels on the ocean, Ghastly Death upon his shoulder; 534 On the sea the waves will drift us, And the storm-winds wreck our vessel; Then our bands must do the rowing, And our feet must steer us homeward.' Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: 'Safe indeed by land to journey, But the way is rough and trying, Long the road and full of turnings; Lovely is the ship on ocean, Beautiful to ride the billows, Journey easy o'er the waters, Sailing in a trusty vessel; Should the West-wind cross our pathway, Will the South-wind drive us northward. Be that as it may, my brother, Since thou dost not love the water, By the land then let us journey. Forge me now the sword of battle, Forge for me the mighty fire-sword, That I may destroy the wild-beasts, Frighten all the Northland people, As we journey for the Sampo To the cold and dismal village, To the never-pleasant Northland, To the dismal Sariola.' Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, The eternal forger-artist, Laid the metals in the furnace, In the fire laid steel and iron, In the hot-coals, gold and silver, Rightful measure of the metals; Set the workmen at the furnace, Lustily they plied the bellows. Like the wax the iron melted, Like the dough the hard steel softened, Like the water ran the silver, And the liquid gold flowed after. Then the minstrel, Ilmarinen, The eternal wonder-forger, Looks within his magic furnace, On the border of his oven, There beholds the fire-sword forming, 535 Sees the blade with golden handle; Takes the weapon from the furnace, Lays it on his heavy anvil For the falling of the hammer; Forges well the blade of magic, Well the heavy sword be tempers, Ornaments the hero-weapon With the finest gold and silver. Wainamoinen, the magician, Comes to view the blade of conquest, Lifts admiringly the fire-sword, Then these words the hero utters: 'Does the weapon match the soldier, Does the handle suit the bearer? Yea, the blade and hilt are molded To the wishes of the minstrel.' On the sword-point gleams the moonlight, On the blade the sun is shining, On the hilt the bright stars twinkle, On the edge a horse is neighing, On the handle plays a kitten, On the sheath a dog is barking. Wainamoinen wields his fire-sword, Tests it on the iron-mountain, And these words the hero utters: 'With this broadsword I could quickly Cleave in twain the mount of Pohya, Cut the flinty rocks asunder.' Spake the blacksmith, Ilmarinen: 'Wherewith shall I guard from danger, How protect myself from evil, From the ills by land and water? Shall I wear an iron armor, Belt of steel around my body? Stronger is a man in armor, Safer in a mail of copper.' Now the time has come to journey To the never-pleasant Northland; Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, And his brother, Ilmarinen, Hasten to the field and forest, Searching for their fiery coursers, 536 In each shining belt a bridle, With a harness on their shoulders. In the woods they find a race; In the glen a steed of battle, Ready for his master's service. Wainamoinen, old and trusty, And the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Throw the harness on the courser, Hitch him to the sledge of conquest, Hasten on their journey Northward; Drive along the broad-sea's margin Till they bear some one lamenting On the strand hear something wailing Near the landing-place of vessels. Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Speaks these words in wonder, guessing, 'This must be some maiden weeping, Some fair daughter thus lamenting; Let us journey somewhat nearer, To discover whence this wailing.' Drew they nearer, nearer, nearer, Hoping thus to find a maiden Weeping on the sandy sea-shore. It was not a maiden weeping, But a vessel, sad, and lonely, Waiting on the shore and wailing. Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: 'Why art weeping, goodly vessel, What the cause of thy lamenting? Art thou mourning for thy row-locks, Is thy rigging ill-adjusted? Dost thou weep since thou art anchored On the shore in times of trouble?' Thus the war-ship spake in answer: 'To the waters would this vessel Haste upon the well-tarred rollers, As a happy maiden journeys To the cottage of her husband. I, alas! a goodly vessel, Weep because I lie at anchor, Weep and wail because no hero Sets me free upon the waters, 537 Free to ride the rolling billows. It was said when I was fashioned, Often sung when I was building, That this bark should be for battle, Should become a mighty war-ship, Carry in my hull great treasures, Priceless goods across the ocean. Never have I sailed to conquest, Never have I carried booty; Other vessels not as worthy To the wars are ever sailing, Sailing to the songs of battle. Three times in the summer season Come they home with treasures laden, In their hulls bring gold and silver; I, alas! a worthy vessel, Many months have lain at anchor, I, a war-ship well constructed, Am decaying in the harbor, Never having sailed to conquest; Worms are gnawing at my vitals, In my hull their dwelling-places, And ill-omened birds of heaven Build their nests within my rigging; Frogs and lizards of the forest Play about my oars and rudder; Three times better for this vessel Were he but a valley birch-tree, Or an aspen on the heather, With the squirrels in his branches, And the dogs beneath them barking!' Wainamoinen, old and faithfull Thus addressed the ship at anchor: 'Weep no more, thou goodly vessel, Man-of-war, no longer murmur; Thou shalt sail to Sariola, Sing the war-songs of the Northland, Sail with us to deadly combat. Wert thou built by the Creator, Thou canst sail the roughest waters, Sidewise journey o'er the ocean; Dost not need the hand to touch thee, 538 Dost not need the foot to turn thee, Needing nothing to propel thee.' Thus the weeping boat made answer: 'Cannot sail without assistance, Neither can my brother-vessels Sail unaided o'er the waters, Sail across the waves undriven.' Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: 'Should I lead thee to the broad-sea, Wilt thou journey north unaided, Sail without the help of rowers, Sail without the aid of south-winds, Sail without the b elm to guide thee? Thus the wailing ship replying: Cannot sail without assistance, Neither can my brother-vessels Sail without the aid of rowers, Sail without the help of south-winds, Nor without the helm to guide them.' These the words of Wainamoinen: 'Wilt thou run with aid of oarsmen When the south-winds give assistance, Guided by a skillful pilot?' This the answer of the war-ship: 'Quickly can I course these waters, When my oars are manned by rowers, When my sails are filled with south-winds, All my goodly brother-vessels Sail the ocean with assistance, When the master holds the rudder.' Then the ancient Wainamoinen Left the racer on the sea-side, Tied him to the sacred birch-tree, Hung the harness on a willow, Rolled the vessel to the waters, Sang the ship upon the broad-sea, Asked the boat this simple question: 'O thou vessel, well-appearing From the mighty oak constructed, Art thou strong to carry treasures As in view thou art commanding? Thus the goodly ship made answer: 539 'Strong am I to carry treasures, In my hull a golden cargo; I can bear a hundred oarsmen, And of warriors a thousand.' Wainamoinen, the magician, Then began his wondrous singing. On one side the magic vessel, Sang he youth with golden virtues, Bearded youth with strength of heroes, Sang them into mail of copper. On the other side the vessel, Sang he silver-tinselled maidens, Girded them with belts of copper, Golden rings upon their fingers. Sings again the great magician, Fills the magic ship with heroes, Ancient heroes, brave and mighty; Sings them into narrow limits, Since the young men came before them. At the helm himself be seated, Near the last beam of the vessel, Steered his goodly boat in joyance, Thus addressed the willing war-ship: 'Glide upon the trackless waters, Sail away, my ship of magic, Sail across the waves before thee, Speed thou like a dancing bubble, Like a flower upon the billows!' Then the ancient Wainamoinen Set the young men to the rowing, Let the maidens sit in waiting. Eagerly the youthful heroes Bend the oars and try the row-locks, But the distance is not lessened. Then the minstrel, Wainamoinen, Set the maidens to the rowing, Let the young men rest in waiting. Eagerly the merry maidens Bend the aspen-oars in rowing, But the distance is not lessened. Then the master, Wainamoinen, Set the old men to the rowing, 540 Let the youth remain in waiting. Lustily the aged heroes Bend and try the oars of aspen, But the distance is not lessened. Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Grasped the oars with master-magic, And the boat leaped o'er the surges, Swiftly sped across the billows; Far and wide the oars resounded, Quickly was the distance lessened. With a rush and roar of waters Ilmarinen sped his vessel, Benches, ribs, and row-locks creaking, Oars of aspen far resounding; Flap the sails like wings of moor-cocks, And the prow dips like a white-swan; In the rear it croaks like ravens, Loud the oars and rigging rattle. Straightway ancient Wainamoinen Sitting by the bending rudder, Turns his magic vessel landward, To a jutting promontory, Where appears a Northland-village. On the point stands Lemminkainen, Kaukomieli, black magician, Ahti, wizard of Wainola, Wishing for the fish of Pohya, Weeping for his fated dwelling, For his perilous adventures, Hard at work upon a vessel, On the sail-yards of a fish-boat, Near the hunger-point and island, Near the village-home deserted. Good the ears of the magician, Good the wizard's eyes for seeing; Casts his vision to the South-east, Turns his eyes upon the sunset, Sees afar a wondrous rainbow, Farther on, a cloudlet hanging; But the bow was a deception, And the cloudlet a delusion; 'Tis a vessel swiftly sailing, 541 'Tis a war-ship flying northward, O'er the blue-back of the broad-sea, On the far-extending waters, At the helm the master standing, At the oars a mighty hero. Spake the reckless Lemminkainen: 'Do not know this wondrous vessel, Not this well-constructed war-ship, Coming from the distant Suomi, Rowing for the hostile Pohya.' Thereupon wild Lemminkainen Called aloud in tones of thunder O'er the waters to the vessel; Made the distant hills re-echo With the music of his calling: 'Whence this vessel on the waters, Whose the war-ship sailing hither?' Spake the master of the vessel To the reckless Lemminkainen: 'Who art thou from fen or forest, Senseless wizard from the woodlands, That thou dost not know this vessel, Magic war-ship of Wainola? Dost not know him at the rudder, Nor the hero at the row-locks?' Spake the wizard, Lemminkainen: 'Well I know the helm-director, And I recognize the rower; Wainamoinen, old and trusty, At the helm directs the vessel; Ilmarinen does the rowing. Whither is the vessel sailing, Whither wandering, my heroes? Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: 'We are sailing to the Northland, There to gain the magic Sampo, There to get the lid in colors, From the stone-berg of Pohyola, From the copper-bearing mountain.' Spake the evil Lemminkainen: 'O, thou good, old Wainamoinen, Take me with thee to Pohyola, 542 Make me third of magic heroes, Since thou goest for the Sampo, Goest for the lid in colors; I shall prove a valiant soldier, When thy wisdom calls for fighting; I am skilled in arts of warfare!' Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Gave assent to Ahti's wishes; Thereupon wild Lemminkainen Hastened to Wainola's war-ship, Bringing floats of aspen-timber, To the ships of Wainamoinen. Thus the hero of the Northland Speaks to reckless Lemminkainen: 'There is aspen on my vessel, Aspen-floats in great abundance, And the boat is heavy-laden. Wherefore dost thou bring the aspen To the vessel of Wainola?' Lemminkainen gave this answer: 'Not through caution sinks a vessel, Nor a hay-stack by its proppings; Seas abound in hidden dangers, Heavy storms arise and threaten Fell destruction to the sailor That would brave the angry billows.' Spake the good, old Wainamoinen: 'Therefore is this warlike vessel Built of trusty steel and copper, Trimmed and bound in toughest iron, That the winds may, not destroy it, May not harm my ship of magic.' ~ Elias Lönnrot,

1007:The Kalevala - Rune Ii WAINAMOINEN'S SOWING. Then arose old Wainamoinen, With his feet upon the island, On the island washed by ocean, Broad expanse devoid of verdure; There remained be many summers, There he lived as many winters, On the island vast and vacant, well considered, long reflected, Who for him should sow the island, Who for him the seeds should scatter; Thought at last of Pellerwoinen, First-born of the plains and prairies, When a slender boy, called Sampsa, Who should sow the vacant island, Who the forest seeds should scatter. Pellerwoinen, thus consenting, Sows with diligence the island, Seeds upon the lands he scatters, Seeds in every swamp and lowland, Forest seeds upon the loose earth, On the firm soil sows the acorns, Fir-trees sows he on the mountains, Pine-trees also on the hill-tops, Many shrubs in every valley, Birches sows he in the marshes, In the loose soil sows the alders, In the lowlands sows the lindens, In the moist earth sows the willow, Mountain-ash in virgin places, On the banks of streams the hawthorn, Junipers in hilly regions; This the work of Pellerwoinen, Slender Sampsa, in his childhood. Soon the fertile seeds were sprouting, Soon the forest trees were growing, Soon appeared the tops of fir-trees, 13 And the pines were far outspreading; Birches rose from all the marshes, In the loose soil grew the alders, In the mellow soil the lindens; Junipers were also growing, Junipers with clustered berries, Berries on the hawthorn branches. Now the hero, Wainamoinen, Stands aloft to look about him, How the Sampsa-seeds are growing, How the crop of Pellerwoinen; Sees the young trees thickly spreading, Sees the forest rise in beauty; But the oak-tree has not sprouted, Tree of heaven is not growing, Still within the acorn sleeping, Its own happiness enjoying. Then he waited three nights longer, And as many days he waited, Waited till a week had vanished, Then again the work examined; But the oak-tree was not growing, Had not left her acorn-dwelling. Wainamoinen, ancient hero, Spies four maidens in the distance, Water-brides, he spies a fifth-one, On the soft and sandy sea-shore, In the dewy grass and flowers, On a point extending seaward, Near the forests of the island. Some were mowing, some were raking, Raking what was mown together, In a windrow on the meadow. From the ocean rose a giant, Mighty Tursas, tall and hardy, Pressed compactly all the grasses, That the maidens had been raking, When a fire within them kindles, And the flames shot up to heaven, Till the windrows burned to ashes, Only ashes now remaining Of the grasses raked together. 14 In the ashes of the windrows, Tender leaves the giant places, In the leaves he plants an acorn, From the acorn, quickly sprouting, Grows the oak-tree, tall and stately, From the ground enriched by ashes, Newly raked by water-maidens; Spread the oak-tree's many branches, Rounds itself a broad corona, Raises it above the storm-clouds; Far it stretches out its branches, Stops the white-clouds in their courses, With its branches hides the sunlight, With its many leaves, the moonbeams, And the starlight dies in heaven. Wainamoinen, old and trusty, Thought awhile, and well considered, How to kill the mighty oak-tree, First created for his pleasure, How to fell the tree majestic, How to lop its hundred branches. Sad the lives of man and hero, Sad the homes of ocean-dwellers, If the sun shines not upon them, If the moonlight does not cheer them Is there not some mighty hero, Was there never born a giant, That can fell the mighty oak-tree, That can lop its hundred branches? Wainamoinen, deeply thinking, Spake these words soliloquizing: 'Kape, daughter of the Ether, Ancient mother of my being, Luonnotar, my nurse and helper, Loan to me the water-forces, Great the powers of the waters; Loan to me the strength of oceans, To upset this mighty oak-tree, To uproot this tree of evil, That again may shine the sunlight, That the moon once more may glimmer.' Straightway rose a form from oceans, 15 Rose a hero from the waters, Nor belonged he to the largest, Nor belonged he to the smallest, Long was he as man's forefinger, Taller than the hand of woman; On his head a cap of copper, Boots upon his feet were copper, Gloves upon his hands were copper, And its stripes were copper-colored, Belt around him made of copper, Hatchet in his belt was copper; And the handle of his hatchet Was as long as hand of woman, Of a finger's breadth the blade was. Then the trusty Wainamoinen Thought awhile and well considered, And his measures are as follow: 'Art thou, sir, divine or human? Which of these thou only knowest; Tell me what thy name and station. Very like a man thou lookest, Hast the bearing of a hero, Though the length of man's first finger, Scarce as tall as hoof of reindeer.' Then again spake Wainamoinen To the form from out the ocean: 'Verily I think thee human, Of the race of pigmy-heroes, Might as well be dead or dying, Fit for nothing but to perish.' Answered thus the pigmy-hero, Spake the small one from the ocean To the valiant Wainamoinen 'Truly am I god and hero, From the tribes that rule the ocean; Come I here to fell the oak-tree, Lop its branches with my hatchet.' Wainamoinen, old and trusty, Answers thus the sea-born hero: 'Never hast thou force sufficient, Not to thee has strength been given, To uproot this mighty oak-tree, 16 To upset this thing of evil, Nor to lop its hundred branches.' Scarcely had he finished speaking, Scarcely had he moved his eyelids, Ere the pigmy full unfolding, Quick becomes a mighty giant. With one step he leaves the ocean, Plants himself, a mighty hero, On the forest-fields surrounding; With his head the clouds he pierces, To his knees his beard extending, And his locks fall to his ankles; Far apart appear his eyeballs, Far apart his feet are stationed. Farther still his mighty shoulders. Now begins his axe to sharpen, Quickly to an edge he whets it, Using six hard blocks of sandstone, And of softer whetstones, seven. Straightway to the oak-tree turning, Thither stalks the mighty giant, In his raiment long and roomy, Flapping in the winds of heaven; With his second step he totters On the land of darker color; With his third stop firmly planted, Reaches he the oak-tree's branches, Strikes the trunk with sharpened hatchet, With one mighty swing he strikes it, With a second blow he cuts it; As his blade descends the third time, From his axe the sparks fly upward, From the oak-tree fire outshooting; Ere the axe descends a fourth time, Yields the oak with hundred branches, Shaking earth and heaven in falling. Eastward far the trunk extending, Far to westward flew the tree-tops, To the South the leaves were scattered, To the North its hundred branches. Whosoe'er a branch has taken, Has obtained eternal welfare; 17 Who secures himself a tree-top, He has gained the master magic; Who the foliage has gathered, Has delight that never ceases. Of the chips some had been scattered, Scattered also many splinters, On the blue back of the ocean, Of the ocean smooth and mirrored, Rocked there by the winds and waters, Like a boat upon the billows; Storm-winds blew them to the Northland, Some the ocean currents carried. Northland's fair and slender maiden, Washing on the shore a head-dress, Beating on the rocks her garments, Rinsing there her silken raiment, In the waters of Pohyola, There beheld the chips and splinters, Carried by the winds and waters. In a bag the chips she gathered, Took them to the ancient court-yard, There to make enchanted arrows, Arrows for the great magician, There to shape them into weapons, Weapons for the skilful archer, Since the mighty oak has fallen, Now has lost its hundred branches, That the North may see the sunshine, See the gentle gleam of moonlight, That the clouds may keep their courses, May extend the vault of heaven Over every lake and river, O'er the banks of every island. Groves arose in varied beauty, Beautifully grew the forests, And again, the vines and flowers. Birds again sang in the tree-tops, Noisily the merry thrushes, And the cuckoos in the birch-trees; On the mountains grew the berries, Golden flowers in the meadows, And the herbs of many colors, 18 Many kinds of vegetation; But the barley is not growing. Wainamoinen, old and trusty, Goes away and well considers, By the borders of the waters, On the ocean's sandy margin, Finds six seeds of golden barley, Even seven ripened kernels, On the shore of upper Northland, In the sand upon the sea-shore, Hides them in his trusty pouches, Fashioned from the skin of squirrel, Some were made from skin of marten; Hastens forth the seeds to scatter, Quickly sows the barley kernels, On the brinks of Kalew-waters, On the Osma-hills and lowlands. Hark! the titmouse wildly crying, From the aspen, words as follow: 'Osma's barley will not flourish, Not the barley of Wainola, If the soil be not made ready, If the forest be not levelled, And the branches burned to ashes.' Wainamoinen, wise and ancient, Made himself an axe for chopping, Then began to clear the forest, Then began the trees to level, Felled the trees of all descriptions, Only left the birch-tree standing For the birds a place of resting, Where might sing the sweet-voiced cuckoo, Sacred bird in sacred branches. Down from heaven came the eagle, Through the air be came a-flying, That he might this thing consider; And he spake the words that follow: 'Wherefore, ancient Wainamoinen, Hast thou left the slender birch-tree, Left the birch-tree only standing?' Wainamoinen thus made answer: 'Therefore is the birch left standing, 19 That the birds may liest within it, That the eagle there may rest him, There may sing the sacred cuckoo.' Spake the eagle, thus replying: Good indeed, thy hero-judgment, That the birch-tree thou hast left us, Left the sacred birch-tree standing, As a resting-place for eagles, And for birds of every feather, Even I may rest upon it.' Quickly then this bird of heaven, Kindled fire among the branches; Soon the flames are fanned by north-winds, And the east-winds lend their forces, Burn the trees of all descriptions, Burn them all to dust and ashes, Only is the birch left standing. Wainamoinen, wise and ancient, Brings his magic grains of barley, Brings he forth his seven seed-grains, Brings them from his trusty pouches, Fashioned from the skin of squirrel, Some were made from skin of marten. Thence to sow his seeds he hastens, Hastes the barley-grains to scatter, Speaks unto himself these measures: 'I the seeds of life am sowing, Sowing through my open fingers, From the hand of my Creator, In this soil enriched with ashes, In this soil to sprout and flourish. Ancient mother, thou that livest Far below the earth and ocean, Mother of the fields and forests, Bring the rich soil to producing, Bring the seed-grains to the sprouting, That the barley well may flourish. Never will the earth unaided, Yield the ripe nutritious barley; Never will her force be wanting, If the givers give assistance, If the givers grace the sowing, 20 Grace the daughters of creation. Rise, O earth, from out thy slumber, From the slumber-land of ages, Let the barley-grains be sprouting, Let the blades themselves be starting, Let the verdant stalks be rising, Let the ears themselves be growing, And a hundredfold producing, From my plowing and my sowing, From my skilled and honest labor. Ukko, thou O God, up yonder, Thou O Father of the heavens, Thou that livest high in Ether, Curbest all the clouds of heaven, Holdest in the air thy counsel, Holdest in the clouds good counsel, From the East dispatch a cloudlet, From the North-east send a rain-cloud, From the West another send us, From the North-west, still another, Quickly from the South a warm-cloud, That the rain may fall from heaven, That the clouds may drop their honey, That the ears may fill and ripen, That the barley-fields may rustle.' Thereupon benignant Ukko, Ukko, father of the heavens, Held his counsel in the cloud-space, Held good counsel in the Ether; From the East, he sent a cloudlet, From the North-east, sent a rain-cloud, From the West another sent he, From the North-west, still another, Quickly from the South a warm-cloud; Joined in seams the clouds together, Sewed together all their edges, Grasped the cloud, and hurled it earthward. Quick the rain-cloud drops her honey, Quick the rain-drops fall from heaven, That the ears may quickly ripen, That the barley crop may rustle. Straightway grow the seeds of barley, 21 From the germ the blade unfolding, Richly colored ears arising, From the rich soil of the fallow, From the work of Wainamoinen. Here a few days pass unnoted And as many nights fly over. When the seventh day had journeyed, On the morning of the eighth day, Wainamoinen, wise and ancient, Went to view his crop of barley, How his plowing, how his sowing, How his labors were resulting; Found his crop of barley growing, Found the blades were triple-knotted, And the ears he found six-sided. Wainamoinen, old and trusty, Turned his face, and looked about him, Lo! there comes a spring-time cuckoo, Spying out the slender birch-tree, Rests upon it, sweetly singing: 'Wherefore is the silver birch-tree Left unharmed of all the forest? ' Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: 'Therefore I have left the birch-tree, Left the birch-tree only growing, Home for thee for joyful singing. Call thou here, O sweet-voiced cuckoo, Sing thou here from throat of velvet, Sing thou here with voice of silver, Sing the cuckoo's golden flute-notes; Call at morning, call at evening, Call within the hour of noontide, For the better growth of forests, For the ripening of the barley, For the richness of, the Northland, For the joy of Kalevala.' ~ Elias Lönnrot,

1008:The Kalevala - Rune Xxxii KULLERVO AS A SHEPHERD. Kullerwoinen, wizard-servant Of the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Purchased slave from Untamoinen, Magic son with sky-blue stockings., With a head of golden ringlets, In his shoes of marten-leather, Waiting little, asked the blacksmith, Asked the host for work at morning, In the evening asked the hostess, These the words of Kullerwoinen: 'Give me work at early morning, In the evening, occupation, Labor worthy of thy servant.' Then the wife of Ilmarinen, Once the Maiden of the Rainbow, Thinking long, and long debating, How to give the youth employment, How the purchased slave could labor; Finally a shepherd made him, Made him keeper of her pastures; But the over-scornful hostess, Baked a biscuit for the herdsman, Baked a loaf of wondrous thickness, Baked the lower-half of oat-meal, And the upper-half of barley, Baked a flint-stone in the centre, Poured around it liquid butter, Then she gave it to the shepherd, Food to still the herdsman's hunger; Thus she gave the youth instructions: 'Do not eat the bread in hunger, Till the herd is in the woodlands!' Then the wife of Ilmarinen Sent her cattle to the pasture, Thus addressing Kullerwoinen: 'Drive the cows to yonder bowers, 509 To the birch-trees and the aspens, That they there may feed and fatten, Fill themselves with milk and butter, In the open forest-pastures, On the distant hills and mountains, In the glens among the birch-trees, In the lowlands with the aspens, In the golden pine-tree forests, In the thickets silver-laden. 'Guard them, thou O kind Creator, Shield them, omnipresent Ukko, Shelter them from every danger, And protect them from all evil, That they may not want, nor wander From the paths of peace and plenty. As at home Thou didst protect them In the shelters and the hurdles, Guard them now beneath the heavens, Shelter them in woodland pastures, That the herds may live and prosper To 'the joy of Northland's hostess, And against the will of Lempo. 'If my herdsman prove unworthy, If the shepherd-maids seem evil, Let the pastures be their shepherds, Let the alders guard the cattle, Make the birch-tree their protector, Let the willow drive them homeward, Ere the hostess go to seek them, Ere the milkmaids wait and worry. Should the birch-tree not protect them, Nor the aspen lend assistance, Nor the linden be their keeper, Nor the willow drive them homeward, Wilt thou give them better herdsmen, Let Creation's beauteous daughters Be their kindly shepherdesses. Thou hast many lovely maidens, Many hundreds that obey thee, In the Ether's spacious circles, Beauteous daughters of creation. 'Summer-daughter, magic maiden, 510 Southern mother of the woodlands, Pine-tree daughter, Kateyatar, Pihlayatar, of the aspen, Alder-maiden, Tapio's daughter, Daughter of the glen, Millikki, And the mountain-maid, Tellervo, Of my herds be ye protectors, Keep them from the evil-minded, Keep them safe in days of summer, In the times of fragrant flowers, While the tender leaves are whispering, While the Earth is verdure-laden. 'Summer-daughter, charming maiden, Southern mother of the woodlands, Spread abroad thy robes of safety, Spread thine apron o'er the forest, Let it cover all my cattle, And protect the unprotected, That no evil winds may harm them, May not suffer from the storm-clouds. Guard my flocks from every danger, Keep them from the hands of wild-beasts, From the swamps with sinking pathways, From the springs that bubble trouble, From the swiftly running waters, From the bottom of the whirlpool, That they may not find misfortune, May not wander to destruction, In the marshes sink and perish, Though against God's best intentions, Though against the will of Ukko. 'From a distance bring a bugle, Bring a shepherd's horn from heaven, Bring the honey-flute of Ukko, Play the music of creation, Blow the pipes of the magician, Play the flowers on the highlands, Charm the hills, and dales, and mount Charm the borders of the forest, Fill the forest-trees with honey, Fill with spice the fountain-borders. 'For my herds give food and shelter, 511 Feed them all on honeyed pastures, Give them drink at honeyed fountains Feed them on thy golden grasses, On the leaves of silver saplings, From the springs of life and beauty, From the crystal-waters flowing, From the waterfalls of Rutya, From the uplands green and golden, From the glens enriched in silver. Dig thou also golden fountains On the four sides of the willow, That the cows may drink in sweetness, And their udders swell with honey, That their milk may flow in streamlets; Let the milk be caught in vessels, Let the cow's gift be not wasted, Be not given to Manala. 'Many are the sons of evil, That to Mana take their milkings, Give their milk to evil-doers, Waste it in Tuoni's empire; Few there are, and they the worthy, That can get the milk from Mana; Never did my ancient mother Ask for counsel in the village, Never in the courts for wisdom; She obtained her milk from Mana, Took the sour-milk from the dealers, Sweet-milk from the greater distance, From the kingdom of Manala, From Tuoni's fields and pastures; Brought it in the dusk of evening, Through the by-ways in the darkness, That the wicked should not know it, That it should not find destruction. 'This the language of my mother, And these words I also echo: Whither does the cow's gift wander, Whither has the milk departed? Has it gone to feed the strangers, Banished to the distant village, Gone to feed the hamlet-lover, 512 Or perchance to feed the forest, Disappeared within the woodlands, Scattered o'er the hills and mountains, Mingled with the lakes and rivers? It shall never go to Mana, Never go to feed the stranger, Never to the village-lover; Neither shall it feed the forest, Nor be lost upon the mountains, Neither sprinkled in the woodlands, Nor be mingled with the waters; It is needed for our tables, Worthy food for all our children.' Summer-daughter, maid of beauty, Southern daughter of Creation, Give Suotikki tender fodder, To Watikki, give pure water, To Hermikki milk abundant, Fresh provisions to Tuorikki, From Mairikki let the milk flow, Fresh milk from my cows in plenty, Coming from the tips of grasses, From the tender herbs and leaflets, From the meadows rich in honey, From the mother of the forest, From the meadows sweetly dripping, From the berry-laden branches, From the heath of flower-maidens, From the verdure. maiden bowers, From the clouds of milk-providers, From the virgin of the heavens, That the milk may flow abundant From the cows that I have given To the keeping of Kullervo. 'Rise thou virgin of the valley, From the springs arise in beauty, Rise thou maiden of the fountain, Beautiful, arise in ether, Take the waters from the cloudlets, And my roaming herds besprinkle, That my cows may drink and flourish, May be ready for the coming 513 Of the shepherdess of evening. 'O Millikki, forest-hostess, Mother of the herds at pasture, Send the tallest of thy servants, Send the best of thine assistants, That my herds may well be guarded, Through the pleasant days of summer, Given us by our Creator. 'Beauteous virgin of the woodlands, Tapio's most charming daughter, Fair Tellervo, forest-maiden, Softly clad in silken raiment, Beautiful in golden ringlets, Do thou give my herds protection, In the Metsola dominions, On the hills of Tapiola; Shield them with thy hands of beauty, Stroke them gently with thy fingers, Give to them a golden lustre, Make them shine like fins of salmon, Grow them robes as soft as ermine. 'When the evening star brings darkness, When appears the hour of twilight, Send my lowing cattle homeward, Milk within their vessels coursing, Water on their backs in lakelets. When the Sun has set in ocean, When the evening-bird is singing, Thus address my herds of cattle: 'Ye that carry horns, now hasten To the sheds of Ilmarinen; Ye enriched in milk go homeward, To the hostess now in waiting, Home, the better place for sleeping, Forest-beds are full of danger; When the evening comes in darkness, Straightway journey to the milkmaids Building fires to light the pathway On the turf enriched in honey, In the pastures berry-laden! 'Thou, O Tapio's son, Nyrikki, Forest-son, enrobed in purple, 514 Cut the fir-trees on the mountains, Cut the pines with cones of beauty, Lay them o'er the streams for bridges, Cover well the sloughs of quicksand, In the swamps and in the lowlands, That my herd may pass in safety, On their long and dismal journey, To the clouds of smoke may hasten, Where the milkmaids wait their coming. If the cows heed not this order, Do not hasten home at evening, Then, O service-berry maiden, Cut a birch-rod from the glenwood, From the juniper, a whip-stick, Near to Tapio's spacious mansion, Standing on the ash-tree mountain, Drive my wayward, ]owing cattle, Into Metsola's wide milk-yards, When the evening-star is rising. 'Thou, O Otso, forest-apple, Woodland bear, with honeyed fingers, Let us make a lasting treaty, Make a vow for future ages, That thou wilt not kill my cattle, Wilt not eat my milk-providers; That I will not send my hunters To destroy thee and thy kindred, Never in the days of summer, The Creator's warmest season. 'Dost thou hear the tones of cow-bells, Hear the calling of the bugles, Ride thyself within the meadow, Sink upon the turf in slumber, Bury both thine ears in clover, Crouch within some alder-thicket Climb between the mossy ledges, Visit thou some rocky cavern, Flee away to other mountains, Till thou canst not hear the cow-bells, Nor the calling of the herdsmen. 'Listen, Otso of the woodlands, Sacred bear with honeyed fingers, 515 To approach the herd of cattle Thou thyself art not forbidden, But thy tongue, and teeth, and fingers, Must not touch my herd in summer, Must not harm my harmless creatures. Go around the scented meadows, Amble through the milky pastures, From the tones of bells and shepherds. should the herd be on the mountain, Go thou quickly to the marshes; Should my cattle browse the lowlands, Sleep thou then within the thicket; Should they feed upon the uplands, Thou must hasten to the valley; Should the herd graze at the bottom, Thou must feed upon the summit. 'Wander like the golden cuckoo, Like the dove of silver brightness, Like a little fish in ocean; Ride thy claws within thy hair-foot, Shut thy wicked teeth in darkness, That my herd may not be frightened, May not think themselves in danger. Leave my cows in peace and plenty, Let them journey home in order, Through the vales and mountain by-ways, Over plains and through the forest, Harming not my harmless creatures. 'Call to mind our former pledges, At the river of Tuoni, Near the waterfall and whirlpool, In the ears of our Creator. Thrice to Otso was it granted, In the circuit of the summer, To approach the land of cow-bells, Where the herdsmen's voices echo; But to thee it was not granted, Otso never had permission To attempt a wicked action, To begin a work of evil. Should the blinding thing of malice Come upon thee in thy roamings, 516 Should thy bloody teeth feel hunger, Throw thy malice to the mountains, And thy hunger to the pine-trees, Sink thy teeth within the aspens, In the dead limbs of the birches, Prune the dry stalks from the willows. Should thy hunger still impel thee, Go thou to the berry-mountain, Eat the fungus of the forest, Feed thy hunger on the ant-hills, Eat the red roots of the bear-tree, Metsola's rich cakes of honey, Not the grass my herd would feed on. Or if Metsola's rich honey Should ferment before the eating, On the hills of golden color, On the mountains filled with silver, There is other food for hunger, Other drink for thirsting Otso, Everlasting will the food be, And the drink be never wanting. 'Let us now agree in honor, And conclude a lasting treaty That our lives may end in pleasure, May be, merry in the summer, Both enjoy the woods in common, Though our food must be distinctive Shouldst thou still desire to fight me, Let our contests be in winter, Let our wars be, on the snow-fields. Swamps will thaw in days of summer, Warm, the water in the rivers. Therefore shouldst thou break this treaty, Shouldst thou come where golden cattle Roam these woodland hills and valleys, We will slay thee with our cross-bows; Should our arrow-men be absent, We have here some archer-women, And among them is the hostess, That can use the fatal weapon, That can bring thee to destruction, Thus will end the days of trouble 517 That thou bringest to our people, And against the will of Ukko. 'Ukko, ruler in the heavens, Lend an ear to my entreaty, Metamorphose all my cattle, Through the mighty force of magic, Into stumps and stones convert them, If the enemy should wander, Near my herd in days of summer. 'If I had been born an Otso, I would never stride and amble At the feet of aged women; Elsewhere there are hills and valleys, Farther on are honey-pastures, Where the lazy bear may wander, Where the indolent may linger; Sneak away to yonder mountain, That thy tender flesh may lessen, In the blue-glen's deep recesses, In the bear-dens of the forest, Thou canst move through fields of acorns, Through the sand and ocean-pebbles, There for thee is tracked a pathway, Through the woodlands on the sea-coast, To the Northland's farthest limits, To the dismal plains of Lapland, There 'tis well for thee to lumber, There to live will be a pleasure. Shoeless there to walk in summer, Stockingless in days of autumn, On the blue-back of the mountain, Through the swamps and fertile lowlands. 'If thou canst not journey thither, Canst not find the Lapland-highway, Hasten on a little distance, In the bear-path leading northward. To the grove of Tuonela, To the honey-plains of Kalma, Swamps there are in which to wander, Heaths in which to roam at pleasure, There are Kiryos, there are Karyos, And of beasts a countless number, 518 With their fetters strong as iron, Fattening within the forest. Be ye gracious, groves and mountains, Full of grace, ye darksome thickets, Peace and, plenty to my cattle, Through the pleasant days of summer, The Creator's warmest season. 'Knippana, O King of forests, Thou the gray-beard of the woodlands, Watch thy dogs in fen and fallow, Lay a sponge within one nostril, And an acorn in the other, That they may not scent my cattle; Tie their eyes with silken fillets, That they may not see my herdlings, May not see my cattle grazing. 'Should all this seem inefficient, Drive away thy barking children, Let them run to other forests, Let them hunt in other marshes, From these verdant strips of meadow, From these far outstretching borders, Hide thy dogs within thy caverns, Firmly tie thy yelping children, Tie them with thy golden fetters, With thy chains adorned with silver, That they may not do me damage,' May not do a deed of mischief. Should all this prove inefficient, Thou, O Ukko, King of heaven. Wise director, full of mercy, Hear the golden words I utter, Hear a voice that breathes affection, From the alder make a muzzle, For each dog, within the kennel; Should the alder prove too feeble, Cast a band of purest copper; Should the copper prove a failure, Forge a band of ductile iron; Should the iron snap asunder, In each nose a small-ring fasten, Made of molten gold and silver, 519 Chain thy dogs in forest-caverns, That my herd may not be injured. Then the wife of Ilmarinen, Life-companion of the blacksmith, Opened all her yards and stables, Led her herd across the meadow, Placed them in the herdman's keeping, In the care of Kullerwoinen. ~ Elias Lönnrot,

1009:The Kalevala - Rune Xlii CAPTURE OF THE SAMPO. Wainamoinen, old and truthful, With the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, With the reckless son of Lempo, Handsome hero, Kaukomieli, On the sea's smooth plain departed, On the far-extending waters, To the village, cold and dreary, To the never-pleasant Northland, Where the heroes fall and perish. Ilmarinen led the rowers On one side the magic war-ship, And the reckless Lemminkainen Led the rowers on the other. Wainamoinen, old and trusty, Laid his hand upon the rudder, Steered his vessel o'er the waters, Through the foam and angry billows To Pohyola's place of landing, To the cylinders of copper, Where the war-ships lie at anchor. When they had arrived at Pohya, When their journey they had ended, On the land they rolled their vessel, On the copper-banded rollers, Straightway journeyed to the village, Hastened to the halls and hamlets Of the dismal Sariola. Louhi, hostess of the Northland, Thus addressed the stranger-heroes: Magic heroes of Wainola, What the tidings ye are bringing To the people of my village?' Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel. Gave this answer to the hostess: 'All the hosts of Kalevala Are inquiring for the Sampo, 192 Asking for the lid in colors; Hither have these heroes journeyed To divide the priceless treasure. Thus the hostess spake in answer: 'No one would divide a partridge, Nor a squirrel, with three heroes; Wonderful the magic Sampo, Plenty does it bring to Northland; And the colored lid re-echoes From the copper-bearing mountains, From the stone-berg of Pohyola, To the joy of its possessors.' Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Thus addressed the ancient Louhi: 'If thou wilt not share the Sampo, Give to us an equal portion, We will take it to Wainola, With its lid of many colors, Take by force the hope of Pohya.' Thereupon the Northland hostess Angry grew and sighed for vengeance; Called her people into council, Called the hosts of Sariola, Heroes with their trusted broadswords, To destroy old Wainamoinen With his people of the Northland. Wainamoinen, wise and ancient, Hastened to his harp of fish-bone, And began his magic playing; All of Pohya stopped and listened, Every warrior was silenced By the notes of the magician; Peaceful-minded grew the soldiers, All the maidens danced with pleasure, While the heroes fell to weeping, And the young men looked in wonder. Wainamoinen plays unceasing, Plays the maidens into slumber, Plays to sleep the young and aged, All of Northland sleeps and listens. Wise and wondrous Wainamoinen, The eternal bard and singer, 193 Searches in his pouch of leather, Draws therefrom his slumber-arrows, Locks the eyelids of the sleepers, Of the heroes of Pohyola, Sings and charms to deeper slumber All the warriors of the Northland. Then the heroes of Wainola Hasten to obtain the Sampo, To procure the lid in colors From the copper-bearing mountains. From behind nine locks of copper, In the stone-berg of Pohyola. Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Then began his wondrous singing, Sang in gentle tones of magic, At the entrance to the mountain, At the border of the stronghold; Trembled all the rocky portals, And the iron-banded pillars Fell and crumbled at his singing. Ilmarinen, magic blacksmith, Well anointed all the hinges, All the bars and locks anointed, And the bolts flew back by magic, All the gates unlocked in silence, Opened for the great magician. Spake the minstrel Wainamoinen: 'O thou daring Lemminkainen, Friend of mine in times of trouble, Enter thou within the mountain, Bring away the wondrous Sampo, Bring away the lid in colors!' Quick the reckless Lemminkainen, Handsome hero, Kaukomieli, Ever ready for a venture, Hastens to the mountain-caverns, There to find the famous Sampo, There to get the lid in colors; Strides along with conscious footsteps, Thus himself he vainly praises: 'Great am I and full of glory, Wonder-hero, son of Ukko, 194 I will bring away the Sampo, Turn about the lid in colors, Turn it on its magic hinges!' Lemminkainen finds the wonder, Finds the Sampo in the mountain, Labors long with strength heroic, Tugs with might and main to turn it; Motionless remains the treasure, Deeper sinks the lid in colors, For the roots have grown about it, Grown nine fathoms deep in sand-earth. Lived a mighty ox in Northland, Powerful in bone and sinew, Beautiful in form and color, Horns the length of seven fathoms, Mouth and eyes of wondrous beauty. Lemminkainen, reckless hero, Harnesses the ox in pasture, Takes the master-plow of Pohya, Plows the roots about the Sampo, Plows around the lid in colors, And the sacred Sampo loosens, Falls the colored lid in silence. Straightway ancient Wainamoinen Brings the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Brings the daring Lemminkainen, Lastly brings the magic Sampo, From the stone-berg of Pohyola, From the copper-bearing mountain, Hides it in his waiting vessel, In the war-ship of Wainola. Wainamoinen called his people, Called his crew of men and maidens, Called together all his heroes, Rolled his vessel to the water, Into billowy deeps and dangers. Spake the blacksmith, Ilmarinen: 'Whither shall we take the Sampo, Whither take the lid in colors, From the stone-berg of Pohyola, From this evil spot of Northland?' Wainamoinen, wise and faithful, 195 Gave this answer to the question: 'Thither shall we take the Sampo, Thither take the lid in colors, To the fog-point on the waters, To the island forest-covered; There the treasure may be hidden, May remain in peace for ages, Free from trouble, free from danger, Where the sword will not molest it.' Then the minstrel, Wainamoinen, Joyful, left the Pohya borders, Homeward sailed, and happy-hearted, Spake these measures on departing: 'Turn, O man-of-war, from Pohya, Turn thy back upon the strangers, Turn thou to my distant country! Rock, O winds, my magic vessel, Homeward drive my ship, O billows, Lend the rowers your assistance, Give the oarsmen easy labor, On this vast expanse of waters! Give me of thine oars, O Ahto, Lend thine aid, O King of sea-waves, Guide as with thy helm in safety, Lay thy hand upon the rudder, And direct our war-ship homeward; Let the hooks of metal rattle O'er the surging of the billows, On the white-capped waves' commotion.' Then the master, Wainamoinen, Guided home his willing vessel; And the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, With the lively Lemminkainen, Led the mighty host of rowers, And the war-ship glided homeward O'er the sea's unruffled surface, O'er the mighty waste of waters. Spake the reckless Lemminkainen: 'Once before I rode these billows, There were viands for the heroes, There was singing for the maidens; But to-day I hear no singing, 196 Hear no songs upon the vessel, Hear no music on the waters.' Wainamoinen, wise and ancient, Answered thus wild Lemminkainen: 'Let none sing upon the blue-sea, On the waters, no rejoicing; Singing would prolong our journey, Songs disturb the host of rowers; Soon will die the silver sunlight, Darkness soon will overtake us, On this evil waste of waters, On this blue-sea, smooth and level.' These the words of Lemminkainen: 'Time will fly on equal pinions Whether we have songs or silence; Soon will disappear the daylight, And the night as quickly follow, Whether we be sad or joyous.' Wainamoinen, the magician, O'er the blue backs of the billows, Steered one day, and then a second, Steered the third from morn till even, When the wizard, Lemminkainen, Once again addressed the master: 'Why wilt thou, O famous minstrel, Sing no longer for thy people, Since the Sampo thou hast captured, Captured too the lid in colors?' These the words of Wainamoinen: ''Tis not well to sing too early! Time enough for songs of joyance When we see our home-land mansions, When our journeyings have ended!' Spake the reckless Lemminkainen: 'At the helm, if I were sitting, I would sing at morn and evening, Though my voice has little sweetness; Since thy songs are not forthcoming Listen to my wondrous singing!' Thereupon wild Lemminkainen, Handsome hero, Kaukomieli, Raised his voice above the waters, 197 O'er the sea his song resounded; But his measures were discordant, And his notes were harsh and frightful. Sang the wizard, Lemminkainen, Screeched the reckless Kaukomieli, Till the mighty war-ship trembled; Far and wide was heard his singing, Heard his songs upon the waters, Heard within the seventh village, Heard beyond the seven oceans. Sat a crane within the rushes, On a hillock clothed in verdure, And the crane his toes was counting; Suddenly he heard the singing Of the wizard, Lemminkainen; And the bird was justly frightened At the songs of the magician. Then with horrid voice, and screeching, Flew the crane across the broad-sea To the lakes of Sariola, O'er Pohyola's hills and hamlets, Screeching, screaming, over Northland, Till the people of the darkness Were awakened from their slumbers. Louhi hastens to her hurdles, Hastens to her droves of cattle, Hastens also to her garners, Counts her herds, inspects her store-house; Undisturbed she finds her treasures. Quick she journeys to the entrance To the copper-bearing mountain, Speaks these words as she approaches: 'Woe is me, my life hard-fated, Woe to Louhi, broken-hearted! Here the tracks of the destroyers, All my locks and bolts are broken By the hands of cruel strangers! Broken are my iron hinges, Open stand the mountain-portals Leading to the Northland-treasure. Has Pohyola lost her Sampo?' Then she hastened to the chambers 198 Where the Sampo had been grinding; But she found the chambers empty, Lid and Sampo gone to others, From the stone-berg of Pohyola, From behind nine locks of copper, In the copper-bearing mountain. Louhi, hostess of the Northland, Angry grew and cried for vengeance; As she found her fame departing, Found her-strength fast disappearing, Thus addressed the sea-fog virgin: 'Daughter of the morning-vapors, Sift thy fogs from distant cloud-land, Sift the thick air from the heavens, Sift thy vapors from the ether, On the blue-back of the broad-sea, On the far extending waters, That the ancient Wainamoinen, Friend of ocean-wave and billow, May not baffle his pursuers! 'Should this prayer prove unavailing, Iku-Turso, son of Old-age, Raise thy head above the billows, And destroy Wainola's heroes, Sink them to thy deep sea-castles, There devour them at thy pleasure; Bring thou back the golden Sampo To the people of Pohyola! 'Should these words be ineffective, Ukko, mightiest of rulers, Golden king beyond the welkin, Sitting on a throne of silver, Fill thy skies with heavy storm-clouds, Call thy fleetest winds about thee, Send them o'er the seven broad-seas, There to find the fleeing vessel, That the ancient Wainamoinen May not baffle his pursuers!' Quick the virgin of the vapors Breathed a fog upon the waters, Made it settle on the war-ship Of the, heroes of the Northland, 199 Held the minstrel, Wainamoinen, Anchored in the fog and darkness; Bound him one day, then a second, Then a third till dawn of morning, In the middle of the blue-sea, Whence he could not flee in safety From the wrath of his pursuers. When the third night had departed, Resting in the sea, and helpless, Wainamoinen spake as follows, 'Not a man of strength and courage, Not the weakest of the heroes, Who upon the sea will suffer, Sink and perish in the vapors, Perish in the fog and darkness!' With his sword he smote the billows, From his magic blade flowed honey; Quick the vapor breaks, and rises, Leaves the waters clear for rowing; Far extend the sky and waters, Large the ring of the horizon, And the troubled sea enlarges. Time had journeyed little distance, Scarce a moment had passed over, When they heard a mighty roaring, Heard a roaring and a rushing Near the border of the vessel, Where the foam was shooting skyward O'er the boat of Wainamoinen. Straightway youthful Ilmarinen Sank in gravest apprehension, From his cheeks the blood departed; Pulled his cap down o'er his forehead, Shook and trembled with emotion. Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Casts his eyes upon the waters Near the broad rim of his war-ship; There perceives an ocean-wonder With his head above the sea-foam. Wainamoinen, brave and mighty, Seizes quick the water-monster, Lifts him by his ears and questions: 200 'Iku-Turso, son of Old-age, Why art rising from the blue-sea? Wherefore dost thou leave thy castle, Show thyself to mighty heroes, To the heroes of Wainola?' Iku-Turso, son of Old-age, Ocean monster, manifested Neither pleasure, nor displeasure, Was not in the least affrighted, Did not give the hero answer. Whereupon the ancient minstrel, Asked the second time the monster, Urgently inquired a third time: 'Iku-Turso, son of Old-age, Why art rising from the waters, Wherefore dost thou leave the blue-sea? Iku-Turso gave this answer: For this cause I left my castle Underneath the rolling billows: Came I here with the intention To destroy the Kalew-heroes, And return the magic Sampo To the people of Pohyola. If thou wilt restore my freedom, Spare my life, from pain and sorrow, I will quick retrace my journey, Nevermore to show my visage To the people of Wainola, Never while the moonlight glimmers On the hills of Kalevala!' Then the singer, Wainamoinen, Freed the monster, Iku-Turso, Sent him to his deep sea-castles, Spake these words to him departing: 'Iku-Turso, son of Old-age, Nevermore arise from ocean, Nevermore let Northland-heroes See thy face above the waters I Nevermore has Iku-Turso Risen to the ocean-level; Never since have Northland sailors Seen the head of this sea-monster. 201 Wainamoinen, old and truthful, Onward rowed his goodly vessel, Journeyed but a little distance, Scarce a moment had passed over, When the King of all creators, Mighty Ukko of the heavens, Made the winds blow full of power, Made the storms arise in fury, Made them rage upon the waters. From the west the winds came roaring, From the north-east came in anger, Winds came howling from the south-west, Came the winds from all directions, In their fury, rolling, roaring, Tearing branches from the lindens, Hurling needles from the pine-trees, Blowing flowers from the heather, Grasses blowing from the meadow, Tearing up the very bottom Of the deep and boundless blue-sea. Roared the winds and lashed the waters Till the waves were white with fury; Tossed the war-ship high in ether, Tossed away the harp of fish-bone, Magic harp of Wainamoinen, To the joy of King Wellamo, To the pleasure of his people, To the happiness of Ahto, Ahto, rising from his caverns, On the floods beheld his people Carry off the harp of magic To their home below the billows. Wainamoinen, ancient minstrel, Heavy-hearted, spake these measures: 'I have lost what I created, I have lost the harp of joyance; Now my strength has gone to others, All my pleasure too departed, All my hope and comfort vanished! Nevermore the harp of fish-bone Will enchant the hosts of Suomi!' Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, 202 Sorrow-laden, spake as follows: 'Woe is me, my life hard-fated! Would that I had never journeyed On these waters filled with dangers, On the rolling waste before me, In this war-ship false and feeble. Winds and storms have I encountered, Wretched days of toil and trouble, I have witnessed in the Northland; Never have I met such dangers On the land, nor on the ocean, Never in my hero life-time!' Then the ancient Wainamoinen Spake and these the words he uttered: 'Weep no more, my goodly comrades, In my bark let no one murmur; Weeping cannot mend disaster, Tears can never still misfortune, Mourning cannot save from evil. 'Sea, command thy warring forces, Bid thy children cease their fury! Ahto, still thy surging billows! Sink, Wellamo, to thy slumber, That our boat may move in safety. Rise, ye storm-winds, to your kingdoms, Lift your heads above the waters, To the regions of your kindred, To your people and dominions; Cut the trees within the forest, Bend the lindens of the valley, Let our vessel sail in safety!' Then the reckless Lemminkainen, Handsome wizard, Kaukomieli, Spake these words in supplication: 'Come, O eagle, Turyalander, Bring three feathers from thy pinions, Three, O raven, three, O eagle, To protect this bark from evil!' All the heroes of Wainola Call their forces to the rescue, And repair the sinking vessel. By the aid of master-magic, 203 Wainamoinen saved his war-ship, Saved his people from destruction, Well repaired his ship to battle With the roughest seas of Northland; Steers his mighty boat in safety Through the perils of the whirlpool, Through the watery deeps and dangers. ~ Elias Lönnrot,

1010: XXI - WALPURGIS-NIGHT THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS. District of Schierke and Elend. FAUST MEPHISTOPHELES MEPHISTOPHELES DOST thou not wish a broomstick-steed's assistance? The sturdiest he-goat I would gladly see: The way we take, our goal is yet some distance. FAUST So long as in my legs I feel the fresh existence. This knotted staff suffices me. What need to shorten so the way? Along this labyrinth of vales to wander, Then climb the rocky ramparts yonder, Wherefrom the fountain flings eternal spray, Is such delight, my steps would fain delay. The spring-time stirs within the fragrant birches, And even the fir-tree feels it now: Should then our limbs escape its gentle searches? MEPHISTOPHELES I notice no such thing, I vow! 'Tis winter still within my body: Upon my path I wish for frost and snow. How sadly rises, incomplete and ruddy, The moon's lone disk, with its belated glow, And lights so dimly, that, as one advances, At every step one strikes a rock or tree! Let us, then, use a Jack-o'-lantern's glances: I see one yonder, burning merrily. Ho, there! my friend! I'll levy thine attendance: Why waste so vainly thy resplendence? Be kind enough to light us up the steep! WILL-O'-THE-WISP My reverence, I hope, will me enable To curb my temperament unstable; For zigzag courses we are wont to keep. MEPHISTOPHELES Indeed? he'd like mankind to imitate! Now, in the Devil's name, go straight, Or I'll blow out his being's flickering spark! WILL-O'-THE-WISP You are the master of the house, I mark, And I shall try to serve you nicely. But then, reflect: the mountain's magic-mad to-day, And if a will-o'-the-wisp must guide you on the way, You mustn't take things too precisely. FAUST, MEPHISTOPHELES, WILL-O'-THE-WISP (in alternating song) We, it seems, have entered newly In the sphere of dreams enchanted. Do thy bidding, guide us truly, That our feet be forwards planted In the vast, the desert spaces! See them swiftly changing places, Trees on trees beside us trooping, And the crags above us stooping, And the rocky snouts, outgrowing, Hear them snoring, hear them blowing! O'er the stones, the grasses, flowing Stream and streamlet seek the hollow. Hear I noises? songs that follow? Hear I tender love-petitions? Voices of those heavenly visions? Sounds of hope, of love undying! And the echoes, like traditions Of old days, come faint and hollow. Hoo-hoo! Shoo-hoo! Nearer hover Jay and screech-owl, and the plover, Are they all awake and crying? Is't the salamander pushes, Bloated-bellied, through the bushes? And the roots, like serpents twisted, Through the sand and boulders toiling, Fright us, weirdest links uncoiling To entrap us, unresisted: Living knots and gnarls uncanny Feel with polypus-antennae For the wanderer. Mice are flying, Thousand-colored, herd-wise hieing Through the moss and through the heather! And the fire-flies wink and darkle, Crowded swarms that soar and sparkle, And in wildering escort gather! Tell me, if we still are standing, Or if further we're ascending? All is turning, whirling, blending, Trees and rocks with grinning faces, Wandering lights that spin in mazes, Still increasing and expanding! MEPHISTOPHELES Grasp my skirt with heart undaunted! Here a middle-peak is planted, Whence one seeth, with amaze, Mammon in the mountain blaze. FAUST How strangely glimmers through the hollows A dreary light, like that of dawn! Its exhalation tracks and follows The deepest gorges, faint and wan. Here steam, there rolling vapor sweepeth; Here burns the glow through film and haze: Now like a tender thread it creepeth, Now like a fountain leaps and plays. Here winds away, and in a hundred Divided veins the valley braids: There, in a corner pressed and sundered, Itself detaches, spreads and fades. Here gush the sparkles incandescent Like scattered showers of golden sand; But, see! in all their height, at present, The rocky ramparts blazing stand. Under the old ribs of the rock retreating Under the old ribs of the rock retreating MEPHISTOPHELES Has not Sir Mammon grandly lighted His palace for this festal night? 'Tis lucky thou hast seen the sight; The boisterous guests approach that were invited. FAUST How raves the tempest through the air! With what fierce blows upon my neck 'tis beating! MEPHISTOPHELES Under the old ribs of the rock retreating, Hold fast, lest thou be hurled down the abysses there! The night with the mist is black; Hark! how the forests grind and crack! Frightened, the owlets are scattered: Hearken! the pillars are shattered. The evergreen palaces shaking! Boughs are groaning and breaking, The tree-trunks terribly thunder, The roots are twisting asunder! In frightfully intricate crashing Each on the other is dashing, And over the wreck-strewn gorges The tempest whistles and surges! Hear'st thou voices higher ringing? Far away, or nearer singing? Yes, the mountain's side along, Sweeps an infuriate glamouring song! WITCHES (in chorus) The witches ride to the Brocken's top, The stubble is yellow, and green the crop. There gathers the crowd for carnival: Sir Urian sits over all. And so they go over stone and stock; The witch she-s, and-s the buck. A VOICE Alone, old Baubo's coming now; She rides upon a farrow-sow. CHORUS Then honor to whom the honor is due! Dame Baubo first, to lead the crew! A tough old sow and the mother thereon, Then follow the witches, every one. A VOICE Which way com'st thou hither? VOICE O'er the Ilsen-stone. I peeped at the owl in her nest alone: How she stared and glared! VOICE Betake thee to Hell! Why so fast and so fell? VOICE She has scored and has flayed me: See the wounds she has made me! WITCHES (chorus) The way is wide, the way is long: See, what a wild and crazy throng! The broom it scratches, the fork it thrusts, The child is stifled, the mother bursts. WIZARDS (semichorus) As doth the snail in shell, we crawl: Before us go the women all. When towards the Devil's House we tread, Woman's a thousand steps ahead. OTHER SEMICHORUS We do not measure with such care: Woman in thousand steps is theft. But howsoe'er she hasten may, Man in one leap has cleared the way. VOICE (from above) Come on, come on, from Rocky Lake! VOICE (from below) Aloft we'd fain ourselves betake. We've washed, and are bright as ever you will, Yet we're eternally sterile still. BOTH CHORUSES The wind is hushed, the star shoots by. The dreary moon forsakes the sky; The magic notes, like spark on spark, Drizzle, whistling through the dark. VOICE (from below) Halt, there! Ho, there! VOICE (from above) Who calls from the rocky cleft below there? VOICE (below) Take me, too! take me, too! I'm climbing now three hundred years, And yet the summit cannot see: Among my equals I would be. BOTH CHORUSES Bears the broom and bears the stock, Bears the fork and bears the buck: Who cannot raise himself to-night Is evermore a ruined wight. HALF-WITCH (below) So long I stumble, ill bestead, And the others are now so far ahead! At home I've neither rest nor cheer, And yet I cannot gain them here. CHORUS OF WITCHES To cheer the witch will salve avail; A rag will answer for a sail; Each trough a goodly ship supplies; He ne'er will fly, who now not flies. BOTH CHORUSES When round the summit whirls our flight, Then lower, and on the ground alight; And far and wide the heather press With witchhood's swarms of wantonness! (They settle down.) MEPHISTOPHELES They crowd and push, they roar and clatter! They whirl and whistle, pull and chatter! They shine, and spirt, and stink, and burn! The true witch-element we learn. Keep close! or we are parted, in our turn, Where art thou? FAUST (in the distance) Here! MEPHISTOPHELES What! whirled so far astray? Then house-right I must use, and clear the way. Make room! Squire Voland comes! Room, gentle rabble, room! Here, Doctor, hold to me: in one jump we'll resume An easier space, and from the crowd be free: It's too much, even for the like of me. Yonder, with special light, there's something shining clearer Within those bushes; I've a mind to see. Come on! we'll slip a little nearer. FAUST Spirit of Contradiction! On! I'll follow straight. 'Tis planned most wisely, if I judge aright: We climb the Brocken's top in the Walpurgis-Night, That arbitrarily, here, ourselves we isolate. MEPHISTOPHELES But see, what motley flames among the heather! There is a lively club together: In smaller circles one is not alone. FAUST Better the summit, I must own: There fire and whirling smoke I see. They seek the Evil One in wild confusion: Many enigmas there might find solution. MEPHISTOPHELES But there enigmas also knotted be. Leave to the multitude their riot! Here will we house ourselves in quiet. It is an old, transmitted trade, That in the greater world the little worlds are made. I see stark-nude young witches congregate, And old ones, veiled and hidden shrewdly: On my account be kind, nor treat them rudely! The trouble's small, the fun is great. I hear the noise of instruments attuning, Vile din! yet one must learn to bear the crooning. Come, come along! It must be, I declare! I'll go ahead and introduce thee there, Thine obligation newly earning. That is no little space: what say'st thou, friend? Look yonder! thou canst scarcely see the end: A hundred fires along the ranks are burning. They dance, they chat, they cook, they drink, they court: Now where, just tell me, is there better sport? FAUST Wilt thou, to introduce us to the revel, Assume the part of wizard or of devil? MEPHISTOPHELES I'm mostly used, 'tis true, to go incognito, But on a gala-day one may his orders show. The Garter does not deck my suit, But honored and at home is here the cloven foot. Perceiv'st thou yonder snail? It cometh, slow and steady; So delicately its feelers pry, That it hath scented me already: I cannot here disguise me, if I try. But come! we'll go from this fire to a newer: I am the go-between, and thou the wooer. (To some, who are sitting around dying embers:) Old gentlemen, why at the outskirts? Enter! I'd praise you if I found you snugly in the centre, With youth and revel round you like a zone: You each, at home, are quite enough alone. GENERAL Say, who would put his trust in nations, Howe'er for them one may have worked and planned? For with the people, as with women, Youth always has the upper hand. MINISTER They're now too far from what is just and sage. I praise the old ones, not unduly: When we were all-in-all, then, truly, Then was the real golden age. PARVENU We also were not stupid, either, And what we should not, often did; But now all things have from their bases slid, Just as we meant to hold them fast together. AUTHOR Who, now, a work of moderate sense will read? Such works are held as antiquate and mossy; And as regards the younger folk, indeed, They never yet have been so pert and saucy. MEPHISTOPHELES (who all at once appears very old) I feel that men are ripe for Judgment-Day, Now for the last time I've the witches'-hill ascended: Since to the lees my cask is drained away, The world's, as well, must soon be ended. HUCKSTER-WITCH Ye gentlemen, don't pass me thus! Let not the chance neglected be! Behold my wares attentively: The stock is rare and various. And yet, there's nothing I've collected No shop, on earth, like this you'll find! Which has not, once, sore hurt inflicted Upon the world, and on mankind. No dagger's here, that set not blood to flowing; No cup, that hath not once, within a healthy frame Poured speedy death, in poison glowing: No gems, that have not brought a maid to shame; No sword, but severed ties for the unwary, Or from behind struck down the adversary. MEPHISTOPHELES Gossip! the times thou badly comprehendest: What's done has happedwhat haps, is done! 'Twere better if for novelties thou sendest: By such alone can we be won. FAUST Let me not lose myself in all this pother! This is a fair, as never was another! MEPHISTOPHELES The whirlpool swirls to get above: Thou'rt shoved thyself, imagining to shove. FAUST But who is that? MEPHISTOPHELES Note her especially, Tis Lilith. FAUST Who? MEPHISTOPHELES Adam's first wife is she. Beware the lure within her lovely tresses, The splendid sole adornment of her hair! When she succeeds therewith a youth to snare, Not soon again she frees him from her jesses. FAUST Those two, the old one with the young one sitting, They've danced already more than fitting. MEPHISTOPHELES No rest to-night for young or old! They start another dance: come now, let us take hold! FAUST (dancing with the young witch) A lovely dream once came to me; I then beheld an apple-tree, And there two fairest apples shone: They lured me so, I climbed thereon. THE FAIR ONE Apples have been desired by you, Since first in Paradise they grew; And I am moved with joy, to know That such within my garden grow. MEPHISTOPHELES (dancing with the old one) A dissolute dream once came to me: Therein I saw a cloven tree, Which had a; Yet,as 'twas, I fancied it. THE OLD ONE I offer here my best salute Unto the knight with cloven foot! Let him aprepare, If himdoes not scare. PROKTOPHANTASMIST Accursd folk! How dare you venture thus? Had you not, long since, demonstration That ghosts can't stand on ordinary foundation? And now you even dance, like one of us! THE FAIR ONE (dancing) Why does he come, then, to our ball? FAUST (dancing) O, everywhere on him you fall! When others dance, he weighs the matter: If he can't every step bechatter, Then 'tis the same as were the step not made; But if you forwards go, his ire is most displayed. If you would whirl in regular gyration As he does in his dull old mill, He'd show, at any rate, good-will, Especially if you heard and heeded his hortation. PROKTOPHANTASMIST You still are here? Nay, 'tis a thing unheard! Vanish, at once! We've said the enlightening word. The pack of devils by no rules is daunted: We are so wise, and yet is Tegel haunted. To clear the folly out, how have I swept and stirred! Twill ne'er be clean: why, 'tis a thing unheard! THE FAIR ONE Then cease to bore us at our ball! PROKTOPHANTASMIST I tell you, spirits, to your face, I give to spirit-despotism no place; My spirit cannot practise it at all. (The dance continues) Naught will succeed, I see, amid such revels; Yet something from a tour I always save, And hope, before my last step to the grave, To overcome the poets and the devils. MEPHISTOPHELES He now will seat him in the nearest puddle; The solace this, whereof he's most assured: And when upon his rump the leeches hang and fuddle, He'll be of spirits and of Spirit cured. (To FAUST, who has left the dance:) Wherefore forsakest thou the lovely maiden, That in the dance so sweetly sang? FAUST Ah! in the midst of it there sprang A red mouse from her mouthsufficient reason. MEPHISTOPHELES That's nothing! One must not so squeamish be; So the mouse was not gray, enough for thee. Who'd think of that in love's selected season? FAUST Then saw I. MEPHISTOPHELES What? FAUST Mephisto, seest thou there, Alone and far, a girl most pale and fair? She falters on, her way scarce knowing, As if with fettered feet that stay her going. I must confess, it seems to me As if my kindly Margaret were she. MEPHISTOPHELES Let the thing be! All thence have evil drawn: It is a magic shape, a lifeless eidolon. Such to encounter is not good: Their blank, set stare benumbs the human blood, And one is almost turned to stone. Medusa's tale to thee is known. FAUST Forsooth, the eyes they are of one whom, dying, No hand with loving pressure closed; That is the breast whereon I once was lying, The body sweet, beside which I reposed! MEPHISTOPHELES Tis magic all, thou fool, seduced so easily! Unto each man his love she seems to be. FAUST The woe, the rapture, so ensnare me, That from her gaze I cannot tear me! And, strange! around her fairest throat A single scarlet band is gleaming, No broader than a knife-blade seeming! MEPHISTOPHELES Quite right! The mark I also note. Her head beneath her arm she'll sometimes carry; Twas Perseus lopped it, her old adversary. Thou crav'st the same illusion still! Come, let us mount this little hill; The Prater shows no livelier stir, And, if they've not bewitched my sense, I verily see a theatre. What's going on? SERVIBILIS 'Twill shortly recommence: A new performance'tis the last of seven. To give that number is the custom here: 'Twas by a Dilettante written, And Dilettanti in the parts appear. That now I vanish, pardon, I entreat you! As Dilettante I the curtain raise. MEPHISTOPHELES When I upon the Blocksberg meet you, I find it good: for that's your proper place. Faust ~ Johann Wolfgang von Goethe, WALPURGIS-NIGHT ,

1011:The Kalevala - Rune X ILMARINEN FORGES THE SAMPO. Wainamoinen, the magician, Takes his steed of copper color, Hitches quick his fleet-foot courser, Puts his racer to the snow-sledge, Straightway springs upon the cross-seat, Snaps his whip adorned with jewels. Like the winds the steed flies onward, Like a lightning flash, the racer Makes the snow-sledge creak and rattle, Makes the highway quickly vanish, Dashes on through fen and forest, Over hills and through the valleys, Over marshes, over mountains, Over fertile plains and meadows; Journeys one day, then a second, So a third from morn till evening, Till the third day evening brings him To the endless bridge of Osmo, To the Osmo-fields and pastures, To the plains of Kalevala; When the hero spake as follows: 'May the wolves devour the dreamer, Eat the Laplander for dinner, May disease destroy the braggart, Him who said that I should never See again my much-loved home-land, Nevermore behold my kindred, Never during all my life-time, Never while the sunshine brightens, Never while the moonlight glimmers On the meadows of Wainola, On the plains of Kalevala.' Then began old Wainamoinen, Ancient bard and famous singer, To renew his incantations; Sang aloft a wondrous pine-tree, 114 Till it pierced the clouds in growing With its golden top and branches, Till it touched the very heavens, Spread its branches in the ether, In the ever-shining sunlight. Now he sings again enchanting, Sings the Moon to shine forever In the fir-tree's emerald branches; In its top he sings the Great Bear. Then be quickly journeys homeward, Hastens to his golden portals, Head awry and visage wrinkled, Crooked cap upon his forehead, Since as ransom he had promised Ilmarinen, magic artist, Thus to save his life from torture On the distant fields of Northland In the dismal Sariola. When his stallion he had halted On the Osmo-field and meadow, Quickly rising in his snow-sledge, The magician heard one knocking, Breaking coal within the smithy, Beating with a heavy hammer. Wainamoinen, famous minstrel, Entering the smithy straightway, Found the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Knocking with his copper hammer. Ilmarinen spake as follows: 'Welcome, brother Wainamoinen, Old and worthy Wainamoinen! Why so long hast thou been absent, Where hast thou so long been hiding?' Wainamoinen then made answer, These the words of the magician: 'Long indeed have I been living, Many dreary days have wandered, Many cheerless nights have lingered, Floating on the cruel ocean, Weeping in the fens and woodlands Of the never-pleasant Northland, In the dismal Sariola; 115 With the Laplanders I've wandered, With the people filled with witchcraft.' Promptly answers Ilmarinen, These the words the blacksmith uses: 'O thou ancient Wainamoinen, Famous and eternal singer, Tell me of thy journey northward, Of thy wanderings in Lapland, Of thy dismal journey homeward.' Spake the minstrel, Wainamoinen: 'I have much to tell thee, brother, Listen to my wondrous story: In the Northland lives a virgin, In a village there, a maiden, That will not accept a lover, That a hero's hand refuses, That a wizard's heart disdaineth; All of Northland sings her praises, Sings her worth and magic beauty, Fairest maiden of Pohyola, Daughter of the earth and ocean. From her temples beams the moonlight, From her breast, the gleam of sunshine, From her forehead shines the rainbow, On her neck, the seven starlets, And the Great Bear from her shoulder. 'Ilmarinen, worthy brother, Thou the only skilful blacksmith, Go and see her wondrous beauty, See her gold and silver garments, See her robed in finest raiment, See her sitting on the rainbow, Walking on the clouds of purple. Forge for her the magic Sampo, Forge the lid in many colors, Thy reward shall be the virgin, Thou shalt win this bride of beauty; Go and bring the lovely maiden To thy home in Kalevala.' Spake the brother, Ilmarinen: O thou cunning Wainamoinen, Thou hast promised me already 116 To the ever-darksome Northland, Thy devoted head to ransom, Thus to rescue thee from trouble. I shall never visit Northland, Shall not go to see thy maiden, Do not love the Bride of Beauty; Never while the moonlight glimmers, Shall I go to dreary Pohya, To the plains of Sariola, Where the people eat each other, Sink their heroes in the ocean, Not for all the maids of Lapland.' Spake the brother, Wainamoinen: 'I can tell thee greater wonders, Listen to my wondrous story: I have seen the fir-tree blossom, Seen its flowers with emerald branches, On the Osmo-fields and woodlands; In its top, there shines the moonlight, And the Bear lives in its branches.' Ilmarinen thus made answer: 'I cannot believe thy story, Cannot trust thy tale of wonder, Till I see the blooming fir-tree, With its many emerald branches, With its Bear and golden moonlight.' This is Wainamoinen's answer: 'Wilt thou not believe my story? Come with me and I will show thee If my lips speak fact or fiction.' Quick they journey to discover, Haste to view the wondrous fir-tree; Wainamoinen leads the journey, Ilmarinen closely follows. As they near the Osmo-borders, Ilmarinen hastens forward That be may behold the wonder, Spies the Bear Within the fir-top, Sitting on its emerald branches, Spies the gleam of golden moonlight. Spake the ancient Wainamoinen, These the words the singer uttered: 117 Climb this tree, dear Ilmarinen, And bring down the golden moonbeams, Bring the Moon and Bear down with thee From the fir-tree's lofty branches.' Ilmarinen, full consenting, Straightway climbed the golden fir-tree, High upon the bow of heaven, Thence to bring the golden moonbeams, Thence to bring the Bear of heaven, From the fir-tree's topmost branches. Thereupon the blooming fir-tree Spake these words to Ilmarinen: 'O thou senseless, thoughtless hero, Thou hast neither wit nor instinct; Thou dost climb my golden branches, Like a thing of little judgment, Thus to get my pictured moonbeams, Take away my silver starlight, Steal my Bear and blooming branches.' Quick as thought old Wainamoinen Sang again in magic accents, Sang a storm-wind in the heavens, Sang the wild winds into fury, And the singer spake as follows: `Take, O storm-wind, take the forgeman, Carry him within thy vessel, Quickly hence, and land the hero On the ever-darksome Northland, On the dismal Sariola.' Now the storm-wind quickly darkens, Quickly piles the air together, Makes of air a sailing vessel, Takes the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Fleetly from the fir-tree branches, Toward the never-pleasant Northland, Toward the dismal Sariola. Through the air sailed Ilmarinen, Fast and far the hero travelled, Sweeping onward, sailing northward, Riding in the track of storm-winds, O'er the Moon, beneath the sunshine, On the broad back of the Great Bear, 118 Till he neared Pohyola's woodlands, Neared the homes of Sariola, And alighted undiscovered, Was Dot noticed by the hunters, Was not scented by the watch-dogs. Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Ancient, toothless dame of Northland, Standing in the open court-yard, Thus addresses Ilmarinen, As she spies the hero-stranger: 'Who art thou of ancient heroes, Who of all the host of heroes, Coming here upon the storm-wind, O'er the sledge-path of the ether, Scented not by Pohya's watch-dogs? This is Ilmarinen's answer: 'I have surely not come hither To be barked at by the watch-dogs, At these unfamiliar portals, At the gates of Sariola.' Thereupon the Northland hostess Asks again the hero-stranger: 'Hast thou ever been acquainted With the blacksmith of Wainola, With the hero, Ilmarinen, With the skilful smith and artist? Long I've waited for his coming, Long this one has been expected, On the borders of the Northland, Here to forge for me the Sampo.' Spake the hero, Ilmarinen: 'Well indeed am I acquainted With the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, I myself am Ilmarinen, I, the skilful smith and artist.' Louhi, hostess of the Northland, Toothless dame of Sariola, Straightway rushes to her dwelling, These the words that Louhi utters: 'Come, thou youngest of my daughters, Come, thou fairest of my maidens, Dress thyself in finest raiment, 119 Deck thy hair with rarest jewels, Pearls upon thy swelling bosom, On thy neck, a golden necklace, Bind thy head with silken ribbons, Make thy cheeks look fresh and ruddy, And thy visage fair and winsome, Since the artist, Ilmarinen, Hither comes from Kalevala, Here to forge for us the Sampo, Hammer us the lid in colors.' Now the daughter of the Northland, Honored by the land and water, Straightway takes her choicest raiment, Takes her dresses rich in beauty, Finest of her silken wardrobe, Now adjusts her silken fillet, On her brow a band of copper, Round her waist a golden girdle, Round her neck a pearly necklace, Shining gold upon her bosom, In her hair the threads of silver. From her dressing-room she hastens, To the hall she bastes and listens, Full of beauty, full of joyance, Ears erect and eyes bright-beaming, Ruddy cheeks and charming visage, Waiting for the hero-stranger. Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Leads the hero, Ilmarinen, To her dwelling-rooms in Northland, To her home in Sariola, Seats him at her well-filled table, Gives to him the finest viands, Gives him every needed comfort, Then addresses him as follows: 'O thou blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Master of the forge and smithy, Canst thou forge for me the Sampo, Hammer me the lid in colors, From the tips of white-swan feathers, From the milk of greatest virtue, From a single grain of barley, 120 From the finest wool of lambkins? Thou shalt have my fairest daughter, Recompense for this thy service.' These the words of Ilmarinen: 'I will forge for thee the Sampo, Hammer thee the lid in colors, From the tips of white-swan feathers, From the milk of greatest virtue, From a single grain of barley, From the finest wool of lambkins? Since I forged the arch of heaven, Forged the air a concave cover, Ere the earth had a beginning.' Thereupon the magic blacksmith Went to forge the wondrous Sampo, Went to find a blacksmith's workshop, Went to find the tools to work with; But he found no place for forging, Found no smithy, found no bellows, Found no chimney, found no anvil, Found no tongs, and found no hammer. Then the-artist, Ilmarinen. Spake these words, soliloquizing: 'Only women grow discouraged, Only knaves leave work unfinished, Not the devils, nor the heroes, Nor the Gods of greater knowledge.' Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Sought a place to build a smithy, Sought a place to plant a bellows, On the borders of the Northland, On the Pohya-hills and meadows; Searched one day, and then a second; Ere the evening of the third day, Came a rock within his vision, Came a stone with rainbow-colors. There the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Set at work to build his smithy, Built a fire and raised a chimney; On the next day laid his bellows, On the third day built his furnace, And began to forge the Sampo. 121 The eternal magic artist, Ancient blacksmith, Ilmarinen, First of all the iron-workers, Mixed together certain metals, Put the mixture in the caldron, Laid it deep within the furnace, Called the hirelings to the forging. Skilfully they work the bellows, Tend the fire and add the fuel, Three most lovely days of summer, Three short nights of bright midsummer, Till the rocks begin to blossom, In the foot-prints of the workmen, From the magic heat and furnace. On the first day, Ilmarinen Downward bent and well examined, On the bottom of his furnace, Thus to see what might be forming From the magic fire and metals. From the fire arose a cross-bow, 'With the brightness of the moonbeams, Golden bow with tips of silver; On the shaft was shining copper, And the bow was strong and wondrous, But alas! it was ill-natured, Asking for a hero daily, Two the heads it asked on feast-days. Ilmarinen, skilful artist, Was not pleased with this creation, Broke the bow in many pieces, Threw them back within the furnace, Kept the workmen at the bellows, Tried to forge the magic Sampo. On the second day, the blacksmith Downward bent and well examined, On the bottom of the furnace; From the fire, a skiff of metals, Came a boat of purple color, All the ribs were colored golden, And the oars were forged from copper; Thus the skiff was full of beauty, But alas! a thing of evil; 122 Forth it rushes into trouble, Hastens into every quarrel, Hastes without a provocation Into every evil combat. Ilmarinen, metal artist, Is not pleased with this creation, Breaks the skiff in many fragments, Throws them back within the furnace, Keeps the workmen at the bellows, Thus to forge the magic Sampo. On the third day, Ilmarinen, First of all the metal-workers, Downward bent and well examined, On the bottom of the furnace; There be saw a heifer rising, Golden were the horns of Kimmo, On her head the Bear of heaven, On her brow a disc of sunshine, Beautiful the cow of magic; But alas! she is ill-tempered, Rushes headlong through the forest, Rushes through the swamps and meadows, Wasting all her milk in running. Ilmarinen, the magician. Is not pleased with this creation, Cuts the magic cow in pieces, Throws them in the fiery furnace, Sets the workmen at the bellows, Thus to forge the magic Sampo. On the fourth day, Ilmarinen Downward bent and well examined, To the bottom of the furnace; There beheld a plow in beauty Rising from the fire of metals, Golden was the point and plowshare, And the beam was forged from copper, And the handles, molten silver, Beautiful the plow and wondrous; But alas! it is ill-mannered, Plows up fields of corn and barley, Furrows through the richest meadows. Ilmarinen, metal artist, 123 Is not pleased with this creation, Quickly breaks the plow in pieces, Throws them back within the furnace, Lets the winds attend the bellows, Lets the storm-winds fire the metals. Fiercely vie the winds of heaven, East-wind rushing, West-wind roaring, South-wind crying, North-wind howling, Blow one day and then a second, Blow the third from morn till even, When the fire leaps through the windows, Through the door the sparks fly upward, Clouds of smoke arise to heaven; With the clouds the black smoke mingles, As the storm-winds ply the bellows. On the third night Ilmarinen, Bending low to view his metals, On the bottom of the furnace, Sees the magic Sampo rising, Sees the lid in many colors. Quick the artist of Wainola Forges with the tongs and anvil, Knocking with a heavy hammer, Forges skilfully the Sampo; On one side the flour is grinding, On another salt is making, On a third is money forging, And the lid is many-colored. Well the Sampo grinds when finished, To and fro the lid in rocking, Grinds one measure at the day-break, Grinds a measure fit for eating, Grinds a second for the market, Grinds a third one for the store-house. Joyfully the dame of Northland, Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Takes away the magic Sampo, To the hills of Sariola, To the copper-bearing mountains, Puts nine locks upon the wonder, Makes three strong roots creep around it; In the earth they grow nine fathoms, 124 One large root beneath the mountain, One beneath the sandy sea-bed, One beneath the mountain-dwelling. Modestly pleads Ilmarinen For the maiden's willing answer, These the words of the magician: 'Wilt thou come with me, fair maiden, Be my wife and queen forever? I have forged for thee the Sampo, Forged the lid in many colors.' Northland's fair and lovely daughter Answers thus the metal-worker: 'Who will in the coming spring-time, Who will in the second summer, Guide the cuckoo's song and echo? Who will listen to his calling, Who will sing with him in autumn, Should I go to distant regions, Should this cheery maiden vanish From the fields of Sariola, From Pohyola's fens and forests, Where the cuckoo sings and echoes? Should I leave my father's dwelling, Should my mother's berry vanish, Should these mountains lose their cherry, Then the cuckoo too would vanish, All the birds would leave the forest, Leave the summit of the mountain, Leave my native fields and woodlands, Never shall I, in my life-time, Say farewell to maiden freedom, Nor to summer cares and labors, Lest the harvest be ungarnered, Lest the berries be ungathered, Lest the song-birds leave the forest, Lest the mermaids leave the waters, Lest I sing with them no longer.' Ilmarinen, the magician, The eternal metal-forger, Cap awry and head dejected, Disappointed, heavy-hearted, Empty-handed, well considers, 125 How to reach his distant country, Reach his much-loved home and kinded, Gain the meadows of Wainola, From the never-pleasant Northland, From the darksome Sariola. Louhi thus addressed the suitor: 'O thou blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Why art thou so heavy-hearted, Why thy visage so dejected? Hast thou in thy mind to journey From the vales and hills of Pohya, To the meadows of Wainola, To thy home in Kalevala? This is Ilmarinen's answer: 'Thitherward my mind is tending, To my home-land let me journey, With my kindred let me linger, Be at rest in mine own country.' Straightway Louhi, dame of Northland, Gave the hero every comfort, Gave him food and rarest viands, Placed him in a boat of copper, In a copper-banded vessel, Called the winds to his assistance, Made the North-wind guide him homeward. Thus the skilful Ilmarinen Travels toward his native country, On the blue back of the waters, Travels one day, then a second, Till the third day evening brings him To Wainola's peaceful meadows, To his home in Kalevala. Straightway ancient Wainamoinen Thus addresses Ilmarinen: 'O my brother, metal-artist, Thou eternal wonder-worker, Didst thou forge the magic Sampo, Forge the lid in many colors?' Spake the brother, Ilmarinen, These the words the master uttered: 'Yea, I forged the magic Sampo, Forged the lid in many colors; 126 To and fro the lid in rocking Grinds one measure at the day-dawn, Grinds a measure fit for eating, Grinds a second for the market, Grinds a third one for the store-house. Louhi has the wondrous Sampo, I have not the Bride of Beauty.' ~ Elias Lönnrot,

1012:The Ghost - Book I With eager search to dart the soul, Curiously vain, from pole to pole, And from the planets' wandering spheres To extort the number of our years, And whether all those years shall flow Serenely smooth, and free from woe, Or rude misfortune shall deform Our life with one continual storm; Or if the scene shall motley be. Alternate joy and misery, Is a desire which, more or less. All men must feel, though few confess. Hence, every place and every age Affords subsistence to the sage, Who, free from this world and its cares, Holds an acquaintance with the stars, From whom he gains intelligence Of things to come some ages hence, Which unto friends, at easy rates. He readily communicates. At its first rise, which all agree on, This noble science was Chaldean; That ancient people, as they fed Their flocks upon the mountain's head, Gazed on the stars, observed their motions, And suck'd in astrologic notions, Which they so eagerly pursue, As folks are apt whate'er is new, That things below at random rove, Whilst they're consulting things above; And when they now so poor were grown, That they'd no houses of their own, They made bold with their friends the stars, And prudently made use of theirs. To Egypt from Chaldee it travell'd, And Fate at Memphis was unravell'd: The exotic science soon struck root, And flourish'd into high repute. Each learned priest, oh strange to tell! 177 Could circles make, and cast a spell; Could read and write, and taught the nation The holy art of divination. Nobles themselves, for at that time Knowledge in nobles was no crime, Could talk as learned as the priest, And prophesy as much, at least. Hence all the fortune-telling crew, Whose crafty skill mars Nature's hue, Who, in vile tatters, with smirch'd face, Run up and down from place to place, To gratify their friends' desires, From Bampfield Carew, to Moll Squires, Are rightly term'd Egyptians all; Whom we, mistaking, Gypsies call. The Grecian sages borrow'd this, As they did other sciences, From fertile Egypt, though the loan They had not honesty to own. Dodona's oaks, inspired by Jove, A learned and prophetic grove, Turn'd vegetable necromancers, And to all comers gave their answers. At Delphos, to Apollo dear, All men the voice of Fate might hear; Each subtle priest on three-legg'd stool, To take in wise men, play'd the fool. A mystery, so made for gain, E'en now in fashion must remain; Enthusiasts never will let drop What brings such business to their shop; And that great saint we Whitefield call, Keeps up the humbug spiritual. Among the Romans, not a bird Without a prophecy was heard; Fortunes of empires often hung On the magician magpie's tongue, And every crow was to the state A sure interpreter of Fate. Prophets, embodied in a college (Time out of mind your seat of knowledge; For genius never fruit can bear 178 Unless it first is planted there, And solid learning never falls Without the verge of college walls) Infallible accounts would keep When it was best to watch or sleep, To eat or drink, to go or stay, And when to fight or run away; When matters were for action ripe, By looking at a double tripe; When emperors would live or die, They in an ass's skull could spy; When generals would their station keep, Or turn their backs, in hearts of sheep. In matters, whether small or great, In private families or state As amongst us, the holy seer Officiously would interfere; With pious arts and reverend skill Would bend lay bigots to his will; Would help or injure foes or friends, Just as it served his private ends. Whether in honest way of trade Traps for virginity were laid; Or if, to make their party great, Designs were form'd against the state, Regardless of the common weal, By interest led, which they call zeal, Into the scale was always thrown The will of Heaven to back their own. England--a happy land we know, Where follies naturally grow, Where without culture they arise And tower above the common size; England, a fortune-telling host, As numerous as the stars, could boast,-Matrons, who toss the cup, and see The grounds of Fate in grounds of tea, Who, versed in every modest lore, Can a lost maidenhead restore, Or, if their pupils rather choose it, Can show the readiest way to lose it; Gypsies, who every ill can cure, 179 Except the ill of being poor, Who charms 'gainst love and agues sell, Who can in hen-roost set a spell, Prepared by arts, to them best known, To catch all feet except their own, Who, as to fortune, can unlock it As easily as pick a pocket; Scotchmen, who, in their country's right, Possess the gift of second-sight, Who (when their barren heaths they quit, Sure argument of prudent wit, Which reputation to maintain, They never venture back again) By lies prophetic heap up riches, And boast the luxury of breeches. Amongst the rest, in former years, Campbell (illustrious name!) appears, Great hero of futurity, Who, blind, could every thing foresee, Who, dumb, could every thing foretell, Who, Fate with equity to sell, Always dealt out the will of Heaven According to what price was given. Of Scottish race, in Highlands born, Possess'd with native pride and scorn, He hither came, by custom led, To curse the hands which gave him bread. With want of truth, and want of sense, Amply made up by impudence (A succedaneum, which we find In common use with all mankind); Caress'd and favour'd too by those Whose heart with patriot feelings glows, Who foolishly, where'er dispersed, Still place their native country first; (For Englishmen alone have sense To give a stranger preference, Whilst modest merit of their own Is left in poverty to groan) Campbell foretold just what he would, And left the stars to make it good, On whom he had impress'd such awe, 180 His dictates current pass'd for law; Submissive, all his empire own'd; No star durst smile, when Campbell frown'd. This sage deceased,--for all must die, And Campbell's no more safe than I, No more than I can guard the heart, When Death shall hurl the fatal dart,-Succeeded, ripe in art and years, Another favourite of the spheres; Another and another came, Of equal skill, and equal fame; As white each wand, as black each gown, As long each beard, as wise each frown, In every thing so like, you'd swear Campbell himself was sitting there: To all the happy art was known, To tell our fortunes, make their own. Seated in garret,--for, you know, The nearer to the stars we go The greater we esteem his art,-Fools, curious, flock'd from every part; The rich, the poor, the maid, the married, And those who could not walk, were carried. The butler, hanging down his head, By chambermaid, or cookmaid led, Inquires, if from his friend the Moon He has advice of pilfer'd spoon. The court-bred woman of condition, (Who, to approve her disposition As much superior as her birth To those composed of common earth, With double spirit must engage In every folly of the age) The honourable arts would buy, To pack the cards, and cog a die. The hero--who, for brawn and face, May claim right honourable place Amongst the chiefs of Butcher-row: Who might, some thirty years ago, If we may be allow'd to guess At his employment by his dress, Put medicines off from cart or stage, 181 The grand Toscano of the age; Or might about the country go High-steward of a puppet-show,-Steward and stewardship most meet, For all know puppets never eat: Who would be thought (though, save the mark! That point is something in the dark) The man of honour, one like those Renown'd in story, who loved blows Better than victuals, and would fight, Merely for sport, from morn to night: Who treads like Mavors firm, whose tongue Is with the triple thunder hung, Who cries to Fear, 'Stand off--aloof,' And talks as he were cannon-proof; Would be deem'd ready, when you list, With sword and pistol, stick and fist, Careless of points, balls, bruises, knocks, At once to fence, fire, cudgel, box, But at the same time bears about, Within himself, some touch of doubt, Of prudent doubt, which hints--that fame Is nothing but an empty name; That life is rightly understood By all to be a real good; That, even in a hero's heart, Discretion is the better part; That this same honour may be won, And yet no kind of danger run-Like Drugger comes, that magic powers May ascertain his lucky hours; For at some hours the fickle dame, Whom Fortune properly we name, Who ne'er considers wrong or right, When wanted most, plays least in sight, And, like a modern court-bred jilt, Leaves her chief favourites in a tilt. Some hours there are, when from the heart Courage into some other part, No matter wherefore, makes retreat, And Fear usurps the vacant seat; Whence, planet-struck, we often find 182 Stuarts and Sackvilles of mankind. Farther, he'd know (and by his art A conjurer can that impart) Whether politer it is reckon'd To have, or not to have, a second; To drag the friends in, or alone To make the danger all their own; Whether repletion is not bad, And fighters with full stomachs mad; Whether, before he seeks the plain, It were not well to breathe a vein; Whether a gentle salivation, Consistently with reputation, Might not of precious use be found, Not to prevent, indeed, a wound, But to prevent the consequence Which oftentimes arises thence, Those fevers, which the patient urge on To gates of death, by help of surgeon; Whether a wind at east or west Is for green wounds accounted best; Whether (was he to choose) his mouth Should point towards the north or south; Whether more safely he might use, On these occasions, pumps or shoes; Whether it better is to fight By sunshine or by candlelight; Or, lest a candle should appear Too mean to shine in such a sphere, For who could of a candle tell To light a hero into hell; And, lest the sun should partial rise To dazzle one or t'other's eyes, Or one or t'other's brains to scorch, Might not Dame Luna hold a torch? These points with dignity discuss'd, And gravely fix'd,--a task which must Require no little time and pains, To make our hearts friends with our brains,-The man of war would next engage The kind assistance of the sage, Some previous method to direct, 183 Which should make these of none effect. Could he not, from the mystic school Of Art, produce some sacred rule, By which a knowledge might be got Whether men valiant were, or not; So he that challenges might write Only to those who would not fight? Or could he not some way dispense By help of which (without offence To Honour, whose nice nature's such She scarce endures the slightest touch) When he, for want of t'other rule, Mistakes his man, and, like a fool, With some vain fighting blade gets in, He fairly may get out again? Or should some demon lay a scheme To drive him to the last extreme, So that he must confess his fears, In mercy to his nose and ears, And like a prudent recreant knight, Rather do anything than fight, Could he not some expedient buy To keep his shame from public eye? For well he held,--and, men review, Nine in ten hold the maxim too,-That honour's like a maidenhead, Which, if in private brought to bed, Is none the worse, but walks the town, Ne'er lost, until the loss be known. The parson, too, (for now and then Parsons are just like other men, And here and there a grave divine Has passions such as yours and mine) Burning with holy lust to know When Fate preferment will bestow, 'Fraid of detection, not of sin, With circumspection sneaking in To conjurer, as he does to whore, Through some bye-alley or back-door, With the same caution orthodox Consults the stars, and gets a pox. The citizen, in fraud grown old, 184 Who knows no deity but gold, Worn out, and gasping now for breath, A medicine wants to keep off death; Would know, if that he cannot have, What coins are current in the grave; If, when the stocks (which, by his power, Would rise or fall in half an hour; For, though unthought of and unseen, He work'd the springs behind the screen) By his directions came about, And rose to par, he should sell out; Whether he safely might, or no, Replace it in the funds below? By all address'd, believed, and paid, Many pursued the thriving trade, And, great in reputation grown, Successive held the magic throne. Favour'd by every darling passion, The love of novelty and fashion, Ambition, avarice, lust, and pride, Riches pour'd in on every side. But when the prudent laws thought fit To curb this insolence of wit; When senates wisely had provided, Decreed, enacted, and decided, That no such vile and upstart elves Should have more knowledge than themselves; When fines and penalties were laid To stop the progress of the trade, And stars no longer could dispense, With honour, further influence; And wizards (which must be confess'd Was of more force than all the rest) No certain way to tell had got Which were informers, and which not; Affrighted sages were, perforce, Obliged to steer some other course. By various ways, these sons of Chance Their fortunes labour'd to advance, Well knowing, by unerring rules, Knaves starve not in the land of fools. Some, with high titles and degrees, 185 Which wise men borrow when they please, Without or trouble, or expense, Physicians instantly commence, And proudly boast an Equal skill With those who claim the right to kill. Others about the country roam, (For not one thought of going home) With pistol and adopted leg, Prepared at once to rob or beg. Some, the more subtle of their race, (Who felt some touch of coward grace, Who Tyburn to avoid had wit, But never fear'd deserving it) Came to their brother Smollett's aid, And carried on the critic trade. Attach'd to letters and the Muse, Some verses wrote, and some wrote news; Those each revolving month are seen, The heroes of a magazine; These, every morning, great appear In Ledger, or in Gazetteer, Spreading the falsehoods of the day, By turns for Faden and for Say. Like Swiss, their force is always laid On that side where they best are paid: Hence mighty prodigies arise, And daily monsters strike our eyes; Wonders, to propagate the trade, More strange than ever Baker made, Are hawk'd about from street to street, And fools believe, whilst liars eat. Now armies in the air engage, To fright a superstitious age; Now comets through the ether range, In governments portending change; Now rivers to the ocean fly So quick, they leave their channels dry; Now monstrous whales on Lambeth shore Drink the Thames dry, and thirst for more; And every now and then appears An Irish savage, numbering years More than those happy sages could 186 Who drew their breath before the flood; Now, to the wonder of all people, A church is left without a steeple; A steeple now is left in lurch, And mourns departure of the church, Which, borne on wings of mighty wind, Removed a furlong off we find; Now, wrath on cattle to discharge, Hailstones as deadly fall, and large, As those which were on Egypt sent, At once their crime and punishment; Or those which, as the prophet writes, Fell on the necks of Amorites, When, struck with wonder and amaze, The sun, suspended, stay'd to gaze, And, from her duty longer kept, In Ajalon his sister slept. But if such things no more engage The taste of a politer age, To help them out in time of need Another Tofts must rabbits breed: Each pregnant female trembling hears, And, overcome with spleen and fears, Consults her faithful glass no more, But, madly bounding o'er the floor, Feels hairs all o'er her body grow, By Fancy turn'd into a doe. Now, to promote their private ends, Nature her usual course suspends, And varies from the stated plan Observed e'er since the world began. Bodies--which foolishly we thought, By Custom's servile maxims taught, Needed a regular supply, And without nourishment must die-With craving appetites, and sense Of hunger easily dispense, And, pliant to their wondrous skill, Are taught, like watches, to stand still, Uninjured, for a month or more, Then go on as they did before. The novel takes, the tale succeeds, 187 Amply supplies its author's needs, And Betty Canning is at least, With Gascoyne's help, a six months' feast. Whilst, in contempt of all our pains, The tyrant Superstition reigns Imperious in the heart of man, And warps his thoughts from Nature's plan; Whilst fond Credulity, who ne'er The weight of wholesome doubts could bear, To Reason and herself unjust, Takes all things blindly upon trust; Whilst Curiosity, whose rage No mercy shows to sex or age, Must be indulged at the expense Of judgment, truth, and common sense, Impostures cannot but prevail; And when old miracles grow stale, Jugglers will still the art pursue, And entertain the world with new. For them, obedient to their will, And trembling at their mighty skill, Sad spirits, summon'd from the tomb, Glide, glaring ghastly, through the gloom; In all the usual pomp of storms, In horrid customary forms, A wolf, a bear, a horse, an ape, As Fear and Fancy give them shape, Tormented with despair and pain, They roar, they yell, and clank the chain. Folly and Guilt (for Guilt, howe'er The face of Courage it may wear, Is still a coward at the heart) At fear-created phantoms start. The priest--that very word implies That he's both innocent and wise-Yet fears to travel in the dark, Unless escorted by his clerk. But let not every bungler deem Too lightly of so deep a scheme; For reputation of the art, Each ghost must act a proper part, Observe Decorum's needful grace, 188 And keep the laws of Time and Place; Must change, with happy variation, His manners with his situation; What in the country might pass down, Would be impertinent in town. No spirit of discretion here Can think of breeding awe and fear; 'Twill serve the purpose more by half To make the congregation laugh. We want no ensigns of surprise, Locks stiff with gore, and saucer eyes; Give us an entertaining sprite, Gentle, familiar, and polite, One who appears in such a form As might an holy hermit warm, Or who on former schemes refines, And only talks by sounds and signs, Who will not to the eye appear, But pays her visits to the ear, And knocks so gently, 't would not fright A lady in the darkest night. Such is our Fanny, whose good-will, Which cannot in the grave lie still, Brings her on earth to entertain Her friends and lovers in Cock-lane. ~ Charles Churchill,

1013:The Kalevala - Rune Xvii WAINAMOINEN FINDS THE LOST-WORD. Wainamoinen, old and truthful, Did not learn the words of magic In Tuoni's gloomy regions, In the kingdom of Manala. Thereupon he long debated, Well considered, long reflected, Where to find the magic sayings; When a shepherd came to meet him, Speaking thus to Wainamoinen: 'Thou canst find of words a hundred, Find a thousand wisdom-sayings, In the mouth of wise Wipunen, In the body of the hero; To the spot I know the foot-path, To his tomb the magic highway, Trodden by a host of heroes; Long the distance thou must travel, On the sharpened points of needles; Then a long way thou must journey On the edges of the broadswords; Thirdly thou must travel farther On the edges of the hatchets.' Wainamoinen, old and trustful, Well considered all these journeys, Travelled to the forge and smithy, Thus addressed the metal-worker: 'Ilmarinen, worthy blacksmith, Make a shoe for me of iron, Forge me gloves of burnished copper, Mold a staff of strongest metal, Lay the steel upon the inside, Forge within the might of magic; I am going on a journey To procure the magic sayings, Find the lost-words of the Master, From the mouth of the magician, 303 From the tongue of wise Wipunen.' Spake the artist, Ilmarinen: 'Long ago died wise Wipunen, Disappeared these many ages, Lays no more his snares of copper, Sets no longer traps of iron, Cannot learn from him the wisdom, Cannot find in him the lost-words.' Wainamoinen, old and hopeful, Little heeding, not discouraged, In his metal shoes and armor, Hastens forward on his journey, Runs the first day fleetly onward, On the sharpened points of needles; 'Wearily he strides the second, On the edges of the broadswords Swings himself the third day forward, On the edges of the hatchets. Wise Wipunen, wisdom-singer, Ancient bard, and great magician, With his magic songs lay yonder, Stretched beside him, lay his sayings, On his shoulder grew the aspen, On each temple grew the birch-tree, On his mighty chin the alder, From his beard grew willow-bushes, From his mouth the dark green fir-tree, And the oak-tree from his forehead. Wainamoinen, coming closer, Draws his sword, lays bare his hatchet From his magic leathern scabbard, Fells the aspen from his shoulder, Fells the birch-tree from his temples, From his chin he fells the alder, From his beard, the branching willows, From his mouth the dark-green fir-tree, Fells the oak-tree from his forehead. Now he thrusts his staff of iron Through the mouth of wise Wipunen, Pries his mighty jaws asunder, Speaks these words of master-magic: 'Rise, thou master of magicians, 304 From the sleep of Tuonela, From thine everlasting slumber!' Wise Wipunen, ancient singer, Quickly wakens from his sleeping, Keenly feels the pangs of torture, From the cruel staff of iron; Bites with mighty force the metal, Bites in twain the softer iron, Cannot bite the steel asunder, Opens wide his mouth in anguish. Wainamoinen of Wainola, In his iron-shoes and armor, Careless walking, headlong stumbles In the spacious mouth and fauces Of the magic bard, Wipunen. Wise Wipunen, full of song-charms, Opens wide his mouth and swallows Wainamoinen and his magic, Shoes, and staff, and iron armor. Then outspeaks the wise Wipunen: 'Many things before I've eaten, Dined on goat, and sheep, and reindeer, Bear, and ox, and wolf, and wild-boar, Never in my recollection, Have I tasted sweeter morsels!' Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: 'Now I see the evil symbols, See misfortune hanging o'er me, In the darksome Hisi-hurdles, In the catacombs of Kalma.' Wainamoinen long considered How to live and how to prosper, How to conquer this condition. In his belt he wore a poniard, With a handle hewn from birch-wood, From the handle builds a vessel, Builds a boat through magic science; In this vessel rows he swiftly Through the entrails of the hero, Rows through every gland and vessel Of the wisest of magicians. Old Wipunen, master-singer, 305 Barely feels the hero's presence, Gives no heed to Wainamoinen. Then the artist of Wainola Straightway sets himself to forging, Sets at work to hammer metals; Makes a smithy from his armor, Of his sleeves he makes the bellows, Makes the air-valve from his fur-coat, From his stockings, makes the muzzle, Uses knees instead of anvil, Makes a hammer of his fore-arm; Like the storm-wind roars the bellows, Like the thunder rings the anvil; Forges one day, then a second, Forges till the third day closes, In the body of Wipunen, In the sorcerer's abdomen. Old Wipunen, full of magic, Speaks these words in wonder, guessing: 'Who art thou of ancient heroes, Who of all the host of heroes? Many heroes I have eaten, And of men a countless number, Have not eaten such as thou art; Smoke arises from my nostrils, From my mouth the fire is streaming, In my throat are iron-clinkers. 'Go, thou monster, hence to wander, Flee this place, thou plague of Northland, Ere I go to seek thy mother, Tell the ancient dame thy mischief; She shall bear thine evil conduct, Great the burden she shall carry; Great a mother's pain and anguish, When her child runs wild and lawless; Cannot comprehend the meaning, Nor this mystery unravel, Why thou camest here, O monster, Camest here to give me torture. Art thou Hisi sent from heaven, Some calamity from Ukko? Art, perchance, some new creation, 306 Ordered here to do me evil? If thou art some evil genius, Some calamity from Ukko, Sent to me by my Creator, Then am I resigned to suffer God does not forsake the worthy, Does not ruin those that trust him, Never are the good forsaken. If by man thou wert created, If some hero sent thee hither, I shall learn thy race of evil, Shall destroy thy wicked tribe-folk. 'Thence arose the violation, Thence arose the first destruction, Thence came all the evil-doings: From the neighborhood of wizards, From the homes of the magicians, From the eaves of vicious spirits, From the haunts of fortune-tellers, From the cabins of the witches, From the castles of Tuoni, From the bottom of Manala, From the ground with envy swollen, From Ingratitude's dominions, From the rocky shoals and quicksands, From the marshes filled with danger, From the cataract's commotion, From the bear-caves in the mountains, From the wolves within the thickets, From the roarings of the pine-tree, From the burrows of the fox-dog, From the woodlands of the reindeer, From the eaves and Hisi-hurdles, From the battles of the giants, From uncultivated pastures, From the billows of the oceans, From the streams of boiling waters, From the waterfalls of Rutya, From the limits of the storm-clouds, From the pathways of the thunders, From the flashings of the lightnings, From the distant plains of Pohya, 307 From the fatal stream and whirlpool, From the birthplace of Tuoni. 'Art thou coming from these places? Hast thou, evil, hastened hither, To the heart of sinless hero, To devour my guiltless body, To destroy this wisdom-singer? Get thee hence, thou dog of Lempo, Leave, thou monster from Manala, Flee from mine immortal body, Leave my liver, thing of evil, In my body cease thy forging, Cease this torture of my vitals, Let me rest in peace and slumber. 'Should I want in means efficient, Should I lack the magic power To outroot thine evil genius, I shall call a better hero, Call upon a higher power, To remove this dire misfortune, To annihilate this monster. I shall call the will of woman, From the fields, the old-time heroes? Mounted heroes from the sand-hills, Thus to rescue me from danger, From these pains and ceaseless tortures. 'If this force prove inefficient, Should not drive thee from my body, Come, thou forest, with thy heroes, Come, ye junipers and pine-trees, With your messengers of power, Come, ye mountains, with your wood-nymphs, Come, ye lakes, with all your mermaids, Come, ye hundred ocean-spearmen, Come, torment this son of Hisi, Come and kill this evil monster. 'If this call is inefficient, Does not drive thee from my vitals, Rise, thou ancient water-mother, With thy blue-cap from the ocean, From the seas, the lakes, the rivers, Bring protection to thy hero, 308 Comfort bring and full assistance, That I guiltless may not suffer, May not perish prematurely. 'Shouldst thou brave this invocation, Kapè, daughter of Creation, Come, thou beauteous, golden maiden, Oldest of the race of women, Come and witness my misfortunes, Come and turn away this evil, Come, remove this biting torment, Take away this plague of Piru. 'If this call be disregarded, If thou wilt not leave me guiltless, Ukko, on the arch of heaven, In the thunder-cloud dominions, Come thou quickly, thou art needed, Come, protect thy tortured hero, Drive away this magic demon, Banish ever his enchantment, With his sword and flaming furnace, With his fire-enkindling bellows. 'Go, thou demon, hence to wander, Flee, thou plague of Northland heroes; Never come again for shelter, Nevermore build thou thy dwelling In the body of Wipunen; Take at once thy habitation To the regions of thy kindred, To thy distant fields and firesides; When thy journey thou hast ended, Gained the borders of thy country, Gained the meads of thy Creator, Give a signal of thy coming, Rumble like the peals of thunder, Glisten like the gleam of lightning, Knock upon the outer portals, Enter through the open windows, Glide about the many chambers, Seize the host and seize the hostess, Knock their evil beads together, Wring their necks and hurl their bodies To the black-dogs of the forest. 309 'Should this prove of little value, Hover like the bird of battle, O'er the dwellings of the master, Scare the horses from the mangers, From the troughs affright the cattle, Twist their tails, and horns, and forelocks, Hurl their carcasses to Lempo. 'If some scourge the winds have sent me, Sent me on the air of spring-tide, Brought me by the frosts of winter, Quickly journey whence thou camest, On the air-path of the heavens, Perching not upon some aspen, Resting not upon the birch-tree; Fly away to copper mountains, That the copper-winds may nurse thee, Waves of ether, thy protection. 'Didst those come from high Jumala, From the hems of ragged snow-clouds, Quick ascend beyond the cloud-space, Quickly journey whence thou camest, To the snow-clouds, crystal-sprinkled, To the twinkling stars of heaven There thy fire may burn forever, There may flash thy forked lightnings, In the Sun's undying furnace. 'Wert thou sent here by the spring-floods, Driven here by river-torrents? Quickly journey whence thou camest, Quickly hasten to the waters, To the borders of the rivers, To the ancient water-mountain, That the floods again may rock thee, And thy water-mother nurse thee. 'Didst thou come from Kalma's kingdom, From the castles of the death-land? Haste thou back to thine own country, To the Kalma-halls and castles, To the fields with envy swollen, Where contending armies perish. 'Art thou from the Hisi-woodlands, From ravines in Lempo's forest, 310 From the thickets of the pine-wood, From the dwellings of the fir-glen? Quick retrace thine evil footsteps To the dwellings of thy master, To the thickets of thy kindred; There thou mayest dwell at pleasure, Till thy house decays about thee, Till thy walls shall mould and crumble. Evil genius, thee I banish, Got thee hence, thou horrid monster, To the caverns of the white-bear, To the deep abysm of serpents, To the vales, and swamps, and fenlands, To the ever-silent waters, To the hot-springs of the mountains, To the dead-seas of the Northland, To the lifeless lakes and rivers, To the sacred stream and whirlpool. 'Shouldst thou find no place of resting, I will banish thee still farther, To the Northland's distant borders, To the broad expanse of Lapland, To the ever-lifeless deserts, To the unproductive prairies, Sunless, moonless, starless, lifeless, In the dark abyss of Northland; This for thee, a place befitting, Pitch thy tents and feast forever On the dead plains of Pohyola. 'Shouldst thou find no means of living, I will banish thee still farther, To the cataract of Rutya, To the fire-emitting whirlpool, Where the firs are ever falling, To the windfalls of the forest; Swim hereafter in the waters Of the fire-emitting whirlpool, Whirl thou ever in the current Of the cataract's commotion, In its foam and boiling waters. Should this place be unbefitting, I will drive thee farther onward, 311 To Tuoni's coal-black river, To the endless stream of Mana, Where thou shalt forever linger; Thou canst never leave Manala, Should I not thy head deliver, Should I never pay thy ransom; Thou canst never safely journey Through nine brother-rams abutting, Through nine brother-bulls opposing Through nine brother-stallions thwarting, Thou canst not re-cross Death-river Thickly set with iron netting, Interlaced with threads of copper. 'Shouldst thou ask for steeds for saddle, Shouldst thou need a fleet-foot courser, I will give thee worthy racers, I will give thee saddle-horses; Evil Hisi has a charger, Crimson mane, and tail, and foretop, Fire emitting from his nostrils, As he prances through his pastures; Hoofs are made of strongest iron, Legs are made of steel and copper, Quickly scales the highest mountains, Darts like lightning through the valleys, When a skilful master rides him. 'Should this steed be insufficient, I will give thee Lempo's snow-shoes, Give thee Hisi's shoes of elm-wood, Give to thee the staff of Piru, That with these thou mayest journey Into Hisi's courts and castles, To the woods and fields of Juutas; If the rocks should rise before thee, Dash the flinty rocks in pieces, Hurl the fragments to the heavens; If the branches cross thy pathway, Make them turn aside in greeting; If some mighty hero hail thee, Hurl him headlong to the woodlands. 'Hasten hence, thou thing of evil, Heinous monster, leave my body, 312 Ere the breaking of the morning Ere the Sun awakes from slumber, Ere the sinning of the cuckoo; Haste away, thou plague of Northland, Haste along the track of' moonbeams, Wander hence, forever wander, To the darksome fields or Pohya. 'If at once thou dost not leave me, I will send the eagle's talons, Send to thee the beaks of vultures, To devour thine evil body, Hurl thy skeleton to Hisi. Much more quickly cruel Lempo Left my vitals when commanded, When I called the aid of Ukko, Called the help of my Creator. Flee, thou motherless offendant, Flee, thou fiend of Sariola, Flee, thou hound without a master, Ere the morning sun arises, Ere the Moon withdraws to slumber!' Wainamoinen, ancient hero, Speaks at last to old Wipunen: 'Satisfied am I to linger In these old and spacious caverns, Pleasant here my home and dwelling; For my meat I have thy tissues, Have thy heart, and spleen, and liver, For my drink the blood of ages, Goodly home for Wainamoinen. 'I shall set my forge and bellows Deeper, deeper in thy vitals; I shall swing my heavy hammer, Swing it with a greater power On thy heart, and lungs, and liver; I shall never, never leave thee Till I learn thine incantations, Learn thy many wisdom-sayings, Learn the lost-words of the Master; Never must these words be bidden, Earth must never lose this wisdom, Though the wisdom-singers perish.' 313 Old Wipunen, wise magician, Ancient prophet, filled with power, Opens fall his store of knowledge, Lifts the covers from his cases, Filled with old-time incantations, Filled with songs of times primeval, Filled with ancient wit and wisdom; Sings the very oldest folk-songs, Sings the origin of witchcraft, Sings of Earth and its beginning Sings the first of all creations, Sings the source of good and evil Sung alas! by youth no longer, Only sung in part by heroes In these days of sin and sorrow. Evil days our land befallen. Sings the orders of enchantment. How, upon the will of Ukko, By command of the Creator, How the air was first divided, How the water came from ether, How the earth arose from water, How from earth came vegetation, Fish, and fowl, and man, and hero. Sings again the wise Wipunen, How the Moon was first created, How the Sun was set in heaven, Whence the colors of the rainbow, Whence the ether's crystal pillars, How the skies with stars were sprinkled. Then again sings wise Wipunen, Sings in miracles of concord, Sings in magic tones of wisdom, Never was there heard such singing; Songs he sings in countless numbers, Swift his notes as tongues of serpents, All the distant hills re-echo; Sings one day, and then a second, Sings a third from dawn till evening, Sings from evening till the morning; Listen all the stars of heaven, And the Moon stands still and listens 314 Fall the waves upon the deep-sea, In the bay the tides cease rising, Stop the rivers in their courses, Stops the waterfall of Rutya, Even Jordan ceases flowing, And the Wuoksen stops and listens. When the ancient Wainamoinen Well had learned the magic sayings, Learned the ancient songs and legends, Learned the words of ancient wisdom, Learned the lost-words of the Master, Well had learned the secret doctrine, He prepared to leave the body Of the wisdom-bard, Wipunen, Leave the bosom of the master, Leave the wonderful enchanter. Spake the hero, Wainamoinen: 'O, thou Antero Wipunen, Open wide thy mouth and fauces, I have found the magic lost-words, I will leave thee now forever, Leave thee and thy wondrous singing, Will return to Kalevala, To Wainola's fields and firesides.' Thus Wipunen spake in answer: 'Many are the things I've eaten, Eaten bear, and elk, and reindeer, Eaten ox, and wolf, and wild-boar, Eaten man, and eaten hero, Never, never have I eaten Such a thing as Wainamoinen; Thou hast found what thou desirest, Found the three words of the Master; Go in peace, and ne'er returning, Take my blessing on thy going.' Thereupon the bard Wipunen Opens wide his mouth, and wider; And the good, old Wainamoinen Straightway leaves the wise enchanter, Leaves Wipunen's great abdomen; From the mouth he glides and journeys O'er the hills and vales of Northland, 315 Swift as red-deer or the forest, Swift as yellow-breasted marten, To the firesides of Wainola, To the plains of Kalevala. Straightway hastes he to the smithy Of his brother, Ilmarinen, Thus the iron-artist greets him: Hast thou found the long-lost wisdom, Hast thou heard the secret doctrine, Hast thou learned the master magic, How to fasten in the ledges, How the stern should be completed, How complete the ship's forecastle? Wainamoinen thus made answer: 'I have learned of words a hundred, Learned a thousand incantations, Hidden deep for many ages, Learned the words of ancient wisdom, Found the keys of secret doctrine, Found the lost-words of the Master.' Wainamoinen, magic-builder, Straightway journeys to his vessel, To the spot of magic labor, Quickly fastens in the ledges, Firmly binds the stern together And completes the boat's forecastle. Thus the ancient Wainamoinen Built the boat with magic only, And with magic launched his vessel, Using not the hand to touch it, Using not the foot to move it, Using not the knee to turn it, Using nothing to propel it. Thus the third task was completed, For the hostess of Pohyola, Dowry for the Maid of Beauty Sitting on the arch of heaven, On the bow of many colors. ~ Elias Lönnrot,

1014:The Kalevala - Rune Ix ORIGIN OF IRON. Wainamoinen, thus encouraged, Quickly rises in his snow-sledge, Asking no one for assistance, Straightway hastens to the cottage, Takes a seat within the dwelling. Come two maids with silver pitchers, Bringing also golden goblets; Dip they up a very little, But the very smallest measure Of the blood of the magician, From the wounds of Wainamoinen. From the fire-place calls the old man, Thus the gray-beard asks the minstrel: 'Tell me who thou art of heroes, Who of all the great magicians? Lo! thy blood fills seven sea-boats, Eight of largest birchen vessels, Flowing from some hero's veinlets, From the wounds of some magician. Other matters I would ask thee; Sing the cause of this thy trouble, Sing to me the source of metals, Sing the origin of iron, How at first it was created.' Then the ancient Wainamoinen Made this answer to the gray-beard: 'Know I well the source of metals, Know the origin of iron; f can tell bow steel is fashioned. Of the mothers air is oldest, Water is the oldest brother, And the fire is second brother, And the youngest brother, iron; Ukko is the first creator. Ukko, maker of the heavens, Cut apart the air and water, 54 Ere was born the metal, iron. Ukko, maker of the heavens, Firmly rubbed his hands together, Firmly pressed them on his knee-cap, Then arose three lovely maidens, Three most beautiful of daughters; These were mothers of the iron, And of steel of bright-blue color. Tremblingly they walked the heavens, Walked the clouds with silver linings, With their bosoms overflowing With the milk of future iron, Flowing on and flowing ever, From the bright rims of the cloudlets To the earth, the valleys filling, To the slumber-calling waters. 'Ukko's eldest daughter sprinkled Black milk over river channels And the second daughter sprinkled White milk over hills and mountains, While the youngest daughter sprinkled Red milk over seas and oceans. Whero the black milk had been sprinked, Grew the dark and ductile iron; Where the white milk had been sprinkled. Grew the iron, lighter-colored; Where the red milk had been sprinkled, Grew the red and brittle iron. 'After Time had gone a distance, Iron hastened Fire to visit, His beloved elder brother, Thus to know his brother better. Straightway Fire began his roarings, Labored to consume his brother, His beloved younger brother. Straightway Iron sees his danger, Saves himself by fleetly fleeing, From the fiery flame's advances, Fleeing hither, fleeing thither, Fleeing still and taking shelter In the swamps and in the valleys, In the springs that loudly bubble, 55 By the rivers winding seaward, On the broad backs of the marshes, Where the swans their nests have builded, Where the wild geese hatch their goslings. 'Thus is iron in the swamp-lands, Stretching by the water-courses, Hidden well for many ages, Hidden in the birchen forests, But he could not hide forever From the searchings of his brother; Here and there the fire has caught him, Caught and brought him to his furnace, That the spears, and swords, and axes, Might be forged and duly hammered. In the swamps ran blackened waters, From the heath the bears came ambling, And the wolves ran through the marshes. Iron then made his appearance, Where the feet of wolves had trodden, Where the paws of bears had trampled. 'Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Came to earth to work the metal; He was born upon the Coal-mount, Skilled and nurtured in the coal-fields; In one hand, a copper hammer, In the other, tongs of iron; In the night was born the blacksmith, In the morn he built his smithy, Sought with care a favored hillock, Where the winds might fill his bellows; Found a hillock in the swamp-lands, Where the iron hid abundant; There he built his smelting furnace, There he laid his leathern bellows, Hastened where the wolves had travelled, Followed where the bears had trampled, Found the iron's young formations, In the wolf-tracks of the marshes, In the foot-prints of the gray-bear. 'Then the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, 'Thus addressed the sleeping iron: Thou most useful of the metals, 56 Thou art sleeping in the marshes, Thou art hid in low conditions, Where the wolf treads in the swamp-lands, Where the bear sleeps in the thickets. Hast thou thought and well considered, What would be thy future station, Should I place thee in the furnace, Thus to make thee free and useful?' 'Then was Iron sorely frightened, Much distressed and filled with horror, When of Fire he heard the mention, Mention of his fell destroyer. 'Then again speaks Ilmarinen, Thus the smith addresses Iron: 'Be not frightened, useful metal, Surely Fire will not consume thee, Will not burn his youngest brother, Will not harm his nearest kindred. Come thou to my room and furnace, Where the fire is freely burning, Thou wilt live, and grow, and prosper, Wilt become the swords of heroes, Buckles for the belts of women.' 'Ere arose the star of evening, Iron ore had left the marshes, From the water-beds had risen, Had been carried to the furnace, In the fire the smith had laid it, Laid it in his smelting furnace. Ilmarinen starts the bellows, Gives three motions of the handle, And the iron flows in streamlets From the forge of the magician, Soon becomes like baker's leaven, Soft as dough for bread of barley. Then out-screamed the metal, Iron: 'Wondrous blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Take, O take me from thy furnace, From this fire and cruel torture.' 'Ilmarinen thus made answer: 'I will take thee from my furnace, 'Thou art but a little frightened, 57 Thou shalt be a mighty power, Thou shalt slay the best of heroes, Thou shalt wound thy dearest brother.' 'Straightway Iron made this promise, Vowed and swore in strongest accents, By the furnace, by the anvil, By the tongs, and by the hammer, These the words he vowed and uttered: 'Many trees that I shall injure, Shall devour the hearts of mountains, Shall not slay my nearest kindred, Shall not kill the best of heroes, Shall not wound my dearest brother; Better live in civil freedom, Happier would be my life-time, Should I serve my fellow-beings, Serve as tools for their convenience, Than as implements of warfare, Slay my friends and nearest. kindred, Wound the children of my mother.' 'Now the master, Ilmarinen, The renowned and skilful blacksmith, From the fire removes the iron, Places it upon the anvil, Hammers well until it softens, Hammers many fine utensils, Hammers spears, and swords, and axes, Hammers knives, and forks, and hatchets, Hammers tools of all descriptions. 'Many things the blacksmith needed, Many things he could not fashion, Could not make the tongue of iron, Could not hammer steel from iron, Could not make the iron harden. Well considered Ilmarinen, Deeply thought and long reflected. Then he gathered birchen ashes, Steeped the ashes in the water, Made a lye to harden iron, Thus to form the steel most needful. With his tongue he tests the mixture, Weighs it long and well considers, 58 And the blacksmith speaks as follows: 'All this labor is for nothing, Will not fashion steel from iron, Will not make the soft ore harden.' 'Now a bee flies from the meadow, Blue-wing coming from the flowers, Flies about, then safely settles Near the furnace of the smithy. ''Thus the smith the bee addresses, These the words of Ilmarinen: 'Little bee, thou tiny birdling, Bring me honey on thy winglets, On thy tongue, I pray thee, bring me Sweetness from the fragrant meadows, From the little cups of flowers, From the tips of seven petals, That we thus may aid the water To produce the steel from iron.' 'Evil Hisi's bird, the hornet, Heard these words of Ilmarinen, Looking from the cottage gable, Flying to the bark of birch-trees, While the iron bars were heating While the steel was being tempered; Swiftly flew the stinging hornet, Scattered all the Hisi horrors, Brought the blessing of the serpent, Brought the venom of the adder, Brought the poison of the spider, Brought the stings of all the insects, Mixed them with the ore and water, While the steel was being, tempered. 'Ilmarinen, skilful blacksmith, First of all the iron-workers, Thought the bee had surely brought him Honey from the fragrant meadows, From the little cups of flowers, From the tips of seven petals, And he spake the words that follow: 'Welcome, welcome, is thy coming, Honeyed sweetness from the flowers Thou hast brought to aid the water, 59 Thus to form the steel from iron!' 'Ilmarinen, ancient blacksmith, Dipped the iron into water, Water mixed with many poisons, Thought it but the wild bee's honey; Thus he formed the steel from iron. When he plunged it into water, Water mixed with many poisons, When be placed it in the furnace, Angry grew the hardened iron, Broke the vow that he had taken, Ate his words like dogs and devils, Mercilessly cut his brother, Madly raged against his kindred, Caused the blood to flow in streamlets From the wounds of man and hero. This, the origin of iron, And of steel of light blue color.' From the hearth arose the gray-beard, Shook his heavy looks and answered: 'Now I know the source of iron, Whence the steel and whence its evils; Curses on thee, cruel iron, Curses on the steel thou givest, Curses on thee, tongue of evil, Cursed be thy life forever! Once thou wert of little value, Having neither form nor beauty, Neither strength nor great importance, When in form of milk thou rested, When for ages thou wert hidden In the breasts of God's three daughters, Hidden in their heaving bosoms, On the borders of the cloudlets, In the blue vault of the heavens. 'Thou wert once of little value, Having neither form nor beauty, Neither strength nor great importance, When like water thou wert resting On the broad back of the marshes, On the steep declines of mountains, When thou wert but formless matter, 60 Only dust of rusty color. 'Surely thou wert void of greatness, Having neither strength nor beauty, When the moose was trampling on thee, When the roebuck trod upon thee, When the tracks of wolves were in thee, And the bear-paws scratched thy body. Surely thou hadst little value When the skilful Ilmarinen, First of all the iron-workers, Brought thee from the blackened swamp-lands, Took thee to his ancient smithy, Placed thee in his fiery furnace. Truly thou hadst little vigor, Little strength, and little danger, When thou in the fire wert hissing, Rolling forth like seething water, From the furnace of the smithy, When thou gavest oath the strongest, By the furnace, by the anvil, By the tongs, and by the hammer, By the dwelling of the blacksmith, By the fire within the furnace. 'Now forsooth thou hast grown mighty, Thou canst rage in wildest fury; Thou hast broken all thy pledges, All thy solemn vows hast broken, Like the dogs thou shamest honor, Shamest both thyself and kindred, Tainted all with breath of evil. Tell who drove thee to this mischief, Tell who taught thee all thy malice, Tell who gavest thee thine evil! Did thy father, or thy mother, Did the eldest of thy brothers, Did the youngest of thy sisters, Did the worst of all thy kindred Give to thee thine evil nature? Not thy father, nor thy mother, Not the eldest of thy brothers, Not the youngest of thy sisters, Not the worst of all thy kindred, 61 But thyself hast done this mischief, Thou the cause of all our trouble. Come and view thine evil doings, And amend this flood of damage, Ere I tell thy gray-haired mother, Ere I tell thine aged father. Great indeed a mother's anguish, Great indeed a father's sorrow, When a son does something evil, When a child runs wild and lawless. 'Crimson streamlet, cease thy flowing From the wounds of Wainamoinen; Blood of ages, stop thy coursing From the veins of the magician; Stand like heaven's crystal pillars, Stand like columns in the ocean, Stand like birch-trees in the forest, Like the tall reeds in the marshes, Like the high-rocks on the sea-coast, Stand by power of mighty magic! 'Should perforce thy will impel thee, Flow thou on thine endless circuit, Through the veins of Wainamoinen, Through the bones, and through the muscles, Through the lungs, and heart, and liver, Of the mighty sage and singer; Better be the food of heroes, Than to waste thy strength and virtue On the meadows and the woodlands, And be lost in dust and ashes. Flow forever in thy circle; Thou must cease this crimson out-flow; Stain no more the grass and flowers, Stain no more these golden hill-tops, Pride and beauty of our heroes. In the veins of the magician, In the heart of Wainamoinen, Is thy rightful home and storehouse. Thither now withdraw thy forces, Thither hasten, swiftly flowing; Flow no more as crimson currents, Fill no longer crimson lakelets, 62 Must not rush like brooks in spring-tide, Nor meander like the rivers. 'Cease thy flow, by word of magic, Cease as did the falls of Tyrya, As the rivers of Tuoni, When the sky withheld her rain-drops, When the sea gave up her waters, In the famine of the seasons, In the years of fire and torture. If thou heedest not this order, I shall offer other measures, Know I well of other forces; I shall call the Hisi irons, In them I shall boil and roast thee, Thus to check thy crimson flowing, Thus to save the wounded hero. 'If these means be inefficient, Should these measures prove unworthy, I shall call omniscient Ukko, Mightiest of the creators, Stronger than all ancient heroes, Wiser than the world-magicians; He will check the crimson out-flow, He will heal this wound of hatchet. 'Ukko, God of love and mercy, God and Master Of the heavens, Come thou hither, thou art needed, Come thou quickly I beseech thee, Lend thy hand to aid thy children, Touch this wound with healing fingers, Stop this hero's streaming life-blood, Bind this wound with tender leaflets, Mingle with them healing flowers, Thus to check this crimson current, Thus to save this great magician, Save the life of Wainamoinen.' Thus at last the blood-stream ended, As the magic words were spoken. Then the gray-beard, much rejoicing, Sent his young son to the smithy, There to make a healing balsam, From the herbs of tender fibre, 63 From the healing plants and flowers, From the stalks secreting honey, From the roots, and leaves, and blossoms. On the way he meets an oak-tree, And the oak the son addresses: 'Hast thou honey in thy branches, Does thy sap run full of sweetness?' Thus the oak-tree wisely answers: 'Yea, but last night dripped the honey Down upon my spreading branches, And the clouds their fragrance sifted, Sifted honey on my leaflets, From their home within the heavens.' Then the son takes oak-wood splinters, Takes the youngest oak-tree branches, Gathers many healing grasses, Gathers many herbs and flowers, Rarest herbs that grow in Northland, Places them within the furnace In a kettle made of copper; Lets them steep and boil together, Bits of bark chipped from the oak-tree, Many herbs of healing virtues; Steeps them one day, then a second, Three long days of summer weather, Days and nights in quick succession; Then he tries his magic balsam, Looks to see if it is ready, If his remedy is finished; But the balsam is unworthy. Then he added other grasses, Herbs of every healing virtue, That were brought from distant nations, Many hundred leagues from Northland, Gathered by the wisest minstrels, Thither brought by nine enchanters. Three days more be steeped the balsam, Three nights more the fire be tended, Nine the days and nights be watched it, Then again be tried the ointment, Viewed it carefully and tested, Found at last that it was ready, 64 Found the magic balm was finished. Near by stood a branching birch-tree. On the border of the meadow, Wickedly it had been broken, Broken down by evil Hisi; Quick he takes his balm of healing, And anoints the broken branches, Rubs the balsam in the fractures, Thus addresses then the birch-tree: 'With this balsam I anoint thee, With this salve thy wounds I cover, Cover well thine injured places; Now the birch-tree shall recover, Grow more beautiful than ever.' True, the birch-tree soon recovered, Grew more beautiful than ever, Grew more uniform its branches, And its bole more strong and stately. Thus it was be tried the balsam, Thus the magic salve he tested, Touched with it the splintered sandstone, Touched the broken blocks of granite, Touched the fissures in the mountains, And the broken parts united, All the fragments grew together. Then the young boy quick returning With the balsam he had finished, To the gray-beard gave the ointment, And the boy these measures uttered 'Here I bring the balm of healing, Wonderful the salve I bring thee; It will join the broken granite, Make the fragments grow together, Heat the fissures in the mountains, And restore the injured birch-tree.' With his tongue the old man tested, Tested thus the magic balsam, Found the remedy effective, Found the balm had magic virtues; Then anointed he the minstrel, Touched the wounds of Wainamoinen, Touched them with his magic balsam, 65 With the balm of many virtues; Speaking words of ancient wisdom, These the words the gray-beard uttered: 'Do not walk in thine own virtue, Do not work in thine own power, Walk in strength of thy Creator; Do not speak in thine own wisdom, Speak with tongue of mighty Ukko. In my mouth, if there be sweetness, It has come from my Creator; If my bands are filled with beauty, All the beauty comes from Ukko.' When the wounds had been anointed, When the magic salve had touched them, Straightway ancient Wainamoinen Suffered fearful pain and anguish, Sank upon the floor in torment, Turning one way, then another, Sought for rest and found it nowhere, Till his pain the gray-beard banished, Banished by the aid of magic, Drove away his killing torment To the court of all our trouble, To the highest hill of torture, To the distant rocks and ledges, To the evil-bearing mountains, To the realm of wicked Hisi. Then be took some silken fabric, Quick he tore the silk asunder, Making equal strips for wrapping, Tied the ends with silken ribbons, Making thus a healing bandage; Then he wrapped with skilful fingers Wainamoinen's knee and ankle, Wrapped the wounds of the magician, And this prayer the gray-beard uttered 'Ukko's fabric is the bandage, Ukko's science is the surgeon, These have served the wounded hero, Wrapped the wounds of the magician. Look upon us, God of mercy, Come and guard us, kind Creator, 66 And protect us from all evil! Guide our feet lest they may stumble, Guard our lives from every danger, From the wicked wilds of Hisi.' Wainamoinen, old and truthful, Felt the mighty aid of magic, Felt the help of gracious Ukko, Straightway stronger grew in body, Straightway were the wounds united, Quick the fearful pain departed. Strong and hardy grew the hero, Straightway walked in perfect freedom, Turned his knee in all directions, Knowing neither pain nor trouble. Then the ancient Wainamoinen Raised his eyes to high Jumala, Looked with gratitude to heaven, Looked on high, in joy and gladness, Then addressed omniscient Ukko, This the prayer the minstrel uttered: 'O be praised, thou God of mercy, Let me praise thee, my Creator, Since thou gavest me assistance, And vouchsafed me thy protection, Healed my wounds and stilled mine anguish, Banished all my pain and trouble, Caused by Iron and by Hisi. O, ye people of Wainola, People of this generation, And the folk of future ages, Fashion not in emulation, River boat, nor ocean shallop, Boasting of its fine appearance, God alone can work completion, Give to cause its perfect ending, Never hand of man can find it, Never can the hero give it, Ukko is the only Master.' ~ Elias Lönnrot,

1015:The Kalevala - Rune L MARIATTA--WAINAMOINEN'S DEPARTURE. Mariatta, child of beauty, Grew to maidenhood in Northland, In the cabin of her father, In the chambers of her mother, Golden ringlets, silver girdles, Worn against the keys paternal, Glittering upon her bosom; Wore away the father's threshold With the long robes of her garments; Wore away the painted rafters With her beauteous silken ribbons; Wore away the gilded pillars With the touching of her fingers; Wore away the birchen flooring With the tramping of her fur-shoes. Mariatta, child of beauty, Magic maid of little stature, Guarded well her sacred virtue, Her sincerity and honor, Fed upon the dainty whiting, On the inner bark of birch-wood, On the tender flesh of lambkins. When she hastened in the evening To her milking in the hurdles, Spake in innocence as follows: 'Never will the snow-white virgin Milk the kine of one unworthy!' When she journeyed over snow-fields, On the seat beside her father, Spake in purity as follows: 'Not behind a steed unworthy Will I ever ride the snow-sledge!' Mariatta, child of beauty, Lived a virgin with her mother, As a maiden highly honored, Lived in innocence and beauty, 68 Daily drove her flocks to pasture, Walking with the gentle lambkins. When the lambkins climbed the mountains, When they gamboled on the hill-tops, Stepped the virgin to the meadow, Skipping through a grove of lindens, At the calling of the cuckoo, To the songster's golden measures. Mariatta, child of beauty, Looked about, intently listened, Sat upon the berry-meadow Sat awhile, and meditated On a hillock by the forest, And soliloquized as follows: 'Call to me, thou golden cuckoo, Sing, thou sacred bird of Northland, Sing, thou silver breasted songster, Speak, thou strawberry of Ehstland, Tell bow long must I unmarried, As a shepherdess neglected, Wander o'er these bills and mountains, Through these flowery fens and fallows. Tell me, cuckoo of the woodlands, Sing to me how many summers I must live without a husband, As a shepherdess neglected!' Mariatta, child of beauty, Lived a shepherd-maid for ages, As a virgin with her mother. Wretched are the lives of shepherds, Lives of maidens still more wretched, Guarding flocks upon the mountains; Serpents creep in bog and stubble, On the greensward dart the lizards; But it was no serpent singing, Nor a sacred lizard calling, It was but the mountain-berry Calling to the lonely maiden: 'Come, O virgin, come and pluck me, Come and take me to thy bosom, Take me, tinsel-breasted virgin, Take me, maiden, copper-belted, 69 Ere the slimy snail devours me, Ere the black-worm feeds upon me. Hundreds pass my way unmindful, Thousands come within my hearing, Berry-maidens swarm about me, Children come in countless numbers, None of these has come to gather, Come to pluck this ruddy berry.' Mariatta, child of beauty, Listened to its gentle pleading, Ran to pick the berry, calling, With her fair and dainty fingers,. Saw it smiling near the meadow, Like a cranberry in feature, Like a strawberry in flavor; But be Virgin, Mariatta, Could not pluck the woodland-stranger, Thereupon she cut a charm-stick, Downward pressed upon the berry, When it rose as if by magic, Rose above her shoes of ermine, Then above her copper girdle, Darted upward to her bosom, Leaped upon the maiden's shoulder, On her dimpled chin it rested, On her lips it perched a moment, Hastened to her tongue expectant To and fro it rocked and lingered, Thence it hastened on its journey, Settled in the maiden's bosom. Mariatta, child of beauty, Thus became a bride impregnate, Wedded to the mountain-berry; Lingered in her room at morning, Sat at midday in the darkness, Hastened to her couch at evening. Thus the watchful mother wonders: 'What has happened to our Mary, To our virgin, Mariatta, That she throws aside her girdle, Shyly slips through hall and chamber, Lingers in her room at morning, 70 Hastens to her couch at evening, Sits at midday in the darkness?' On the floor a babe was playing, And the young child thus made answer: 'This has happened to our Mary, To our virgin, Mariatta, This misfortune to the maiden: She has lingered by the meadows, Played too long among the lambkins, Tasted of the mountain-berry.' Long the virgin watched and waited, Anxiously the days she counted, Waiting for the dawn of trouble. Finally she asked her mother, These the words of Mariatta: 'Faithful mother, fond and tender, Mother whom I love and cherish, Make for me a place befitting, Where my troubles may be lessened, And my heavy burdens lightened.' This the answer of the mother: 'Woe to thee, thou Hisi-maiden, Since thou art a bride unworthy, Wedded only to dishonor!' Mariatta, child of beauty, Thus replied in truthful measures: 'I am not a maid of Hisi, I am not a bride unworthy, Am not wedded to dishonor; As a shepherdess I wandered With the lambkins to the glen-wood, Wandered to the berry-mountain, Where the strawberry had ripened; Quick as thought I plucked the berry, On my tongue I gently laid it, To and fro it rocked and lingered, Settled in my heaving bosom. This the source of all my trouble, Only cause of my dishonor!' As the mother was relentless, Asked the maiden of her father, This the virgin-mother's pleading: 71 O my father, full of pity, Source of both my good and evil, Build for me a place befitting, Where my troubles may be lessened, And my heavy burdens lightened.' This the answer of the father, Of the father unforgiving: 'Go, thou evil child of Hisi, Go, thou child of sin and sorrow, Wedded only to dishonor, To the Great Bear's rocky chamber, To the stone-cave of the growler, There to lessen all thy troubles, There to cast thy heavy burdens!' Mariatta, child of beauty, Thus made answer to her father: 'I am not a child of Hisi, I am not a bride unworthy, Am not wedded to dishonor; I shall bear a noble hero, I shall bear a son immortal, Who will rule among the mighty, Rule the ancient Wainamoinen.' Thereupon the virgin-mother Wandered hither, wandered thither, Seeking for a place befitting, Seeking for a worthy birth-place For her unborn son and hero; Finally these words she uttered 'Piltti, thou my youngest maiden, Trustiest of all my servants, Seek a place within the village, Ask it of the brook of Sara, For the troubled Mariatta, Child of sorrow and misfortune.' Thereupon the little maiden, Piltti, spake these words in answer: 'Whom shall I entreat for succor, Who will lend me his assistance? These the words of Mariatta: 'Go and ask it of Ruotus, Where the reed-brook pours her waters.' 72 Thereupon the servant, Piltti, Ever hopeful, ever willing, Hastened to obey her mistress, Needing not her exhortation; Hastened like the rapid river, Like the flying smoke of battle To the cabin of Ruotus. When she walked the hill-tops tottered, When she ran the mountains trembled; Shore-reeds danced upon the pasture, Sandstones skipped about the heather As the maiden, Piltti, hastened To the dwelling of Ruotus. At his table in his cabin Sat Ruotus, eating, drinking, In his simple coat of linen. With his elbows on the table Spake the wizard in amazement: 'Why hast thou, a maid of evil, Come to see me in my cavern, What the message thou art bringing? Thereupon the servant, Piltti, Gave this answer to the wizard: 'Seek I for a spot befitting, Seek I for a worthy birth-place, For an unborn child and hero; Seek it near the Sara-streamlet, Where the reed-brook pours her waters. Came the wife of old Ruotus, Walking with her arms akimbo, Thus addressed the maiden, Piltti: 'Who is she that asks assistance, Who the maiden thus dishonored, What her name, and who her kindred?' 'I have come for Mariatta, For the worthy virgin-mother.' Spake the wife of old Ruotus, Evil-minded, cruel-hearted: 'Occupied are all our chambers, All our bath-rooms near the reed-brook; in the mount of fire are couches, is a stable in the forest, 73 For the flaming horse of Hisi; In the stable is a manger Fitting birth-place for the hero From the wife of cold misfortune, Worthy couch for Mariatta!' Thereupon the servant, Piltti, Hastened to her anxious mistress, Spake these measures, much regretting. 'There is not a place befitting, on the silver brook of Sara. Spake the wife of old Ruotus: 'Occupied are all the chambers, All the bath-rooms near the reed-brook; In the mount of fire are couches, Is a stable, in the forest, For the flaming horse of Hisi; In the stable is a manger, Fitting birth-place for the hero From the wife of cold misfortune, Worthy couch for Mariatta.'' Thereupon the hapless maiden, Mariatta, virgin-mother, Fell to bitter tears and murmurs, Spake these words in depths of sorrow: 'I, alas! must go an outcast, Wander as a wretched hireling, Like a servant in dishonor, Hasten to the burning mountain, To the stable in the forest, Make my bed within a manger, Near the flaming steed of Hisi!' Quick the hapless virgin-mother, Outcast from her father's dwelling, Gathered up her flowing raiment, Grasped a broom of birchen branches, Hastened forth in pain and sorrow To the stable in the woodlands, On the heights of Tapio's mountains, Spake these words in supplication: 'Come, I pray thee, my Creator, Only friend in times of trouble, Come to me and bring protection 74 To thy child, the virgin-mother, To the maiden, Mariatta, In this hour of sore affliction. Come to me, benignant Ukko, Come, thou only hope and refuge, Lest thy guiltless child should perish, Die the death of the unworthy!' When the virgin, Mariatta, Had arrived within the stable Of the flaming horse of Hisi, She addressed the steed as follows: 'Breathe, O sympathizing fire-horse, Breathe on me, the virgin-mother, Let thy heated breath give moisture, Let thy pleasant warmth surround me, Like the vapor of the morning; Let this pure and helpless maiden Find a refuge in thy manger!' Thereupon the horse, in pity, Breathed the moisture of his nostrils On the body of the virgin, Wrapped her in a cloud of vapor, Gave her warmth and needed comforts, Gave his aid to the afflicted, To the virgin, Mariatta. There the babe was born and cradled Cradled in a woodland-manger, Of the virgin, Mariatta, Pure as pearly dews of morning, Holy as the stars in heaven. There the mother rocks her infant, In his swaddling clothes she wraps him, Lays him in her robes of linen; Carefully the babe she nurtures, Well she guards her much-beloved, Guards her golden child of beauty, Her beloved gem of silver. But alas! the child has vanished, Vanished while the mother slumbered. Mariatta, lone and wretched, Fell to weeping, broken-hearted, Hastened off to seek her infant. 75 Everywhere the mother sought him, Sought her golden child of beauty, Her beloved gem of silver; Sought him underneath the millstone, In the sledge she sought him vainly, Underneath the sieve she sought him, Underneath the willow-basket, Touched the trees, the grass she parted, Long she sought her golden infant, Sought him on the fir-tree-mountain, In the vale, and hill, and heather; Looks within the clumps of flowers, Well examines every thicket, Lifts the juniper and willow, Lifts the branches of the alder. Lo! a star has come to meet her, And the star she thus beseeches-. 'O, thou guiding-star of Northland, Star of hope, by God created, Dost thou know and wilt thou tell me Where my darling child has wandered, Where my holy babe lies hidden?' Thus the star of Northland answers: 'If I knew, I would not tell thee; 'Tis thy child that me created, Set me here to watch at evening, In the cold to shine forever, Here to twinkle in the darkness.' Comes the golden Moon to meet her, And the Moon she thus beseeches: 'Golden Moon, by Ukko fashioned, Hope and joy of Kalevala, Dost thou know and wilt thou tell me Where my darling child has wandered, Where my holy babe lies hidden? Speaks the golden Moon in answer: 'If I knew I would not tell thee; 'Tis thy child that me created, Here to wander in the darkness, All alone at eve to wander On my cold and cheerless journey, Sleeping only in the daylight, 76 Shining for the good of others.' Thereupon the virgin-mother Falls again to bitter weeping, Hastens on through fen and forest, Seeking for her babe departed. Comes the silver Sun to meet her, And the Sun she thus addresses: 'Silver Sun by Ukko fashioned, Source of light and life to Northland, Dost thou know and wilt thou tell me Where my darling child has wandered, Where my holy babe lies hidden?' Wisely does the Sun make answer: 'Well I know thy babe's dominions, Where thy holy child is sleeping, Where Wainola's light lies hidden; 'Tis thy child that me created, Made me king of earth and ether, Made the Moon and Stars attend me, Set me here to shine at midday, Makes me shine in silver raiment, Lets me sleep and rest at evening; Yonder is thy golden infant, There thy holy babe lies sleeping, Hidden to his belt in water, Hidden in the reeds and rushes.' Mariatta, child of beauty, Virgin-mother of the Northland, Straightway seeks her babe in Swamp-land, Finds him in the reeds and rushes; Takes the young child on her bosom To the dwelling of her father. There the infant grew in beauty, Gathered strength, and light, and wisdom, All of Suomi saw and wondered. No one knew what name to give him; When the mother named him, Flower, Others named him, Son-of-Sorrow. When the virgin, Mariatta, Sought the priesthood to baptize him, Came an old man, Wirokannas, With a cup of holy water, 77 Bringing to the babe his blessing; And the gray-beard spake as follows: 'I shall not baptize a wizard, Shall not bless a black-magician With the drops of holy water; Let the young child be examined, Let us know that he is worthy, Lest he prove the son of witchcraft.' Thereupon old Wirokannas Called the ancient Wainamoinen, The eternal wisdom-singer, To inspect the infant-wonder, To report him good or evil. Wainamoinen, old and faithful, Carefully the child examined, Gave this answer to his people: 'Since the child is but an outcast, Born and cradled in a manger, Since the berry is his father; Let him lie upon the heather, Let him sleep among the rushes, Let him live upon the mountains; Take the young child to the marshes, Dash his head against the birch-tree.' Then the child of Mariatta, Only two weeks old, made answer: 'O, thou ancient Wainamoinen, Son of Folly and Injustice, Senseless hero of the Northland, Falsely hast thou rendered judgment. In thy years, for greater follies, Greater sins and misdemeanors, Thou wert not unjustly punished. In thy former years of trouble, When thou gavest thine own brother, For thy selfish life a ransom, Thus to save thee from destruction, Then thou wert not sent to Swamp-land To be murdered for thy follies. In thy former years of sorrow, When the beauteous Aino perished In the deep and boundless blue-sea, 78 To escape thy persecutions, Then thou wert not evil-treated, Wert not banished by thy people.' Thereupon old Wirokannas, Of the wilderness the ruler, Touched the child with holy water, Crave the wonder-babe his blessing, Gave him rights of royal heirship, Free to live and grow a hero, To become a mighty ruler, King and Master of Karyala. As the years passed Wainamoinen Recognized his waning powers, Empty-handed, heavy-hearted, Sang his farewell song to Northland, To the people of Wainola; Sang himself a boat of copper, Beautiful his bark of magic; At the helm sat the magician, Sat the ancient wisdom-singer. Westward, westward, sailed the hero O'er the blue-back of the waters, Singing as he left Wainola, This his plaintive song and echo: 'Suns may rise and set in Suomi, Rise and set for generations, When the North will learn my teachings, Will recall my wisdom-sayings, Hungry for the true religion. Then will Suomi need my coming, Watch for me at dawn of morning, That I may bring back the Sampo, Bring anew the harp of joyance, Bring again the golden moonlight, Bring again the silver sunshine, Peace and plenty to the Northland.' Thus the ancient Wainamoinen, In his copper-banded vessel, Left his tribe in Kalevala, Sailing o'er the rolling billows, Sailing through the azure vapors, Sailing through the dusk of evening, 79 Sailing to the fiery sunset, To the higher-landed regions, To the lower verge of heaven; Quickly gained the far horizon, Gained the purple-colored harbor. There his bark be firmly anchored, Rested in his boat of copper; But be left his harp of magic, Left his songs and wisdom-sayings, To the lasting joy of Suomi. EPILOGUE. Now I end my measured singing, Bid my weary tongue keep silence, Leave my songs to other singers. Horses have their times of resting After many hours of labor; Even sickles will grow weary When they have been long at reaping; Waters seek a quiet haven After running long in rivers; Fire subsides and sinks in slumber At the dawning of the morning Therefore I should end my singing, As my song is growing weary, For the pleasure of the evening, For the joy of morn arising. Often I have heard it chanted, Often heard the words repeated: 'Worthy cataracts and rivers Never empty all their waters.' Thus the wise and worthy singer Sings not all his garnered wisdom; Better leave unsung some sayings Than to sing them out of season. Thus beginning, and thus ending, Do I roll up all my legends, Roll them in a ball for safety, In my memory arrange them, In their narrow place of resting, Lest the songs escape unheeded, While the lock is still unopened, While the teeth remain unparted, 80 And the weary tongue is silent. Why should I sing other legends, Chant them in the glen and forest, Sing them on the hill and heather? Cold and still my golden mother Lies beneath the meadow, sleeping, Hears my ancient songs no longer, Cannot listen to my singing; Only will the forest listen, Sacred birches, sighing pine-trees, Junipers endowed with kindness, Alder-trees that love to bear me, With the aspens and the willows. When my loving mother left me, Young was I, and low of stature; Like the cuckoo of the forest, Like the thrush upon the heather, Like the lark I learned to twitter, Learned to sing my simple measures, Guided by a second mother, Stern and cold, without affection; Drove me helpless from my chamber To the wind-side of her dwelling, To the north-side of her cottage, Where the chilling winds in mercy Carried off the unprotected. As a lark I learned to wander, Wander as a lonely song-bird, Through the forests and the fenlands Quietly o'er hill and heather; Walked in pain about the marshes, Learned the songs of winds and waters, Learned the music of the ocean, And the echoes of the woodlands. Many men that live to murmur, Many women live to censure, Many speak with evil motives; Many they with wretched voices Curse me for my wretched singing, Blame my tongue for speaking wisdom, Call my ancient songs unworthy, Blame the songs and curse the singer. 81 Be not thus, my worthy people, Blame me not for singing badly, Unpretending as a minstrel. I have never had the teaching, Never lived with ancient heroes, Never learned the tongues of strangers, Never claimed to know much wisdom. Others have had language-masters, Nature was my only teacher, Woods and waters my instructors. Homeless, friendless, lone, and needy, Save in childhood with my mother, When beneath her painted rafters, Where she twirled the flying spindle, By the work-bench of my brother, By the window of my sister, In. the cabin of my father, In my early days of childhood. Be this as it may, my people, This may point the way to others, To the singers better gifted, For the good of future ages, For the coming generations, For the rising folk of Suomi. ~ Elias Lönnrot,

1016:The Kalevala - Rune Xx THE BREWING OF BEER. Now we sing the wondrous legends, Songs of wedding-feasts and dances, Sing the melodies of wedlock, Sing the songs of old tradition; Sing of Ilmarinen's marriage To the Maiden of the Rainbow, Fairest daughter of the Northland, Sing the drinking-songs of Pohya. Long prepared they for the wedding In Pohyola's halls and chambers, In the courts of Sariola; Many things that Louhi ordered, Great indeed the preparations For the marriage of the daughter, For the feasting of the heroes, For the drinking of the strangers, For the feeding of the poor-folk, For the people's entertainment. Grew an ox in far Karjala, Not the largest, nor the smallest, Was the ox that grew in Suomi; But his size was all-sufficient, For his tail was sweeping Jamen, And his head was over Kemi, Horns in length a hundred fathoms, Longer than the horns his mouth was; Seven days it took a weasel To encircle neck and shoulders; One whole day a swallow journeyed From one horn-tip to the other, Did not stop between for resting. Thirty days the squirrel travelled From the tail to reach the shoulders, But he could not gain the horn-tip Till the Moon had long passed over. This young ox of huge dimensions, 335 This great calf of distant Suomi, Was conducted from Karjala To the meadows of Pohyola; At each horn a hundred heroes, At his head and neck a thousand. When the mighty ox was lassoed, Led away to Northland pastures, Peacefully the monster journeyed By the bays of Sariola, Ate the pasture on the borders; To the clouds arose his shoulders, And his horns to highest heaven. Not in all of Sariola Could a butcher be discovered That could kill the ox for Louhi, None of all the sons of Northland, In her hosts of giant people, In her rising generation, In the hosts of those grown older. Came a hero from a distance, Wirokannas from Karelen, And these words the gray-beard uttered: 'Wait, O wait, thou ox of Suomi, Till I bring my ancient war-club; Then I'll smite thee on thy forehead, Break thy skull, thou willing victim! Nevermore wilt thou in summer Browse the woods of Sariola, Bare our pastures, fields, and forests; Thou, O ox, wilt feed no longer Through the length and breadth of Northland, On the borders of this ocean!' When the ancient Wirokannas Started out the ox to slaughter, When Palwoinen swung his war-club, Quick the victim turned his forehead, Flashed his flaming eyes upon him; To the fir-tree leaped the hero, In the thicket hid Palwoinen, Hid the gray-haired Wirokannas. Everywhere they seek a butcher, One to kill the ox of Suomi, 336 In the country of Karelen, And among the Suomi-giants, In the quiet fields of Ehstland, On the battle-fields of Sweden, Mid the mountaineers of Lapland, In the magic fens of Turya; Seek him in Tuoni's empire, In the death-courts of Manala. Long the search, and unsuccessful, On the blue back of the ocean, On the far-outstretching pastures. There arose from out the sea-waves, Rose a hero from the waters, On the white-capped, roaring breakers, From the water's broad expanses; Nor belonged he to the largest, Nor belonged he to the smallest; Made his bed within a sea-shell, Stood erect beneath a flour-sieve, Hero old, with hands of iron, And his face was copper-colored; Quick the hero full unfolded, Like the full corn from the kernel. On his head a hat of flint-stone, On his feet were sandstone-sandals, In his hand a golden cleaver, And the blade was copper-handled. Thus at last they found a butcher, Found the magic ox a slayer. Nothing has been found so mighty That it has not found a master. As the sea-god saw his booty, Quickly rushed he on his victim, Hurled him to his knees before him, Quickly felled the calf of Suomi, Felled the young ox of Karelen. Bountifully meat was furnished; Filled at least a thousand hogsheads Of his blood were seven boatfuls, And a thousand weight of suet, For the banquet of Pohyola, For the marriage-feast of Northland. 337 In Pohyola was a guest-room, Ample was the hall of Louhi, Was in length a hundred furlongs, And in breadth was nearly fifty; When upon the roof a rooster Crowed at break of early morning, No one on the earth could hear him; When the dog barked at one entrance, None could hear him at the other. Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Hastens to the hall and court-room, In the centre speaks as follows: 'Whence indeed will come the liquor, Who will brew me beer from barley, Who will make the mead abundant, For the people of the Northland, Coming to my daughter's marriage, To her drinking-feast and nuptials? Cannot comprehend the malting, Never have I learned the secret, Nor the origin of brewing.' Spake an old man from his corner: 'Beer arises from the barley, Comes from barley, hops, and water, And the fire gives no assistance. Hop-vine was the son of Remu, Small the seed in earth was planted, Cultivated in the loose soil, Scattered like the evil serpents On the brink of Kalew-waters, On the Osmo-fields and borders. There the young plant grew and flourished, There arose the climbing hop-vine, Clinging to the rocks and alders. 'Man of good-luck sowed the barley On the Osmo hills and lowlands, And the barley grew and flourished, Grew and spread in rich abundance, Fed upon the air and water, On the Osmo plains and highlands, On the fields of Kalew-heroes. 'Time had travelled little distance, 338 Ere the hops in trees were humming, Barley in the fields was singing, And from Kalew's well the water, This the language of the trio: 'Let us join our triple forces, Join to each the other's powers; Sad alone to live and struggle, Little use in working singly, Better we should toil together.' 'Osmotar, the beer-preparer, Brewer of the drink refreshing, Takes the golden grains of barley, Taking six of barley-kernels, Taking seven tips of hop-fruit, Filling seven cups with water, On the fire she sets the caldron, Boils the barley, hops, and water, Lets them steep, and seethe, and bubble Brewing thus the beer delicious, In the hottest days of summer, On the foggy promontory, On the island forest-covered; Poured it into birch-wood barrels, Into hogsheads made of oak-wood. 'Thus did Osmotar of Kalew Brew together hops and barley, Could not generate the ferment. Thinking long and long debating, Thus she spake in troubled accents: 'What will bring the effervescence, Who will add the needed factor, That the beer may foam and sparkle, May ferment and be delightful?' Kalevatar, magic maiden, Grace and beauty in her fingers, Swiftly moving, lightly stepping, In her trimly-buckled sandals, Steps upon the birch-wood bottom, Turns one way, and then another, In the centre of the caldron; Finds within a splinter lying From the bottom lifts the fragment, 339 Turns it in her fingers, musing: 'What may come of this I know not, In the hands of magic maidens, In the virgin hands of Kapo, Snowy virgin of the Northland!' 'Kalevatar took the splinter To the magic virgin, Kapo, Who by unknown force and insight. Rubbed her hands and knees together, And produced a snow-white squirrel; Thus instructed she her creature, Gave the squirrel these directions: 'Snow-white squirrel, mountain-jewel, Flower of the field and forest, Haste thee whither I would send thee, Into Metsola's wide limits, Into Tapio's seat of wisdom; Hasten through the heavy tree-tops, Wisely through the thickest branches, That the eagle may not seize thee, Thus escape the bird of heaven. Bring me ripe cones from the fir-tree, From the pine-tree bring me seedlings, Bring them to the hands of Kapo, For the beer of Osmo's daughter.' Quickly hastened forth the squirrel, Quickly sped the nimble broad-tail, Swiftly hopping on its journey From one thicket to another, From the birch-tree to the aspen, From the pine-tree to the willow, From the sorb-tree to the alder, Jumping here and there with method, Crossed the eagle-woods in safety, Into Metsola's wide limits, Into Tapio's seat of wisdom; There perceived three magic pine-trees, There perceived three smaller fir-trees, Quickly climbed the dark-green branches, Was not captured by the eagle, Was not mangled in his talons; Broke the young cones from the fir-tree, 340 Cut the shoots of pine-tree branches, Hid the cones within his pouches, Wrapped them in his fur-grown mittens Brought them to the hands of Kapo, To the magic virgin's fingers. Kapo took the cones selected, Laid them in the beer for ferment, But it brought no effervescence, And the beer was cold and lifeless. 'Osmotar, the beer-preparer, Kapo, brewer of the liquor, Deeply thought and long considered: 'What will bring the effervescence, Who will lend me aid efficient, That the beer may foam and sparkle, May ferment and be refreshing?' 'Kalevatar, sparkling maiden, Grace and beauty in her fingers, Softly moving, lightly stepping, In her trimly-buckled sandals, Steps again upon the bottom, Turns one way and then another, In the centre of the caldron, Sees a chip upon the bottom, Takes it from its place of resting, Looks upon the chip and muses 'What may come of this I know not, In the hands of mystic maidens, In the hands of magic Kapo, In the virgin's snow-white fingers.' 'Kalevatar took the birch-chip To the magic maiden, Kapo, Gave it to the white-faced maiden. Kapo, by the aid of magic, Rubbed her hands and knees together, And produced a magic marten, And the marten, golden-breasted; Thus instructed she her creature, Gave the marten these directions. 'Thou, my golden-breasted marten, Thou my son of golden color, Haste thou whither I may send thee, 341 To the bear-dens of the mountain, To the grottoes of the growler, Gather yeast upon thy fingers, Gather foam from lips of anger, From the lips of bears in battle, Bring it to the hands of Kapo, To the hands of Osmo's daughter.' 'Then the marten golden-breasted, Full consenting, hastened onward, Quickly bounding on his journey, Lightly leaping through the distance Leaping o'er the widest rivers, Leaping over rocky fissures, To the bear-dens of the mountain, To the grottoes of the growler, Where the wild-bears fight each other, Where they pass a dread existence, Iron rocks, their softest pillows, In the fastnesses of mountains; From their lips the foam was dripping, From their tongues the froth of anger; This the marten deftly gathered, Brought it to the maiden, Kapo, Laid it in her dainty fingers. 'Osmotar, the beer-preparer, Brewer of the beer of barley, Used the beer-foam as a ferment; But it brought no effervescence, Did not make the liquor sparkle. 'Osmotar, the beer-preparer, Thought again, and long debated: 'Who or what will bring the ferment, Th at my beer may not be lifeless?' 'Kalevatar, magic maiden, Grace and beauty in her fingers, Softly moving, lightly stepping, In her trimly-buckled sandals, Steps again upon the bottom, Turns one way and then another, In the centre of the caldron, Sees a pod upon the bottom, Lifts it in her snow-white fingers, 342 Turns it o'er and o'er, and muses: 'What may come of this I know not, In the hands of magic maidens, In the hands of mystic Kapo, In the snowy virgin's fingers?' 'Kalevatar, sparkling maiden, Gave the pod to magic Kapo; Kapo, by the aid of magic, Rubbed the pod upon her knee-cap, And a honey-bee came flying From the pod within her fingers, Kapo thus addressed her birdling: 'Little bee with honeyed winglets, King of all the fragrant flowers, Fly thou whither I direct thee, To the islands in the ocean, To the water-cliffs and grottoes, Where asleep a maid has fallen, Girdled with a belt of copper By her side are honey-grasses, By her lips are fragrant flowers, Herbs and flowers honey-laden; Gather there the sweetened juices, Gather honey on thy winglets, From the calyces of flowers, From the tips of seven petals, Bring it to the hands of Kapo, To the hands of Osmo's daughter.' 'Then the bee, the swift-winged birdling, Flew away with lightning-swiftness On his journey to the islands, O'er the high waves of the ocean; Journeyed one day, then a second, Journeyed all the next day onward, Till the third day evening brought him To the islands in the ocean, To the water-cliffs and grottoes; Found the maiden sweetly sleeping, In her silver-tinselled raiment, Girdled with a belt of copper, In a nameless meadow, sleeping, In the honey-fields of magic; 343 By her side were honeyed grasses, By her lips were fragrant flowers, Silver stalks with golden petals; Dipped its winglets in the honey, Dipped its fingers in the juices Of the sweetest of the flowers, Brought the honey back to Kapo, To the mystic maiden's fingers. 'Osmotar, the beer-preparer, Placed the honey in the liquor; Kapo mixed the beer and honey, And the wedding-beer fermented; Rose the live beer upward, upward, From the bottom of the vessels, Upward in the tubs of birch-wood, Foaming higher, higher, higher, Till it touched the oaken handles, Overflowing all the caldrons; To the ground it foamed and sparkled, Sank away in sand and gravel. 'Time had gone but little distance, Scarce a moment had passed over, Ere the heroes came in numbers To the foaming beer of Northland, Rushed to drink the sparkling liquor. Ere all others Lemminkainen Drank, and grew intoxicated On the beer of Osmo's daughter, On the honey-drink of Kalew. 'Osmotar, the beer-preparer, Kapo, brewer of the barley, Spake these words in saddened accents: 'Woe is me, my life hard-fated, Badly have I brewed the liquor, Have not brewed the beer in wisdom, Will not live within its vessels, Overflows and fills Pohyola!' 'From a tree-top sings the redbreast, From the aspen calls the robin: 'Do not grieve, thy beer is worthy, Put it into oaken vessels, Into strong and willing barrels 344 Firmly bound with hoops of copper.' 'Thus was brewed the beer or Northland, At the hands of Osmo's daughter; This the origin of brewing Beer from Kalew-hops and barley; Great indeed the reputation Of the ancient beer of Kalew, Said to make the feeble hardy, Famed to dry the tears of women, Famed to cheer the broken-hearted, Make the aged young and supple, Make the timid brave and mighty, Make the brave men ever braver, Fill the heart with joy and gladness, Fill the mind with wisdom-sayings, Fill the tongue with ancient legends, Only makes the fool more foolish.' When the hostess of Pohyola Heard how beer was first fermented, Heard the origin of brewing, Straightway did she fill with water Many oaken tubs and barrels; Filled but half the largest vessels, Mixed the barley with the water, Added also hops abundant; Well she mixed the triple forces In her tubs of oak and birch-wood, Heated stones for months succeeding, Thus to boil the magic mixture, Steeped it through the days of summer, Burned the wood of many forests, Emptied all the, springs of Pohya; Daily did the, forests lesson, And the wells gave up their waters, Thus to aid the hostess, Louhi, In the brewing of the liquors, From the water, hops, and barley, And from honey of the islands, For the wedding-feast of Northland, For Pohyola's great carousal And rejoicings at the marriage Of the Malden of the Rainbow 345 To the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Metal-worker of Wainola. Smoke is seen upon the island, Fire, upon the promontory, Black smoke rising to the heavens From the fire upon the island; Fills with clouds the half of Pohya, Fills Karelen's many hamlets; All the people look and wonder, This the chorus of the women: 'Whence are rising all these smoke-clouds, Why this dreadful fire in Northland? Is not like the smoke of camp-fires, Is too large for fires of shepherds!' Lemminkainen's ancient mother Journeyed in the early morning For some water to the fountain, Saw the smoke arise to heaven, In the region of Pohyola, These the words the mother uttered: ''Tis the smoke of battle-heroes, From the beat of warring armies!' Even Ahti, island-hero, Ancient wizard, Lemminkainen, Also known as Kaukomieli, Looked upon the scene in wonder, Thought awhile and spake as follows: 'I would like to see this nearer, Learn the cause of all this trouble, Whence this smoke and great confusion, Whether smoke from heat of battle, Or the bonfires of the shepherds.' Kaukomieli gazed and pondered, Studied long the rising smoke-clouds; Came not from the heat of battle, Came not from the shepherd bonfires; Heard they were the fires of Louhi Brewing beer in Sariola, On Pohyola's promontory; Long and oft looked Lemminkainen, Strained in eagerness his vision, Stared, and peered, and thought, and wondered, 346 Looked abashed and envy-swollen, 'O beloved, second mother, Northland's well-intentioned hostess, Brew thy beer of honey-flavor, Make thy liquors foam and sparkle, For thy many friends invited, Brew it well for Lemminkainen, For his marriage in Pohyola With the Maiden of the Rainbow.' Finally the beer was ready, Beverage of noble heroes, Stored away in casks and barrels, There to rest awhile in silence, In the cellars of the Northland, In the copper-banded vessels, In the magic oaken hogsheads, Plugs and faucets made of copper. Then the hostess of Pohyola Skilfully prepared the dishes, Laid them all with careful fingers In the boiling-pans and kettles, Ordered countless loaves of barley, Ordered many liquid dishes, All the delicacies of Northland, For the feasting of her people, For their richest entertainment, For the nuptial songs and dances, At the marriage of her daughter With the blacksmith, Ilmarinen. When the loaves were baked and ready. When the dishes all were seasoned, Time had gone but little distance, Scarce a moment had passed over, Ere the beer, in casks imprisoned, Loudly rapped, and sang, and murmured: 'Come, ye heroes, come and take me, Come and let me cheer your spirits, Make you sing the songs of wisdom, That with honor ye may praise me, Sing the songs of beer immortal!' Straightway Louhi sought a minstrel, Magic bard and artist-singer, 347 That the beer might well be lauded, Might be praised in song and honor. First as bard they brought a salmon, Also brought a pike from ocean, But the salmon had no talent, And the pike had little wisdom; Teeth of pike and gills of salmon Were not made for singing legends. Then again they sought a singer, Magic minstrel, beer-enchanter, Thus to praise the drink of heroes, Sing the songs of joy and gladness; And a boy was brought for singing; But the boy had little knowledge, Could not praise the beer in honor; Children's tongues are filled with questions, Children cannot speak in wisdom, Cannot sing the ancient legends. Stronger grew the beer imprisoned In the copper-banded vessels, Locked behind the copper faucets, Boiled, and foamed, and sang, and murmured: 'If ye do not bring a singer, That will sing my worth immortal, That will sing my praise deserving, I will burst these bands of copper, Burst the heads of all these barrels; Will not serve the best of heroes Till he sings my many virtues.' Louhi, hostess of Pohyola, Called a trusted maiden-servant, Sent her to invite the people To the marriage of her daughter, These the words that Louhi uttered: 'O my trusted, truthful maiden, Servant-maid to me belonging, Call together all my people, Call the heroes to my banquet, Ask the rich, and ask the needy, Ask the blind and deaf, and crippled, Ask the young, and ask the aged; Go thou to the hills, and hedges, 348 To the highways, and the by-ways, Urge them to my daughter's wedding; Bring the blind, and sorely troubled, In my boats upon the waters, In my sledges bring the halting, With the old, and sick, and needy; Ask the whole of Sariola, Ask the people of Karelen, Ask the ancient Wainamoinen, Famous bard and wisdom-singer; But I give command explicit Not to ask wild Lemminkainen, Not the island-dweller, Ahti!' This the question of the servant: 'Why not ask wild Lemminkainen, Ancient islander and minstrel?' Louhi gave this simple answer: 'Good the reasons that I give thee Why the wizard, Lemminkainen, Must not have an invitation To my daughter's feast and marriage Ahti courts the heat of battle, Lemminkainen fosters trouble, Skilful fighter of the virtues; Evil thinking, acting evil, He would bring but pain and sorrow, He would jest and jeer at maidens In their trimly buckled raiment, Cannot ask the evil-minded!' Thus again the servant questions: 'Tell me how to know this Ahti, Also known as Lemminkainen, That I may not ask him hither; Do not know the isle of Ahti, Nor the home of Kaukomieli Spake the hostess of Pohyola: 'Easy 'tis to know the wizard, Easy find the Ahti-dwelling: Ahti lives on yonder island, On that point dwells Lemminkainen, In his mansion near the water, Far at sea his home and dwelling.' 349 Thereupon the trusted maiden Spread the wedding-invitations To the people of Pohyola, To the tribes of Kalevala; Asked the friendless, asked the homeless Asked the laborers and shepherds, Asked the fishermen and hunters, Asked the deaf, the dumb, the crippled, Asked the young, and asked the aged, Asked the rich, and asked the needy; Did not give an invitation To the reckless Lemminkainen, Island-dweller of the ocean. ~ Elias Lönnrot,

1017:or Callistratus. Similarly, the hero in The Acharnians complains about Cleon "dragging me into court" over "last year's play" but here again it is not clear if this was said on behalf of ~ Aristophanes or Callistratus, either of whom might have been prosecuted by Cleon. Comments made by the Chorus on behalf of ~ Aristophanes in The Clouds have been interpreted as evidence that he can have been hardly more than 18 years old when his first play The Banqueters was produced. The second parabasis in Wasps appears to indicate that he reached some kind of temporary accommodation with Cleon following either the controversy over The Babylonians or a subsequent controversy over The Knights.[ It has been inferred from statements in The Clouds and Peace that ~ Aristophanes was prematurely bald. We know that ~ Aristophanes was probably victorious at least once at the City Dionysia (with Babylonians in 427)and at least three times at the Lenaia, with Acharnians in 425, Knights in 424, and Frogs in 405. Frogs in fact won the unique distinction of a repeat performance at a subsequent festival. We know that a son of ~ Aristophanes , Araros, was also a comic poet and he could have been heavily involved in the production of his father's play Wealth II in s is also thought to have been responsible for the posthumous performances of the now lost plays Aeolosicon II and Cocalus, and it is possible that the last of these won the prize at the City Dionysia in 387. It appears that a second son, Philippus, was twice victorious at the Lenaia and he could have directed some of Eubulus’ comedies.A third son was called either Nicostratus or Philetaerus, and a man by the latter name appears in the catalogue of Lenaia victors with two victories, the first probably in the late 370s. Plato's The Symposium appears to be a useful source of biographical information about ~ Aristophanes , but its reliability is open to doubt. It purports to be a record of conversations at a dinner party at which both ~ Aristophanes and Socrates are guests, held some seven years after the performance of The Clouds, the play in which Socrates was cruelly caricatured. One of the guests, Alcibiades, even quotes from the play when teasing Socrates over his appearance and yet there is no indication of any ill-feeling between Socrates and ~ Aristophanes . Plato's ~ Aristophanes is in fact a genial character and this has been interpreted as evidence of Plato's own friendship with him (their friendship appears to be corroborated by an epitaph for ~ Aristophanes , reputedly written by Plato, in which the playwright's soul is compared to an eternal shrine for the Graces). Plato was only a boy when the events in The Symposium are supposed to have occurred and it is possible that his ~ Aristophanes is in fact based on a reading of the plays. For example, conversation among the guests turns to the subject of Love and ~ Aristophanes explains his notion of it in terms of an amusing allegory, a device he often uses in his plays. He is represented as suffering an attack of hiccoughs and this might be a humorous reference to the crude physical jokes in his plays. He tells the other guests that he is quite happy to be thought amusing but he is wary of appearing ridiculous. This fear of being ridiculed is consistent with his declaration in The Knights that he embarked on a career of comic playwright warily after witnessing the public contempt and ridicule that other dramatists had incurred. ~ Aristophanes survived The Peloponnesian War, two oligarchic revolutions and two democratic restorations; this has been interpreted as evidence that he was not actively involved in politics despite his highly political plays. He was probably appointed to the Council of Five Hundred for a year at the beginning of the fourth century but such appointments were very common in democratic tes, in the trial leading up to his own death, put the issue of a personal conscience in those troubled times quite succinctly: "...he who will really fight for the right, if he would live even for a little while, must have a private station and not a public one. ~ Aristophanes the Poet The language in ~ Aristophanes ' plays, and in Old Comedy generally, was valued by ancient commentators as a model of the Attic dialect. The orator Quintilian believed that the charm and grandeur of the Attic dialect made Old Comedy an example for orators to study and follow, and he considered it inferior in these respects only to the works of A full appreciation of ~ Aristophanes ' plays requires an understanding of the poetic forms he employed with virtuoso skill, and of their different rhythms and associations. There were three broad poetic forms: iambic dialogue, tetrameter verses and lyrics: Iambic dialogue: ~ Aristophanes achieves an effect resembling natural speech through the use of the iambic hexameter (corresponding to the effects achieved by English poets such as based on words that are similar rather than identical, and it has been observed that there could be more of them than scholars have yet been able to identify. Others are based on double meanings. Sometimes entire scenes are constructed on puns, as in The Acharnians with the Megarian farmer and his pigs: the Megarian farmer defies the Athenian embargo against Megarian trade, and tries to trade his daughters disguised as pigs, except "pig" was ancient slang for "vagina". Since the embargo against Megara was the pretext for the Peloponnesian War, ~ Aristophanes naturally concludes that this whole mess happened because of "three cunts". It can be argued that the most important feature of the language of the plays is imagery, particularly the use of similes, metaphors and pictorial expressions. In 'The Knights', for example, the ears of a character with selective hearing are represented as parasols that open and close.In The Frogs, Aeschylus is said to compose verses in the manner of a horse rolling in a sandpit. Some plays feature revelations of human perfectibility that are poetic rather than religious in character, such as the marriage of the hero Pisthetairos to Zeus's paramour in The Birds and the 'recreation' of old Athens, crowned with roses, at the end of The Knights. ~ Aristophanes and Old Comedy The Greek word for 'comedy' (komoidía) derives from the words for 'revel' and 'song' (komos and ode) and according to Aristotle comic drama actually developed from song. The first, official comedy at the City Dionysia was not staged until 487/6 BC, by which time tragedy had already been long established there. The first comedy at the Lenaia was staged later still, only about 20 years before the performance there of The Acharnians, the first of ~ Aristophanes ' surviving plays. According to Aristotle, comedy was slow to gain official acceptance because nobody took it seriously yet, only sixty years after comedy first appeared at 'The City Dionysia', ~ Aristophanes observed that producing comedies was the most difficult work of tition at the Dionysian festivals needed dramatic conventions for plays to be judged, but it also fuelled innovations. Developments were quite rapid and Aristotle was able to distinguish between 'old' and 'new' comedy by 330 BC. The trend from Old Comedy to New Comedy saw a move away from highly topical concerns with real individuals and local issues towards generalized situations and stock characters. This was partly due to the internationalization of cultural perspectives during and after the Peloponnesian War. For ancient commentators such as Plutarch, New Comedy was a more sophisticated form of drama than Old Comedy. However Old Comedy was in fact a complex and sophisticated dramatic form incorporating many approaches to humour and entertainment. In ~ Aristophanes ' early plays, the genre appears to have developed around a complex set of dramatic conventions and these were only gradually simplified and abandoned. The City Dionysia and the Lenaia were celebrated in honour of Dionysus, a god who represented Man's darker nature (Euripides' play The Bacchae offers the best insight into 5th Century ideas about this god). Old Comedy can be understood as a celebration of the exuberant sense of release inherent in his worship It was more interested in finding targets for satire than in any kind of advocacy. During the City Dionysia, a statue of the god was brought to the theatre from a temple outside the city and it remained in the theatre throughout the festival, overseeing the plays like a privileged member of the audience.[102] In The Frogs, the god appears also as a dramatic character and he enters the theatre ludicrously disguised as Hercules. He observes to the audience that every time he is on hand to hear a joke from a comic dramatist like Phrynichus (one of ~ Aristophanes ' rivals) he ages by more than a year. The scene opens the play and it is a reminder to the audience that nobody is above mockery in Old Comedy — not even its patron god and its practitioners! Gods, artists, politicians and ordinary citizens were legitimate targets, comedy was a kind of licensed buffoonery and there was no legal redress for anyone who was slandered in a play. There were some limits to the scope of the satire, but they are not easily defined. Impiety could be punished in 5th century Athens but absurdities implicit in traditional religion were open to ridicule. The polis was not allowed to be slandered but, as stated in the biography section of this article, that could depend on who was in the audience and which festival was involved. For convenience, Old Comedy, as represented by ~ Aristophanes ' early plays, is analysed below in terms of three broad characteristics — topicality, festivity and complexity. Dramatic structure contributes to the complexity of ~ Aristophanes ' plays. However it is associated with poetic rhythms and meters that have little relevance to English translations and it is therefore treated in a separate section. Influence and legacy The tragic dramatists, Sophocles and Euripides, died near the end of the Peloponnesian War and the art of tragedy thereafter ceased to develop, yet comedy did continue to develop after the defeat of Athens and it is possible that it did so because, in ~ Aristophanes , it had a master craftsman who lived long enough to help usher it into a new age. Indeed, according to one ancient source (Platonius, c.9th Century AD), one of ~ Aristophanes 's last plays, Aioliskon, had neither a parabasis nor any choral lyrics (making it a type of Middle Comedy), while Kolakos anticipated all the elements of New Comedy, including a rape and a recognition scene. ~ Aristophanes seems to have had some appreciation of his formative role in the development of comedy, as indicated by his comment in Clouds that his audience would be judged by other times according to its reception of his plays. Clouds was awarded third (i.e. last) place after its original performance and the text that has come down to the modern age was a subsequent draft that ~ Aristophanes intended to be read rather than circulation of his plays in manuscript extended their influence beyond the original audience, over whom in fact they seem to have had little or no practical influence: they did not affect the career of Cleon, they failed to persuade the Athenians to pursue an honourable peace with Sparta and it is not clear that they were instrumental in the trial and execution of Socrates, whose death probably resulted from public animosity towards the philosopher's disgraced associates (such as Alcibiades), exacerbated of course by his own intransigence during the plays, in manuscript form, have been put to some surprising uses — as indicated earlier, they were used in the study of rhetoric on the recommendation of Quintilian and by students of the Attic dialect in the Fourth and Fifth Centuries AD. It is possible that Plato sent copies of the plays to Dionysius of Syracuse so that he might learn about Athenian life and government. Latin translations of the plays by Andreas Divus (Venice 1528) were circulated widely throughout Europe in the Renaissance and these were soon followed by translations and adaptations in modern languages. Racine, for example, drew Les Plaideurs (1668) from The Wasps. winged." Drama 1909: Wasps, original Greek, Cambridge University undergraduate production, music by Vaughan Williams; 2004, July–October: The Frogs (musical), adapted by Nathan Lane, music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, performed at The Vivian Beaumont Theatre Broadway; 1962-2006: various plays by students and staff, Kings College London, in the original Greek:Frogs 1962,1971,1988; Thesmophoriazusae 1965, 1974, 1985; Acharnians 1968, 1992, 2004; Clouds 1977, 1990; Birds 1982, 2000; Ecclesiazusae 2006; Peace 1970; Wasps 1981 2002: Lysistrata, adapted by Robert Brustein, music by Galt McDermot, performed by American Repertory Theatre, Boston U.S.A.; 10 2008, May–June: Frogs, adapted by David Greenspan, music by Thomas Cabaniss, performed by Classic Stage Company, New York, U.S.A. Literature The romantic poet, Percy Shelley, wrote a comic, lyrical drama (Swellfoot the Tyrrant) in imitation of ~ Aristophanes ' play The Frogs after he was reminded of the Chorus in that play by a herd of pigs passing to market under the window of his lodgings in San Giuliano, Italy. ~ Aristophanes (particularly in reference to The Clouds) is mentioned frequently by the character Menedemos in the Hellenic Traders series of novels by H N Turteltaub. A liberal version of the comedies have been published in comic book format, initially by "Agrotikes Ekdoseis" during the 1990s and republished over the years by other companies. The plot was written by Tasos Apostolidis and the sketches were of George Akokalidis. The stories feature either ~ Aristophanes narrating them, directing the play, or even as a character inside one of his stories. Electronic Media The Wasps, radio play adapted by David Pountney, music by Vaughan Williams, recorded 26–28 July 2005, Albert Halls, Bolten, in association with BBC, under Halle label; Acropolis Now is a comedy radio show for the BBC set in Ancient Greece. It features ~ Aristophanes , Socrates and many other famous Greeks. (Not to be confused with the Australian sitcom of the same name.) ~ Aristophanes is characterised as a celebrity playwright, and most of his plays have the title formula: One of Our [e.g] Slaves has an Enormous Knob (a reference to the exaggerated appendages worn by Greek comic actors) ~ Aristophanes Against the World was a radio play by Martyn Wade and broadcast on BBC Radio 4. Loosely based on several of his plays, it featured Clive Merrison as ~ Aristophanes . In The Odd Couple, Oscar and Felix are on Password, and when the password is bird, Felix’s esoteric clue is "~ Aristophanes " because of his play The Birds. During the commercial break (having failed to guess the password and lost the round), Oscar orders Felix not to give any more Greek clues and angrily growls, "~ Aristophanes is ridiculous"! Then when it's Oscar’s turn to give the clue on the 11 team’s next shot, the password is ridiculous and Oscar angrily growls "~ Aristophanes ", to which Felix gleefully responds, "Ridiculous!" Music Satiric Dances for a Comedy by ~ Aristophanes is a three-movement piece for concert band composed by Norman Dello Joio. It was commissioned in commemoration of the Bicentennial of April 19, 1775 (the start of the American Revolutionary War) by the Concord (Massachusetts) Band. The commission was funded by the Town of Concord and assistance was given by the Eastern National Park and Monument Association in cooperation with the National Park Service. 12 A Parody On Euripides's Lyric Verse Halcyons ye by the flowing sea Waves that warble twitteringly, Circling over the tumbling blue, Dipping your down in its briny dew, Spi-i-iders in corners dim Spi-spi-spinning your fairy film, Shuttles echoing round the room Silver notes of the whistling loom, Where the light-footed dolphin skips Down the wake of the dark-prowed ships, Over the course of the racing steed Where the clustering tendrils breed Grapes to drown dull care in delight, Oh! mother make me a child again just for to-night! I don't exactly see how that last line is to scan, But that's a consideration I leave to our musical man. ~ Aristophanes,

1018:The Kalevala - Rune Xxv WAINAMOINEN'S WEDDING-SONGS. At the home of Ilmarinen Long had they been watching, waiting, For the coming of the blacksmith, With his bride from Sariola. Weary were the eyes of watchers, Waiting from the father's portals, Looking from the mother's windows; Weary were the young knees standing At the gates of the magician; Weary grew the feet of children, Tramping to the walls and watching; Worn and torn, the shoes of heroes, Running on the shore to meet him. Now at last upon a morning Of a lovely day in winter, Heard they from the woods the rumble Of a snow-sledge swiftly bounding. Lakko, hostess of Wainola, She the lovely Kalew-daughter, Spake these words in great excitement: ''Tis the sledge of the magician, Comes at last the metal-worker From the dismal Sariola, By his side the Bride of Beauty! Welcome, welcome, to this hamlet, Welcome to thy mother's hearth-stone, To the dwelling of thy father, By thine ancestors erected!' Straightway came great Ilmarinen To his cottage drove the blacksmith, To the fireside of his father, To his mother's ancient dwelling. Hazel-birds were sweetly singing On the newly-bended collar; Sweetly called the sacred cuckoos From the summit of the break-board; 424 Merry, jumped the graceful squirrel On the oaken shafts and cross-bar. Lakko, Kalew's fairest hostess, Beauteous daughter of Wainola, Spake these words of hearty welcome: 'For the new moon hopes the village, For the sun, the happy maidens, For the boat, the swelling water; I have not the moon expected, For the sun have not been waiting, I have waited for my hero, Waited for the Bride of Beauty; Watched at morning, watched at evening, Did not know but some misfortune, Some sad fate had overtaken Bride and bridegroom on their journey; Thought the maiden growing weary, Weary of my son's attentions, Since he faithfully had promised To return to Kalevala, Ere his foot-prints had departed From the snow-fields of his father. Every morn I looked and listened, Constantly I thought and wondered When his sledge would rumble homeward, When it would return triumphant To his home, renowned and ancient. Had a blind and beggared straw-horse Hobbled to these shores awaiting, With a sledge of but two pieces, Well the steed would have been lauded, Had it brought my son beloved, Had it brought the Bride of Beauty. Thus I waited long, impatient, Looking out from morn till even, Watching with my head extended, With my tresses streaming southward, With my eyelids widely opened, Waiting for my son's returning To this modest home of heroes, To this narrow place of resting. Finally am I rewarded, 425 For the sledge has come triumphant, Bringing home my son and hero, By his side the Rainbow maiden, Red her cheeks, her visage winsome, Pride and joy of Sariola. 'Wizard-bridegroom of Wainola, Take thy-courser to the stable, Lead him to the well-filled manger, To the best of grain and clover; Give to us thy friendly greetings, Greetings send to all thy people. When thy greetings thou hast ended, Then relate what has befallen To our hero in his absence. Hast thou gone without adventure To the dark fields of Pohyola, Searching for the Maid of Beauty? Didst thou scale the hostile ramparts, Didst thou take the virgin's mansion, Passing o'er her mother's threshold, Visiting the halls of Louhi? 'But I know without the asking, See the answer to my question: Comest from the North a victor, On thy journey well contented; Thou hast brought the Northland daughter, Thou hast razed the hostile portals, Thou hast stormed the forts of Louhi, Stormed the mighty walls opposing, On thy journey to Pohyola, To the village of the father. In thy care the bride is sitting, In thine arms, the Rainbow-maiden, At thy side, the pride of Northland, Mated to the highly-gifted. Who has told the cruel story, Who the worst of news has scattered, That thy suit was unsuccessful, That in vain thy steed had journeyed? Not in vain has been thy wooing, Not in vain thy steed has travelled To the dismal homes of Lapland; 426 He has journeyed heavy laden, Shaken mane, and tail, and forelock, Dripping foam from lips and nostrils, Through the bringing of the maiden, With the burden of the husband. 'Come, thou beauty, from the snow-sledge, Come, descend thou from the cross-bench, Do not linger for assistance, Do not tarry to be carried; If too young the one that lifts thee, If too proud the one in waiting, Rise thou, graceful, like a young bird, Hither glide along the pathway, On the tan-bark scarlet- colored, That the herds of kine have evened, That the gentle lambs have trodden, Smoothened by the tails of horses. Haste thou here with gentle footsteps, Through the pathway smooth and tidy, On the tiles of even surface, On thy second father's court-yard, To thy second mother's dwelling, To thy brother's place of resting, To thy sister's silent chambers. Place thy foot within these portals, Step across this waiting threshold, Enter thou these halls of joyance, Underneath these painted rafters, Underneath this roof of ages. During all the winter evenings, Through the summer gone forever, Sang the tiling made of ivory, Wishing thou wouldst walk upon it; Often sang the golden ceiling, Hoping thou wouldst walk beneath it, And the windows often whistled, Asking thee to sit beside them; Even on this merry morning, Even on the recent evening, Sat the aged at their windows, On the sea-shore ran the children, Near the walls the maidens waited, 427 Ran the boys upon the highway, There to watch the young bride's coming, Coming with her hero-husband. 'Hail, ye courtiers of Wainola, With the heroes of the fathers, Hail to thee, Wainola's hamlet, Hail, ye halls with heroes peopled, Hail, ye rooms with all your inmates, Hail to thee, sweet golden moonlight, Hail to thee, benignant Ukko, Hail companions of the bridegroom! Never has there been in Northland Such a wedding-train of honor, Never such a bride of beauty. 'Bridegroom, thou beloved hero, Now untie the scarlet ribbons, And remove the silken muffler, Let us see the honey-maiden, See the Daughter of the Rainbow. Seven years hast thou been wooing, Hast thou brought the maid affianced, Wainamoinen's Wedding-Songs. Hast thou sought a sweeter cuckoo, Sought one fairer than the moonlight, Sought a mermaid from the ocean? But I know without the asking, See the answer to my question: Thou hast brought the sweet-voiced cuckoo, Thou hast found the swan of beauty Plucked the sweetest flower of Northland, Culled the fairest of the jewels, Gathered Pohya's sweetest berry!' Sat a babe upon the matting, And the young child spake as follows: 'Brother, what is this thou bringest, Aspen-log or trunk of willow, Slender as the mountain-linden? Bridegroom, well dost thou remember, Thou hast hoped it all thy life-time, Hoped to bring the Maid of Beauty, Thou a thousand times hast said it, Better far than any other, 428 Not one like the croaking raven, Nor the magpie from the border, Nor the scarecrow from the corn-fields, Nor the vulture from the desert. What has this one done of credit, In the summer that has ended? Where the gloves that she has knitted, Where the mittens she has woven? Thou hast brought her empty-handed, Not a gift she brings thy father; In thy chests the nice are nesting, Long-tails feeding on thy vestments, And thy bride, cannot repair them.' Lakko hostess of Wainola, She the faithful Kalew-daughter, Hears the young child's speech in wonder, Speaks these words of disapproval: Silly prattler, cease thy talking, Thou Last spoken in dishonor; Let all others be astonished, Reap thy malice on thy kindred, must not harm the Bride of Beauty, Rainbow-daughter of the Northland. False indeed is this thy Prattle, All thy words are full or evil, Fallen from thy tongue of mischief From the lips of one unworthy. Excellent the hero 's young bride, Best of all in Sariola, Like the, strawberry in summer, Like the daisy from the meadow, Like the cuckoo from the forest, Like the bluebird from the aspen, Like the redbreast from the heather, Like the martin. from the linden; Never couldst thou find in Ehstland Such a virgin as this daughter, Such a graceful beauteous maiden, With such dignity of Carriage, With such arms of pearly whiteness, With. a neck so fair and lovely. Neither is she empty-handed, 429 She has brought us furs abundant, Brought us many silken garments, Richest weavings of Pohyola. Many beauteous things the maiden, With the spindle has accomplished, Spun and woven with her fingers Dresses of the finest texture She in winter has upfolded, Bleached them in the days of spring-time, Dried them at the hour of noon-day, For our couches finest linen, For our heads the softest pillows, For our comfort woollen blankets, For our necks the silken ribbons.' To the bride speaks gracious Lakko: 'Goodly wife, thou Maid of Beauty, Highly wert thou praised as daughter, In thy father's distant country; Here thou shalt be praised forever By the kindred of thy husband; Thou shalt never suffer sorrow, Never give thy heart to grieving; In the swamps thou wert not nurtured, Wert not fed beside the brooklets; Thou wert born 'neath stars auspicious, Nurtured from the richest garners, Thou wert taken to the brewing Of the sweetest beer in Northland. 'Beauteous bride from Sariola, Shouldst thou see me bringing hither Casks of corn, or wheat, or barley; Bringing rye in great abundance, They belong to this thy household; Good the plowing of thy husband. Good his sowing and his reaping. 'Bride of Beauty from the Northland, Thou wilt learn this home to manage, Learn to labor with thy kindred; Good the home for thee to dwell in, Good enough for bride and daughter. At thy hand will rest the milk-pail, And the churn awaits thine order; 430 It is well here for the maiden, Happy will the young bride labor, Easy are the resting-benches; Here the host is like thy father, Like thy mother is the hostess, All the sons are like thy brothers, Like thy sisters are the daughters. 'Shouldst thou ever have a longing For the whiting of the ocean, For thy, father's Northland salmon, For thy brother's hazel-chickens, Ask them only of thy husband, Let thy hero-husband bring them. There is not in all of Northland, Not a creature of the forest, Not a bird beneath the ether, Not a fish within the waters, Not the largest, nor the smallests That thy husband cannot capture. It is well here for the maiden, Here the bride may live in freedom, Need not turn the heavy millstone, Need not move the iron pestle; Here the wheat is ground by water, For the rye, the swifter current, While the billows wash the vessels And the surging waters rinse them. Thou hast here a lovely village, Finest spot in all of Northland, In the lowlands sweet the verdure, in the uplands, fields of beauty, With the lake-shore near the hamlet, Near thy home the running water, Where the goslings swim and frolic, Water-birds disport in numbers.' Thereupon the bride and bridegroom Were refreshed with richest viands, Given food and drink abundant, Fed on choicest bits of reindeer, On the sweetest loaves of barley, On the best of wheaten biscuits, On the richest beer of Northland. 431 Many things were on the table, Many dainties of Wainola, In the bowls of scarlet color, In the platters deftly painted, Many cakes with honey sweetened, To each guest was butter given, Many bits of trout and whiting, Larger salmon carved in slices, With the knives of molten silver, Rimmed with gold the silver handles, Beer of barley ceaseless flowing, Honey-drink that was not purchased, In the cellar flows profusely, Beer for all, the tongues to quicken, Mead and beer the minds to freshen. Who is there to lead the singing, Lead the songs of Kalevala? Wainamoinen, old and truthful, The eternal, wise enchanter, Quick begins his incantations, Straightway sings the songs that follow. 'Golden brethren, dearest kindred, Ye, my loved ones, wise and worthy Ye companions, highly-gifted, Listen to my simple sayings: Rarely stand the geese together, Sisters do not mate each other, Not together stand the brothers, Nor the children of one mother, In the countries of the Northland. 'Shall we now begin the singing, Sing the songs of old tradition? Singers can but sing their wisdom, And the cuckoo call the spring-time, And the goddess of the heavens Only dyes the earth in beauty; So the goddesses of weaving Can but weave from dawn till twilight, Ever sing the youth of Lapland In their straw-shoes full of gladness, When the coarse-meat of the roebuck, Or of blue-moose they have eaten. 432 Wherefore should I not be singing, And the children not be chanting Of the biscuits of Wainola, Of the bread of Kalew-waters? Even Sing the lads of Lapland In their straw-shoes filled with joyance, Drinking but a cup of water, Eating but the bitter tan-bark. Wherefore should I not be singing, And the children not be chanting Of the beer of Kalevala, Brewed from barley in perfection, Dressed in quaint and homely costume, As they sit beside their hearth-stones. Wherefore should I not be singing, And the children too be chanting Underneath these painted rafters, In these halls renowned and ancient? This the place for men to linger, This the court-room for the maidens, Near the foaming beer of barley, Honey-brewed in great abundance, Very near, the salmon-waters, Near, the nets for trout and whiting, Here where food is never wanting, Where the beer is ever brewing. Here Wainola's sons assemble, Here Wainola's daughters gather, Here they never eat in trouble, Here they live without regretting, In the life-time of the landlord, While the hostess lives and prospers. 'Who shall first be sung and lauded? Shall it be the bride or bridegroom? Let us praise the bridegroom's father, Let the hero-host be chanted, Him whose home is in the forest, Him who built upon the mountains, Him who brought the trunks of lindens, With their tops and slender branches, Brought them to the best of places, Joined them skilfully together, 433 For the mansion of the nation, For this famous hero-dwelling, Walls procured upon the lowlands, Rafters from the pine and fir-tree, From the woodlands beams of oak-wood, From the berry-plains the studding, Bark was furnished by the aspen, And the mosses from the fenlands. Trimly builded is this mansion, In a haven warmly sheltered; Here a hundred men have labored, On the roof have stood a thousand, As this spacious house was building, As this roof was tightly jointed. Here the ancient mansion-builder, When these rafters were erected, Lost in storms his locks of sable, Scattered by the winds of heaven. Often has the hero-landlord On the rocks his gloves forgotten, Left his hat upon the willows, Lost his mittens in the marshes; Oftentimes the mansion-builder, In the early hours of morning, Ere his workmen had awakened, Unperceived by all the village, Has arisen from his slumber, Left his cabin the snow-fields, Combed his locks among the branches, Bathed his eyes in dews of morning. 'Thus obtained the pleasant landlord Friends to fill his spacious dwelling, Fill his benches with magicians, Fill his windows with enchanters, Fill his halls with wizard-singers, Fill his floors with ancient speakers, Fill his ancient court with strangers, Fill his hurdles with the needy; Thus the Kalew-host is lauded. 'Now I praise the genial hostess, Who prepares the toothsome dinner, Fills with plenty all her tables, 434 Bakes the honeyed loaves of barley, Kneads the dough with magic fingers, With her arms of strength and beauty, Bakes her bread in copper ovens, Feeds her guests and bids them welcome, Feeds them on the toothsome bacon, On the trout, and pike, and whiting, On the rarest fish in ocean, On the dainties of Wainola. 'Often has the faithful hostess Risen from her couch in silence, Ere the crowing of the watcher, To prepare the wedding-banquet, Make her tables look attractive. Brew the honey-beer of wedlock. Excellently has the housewife, Has the hostess filled with wisdom, Brewed the beer from hops and barley, From the corn of Kalevala, From the wheat-malt honey-seasoned, Stirred the beer with graceful fingers, At the oven in the penthouse, In the chamber swept and polished. Neither did the prudent hostess, Beautiful, and full of wisdom, Let the barley sprout too freely, Lest the beer should taste of black-earth, Be too bitter in the brewing, Often went she to the garners, Went alone at hour of midnight, Was not frightened by the black-wolf, Did not fear the beasts of woodlands. 'Now the hostess I have lauded, Let me praise the favored suitor, Now the honored hero-bridegroom, Best of all the village-masters. Clothed in purple is the hero, Raiment brought from distant nations, Tightly fitting to his body; Snugly sets his coat of ermine, To the floor it hangs in beauty, Trailing from his neck and shoulders, 435 Little of his vest appearing, Peeping through his outer raiment, Woven by the Moon's fair daughters, And his vestment silver-tinselled. Dressed in neatness is the suitor, Round his waist a belt of copper, Hammered by the Sun's sweet maidens, Ere the early fires were lighted, Ere the fire had been discovered. Dressed in richness is the bridegroom, On his feet are silken stockings, Silken ribbons on his ankles, Gold and silver interwoven. Dressed in beauty is the bridegroom, On his feet are shoes of deer-skin, Like the swans upon the water, Like the blue-duck on the sea-waves, Like the thrush among the willows, Like the water-birds of Northland. Well adorned the hero-suitor, With his locks of golden color, With his gold-beard finely braided, Hero-hat upon his forehead, Piercing through the forest branches, Reaching to the clouds of heaven, Bought with countless gold and silver, Priceless is the suitor's head-gear. 'Now the bridegroom has been lauded, I will praise the young bride's playmate, Day-companion in her childhood, In the maiden's magic mansion. Whence was brought the merry maiden, From the village of Tanikka? Thence was never brought the playmate, Playmate of the bride in childhood. Has she come from distant nations, From the waters of the Dwina, O'er the ocean far-outstretching? Not from Dwina came the maiden, Did not sail across the waters; Grew as berry in the mountains, As a strawberry of sweetness, 436 On the fields the child of beauty, In the glens the golden flower. Thence has come the young bride's playmate, Thence arose her fair companion. Tiny are her feet and fingers, Small her lips of scarlet color, Like the maiden's loom of Suomi; Eyes that shine in kindly beauty Like the twinkling stars of heaven; Beam the playmate's throbbing temples Like the moonlight on the waters. Trinkets has the bride's companion, On her neck a golden necklace, In her tresses, silken ribbons, On her arms are golden bracelets, Golden rings upon her fingers, Pearls are set in golden ear-rings, Loops of gold upon her temples, And with pearls her brow is studded. Northland thought the Moon was shining When her jeweled ear-ringsglistened; Thought the Sun had left his station When her girdle shone in beauty; Thought a ship was homeward sailing When her colored head-gear fluttered. Thus is praised the bride's companion, Playmate of the Rainbow-maiden. 'Now I praise the friends assembled, All appear in graceful manners; If the old are wise and silent, All the youth are free and merry, All the guests are fair and worthy. Never was there in Wainola, Never will there be in Northland, Such a company assembled; All the children speak in joyance, All the aged move sedately; Dressed in white are all the maidens, Like the hoar-frost of the morning, Like the welcome dawn of spring-time, Like the rising of the daylight. Silver then was more abundant, 437 Gold among the guests in plenty, On the hills were money, pockets, Money-bags along the valleys, For the friends that were invited, For the guests in joy assembled. All the friends have now been lauded, Each has gained his meed of honor.' Wainamoinen, old and truthful, Song-deliverer of Northland, Swung himself upon the fur-bench Or his magic sledge of copper, Straightway hastened to his hamlet, Singing as he journeyed onward, Singing charms and incantations, Singing one day, then a second, All the third day chanting legends. On the rocks the runners rattled, Hung the sledge upon a birch-stump, Broke it into many pieces, With the magic of his singing; Double were the runners bended, All the parts were torn asunder, And his magic sledge was ruined. Then the good, old Wainamoinen Spake these words in meditation: 'Is there one among this number, In this rising generation, Or perchance among the aged, In the passing generation, That will go to Mana's kingdom, To the empire of Tuoni, There to get the magic auger From the master of Manala, That I may repair my snow-sledge, Or a second sledge may fashion?' What the younger people answered Was the answer of the aged: 'Not among the youth of Northland, Nor among the aged heroes, Is there one of ample courage, That has bravery sufficient, To attempt the reckless journey 438 To the kingdom of Tuoni, To Manala's fields and castles, Thence to bring Tuoni's auger, Wherewithal to mend thy snow-sledge, Build anew thy sledge of magic.' Thereupon old Wainamoinen, The eternal wisdom-singer, Went again to Mana's empire, To the kingdom of Tuoni, Crossed the sable stream of Deathland, To the castles of Manala, Found the auger of Tuoni, Brought the instrument in safety. Straightway sings old Wainamoinen, Sings to life a purple forest, In the forest, slender birches, And beside them, mighty oak-trees, Shapes them into shafts and runners, Moulds them by his will and power, Makes anew his sledge of magic. On his steed he lays the harness, Binds him to his sledge securely, Seats himself upon the cross-bench, And the racer gallops homeward, To the manger filled and waiting, To the stable of his master; Brings the ancient Wainamoinen, Famous bard and wise enchanter, To the threshold of his dwelling, To his home in Kalevala. ~ Elias Lönnrot,

1019:The Kalevala - Rune Xv LEMMINKAINEN'S RESTORATION. Lemminkainen's aged mother Anxious roams about the islands, Anxious wonders in her chambers, What the fate of Lemminkainen, Why her son so long has tarried; Thinks that something ill has happened To her hero in Pohyola. Sad, indeed, the mother's anguish, As in vain she waits his coming, As in vain she asks the question, Where her daring son is roaming, Whether to the fir-tree mountain, Whether to the distant heath-land, Or upon the broad-sea's ridges, On the floods and rolling waters, To the war's contending armies, To the heat and din of battle, Steeped in blood of valiant heroes, Evidence of fatal warfare. Daily does the wife Kyllikki Look about her vacant chamber, In the home of Lemminkainen, At the court of Kaukomieli; Looks at evening, looks at morning, Looks, perchance, upon his hair-brush, Sees alas! the blood-drops oozing, Oozing from the golden bristles, And the blood-drops, scarlet-colored. Then the beauteous wife, Kyllikki, Spake these words in deeps of anguish: 'Dead or wounded is my husband, Or at best is filled with trouble, Lost perhaps in Northland forests, In some glen unknown to heroes, Since alas! the blood is flowing From the brush of Lemminkainen, 273 Red drops oozing from the bristles.' Thereupon the anxious mother Looks upon the bleeding hair-brush And begins this wail of anguish: 'Woe is me, my life hard-fated, Woe is me, all joy departed! For alas! my son and hero, Valiant hero of the islands, Son of trouble and misfortune! Some sad fate has overtaken My ill-fated Lemminkainen! Blood is flowing from his hair-brush, Oozing from its golden bristles, And the drops are scarlet-colored.' Quick her garment's hem she clutches, On her arm she throws her long-robes, Fleetly flies upon her journey; With her might she hastens northward, Mountains tremble from her footsteps, Valleys rise and heights are lowered, Highlands soon become as lowlands, All the hills and valleys levelled. Soon she gains the Northland village, Quickly asks about her hero, These the words the mother utters: 'O thou hostess of Pohyola, Where hast thou my Lemminkainen? Tell me of my son and hero!' Louhi, hostess of the Northland, Gives this answer to the mother: 'Nothing know I of thy hero, Of the hero of the islands; Where thy son may be I know not, Cannot lend the information; Once I gave thy son a courser, Hitched the racer to his snow-sledge, This the last of Lemminkainen; May perchance be drowned in Wuhne, Frozen In the icy ocean, Fallen prey to wolves in hunger, In a bear's den may have perished.' Lemminkainen's mother answers: 274 'Thou art only speaking falsehoods, Northland wolves cannot devour us, Nor the bears kill Kaukomieli; He can slay the wolves of Pohya With the fingers of his left hand; Bears of Northland he would silence With the magic of his singing. 'Hostess of Pohyola, tell me Whither thou hast sent my hero; I shall burst thy many garners, Shall destroy the magic Sampo, If thou dost not tell me truly Where to find my Lemminkainen.' Spake the hostess of Pohyola: 'I have well thy hero treated, Well my court has entertained him, Gave him of my rarest viands, Fed him at my well-filled tables, Placed him in a boat of copper, Thus to float adown the current, This the last of Lemminkainen; Cannot tell where he has wandered. Whether in the foam of waters, Whether in the boiling torrent, Whether in the drowning whirlpool.' Lemminkainen's mother answers: Thou again art speaking falsely; Tell me now the truth I pray thee, Make an end of thy deception, Where is now my Lemminkainen, Whither hast thou sent my hero, Young and daring son of Kalew? If a third time thou deceivest, I will send thee plagues, unnumbered, I will send thee fell destruction, Certain death will overtake thee.' Spake the hostess of Pohyola: 'This the third time that I answer, This the truth that I shall tell thee: I have sent the Kalew-hero To the Hisi-fields and forests, There to hunt the moose of Lempo; 275 Sent him then to catch the fire-horse, Catch the fire-expiring stallion, On the distant plains of Juutas, In the realm of cruel Hisi. Then I sent him to the Death-stream, In the kingdom of Tuoni, With his bow and but one arrow, There to shoot the swan as dowry For my best and fairest daughter; Have not heard about thy hero Since he left for Tuonela; May in misery have fallen, May have perished in Manala; Has not come to ask my daughter, Has not come to woo the maiden, Since he left to hunt the death-swan.' Now the mother seeks her lost one, For her son she weeps and trembles, Like the wolf she bounds through fenlands, Like the bear, through forest thickets, Like the wild-boar, through the marshes, Like the hare, along the sea-coast, To the sea-point, like the hedgehog Like the wild-duck swims the waters, Casts the rubbish from her pathway, Tramples down opposing brush-wood, Stops at nothing in her journey Seeks a long time for her hero, Seeks, and seeks, and does not find him. Now she asks the trees the question, And the forest gives this answer: 'We have care enough already, Cannot think about thy matters; Cruel fates have we to battle, Pitiful our own misfortunes! We are felled and chopped in pieces, Cut in blocks for hero-fancy, We are burned to death as fuel, No one cares how much we suffer.' Now again the mother wanders, Seeks again her long-lost hero, Seeks, and seeks, and does not find him. 276 Paths arise and come to meet her, And she questions thus the pathways: 'Paths of hope that God has fashioned, Have ye seen my Lemminkainen, Has my son and golden hero Travelled through thy many kingdoms?' Sad, the many pathways answer: 'We ourselves have cares sufficient, Cannot watch thy son and hero, Wretched are the lives of pathways, Deep indeed our own misfortunes; We are trodden by, the red-deer, By the wolves, and bears, and roebucks, Driven o'er by heavy cart-wheels, By the feet of dogs are trodden, Trodden under foot of heroes, Foot-paths for contending armies.' Seeks again the frantic mother, Seeks her long-lost son and hero, Seeks, and seeks, and does not find him; Finds the Moon within her orbit, Asks the Moon in pleading measures: 'Golden Moon, whom God has stationed In the heavens, the Sun's companion, Hast thou seen my Kaukomieli, Hast thou seen my silver apple, Anywhere in thy dominions? ' Thus the golden Moon makes answer: 'I have trouble all-sufficient, Cannot watch thy daring hero; Long the journey I must travel, Sad the fate to me befallen, Pitiful mine own misfortunes, All alone the nights to wander, Shine alone without a respite, In the winter ever watching, In the summer sink and perish.' Still the mother seeks, and wanders, Seeks, and does not find her hero, Sees the Sun in the horizon, And the mother thus entreats him: Silver Sun, whom God has fashioned, 277 Thou that giveth warmth and comfort, Hast thou lately seen my hero, Hast thou seen my Lemminkainen, Wandering in thy dominions?' Thus the Sun in kindness answers: 'Surely has thy hero perished, To ingratitude a victim; Lemminkainen died and vanished In Tuoni's fatal river, In the waters of Manala, In the sacred stream and whirlpool, In the cataract and rapids, Sank within the drowning current To the realm of Tuonela, To Manala's lower regions.' Lemminkainen's mother weeping, Wailing in the deeps of anguish, Mourns the fate of Kaukomieli, Hastens to the Northland smithy, To the forge of Ilmarinen, These the words the mother utters: 'Ilmarinen, metal-artist, Thou that long ago wert forging, Forging earth a concave cover, Yesterday wert forging wonders, Forge thou now, immortal blacksmith, Forge a rake with shaft of copper, Forge the teeth of strongest metal, Teeth in length a hundred fathoms, And five hundred long the handle.' Ilmarinen does as bidden, Makes the rake in full perfection. Lemminkainen's anxious mother Takes the magic rake and hastens To the river of Tuoni, Praying to the Sun as follows: 'Thou, O Sun, by God created, Thou that shinest on thy Maker, Shine for me in heat of magic, Give me warmth, and strength, and courage, Shine a third time full of power, Lull to sleep the wicked people, 278 Still the people of Manala, Quiet all Tuoni's empire.' Thereupon the sun of Ukko, Dearest child of the Creator, Flying through the groves of Northland, Sitting on a curving birch-tree, Shines a little while in ardor, Shines again in greater fervor, Shines a third time full of power, Lulls to sleep the wicked people In the Manala home and kingdom, Still the heroes with their broadswords, Makes the lancers halt and totter, Stills the stoutest of the spearmen, Quiets Tuoni's ghastly empire. Now the Sun retires in magic, Hovers here and there a moment Over Tuoni's hapless sleepers, Hastens upward to his station, To his Jumala home and kingdom. Lemminkainen's faithful mother Takes the rake of magic metals, Rakes the Tuoni river bottoms, Rakes the cataract and whirlpool, Rakes the swift and boiling current Of the sacred stream of death-land, In the Manala home and kingdom. Searching for her long-lost hero, Rakes a long time, finding nothing; Now she wades the river deeper, To her belt in mud and water, Deeper, deeper, rakes the death-stream, Rakes the river's deepest caverns, Raking up and down the current, Till at last she finds his tunic, Heavy-hearted, finds his jacket; Rakes again and rakes unceasing, Finds the hero's shoes and stockings, Sorely troubled, finds these relies; Now she wades the river deeper, Rakes the Manala shoals and shallows, Rakes the deeps at every angle; 279 As she draws the rake the third time From the Tuoni shores and waters, In the rake she finds the body Of her long-lost Lemminkainen, In the metal teeth entangled, In the rake with copper handle. Thus the reckless Lemminkainen, Thus the son of Kalevala, Was recovered from the bottom Of the Manala lake and river. There were wanting many fragments, Half the head, a hand, a fore-arm, Many other smaller portions, Life, above all else, was missing. Then the mother, well reflecting, Spake these words in bitter weeping: 'From these fragments, with my magic, I will bring to life my hero.' Hearing this, the raven answered, Spake these measures to the mother: 'There is not in these a hero, Thou canst not revive these fragments; Eels have fed upon his body, On his eyes have fed the whiting; Cast the dead upon the waters, On the streams of Tuonela, Let him there become a walrus, Or a seal, or whale, or porpoise.' Lemminkainen's mother does not Cast the dead upon the waters, On the streams of Tuonela, She again with hope and courage, Rakes the river lengthwise, crosswise, Through the Manala pools and caverns, Rakes up half the head, a fore-arm, Finds a hand and half the back-bone, Many other smaller portions; Shapes her son from all the fragments, Shapes anew her Lemminkainen, Flesh to flesh with skill she places, Gives the bones their proper stations, Binds one member to the other, 280 Joins the ends of severed vessels, Counts the threads of all the venules, Knits the parts in apposition; Then this prayer the mother offers: 'Suonetar, thou slender virgin, Goddess of the veins of heroes, Skilful spinner of the vessels, With thy slender, silver spindle, With thy spinning-wheel of copper, Set in frame of molten silver, Come thou hither, thou art needed; Bring the instruments for mending, Firmly knit the veins together, At the end join well the venules, In the wounds that still are open, In the members that are injured. 'Should this aid be inefficient; There is living in the ether, In a boat enriched with silver, In a copper boat, a maiden, That can bring to thee assistance. Come, O maiden, from the ether, Virgin from the belt of heaven, Row throughout these veins, O maiden, Row through all these lifeless members, Through the channels of the long-bones, Row through every form of tissue. Set the vessels in their places, Lay the heart in right position, Make the pulses beat together, Join the smallest of the veinlets, And unite with skill the sinews. Take thou now a slender needle, Silken thread within its eyelet, Ply the silver needle gently, Sew with care the wounds together. 'Should this aid be inefficient, Thou, O God, that knowest all things, Come and give us thine assistance, Harness thou thy fleetest racer Call to aid thy strongest courser, In thy scarlet sledge come swiftly, 281 Drive through all the bones and channels, Drive throughout these lifeless tissues, Drive thy courser through each vessel, Bind the flesh and bones securely, In the joints put finest silver, Purest gold in all the fissures. 'Where the skin is broken open, Where the veins are torn asunder, Mend these injuries with magic; Where the blood has left the body, There make new blood flow abundant; Where the bones are rudely broken, Set the parts in full perfection; Where the flesh is bruised and loosened, Touch the wounds with magic balsam, Do not leave a part imperfect; Bone, and vein, and nerve, and sinew, Heart, and brain, and gland, and vessel, Heal as Thou alone canst heal them.' These the means the mother uses, Thus she joins the lifeless members, Thus she heals the death-like tissues, Thus restores her son and hero To his former life and likeness; All his veins are knit together, All their ends are firmly fastened, All the parts in apposition, Life returns, but speech is wanting, Deaf and dumb, and blind, and senseless. Now the mother speaks as follows: 'Where may I procure the balsam, Where the drops of magic honey, To anoint my son and hero, Thus to heal my Lemminkainen, That again his month may open, May again begin his singing, Speak again in words of wonder, Sing again his incantations? 'Tiny bee, thou honey-birdling, Lord of all the forest flowers, Fly away and gather honey, Bring to me the forest-sweetness, 282 Found in Metsola's rich gardens, And in Tapio's fragrant meadows, From the petals of the flowers, From the blooming herbs and grasses, Thus to heal my hero's anguish, Thus to heal his wounds of evil.' Thereupon the honey-birdling Flies away on wings of swiftness, Into Metsola's rich gardens, Into Tapio's flowery meadows, Gathers sweetness from the meadows, With the tongue distills the honey From the cups of seven flowers, From the bloom of countless grasses; Quick from Metsola returning, Flying, humming darting onward, With his winglets honey-laden, With the store of sweetest odors, To the mother brings the balsam. Lemminkainen's anxious mother Takes the balm of magic virtues, And anoints the injured hero, Heals his wounds and stills his anguish; But the balm is inefficient, For her son is deaf and speechless. Then again out-speaks the mother: Lemminkainen's Restoration. 'Little bee, my honey-birdling, Fly away in one direction, Fly across the seven oceans, In the eighth, a magic island, Where the honey is enchanted, To the distant Turi-castles, To the chambers of Palwoinen; There the honey is effective, There, the wonder-working balsam, This may heal the wounded hero; Bring me of this magic ointment, That I may anoint his eyelids, May restore his injured senses.' Thereupon the honey-birdling Flew away o'er seven oceans, 283 To the old enchanted island; Flies one day, and then a second, On the verdure does not settle, Does not rest upon the flowers; Flies a third day, fleetly onward, Till a third day evening brings him To the island in the ocean, To the meadows rich in honey, To the cataract and fire-flow, To the sacred stream and whirlpool. There the honey was preparing, There the magic balm distilling In the tiny earthen vessels, In the burnished copper kettles, Smaller than a maiden's thimble, Smaller than the tips of fingers. Faithfully the busy insect Gathers the enchanted honey From the magic Turi-cuplets In the chambers of Palwoinen. Time had gone but little distance, Ere the bee came loudly humming Flying fleetly, honey-laden; In his arms were seven vessels, Seven, the vessels on each shoulder; All were filled with honey-balsam, With the balm of magic virtues. Lemminkainen's tireless mother Quick anoints her speechless hero, With the magic Turi-balsam, With the balm of seven virtues; Nine the times that she anoints him With the honey of Palwoinen, With the wonder-working balsam; But the balm is inefficient, For the hero still is speechless. Then again out-speaks the mother: 'Honey-bee, thou ether birdling, Fly a third time on thy journey, Fly away to high Jumala, Fly thou to the seventh heaven, Honey there thou'lt find abundant, 284 Balsam of the highest virtue, Only used by the Creator, Only made from the breath of Ukko. God anoints his faithful children, With the honey of his wisdom, When they feel the pangs of sorrow, When they meet the powers of evil. Dip thy winglets in this honey, Steep thy plumage in His sweetness, Hither bring the all-sufficient Balsam of the great Creator; This will still my hero's anguish, This will heal his wounded tissues, This restore his long-lost vision, Make the Northland hills re-echo With the magic of his singing, With his wonderful enchantment.' Thus the honey-bee made answer: 'I can never fly to heaven, To the seventh of the heavens, To the distant home of Ukko, With these wings of little virtue.' Lemminkainen's mother answered: 'Thou canst surely fly to heaven, To the seventh of the heavens, O'er the Moon, beneath the sunshine, Through the dim and distant starlight. On the first day, flying upward, Thou wilt near the Moon in heaven, Fan the brow of Kootamoinen; On the second thou canst rest thee On the shoulders of Otava; On the third day, flying higher, Rest upon the seven starlets, On the heads of Hetewanè; Short the journey that is left thee, Inconsiderable the distance To the home of mighty Ukko, To the dwellings of the blessed.' Thereupon the bee arising, From the earth flies swiftly upward, Hastens on with graceful motion, 285 By his tiny wings borne heavenward, In the paths of golden moonbeams, Touches on the Moon's bright borders, Fans the brow of Kootamoinen, Rests upon Otava's shoulders, Hastens to the seven starlets., To the heads of Hetewanè, Flies to the Creator's castle, To the home of generous Ukko, Finds the remedy preparing, Finds the balm of life distilling, In the silver-tinted caldrons, In the purest golden kettles; On one side, heart-easing honey, On a second, balm of joyance, On the third, life-giving balsam. Here the magic bee, selecting, Culls the sweet, life-giving balsam, Gathers too, heart-easing honey, Heavy-laden hastens homeward. Time had traveled little distance, Ere the busy bee came humming To the anxious mother waiting, In his arms a hundred cuplets, And a thousand other vessels, Filled with honey, filled with balsam, Filled with the balm of the Creator. Lemminkainen's mother quickly Takes them on her, tongue and tests them, Finds a balsam all-sufficient. Then the mother spake as follows: 'I have found the long-sought balsam, Found the remedy of Ukko, Where-with God anoints his people, Gives them life, and faith, and wisdom, Heals their wounds and stills their anguish, Makes them strong against temptation, Guards them from the evil-doers.' Now the mother well anointing, Heals her son, the magic singer, Eyes, and ears, and tongue, and temples, Breaks, and cuts, and seams, anointing, 286 Touching well the life-blood centres, Speaks these words of magic import To the sleeping Lemminkainen: 'Wake, arise from out thy slumber, From the worst of low conditions, From thy state of dire misfortune!' Slowly wakes the son and hero, Rises from the depths of slumber, Speaks again in magic accents, These the first words of the singer: 'Long, indeed, have I been sleeping, Long unconscious of existence, But my sleep was full of sweetness, Sweet the sleep in Tuonela, Knowing neither joy nor sorrow!' This the answer of his mother: 'Longer still thou wouldst have slumbered, Were it not for me, thy, mother; Tell me now, my son beloved, Tell me that I well may hear thee, Who enticed thee to Manala, To the river of Tuoni, To the fatal stream and whirlpool?' Then the hero, Lemminkainen, Gave this answer to his mother: 'Nasshut, the decrepit shepherd Of the flocks of Sariola, Blind, and halt, and poor, and wretched, And to whom I did a favor; From the slumber-land of envy Nasshut sent me to Manala, To the river of Tuoni; Sent a serpent from the waters, Sent an adder from the death-stream, Through the heart of Lemminkainen; Did not recognize the serpent, Could not speak the serpent-language, Did not know the sting of adders.' Spake again the ancient mother: 'O thou son of little insight, Senseless hero, fool-magician, Thou didst boast betimes thy magic 287 To enchant the wise enchanters, On the dismal shores of Lapland, Thou didst think to banish heroes, From the borders of Pohyola; Didst not know the sting of serpents, Didst not know the reed of waters, Nor the magic word-protector! Learn the origin of serpents, Whence the poison of the adder. 'In the floods was born the serpent, From the marrow of the gray-duck, From the brain of ocean-swallows; Suoyatar had made saliva, Cast it on the waves of ocean, Currents drove it outward, onward, Softly shone the sun upon it, By the winds 'twas gently cradled, Gently nursed by winds and waters, By the waves was driven shoreward, Landed by the surging billows. Thus the serpent, thing of evil, Filling all the world with trouble, Was created in the waters Born from Suoyatar, its maker.' Then the mother of the hero Rocked her son to rest and comfort, Rocked him to his former being, To his former life and spirit, Into greater magic powers; Wiser, handsomer than ever Grew the hero of the islands; But his heart was full of trouble, And his mother, ever watchful, Asked the cause of his dejection. This is Lemminkainen's answer: 'This the cause of all my sorrow; Far away my heart is roaming, All my thoughts forever wander To the Northland's blooming virgins, To the maids of braided tresses. Northland's ugly hostess, Louhi, Will not give to me her daughter, 288 Fairest maiden of Pohyola, Till I kill the swan of Mana, With my bow and but one arrow, In the river of Tuoni. Lemminkainen's mother answers, In the sacred stream and whirlpool. 'Let the swan swim on in safety, Give the water-bird his freedom, In the river of Manala, In the whirlpool of Tuoni; Leave the maiden in the Northland., With her charms and fading beauty; With thy fond and faithful mother, Go at once to Kalevala, To thy native fields and fallows. Praise thy fortune, all sufficient, Praise, above all else, thy Maker. Ukko gave thee aid when needed, Thou wert saved by thy Creator, From thy long and hopeless slumber, In the waters of Tuoni, In the chambers of Manala. I unaided could not save thee, Could not give the least assistance; God alone, omniscient Ukko, First and last of the creators, Can revive the dead and dying, Can protect his worthy people From the waters of Manala, . From the fatal stream and whirlpool, In the kingdom of Tuoni.' Lemminkainen, filled with wisdom, With his fond and faithful mother, Hastened straightway on his journey To his distant home and kindred, To the Wainola fields and meadows, To the plains of Kalevala. ***** Here I leave my Kaukomieli, Leave my hero Lemminkainen, Long I leave him from my singing, Turn my song to other heroes, 289 Send it forth on other pathways, Sing some other golden legend. ~ Elias Lönnrot,

1020:The Kalevala - Rune Xviii THE RIVAL SUITORS Wainamoinen, old and truthful, Long considered, long debated, How to woo and win the daughter Of the hostess of Pohyola, How to lead the Bride of Beauty, Fairy maiden of the rainbow, To the meadows of Wainola, From the dismal Sariola. Now he decks his magic vessel, Paints the boat in blue and scarlet, Trims in gold the ship's forecastle, Decks the prow in molten silver; Sings his magic ship down gliding, On the cylinders of fir-tree: Now erects the masts of pine-wood, On each mast the sails of linen, Sails of blue, and white, and scarlet, Woven into finest fabric. Wainamoinen, the magician, Steps aboard his wondrous vessel, Steers the bark across the waters, On the blue back of the broad-sea, Speaks these words in sailing northward, Sailing to the dark Pohyola: 'Come aboard my ship, O Ukko, Come with me, thou God of mercy, To protect thine ancient hero, To support thy trusting servant, On the breasts of raging billows, On the far out-stretching waters. 'Rock, O winds, this wondrous vessel, Causing not a single ripple; Rolling waves, bear ye me northward, That the oar may not be needed In my journey to Pohyola, O'er this mighty waste of waters.' 317 Ilmarinen's beauteous sister, Fair and goodly maid, Annikki, Of the Night and Dawn, the daughter, Who awakes each morning early, Rises long before the daylight, Stood one morning on the sea-shore, Washing in the foam her dresses, Rinsing out her silken ribbons, On the bridge of scarlet color, On the border of the highway, On a headland jutting seaward, On the forest-covered island. Here Annikki, looking round her, Looking through the fog and ether, Looking through the clouds of heaven, Gazing far out on the blue-sea, Sees the morning sun arising, Glimmering along the billows, Looks with eyes of distant vision Toward the sunrise on the waters, Toward the winding streams of Suomi, Where the Wina-waves were flowing. There she sees, on the horizon, Something darkle in the sunlight, Something blue upon the billows, Speaks these words in wonder guessing: What is this upon the surges, What this blue upon the waters, What this darkling in the sunlight? 'Tis perhaps a flock of wild-geese, Or perchance the blue-duck flying; Then upon thy wings arising, Fly away to highest heaven. 'Art thou then a shoal of sea-trout, Or perchance a school of salmon? Dive then to the deep sea-bottom, In the waters swim and frolic. 'Art thou then a cliff of granite, Or perchance a mighty oak-tree, Floating on the rough sea-billows? May the floods then wash and beat thee Break thee to a thousand fragments.' 318 Wainamoinen, sailing northward, Steers his wondrous ship of magic Toward the headland jutting seaward, Toward the island forest-covered. Now Annikki, goodly maiden, Sees it is the magic vessel Of a wonderful enchanter, Of a mighty bard and hero, And she asks this simple question: 'Art thou then my father's vessel, Or my brother's ship of magic? Haste away then to thy harbor, To thy refuge in Wainola. Hast thou come a goodly distance? Sail then farther on thy journey, Point thy prow to other waters.' It was not her father's vessel, Not a sail-boat from the distance, 'Twas the ship of Wainamoinen, Bark of the eternal singer; Sails within a hailing distance, Swims still nearer o'er the waters, Brings one word and takes another, Brings a third of magic import. Speaks the goodly maid, Annikki, Of the Night and Dawn, the daughter, To the sailor of the vessel: 'Whither sailest, Wainamoinen, Whither bound, thou friend of waters, Pride and joy of Kalevala?' From the vessel Wainamomen Gives this answer to the maiden: 'I have come to catch some sea-trout, Catch the young and toothsome whiting, Hiding in tbese-reeds and rushes.' This the answer of Annikki: 'Do not speak to me in falsehood, Know I well the times of fishing; Long ago my honored father Was a fisherman in Northland, Came to catch the trout and whiting, Fished within these seas and rivers. 319 Very well do I remember How the fisherman disposes, How he rigs his fishing vessel, Lines, and gaffs, and poles, and fish-nets; Hast not come a-fishing hither. Whither goest, Wainamoinen, Whither sailest, friend of waters? Spake the ancient Wainamoinen: 'I have come to catch some wild-geese, Catch the hissing birds of Suomi, In these far-extending borders, In the Sachsensund dominions.' Good Annikki gives this answer: 'Know I well a truthful speaker, Easily detect a falsehood; Formerly my aged father Often came a-hunting hither, Came to hunt the hissing wild-geese, Hunt the red-bill of these waters. Very well do I remember How the hunter rigs his vessel, Bows, and arrows, knives, and quiver, Dogs enchained within the vessel, Pointers hunting on the sea-shore, Setters seeking in the marshes, Tell the truth now Wainamoinen, Whither is thy vessel sailing?' Spake the hero of the Northland: 'To the wars my ship is sailing, To the bloody fields of battle, Where the streams run scarlet-colored, Where the paths are paved with bodies!' These the words of fair Annikki: 'Know I well the paths to battle. Formerly my aged father Often sounded war's alarum, Often led the hosts to conquest; In each ship a hundred rowers, And in arms a thousand heroes, Oil the prow a thousand cross-bows, Swords, and spears, and battle-axes; Know I well the ship of battle. 320 Speak Do longer fruitless falsehoods, Whither sailest, Wainamoinen, Whither steerest, friend of waters? These the words of Wainamoinen: 'Come, O maiden, to my vessel, In my magic ship be seated, Then I'll give thee truthful answer.' Thus Annikki, silver-tinselled, Answers ancient Wainamoinen: 'With the winds I'll fill thy vessel, To thy bark I'll send the storm-winds And capsize thy ship of magic, Break in pieces its forecastle, If the truth thou dost not tell me, If thou dost not cease thy falsehoods, If thou dost not tell me truly Whither sails thy magic vessel.' These the words of Wainamoinen: 'Now I make thee truthful answer, Though at first I spake deception: I am sailing to the Northland To the dismal Sariola, Where the ogres live and flourish, Where they drown the worthy heroes, There to woo the Maid of Beauty Sitting on the bow of heaven, Woo and win the fairy virgin, Bring her to my home and kindred, To the firesides of Walnola.' Then Aunikki, graceful maiden, Of the Night and Dawn, the daughter, As she heard the rightful answer, Knew the truth was fully spoken, Straightway left her coats unbeaten, Left unwashed her linen garments, Left unrinsed her silks and ribbons On the highway by the sea-shore, On the bridge of scarlet color On her arm she threw her long-robes, Hastened off with speed of roebuck To the shops of Ilmarinen, To the iron-forger's furnace, 321 To the blacksmith's home and smithy, Here she found the hero-artist, Forging out a bench of iron, And adorning it with silver. Soot lay thick upon his forehead, Soot and coal upon his shoulders. On the threshold speaks Annikki, These the words his sister uses: 'Ilmarinen, dearest brother, Thou eternal artist-forger, Forge me now a loom of silver, Golden rings to grace my fingers, Forge me gold and silver ear-rings, Six or seven golden girdles, Golden crosslets for my bosom, For my head forge golden trinkets, And I'll tell a tale surprising, Tell a story that concerns thee Truthfully I'll tell the story.' Then the blacksmith Ilmarinen Spake and these the words he uttered: 'If thou'lt tell the tale sincerely, I will forge the loom of silver, Golden rings to grace thy fingers, Forge thee gold and silver ear-rings, Six or seven golden girdles, Golden crosslets for thy bosom, For thy head forge golden trinkets; But if thou shouldst tell me falsely, I shall break thy beauteous jewels, Break thine ornaments in pieces, Hurl them to the fire and furnace, Never forge thee other trinkets.' This the answer of Annikki: 'Ancient blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Dost thou ever think to marry Her already thine affianced, Beauteous Maiden of the Rainbow, Fairest virgin of the Northland, Chosen bride of Sariola? Shouldst thou wish the Maid of Beauty, Thou must forge, and forge unceasing, 322 Hammering the days and nights through; Forge the summer hoofs for horses, Forge them iron hoofs for winter, In the long nights forge the snow-sledge, Gaily trim it in the daytime, Haste thou then upon thy journey To thy wooing in the Northland, To the dismal Sariola; Thither journeys one more clever, Sails another now before thee, There to woo thy bride affianced, Thence to lead thy chosen virgin, Woo and win the Maid of Beauty; Three long years thou hast been wooing. Wainamoinen now is sailing On the blue back of the waters, Sitting at his helm of copper; On the prow are golden carvings, Beautiful his boat of magic, Sailing fleetly o'er the billows, To the never-pleasant Northland, To the dismal Sariola.' Ilmarinen stood in wonder, Stood a statue at the story; Silent grief had settled o'er him, Settled o'er the iron-artist; From one hand the tongs descended, From the other fell the hammer, As the blacksmith made this answer: 'Good Annikki, worthy sister, I shall forge the loom of silver, Golden rings to grace thy fingers, Forge thee gold and silver ear-rings, Six or seven golden girdles, Golden crosslets for thy bosom; Go and heat for me the bath-room, Fill with heat the honey-chambers, Lay the faggots on the fire-place, Lay the smaller woods around them, Pour some water through the ashes, Make a soap of magic virtue, Thus to cleanse my blackened visage, 323 Thus to cleanse the blacksmith's body, Thus remove the soot and ashes.' Then Annikki, kindly sister, Quickly warmed her brother's bath-room, Warmed it with the knots of fir-trees, That the thunder-winds had broken; Gathered pebbles from the fire-stream, Threw them in the heating waters; Broke the tassels from the birch-trees, Steeped the foliage in honey, Made a lye from milk and ashes, Made of these a strong decoction, Mixed it with the fat and marrow Of the reindeer of the mountains, Made a soap of magic virtue, Thus to cleanse the iron-artist, Thus to beautify the suitor, Thus to make the hero worthy. Ilmarinen, ancient blacksmith, The eternal metal-worker, Forged the wishes of his sister, Ornaments for fair Annikki, Rings, and bracelets, pins and ear-drops, Forged for her six golden girdles, Forged a weaving loom of silver, While the maid prepared the bath-room, Set his toilet-room in order. To the maid he gave the trinkets, Gave the loom of molten silver, And the sister thus made answer: 'I have heated well thy bath-room, Have thy toilet-things in order, Everything as thou desirest; Go prepare thyself for wooing, Lave thy bead to flaxen whiteness, Make thy cheeks look fresh and ruddy, Lave thyself in Love's aroma, That thy wooing prove successful.' Ilmarinen, magic artist, Quick repairing to his bath-room, Bathed his head to flaxen whiteness, Made his cheeks look fresh and ruddy, 324 Laved his eyes until they sparkled Like the moonlight on the waters; Wondrous were his form and features, And his cheeks like ruddy berries. These the words of Ilmarinen: 'Fair Annikki, lovely sister, Bring me now my silken raiment, Bring my best and richest vesture, Bring me now my softest linen, That my wooing prove successful.' Straightway did the helpful sister Bring the finest of his raiment, Bring the softest of his linen, Raiment fashioned by his mother; Brought to him his silken stockings, Brought him shoes of marten-leather, Brought a vest of sky-blue color, Brought him scarlet-colored trousers, Brought a coat with scarlet trimming, Brought a red shawl trimmed in ermine Fourfold wrapped about his body; Brought a fur-coat made of seal-skin, Fastened with a thousand bottons, And adorned with countless jewels; Brought for him his magic girdle, Fastened well with golden buckles, That his artist-mother fashioned; Brought him gloves with golden wristlets, That the Laplanders had woven For a head of many ringlets; Brought the finest cap in Northland, That his ancient father purchased When he first began his wooing. Ilmarinen, blacksmith-artist, Clad himself to look his finest, When he thus addressed a servant: 'Hitch for me a fleet-foot racer, Hitch him to my willing snow-sledge, For I start upon a journey To the distant shores of Pohya, To the dismal Sariola.' Spake the servant thus in answer: 325 'Thou hast seven fleet-foot racers, Munching grain within their mangers, Which of these shall I make ready?' Spake the blacksmith, Ilmarinen: 'Take the fleetest of my coursers, Put the gray steed in the harness, Hitch him to my sledge of magic; Place six cuckoos on the break-board, Seven bluebirds on the cross-bars, Thus to charm the Northland maidens, Thus to make them look and listen, As the cuckoos call and echo. Bring me too my largest bear-skin, Fold it warm about the cross-bench; Bring me then my marten fur-robes, As a cover and protection.' Straightway then the trusty servant Of the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Put the gray steed in the harness, Hitched the racer to the snow-sledge, Placed six cuckoos on the break-board, Seven bluebirds on the cross-bars, On the front to sing and twitter; Then he brought the largest bear-skin, Folded it upon the cross-bench; Brought the finest robes of marten, Warm protection for the master. Ilmarinen, forger-artist, The eternal metal-worker, Earnestly entreated Ukko: 'Send thy snow-flakes, Ukko, father, Let them gently fall from heaven, Let them cover all the heather, Let them hide the berry-bushes, That my sledge may glide in freedom O'er the hills to Sariola!' Ukko sent the snow from heaven, Gently dropped the crystal snow-flakes, Lending thus his kind assistance To the hero, Ilmarinen, On his journey to the Northland. Reins in hand, the ancient artist 326 Seats him in his metal snow-sledge, And beseeches thus his Master: 'Good luck to my reins and traces, Good luck to my shafts and runners! God protect my magic snow-sledge, Be my safeguard on my journey To the dismal Sariola!' Now the ancient Ilmarinen Draws the reins upon the racer, Snaps his whip above the courser, To the gray steed gives this order, And the charger plunges northward: 'Haste away, my flaxen stallion, Haste thee onward, noble white-face, To the never-pleasant Pohya, To the dreary Sariola!' Fast and faster flies the fleet-foot, On the curving snow-capped sea-coast, On the borders of the lowlands, O'er the alder-hills and mountains. Merrily the steed flies onward, Bluebirds singing, cuckoos calling, On the sea-shore looking northward, Through the sand and falling snow-flakes Blinding winds, and snow, and sea-foam, Cloud the hero, Ilmarinen, As he glides upon his journey, Looking seaward for the vessel Of the ancient Wainamoinen; Travels one day, then a second, Travels all the next day northward, Till the third day Ilmarinen Overtakes old Wainamoinen, Rails him in his magic vessel, And addresses thus the minstrel: 'O thou ancient Wainamoinen, Let us woo in peace the maiden, Fairest daughter or the Northland, Sitting on the bow of heaven, Let each labor long to win her, Let her wed the one she chooses, Him selecting, let her follow.' 327 Wainamoinen thus makes answer: 'I agree to thy proposal, Let us woo in peace the maiden, Not by force, nor faithless measures, Shall we woo the Maid of Beauty, Let her follow him she chooses; Let the unsuccessful suitor Harbor neither wrath nor envy For the hero that she follows.' Thus agreeing, on they journey, Each according to his pleasure; Fleetly does the steed fly onward, Quickly flies the magic vessel, Sailing on the broad-sea northward; Ilmarinen's fleet-foot racer Makes the hills of Northland tremble, As he gallops on his journey To the dismal Sariola. Wainamoinen calls the South-winds, And they fly to his assistance; Swiftly sails his ship of beauty, Swiftly plows the rough sea-billows In her pathway to Pohyola. Time had gone but little distance, Scarce a moment had passed over, Ere the dogs began their barking, In the mansions of the Northland, In the courts of Sariola, Watch-dogs of the court of Louhi; Never had they growled so fiercely, Never had they barked so loudly, Never with their tails had beaten Northland into such an uproar. Spake the master of Pohyola: 'Go and learn, my worthy daughter, Why the watch-dogs have been barking, Why the black-dog signals danger.' Quickly does the daughter answer: 'I am occupied, dear father, I have work of more importance, I must tend my flock of lambkins, I must turn the nether millstone, 328 Grind to flour the grains of barley, Run the grindings through the sifter, Only have I time for grinding.' Lowly growls the faithful watch-dog, Seldom does he growl so strangely. Spake the master of Pohyola: 'Go and learn, my trusted consort, Why the Northland dogs are barking, Why the black-dog signals danger.' Thus his aged wife makes answer; 'Have no time, nor inclination, I must feed my hungry household, Must prepare a worthy dinner, I must bake the toothsome biscuit, Knead the dough till it is ready, Only have I strength for kneading.' Spake the master of Pohyola: 'Dames are always in a hurry, Maidens too are ever busy, Whether warming at the oven, Or asleep upon their couches; Go my son, and learn the danger, Why the black-dog growls displeasure,' Quickly does the son give answer: 'Have no time, nor inclination, Am in haste to grind my hatchet; I must chop this log to cordwood, For the fire must cut the faggots, I must split the wood in fragments, Large the pile and small the fire-wood, Only have I strength for chopping.' Still the watch-dog growls in anger, Growl the whelps within the mansion, Growl the dogs chained in the kennel, Growls the black-dog on the hill-top, Setting Northland in an uproar. Spake the master of Pohyola: 'Never, never does my black-dog Growl like this without a reason; Never does he bark for nothing, Does not growl at angry billows, Nor the sighing of the pine-trees.' 329 Then the master of Pohyola Went himself to learn the reason For the barking of the watch-dogs; Strode he through the spacious court-yard, Through the open fields beyond it, To the summit of the uplands. Looking toward his black-dog barking, He beholds the muzzle pointed To a distant, stormy hill-top, To a mound with alders covered; There he learned the rightful reason, Why his dogs had barked so loudly, Why had growled the wool-tail bearer, Why his whelps had signalled danger. At full sail, he saw a vessel, And the ship was scarlet-colored, Entering the bay of Lempo; Saw a sledge of magic colors, Gliding up the curving sea-shore, O'er the snow-fields of Pohyola. Then the master of the Northland Hastened straightway to his dwelling, Hastened forward to his court-room, These the accents of the master: 'Often strangers journey hither, On the blue back of the ocean, Sailing in a scarlet vessel, Rocking in the bay of Lempo; Often strangers come in sledges To the honey-lands of Louhi.' Spake the hostess of Pohyola: How shall we obtain a token Why these strangers journey hither? My beloved, faithful daughter, Lay a branch upon the fire-place, Let it burn with fire of magic If it trickle drops of scarlet, War and bloodshed do they bring us; If it trickle drops of water, Peace and plenty bring the strangers.' Northland's fair and slender maiden, Beautiful and modest daughter, 330 Lays a sorb-branch on the fire-place, Lights it with the fire of magic; Does not trickle drops of scarlet, Trickles neither blood, nor water, From the wand come drops of honey. From the corner spake Suowakko, This the language of the wizard: 'If the wand is dripping honey, Then the strangers that are coming Are but worthy friends and suitors.' Then the hostess of the Northland, With the daughter of the hostess, Straightway left their work, and hastened From their dwelling to the court-yard; Looked about in all directions, Turned their eyes upon the waters, Saw a magic-colored vessel Rocking slowly in the harbor, Having sailed the bay of Lempo, Triple sails, and masts, and rigging, Sable was the nether portion, And the upper, scarlet-colored, At the helm an ancient hero Leaning on his oars of copper; Saw a fleet-foot racer running, Saw a red sledge lightly follow, Saw the magic sledge emblazoned, Guided toward the courts of Louhi; Saw and heard six golden cuckoos Sitting on the break-board, calling, Seven bluebirds richly colored Singing from the yoke and cross-bar; In the sledge a magic hero, Young, and strong, and proud, and handsome, Holding reins upon the courser. Spake the hostess of Pohyola: 'Dearest daughter, winsome maiden, Dost thou wish a noble suitor? Should these heroes come to woo thee, Wouldst thou leave thy home and country, Be the bride of him that pleases, Be his faithful life-companion? 331 'He that comes upon the waters, Sailing in a magic vessel, Having sailed the bay of Lempo, Is the good, old Wainamoinen; In his ship are countless treasures, Richest presents from Wainola. 'He that rides here in his snow-sledge In his sledge of magic beauty, With the cuckoos and the bluebirds, Is the blacksmith, Ilmarinen, Cometh hither empty-handed, Only brings some wisdom-sayings. When they come within the dwelling, Bring a bowl of honeyed viands, Bring a pitcher with two handles, Give to him that thou wouldst follow Give it to old Wainamoinen, Him that brings thee countless treasures, Costly presents in his vessel, Priceless gems from Kalevala.' Spake the Northland's lovely daughter, This the language of the maiden 'Good, indeed, advice maternal, But I will not wed for riches, Wed no man for countless treasures; For his worth I'll choose a husband, For his youth and fine appearance, For his noble form and features; In the olden times the maidens Were not sold by anxious mothers To the suitors that they loved not. I shall choose without his treasures Ilmarinen for his wisdom, For his worth and good behavior, Him that forged the wondrous Sampo, Hammered thee the lid in colors.' Spake the hostess of Pohyola: 'Senseless daughter, child of folly, Thus to choose the ancient blacksmith, From whose brow drips perspiration, Evermore to rinse his linen, Lave his hands, and eyes, and forehead, 332 Keep his ancient house in order; Little use his wit and wisdom When compared with gold and silver.' This the answer of the daughter: 'I will never, never, never, Wed the ancient Wainamoinen With his gold and priceless jewels; Never will I be a helpmate To a hero in his dotage, Little thanks my compensation.' Wainamoinen, safely landing In advance of Ilmarinen, Pulls his gaily-covered vessel From the waves upon the sea-beach, On the cylinders of birch-wood, On the rollers copper-banded, Straightway hastens to the guest-room Of the hostess of Pohyola, Of the master of the Northland, Speaks these words upon the threshold To the famous Maid of Beauty: 'Come with me, thou lovely virgin, Be my bride and life-companion, Share with me my joys and sorrows, Be my honored wife hereafter!' This the answer of the maiden: 'Hast thou built for me the vessel, Built for me the ship of magic From the fragments of the distaff, From the splinters of the spindle?' Wainamoinen thus replying: 'I have built the promised vessel, Built the wondrous ship for sailing, Firmly joined the parts by magic; It will weather roughest billows, Will outlive the winds and waters, Swiftly glide upon the blue-back Of the deep and boundless ocean It will ride the waves in beauty, Like an airy bubble rising, Like a cork on lake and river, Through the angry seas of Northland, 333 Through Pohyola's peaceful waters.' Northland's fair and slender daughter Gives this answer to her suitor: 'Will not wed a sea-born hero, Do not care to rock the billows, Cannot live with such a husband Storms would bring us pain and trouble, Winds would rack our hearts and temples; Therefore thee I cannot follow, Cannot keep thy home in order, Cannot be thy life-companion, Cannot wed old Wainamoinen.' ~ Elias Lönnrot,

1021:A SATYRIC DRAMA TRANSLATED FROM THE GREEK OF EURIPIDES. SILENUS. ULYSSES. CHORUS OF SATYRS. THE CYCLOPS. SILENUS: O Bacchus, what a world of toil, both now And ere these limbs were overworn with age, Have I endured for thee! First, when thou fledst The mountain-nymphs who nursed thee, driven afar By the strange madness Juno sent upon thee; Then in the battle of the Sons of Earth, When I stood foot by foot close to thy side, No unpropitious fellow-combatant, And, driving through his shield my winged spear, Slew vast Enceladus. Consider now, Is it a dream of which I speak to thee? By Jove it is not, for you have the trophies! And now I suffer more than all before. For when I heard that Juno had devised A tedious voyage for you, I put to sea With all my children quaint in search of you, And I myself stood on the beaked prow And fixed the naked mast; and all my boys Leaning upon their oars, with splash and strain Made white with foam the green and purple sea,-- And so we sought you, king. We were sailing Near Malea, when an eastern wind arose, And drove us to this waste Aetnean rock; The one-eyed children of the Ocean God, The man-destroying Cyclopses, inhabit, On this wild shore, their solitary caves, And one of these, named Polypheme. has caught us To be his slaves; and so, for all delight Of Bacchic sports, sweet dance and melody, We keep this lawless giants wandering flocks. My sons indeed on far declivities, Young things themselves, tend on the youngling sheep, But I remain to fill the water-casks, Or sweeping the hard floor, or ministering Some impious and abominable meal To the fell Cyclops. I am wearied of it! And now I must scrape up the littered floor With this great iron rake, so to receive My absent master and his evening sheep In a cave neat and clean. Even now I see My children tending the flocks hitherward. Ha! what is this? are your Sicinnian measures Even now the same, as when with dance and song You brought young Bacchus to Althaeas halls? CHORUS OF SATYRS: STROPHE: Where has he of race divine Wandered in the winding rocks? Here the air is calm and fine For the father of the flocks;-- Here the grass is soft and sweet, And the river-eddies meet In the trough beside the cave, Bright as in their fountain wave.-- Neither here, nor on the dew Of the lawny uplands feeding? Oh, you come!a stone at you Will I throw to mend your breeding;-- Get along, you horned thing, Wild, seditious, rambling! EPODE: An Iacchic melody To the golden Aphrodite Will I lift, as erst did I Seeking her and her delight With the Maenads, whose white feet To the music glance and fleet. Bacchus, O beloved, where, Shaking wide thy yellow hair, Wanderest thou alone, afar? To the one-eyed Cyclops, we, Who by right thy servants are, Minister in misery, In these wretched goat-skins clad, Far from thy delights and thee. SILENUS: Be silent, sons; command the slaves to drive The gathered flocks into the rock-roofed cave. CHORUS: Go! But what needs this serious haste, O father? SILENUS: I see a Grecian vessel on the coast, And thence the rowers with some general Approaching to this cave.About their necks Hang empty vessels, as they wanted food, And water-flasks.Oh, miserable strangers! Whence come they, that they know not what and who My master is, approaching in ill hour The inhospitable roof of Polypheme, And the Cyclopian jaw-bone, man-destroying? Be silent, Satyrs, while I ask and hear 85 Whence coming, they arrive the Aetnean hill. ULYSSES: Friends, can you show me some clear water-spring, The remedy of our thirst? Will any one Furnish with food seamen in want of it? Ha! what is this? We seem to be arrived At the blithe court of Bacchus. I observe This sportive band of Satyrs near the caves. First let me greet the elder.--Hail! SILENUS: Hail thou, O Stranger! tell thy country and thy race. ULYSSES: The Ithacan Ulysses and the king Of Cephalonia. SILENUS: Oh! I know the man, Wordy and shrewd, the son of Sisyphus. ULYSSES: I am the same, but do not rail upon me.-- SILENUS: Whence sailing do you come to Sicily? ULYSSES: From Ilion, and from the Trojan toils. SILENUS: How, touched you not at your paternal shore? ULYSSES: The strength of tempests bore me here by force. SILENUS: The self-same accident occurred to me. ULYSSES: Were you then driven here by stress of weather? SILENUS: Following the Pirates who had kidnapped Bacchus. ULYSSES: What land is this, and who inhabit it?-- SILENUS: Aetna, the loftiest peak in Sicily. ULYSSES: And are there walls, and tower-surrounded towns? SILENUS: There are not.--These lone rocks are bare of men. ULYSSES: And who possess the land? the race of beasts? SILENUS: Cyclops, who live in caverns, not in houses. ULYSSES: Obeying whom? Or is the state popular? SILENUS: Shepherds: no one obeys any in aught. ULYSSES: How live they? do they sow the corn of Ceres? SILENUS: On milk and cheese, and on the flesh of sheep. ULYSSES: Have they the Bromian drink from the vines stream? SILENUS: Ah! no; they live in an ungracious land. ULYSSES: And are they just to strangers?hospitable? SILENUS: They think the sweetest thing a stranger brings Is his own flesh. ULYSSES: What! do they eat mans flesh? SILENUS: No one comes here who is not eaten up. ULYSSES: The Cyclops now--where is he? Not at home? SILENUS: Absent on Aetna, hunting with his dogs. ULYSSES: Knowst thou what thou must do to aid us hence? SILENUS: I know not: we will help you all we can. ULYSSES: Provide us food, of which we are in want. SILENUS: Here is not anything, as I said, but meat. ULYSSES: But meat is a sweet remedy for hunger. SILENUS: Cows milk there is, and store of curdled cheese. ULYSSES: Bring out:--I would see all before I bargain. SILENUS: But how much gold will you engage to give? ULYSSES: I bring no gold, but Bacchic juice. SILENUS: Oh, joy! Tis long since these dry lips were wet with wine. ULYSSES: Maron, the son of the God, gave it me. SILENUS: Whom I have nursed a baby in my arms. ULYSSES: The son of Bacchus, for your clearer knowledge. SILENUS: Have you it now?or is it in the ship? ULYSSES: Old man, this skin contains it, which you see. SILENUS: Why, this would hardly be a mouthful for me. ULYSSES: Nay, twice as much as you can draw from thence. SILENUS: You speak of a fair fountain, sweet to me. ULYSSES: Would you first taste of the unmingled wine? SILENUS: Tis justtasting invites the purchaser. ULYSSES: Here is the cup, together with the skin. SILENUS: Pour: that the draught may fillip my remembrance. ULYSSES: See! SILENUS: Papaiapax! what a sweet smell it has! ULYSSES: You see it then?-- SILENUS: By Jove, no! but I smell it. ULYSSES: Taste, that you may not praise it in words only. SILENUS: Babai! Great Bacchus calls me forth to dance! Joy! joy! ULYSSES: Did it flow sweetly down your throat? SILENUS: So that it tingled to my very nails. ULYSSES: And in addition I will give you gold. SILENUS: Let gold alone! only unlock the cask. ULYSSES: Bring out some cheeses now, or a young goat. SILENUS: That will I do, despising any master. Yes, let me drink one cup, and I will give All that the Cyclops feed upon their mountains. ... CHORUS: Ye have taken Troy and laid your hands on Helen? ULYSSES: And utterly destroyed the race of Priam. ... SILENUS: The wanton wretch! she was bewitched to see The many-coloured anklets and the chain Of woven gold which girt the neck of Paris, And so she left that good man Menelaus. There should be no more women in the world But such as are reserved for me alone.-- See, here are sheep, and here are goats, Ulysses, Here are unsparing cheeses of pressed milk; Take them; depart with what good speed ye may; First leaving my reward, the Bacchic dew Of joy-inspiring grapes. ULYSSES: Ah me! Alas! What shall we do? the Cyclops is at hand! Old man, we perish! whither can we fly? SILENUS: Hide yourselves quick within that hollow rock. ULYSSES: Twere perilous to fly into the net. SILENUS: The cavern has recesses numberless; Hide yourselves quick. ULYSSES: That will I never do! The mighty Troy would be indeed disgraced If I should fly one man. How many times Have I withstood, with shield immovable. Ten thousand Phrygians!if I needs must die, Yet will I die with glory;--if I live, The praise which I have gained will yet remain. SILENUS: What, ho! assistance, comrades, haste, assistance! [THE CYCLOPS, SILENUS, ULYSSES; CHORUS.] CYCLOPS: What is this tumult? Bacchus is not here, Nor tympanies nor brazen castanets. How are my young lambs in the cavern? Milking Their dams or playing by their sides? And is The new cheese pressed into the bulrush baskets? Speak! Ill beat some of you till you rain tears-- Look up, not downwards when I speak to you. SILENUS: See! I now gape at Jupiter himself; I stare upon Orion and the stars. CYCLOPS: Well, is the dinner fitly cooked and laid? SILENUS: All ready, if your throat is ready too. CYCLOPS: Are the bowls full of milk besides? SILENUS: Oer-brimming; So you may drink a tunful if you will. CYCLOPS: Is it ewes milk or cows milk, or both mixed?-- SILENUS: Both, either; only pray dont swallow me. CYCLOPS: By no means.-- ... What is this crowd I see beside the stalls? Outlaws or thieves? for near my cavern-home I see my young lambs coupled two by two With willow bands; mixed with my cheeses lie Their implements; and this old fellow here Has his bald head broken with stripes. SILENUS: Ah me! I have been beaten till I burn with fever. CYCLOPS: By whom? Who laid his fist upon your head? SILENUS: Those men, because I would not suffer them To steal your goods. CYCLOPS: Did not the rascals know I am a God, sprung from the race of Heaven? SILENUS: I told them so, but they bore off your things, And ate the cheese in spite of all I said, And carried out the lambsand said, moreover, Theyd pin you down with a three-cubit collar, And pull your vitals out through your one eye, Furrow your back with stripes, then, binding you, Throw you as ballast into the ships hold, And then deliver you, a slave, to move Enormous rocks, or found a vestibule. CYCLOPS: In truth? Nay, haste, and place in order quickly The cooking-knives, and heap upon the hearth, And kindle it, a great **** of wood.-- As soon as they are slaughtered, they shall fill My belly, broiling warm from the live coals, Or boiled and seethed within the bubbling caldron. I am quite sick of the wild mountain game; Of stags and lions I have gorged enough, And I grow hungry for the flesh of men. SILENUS: Nay, master, something new is very pleasant After one thing forever, and of late Very few strangers have approached our cave. ULYSSES: Hear, Cyclops, a plain tale on the other side. We, wanting to buy food, came from our ship Into the neighbourhood of your cave, and here This old Silenus gave us in exchange These lambs for wine, the which he took and drank, And all by mutual compact, without force. There is no word of truth in what he says, For slyly he was selling all your store. SILENUS: I? May you perish, wretch-- ULYSSES: If I speak false! SILENUS: Cyclops, I swear by Neptune who begot thee, By mighty Triton and by Nereus old, Calypso and the glaucous Ocean Nymphs, The sacred waves and all the race of fishes-- Be these the witnesses, my dear sweet master, My darling little Cyclops, that I never Gave any of your stores to these false strangers;-- If I speak false may those whom most I love, My children, perish wretchedly! CHORUS: There stop! I saw him giving these things to the strangers. If I speak false, then may my father perish, But do not thou wrong hospitality. CYCLOPS: You lie! I swear that he is juster far Than Rhadamanthus--I trust more in him. But let me ask, whence have ye sailed, O strangers? Who are you? And what city nourished ye? ULYSSES: Our race is Ithacan--having destroyed The town of Troy, the tempests of the sea Have driven us on thy land, O Polypheme. CYCLOPS: What, have ye shared in the unenvied spoil Of the false Helen, near Scamanders stream? ULYSSES: The same, having endured a woful toil. CYCLOPS: Oh, basest expedition! sailed ye not From Greece to Phrygia for one womans sake? ULYSSES: Twas the Gods workno mortal was in fault. But, O great Offspring of the Ocean-King, We pray thee and admonish thee with freedom, That thou dost spare thy friends who visit thee, And place no impious food within thy jaws. For in the depths of Greece we have upreared Temples to thy great Father, which are all His homes. The sacred bay of Taenarus Remains inviolate, and each dim recess Scooped high on the Malean promontory, And aery Suniums silver-veined crag, Which divine Pallas keeps unprofaned ever, The Gerastian asylums, and whateer Within wide Greece our enterprise has kept From Phrygian contumely; and in which You have a common care, for you inhabit The skirts of Grecian land, under the roots Of Aetna and its crags, spotted with fire. Turn then to converse under human laws, Receive us shipwrecked suppliants, and provide Food, clothes, and fire, and hospitable gifts; Nor fixing upon oxen-piercing spits Our limbs, so fill your belly and your jaws. Priams wide land has widowed Greece enough; And weapon-winged murder leaped together Enough of dead, and wives are husbandless, And ancient women and gray fathers wail Their childless age;if you should roast the rest-- And tis a bitter feast that you prepare-- Where then would any turn? Yet be persuaded; Forgo the lust of your jaw-bone; prefer Pious humanity to wicked will: Many have bought too dear their evil joys. SILENUS: Let me advise you, do not spare a morsel Of all his flesh. If you should eat his tongue You would become most eloquent, O Cyclops. CYCLOPS: Wealth, my good fellow, is the wise mans God, All other things are a pretence and boast. What are my fathers ocean promontories, The sacred rocks whereon he dwells, to me? Stranger, I laugh to scorn Joves thunderbolt, I know not that his strength is more than mine. As to the rest I care not.When he pours Rain from above, I have a close pavilion Under this rock, in which I lie supine, Feasting on a roast calf or some wild beast, And drinking pans of milk, and gloriously Emulating the thunder of high Heaven. And when the Thracian wind pours down the snow, I wrap my body in the skins of beasts, Kindle a fire, and bid the snow whirl on. The earth, by force, whether it will or no, Bringing forth grass, fattens my flocks and herds, Which, to what other God but to myself And this great belly, first of deities, Should I be bound to sacrifice? I well know The wise mans only Jupiter is this, To eat and drink during his little day, And give himself no care. And as for those Who complicate with laws the life of man, I freely give them tears for their reward. I will not cheat my soul of its delight, Or hesitate in dining upon you:-- And that I may be quit of all demands, These are my hospitable gifts;fierce fire And yon ancestral caldron, which oer-bubbling Shall finely cook your miserable flesh. Creep in!-- ... ULYSSES: Ai! ai! I have escaped the Trojan toils, I have escaped the sea, and now I fall Under the cruel grasp of one impious man. O Pallas, Mistress, Goddess, sprung from Jove, Now, now, assist me! Mightier toils than Troy Are these;I totter on the chasms of peril;-- And thou who inhabitest the thrones Of the bright stars, look, hospitable Jove, Upon this outrage of thy deity, Otherwise be considered as no God! CHORUS (ALONE): For your gaping gulf and your gullet wide, The ravin is ready on every side, The limbs of the strangers are cooked and done; There is boiled meat, and roast meat, and meat from the coal, You may chop it, and tear it, and gnash it for fun, An hairy goats-skin contains the whole. Let me but escape, and ferry me oer The stream of your wrath to a safer shore. The Cyclops Aetnean is cruel and bold, He murders the strangers That sit on his hearth, And dreads no avengers To rise from the earth. He roasts the men before they are cold, He snatches them broiling from the coal, And from the caldron pulls them whole, And minces their flesh and gnaws their bone With his cursed teeth, till all be gone. Farewell, foul pavilion: Farewell, rites of dread! The Cyclops vermilion, With slaughter uncloying, Now feasts on the dead, In the flesh of strangers joying! ULYSSES: O Jupiter! I saw within the cave Horrible things; deeds to be feigned in words, But not to be believed as being done. CHORUS: What! sawest thou the impious Polypheme Feasting upon your loved companions now? ULYSSES: Selecting two, the plumpest of the crowd, He grasped them in his hands.-- CHORUS: Unhappy man! ... ULYSSES: Soon as we came into this craggy place, Kindling a fire, he cast on the broad hearth The knotty limbs of an enormous oak, Three waggon-loads at least, and then he strewed Upon the ground, beside the red firelight, His couch of pine-leaves; and he milked the cows, And pouring forth the white milk, filled a bowl Three cubits wide and four in depth, as much As would contain ten amphorae, and bound it With ivy wreaths; then placed upon the fire A brazen pot to boil, and made red hot The points of spits, not sharpened with the sickle But with a fruit tree bough, and with the jaws Of axes for Aetnean slaughterings. And when this God-abandoned Cook of Hell Had made all ready, he seized two of us And killed them in a kind of measured manner; For he flung one against the brazen rivets Of the huge caldron, and seized the other By the foots tendon, and knocked out his brains Upon the sharp edge of the craggy stone: Then peeled his flesh with a great cooking-knife And put him down to roast. The others limbs He chopped into the caldron to be boiled. And I, with the tears raining from my eyes, Stood near the Cyclops, ministering to him; The rest, in the recesses of the cave, Clung to the rock like bats, bloodless with fear. When he was filled with my companions flesh, He threw himself upon the ground and sent A loathsome exhalation from his maw. Then a divine thought came to me. I filled The cup of Maron, and I offered him To taste, and said:Child of the Ocean God, Behold what drink the vines of Greece produce, The exultation and the joy of Bacchus. He, satiated with his unnatural food, Received it, and at one draught drank it off, And taking my hand, praised me:Thou hast given A sweet draught after a sweet meal, dear guest. And I, perceiving that it pleased him, filled Another cup, well knowing that the wine Would wound him soon and take a sure revenge. And the charm fascinated him, and I Plied him cup after cup, until the drink Had warmed his entrails, and he sang aloud In concert with my wailing fellow-seamen A hideous discordand the cavern rung. I have stolen out, so that if you will You may achieve my safety and your own. But say, do you desire, or not, to fly This uncompanionable man, and dwell As was your wont among the Grecian Nymphs Within the fanes of your beloved God? Your father there within agrees to it, But he is weak and overcome with wine, And caught as if with bird-lime by the cup, He claps his wings and crows in doting joy. You who are young escape with me, and find Bacchus your ancient friend; unsuited he To this rude Cyclops. CHORUS: Oh my dearest friend, That I could see that day, and leave for ever The impious Cyclops. ... ULYSSES: Listen then what a punishment I have For this fell monster, how secure a flight From your hard servitude. CHORUS: O sweeter far Than is the music of an Asian lyre Would be the news of Polypheme destroyed. ULYSSES: Delighted with the Bacchic drink he goes To call his brother Cyclops--who inhabit A village upon Aetna not far off. CHORUS: I understand, catching him when alone You think by some measure to dispatch him, Or thrust him from the precipice. ULYSSES: Oh no; Nothing of that kind; my device is subtle. CHORUS: How then? I heard of old that thou wert wise. ULYSSES: I will dissuade him from this plan, by saying It were unwise to give the Cyclopses This precious drink, which if enjoyed alone Would make life sweeter for a longer time. When, vanquished by the Bacchic power, he sleeps, There is a trunk of olive wood within, Whose point having made sharp with this good sword I will conceal in fire, and when I see It is alight, will fix it, burning yet, Within the socket of the Cyclops eye And melt it out with fireas when a man Turns by its handle a great auger round, Fitting the framework of a ship with beams, So will I, in the Cyclops fiery eye Turn round the brand and dry the pupil up. CHORUS: Joy! I am mad with joy at your device. ULYSSES: And then with you, my friends, and the old man, Well load the hollow depth of our black ship, And row with double strokes from this dread shore. CHORUS: May I, as in libations to a God, Share in the blinding him with the red brand? I would have some communion in his death. ULYSSES: Doubtless: the brand is a great brand to hold. CHORUS: Oh! I would lift an hundred waggon-loads, If like a wasps nest I could scoop the eye out Of the detested Cyclops. ULYSSES: Silence now! Ye know the close deviceand when I call, Look ye obey the masters of the craft. I will not save myself and leave behind My comrades in the cave: I might escape, Having got clear from that obscure recess, But twere unjust to leave in jeopardy The dear companions who sailed here with me. CHORUS: Come! who is first, that with his hand Will urge down the burning brand Through the lids, and quench and pierce The Cyclops eye so fiery fierce? SEMICHORUS 1 [SONG WITHIN]: Listen! listen! he is coming, A most hideous discord humming. Drunken, museless, awkward, yelling, Far along his rocky dwelling; Let us with some comic spell Teach the yet unteachable. By all means he must be blinded, If my counsel be but minded. SEMICHORUS 2: Happy thou made odorous With the dew which sweet grapes weep, To the village hastening thus, Seek the vines that soothe to sleep; Having first embraced thy friend, Thou in luxury without end, With the strings of yellow hair, Of thy voluptuous leman fair, Shalt sit playing on a bed!-- Speak! what door is opened? CYCLOPS: Ha! ha! ha! Im full of wine, Heavy with the joy divine, With the young feast oversated; Like a merchants vessel freighted To the waters edge, my crop Is laden to the gullets top. The fresh meadow grass of spring Tempts me forth thus wandering To my brothers on the mountains, Who shall share the wines sweet fountains. Bring the cask, O stranger, bring! CHORUS: One with eyes the fairest Cometh from his dwelling; Some one loves thee, rarest Bright beyond my telling. In thy grace thou shinest Like some nymph divinest In her caverns dewy:-- All delights pursue thee, Soon pied flowers, sweet-breathing, Shall thy head be wreathing. ULYSSES: Listen, O Cyclops, for I am well skilled In Bacchus, whom I gave thee of to drink. CYCLOPS: What sort of God is Bacchus then accounted? ULYSSES: The greatest among men for joy of life. CYCLOPS: I gulped him down with very great delight. ULYSSES: This is a God who never injures men. CYCLOPS: How does the God like living in a skin? ULYSSES: He is content wherever he is put. CYCLOPS: Gods should not have their body in a skin. ULYSSES: If he gives joy, what is his skin to you? CYCLOPS: I hate the skin, but love the wine within. ULYSSES: Stay here now: drink, and make your spirit glad. CYCLOPS: Should I not share this liquor with my brothers? ULYSSES: Keep it yourself, and be more honoured so. CYCLOPS: I were more useful, giving to my friends. ULYSSES: But village mirth breeds contests, broils, and blows. CYCLOPS: When I am drunk none shall lay hands on me.-- ULYSSES: A drunken man is better within doors. CYCLOPS: He is a fool, who drinking, loves not mirth. ULYSSES: But he is wise, who drunk, remains at home. CYCLOPS: What shall I do, Silenus? Shall I stay? SILENUS: Stayfor what need have you of pot companions? CYCLOPS: Indeed this place is closely carpeted With flowers and grass. SILENUS: And in the sun-warm noon Tis sweet to drink. Lie down beside me now, Placing your mighty sides upon the ground. CYCLOPS: What do you put the cup behind me for? SILENUS: That no one here may touch it. CYCLOPS: Thievish One! You want to drink;--here place it in the midst. And thou, O stranger, tell how art thou called? ULYSSES: My name is Nobody. What favour now Shall I receive to praise you at your hands? CYCLOPS: Ill feast on you the last of your companions. ULYSSES: You grant your guest a fair reward, O Cyclops. CYCLOPS: Ha! what is this? Stealing the wine, you rogue! SILENUS: It was this stranger kissing me because I looked so beautiful. CYCLOPS: You shall repent For kissing the coy wine that loves you not. SILENUS: By Jupiter! you said that I am fair. CYCLOPS: Pour out, and only give me the cup full. SILENUS: How is it mixed? let me observe. CYCLOPS: Curse you! Give it me so. SILENUS: Not till I see you wear That coronal, and taste the cup to you. CYCLOPS: Thou wily traitor! SILENUS: But the wine is sweet. Ay, you will roar if you are caught in drinking. CYCLOPS: See now, my lip is clean and all my beard. SILENUS: Now put your elbow right and drink again. As you see me drink--... CYCLOPS: How now? SILENUS: Ye Gods, what a delicious gulp! CYCLOPS: Guest, take it;--you pour out the wine for me. ULYSSES: The wine is well accustomed to my hand. CYCLOPS: Pour out the wine! ULYSSES: I pour; only be silent. CYCLOPS: Silence is a hard task to him who drinks. ULYSSES: Take it and drink it off; leave not a dreg. Oh that the drinker died with his own draught! CYCLOPS: Papai! the vine must be a sapient plant. ULYSSES: If you drink much after a mighty feast, Moistening your thirsty maw, you will sleep well; If you leave aught, Bacchus will dry you up. CYCLOPS: Ho! ho! I can scarce rise. What pure delight! The heavens and earth appear to whirl about Confusedly. I see the throne of Jove And the clear congregation of the Gods. Now if the Graces tempted me to kiss I would notfor the loveliest of them all I would not leave this Ganymede. SILENUS: Polypheme, I am the Ganymede of Jupiter. CYCLOPS: By Jove, you are; I bore you off from Dardanus. ... [ULYSSES AND THE CHORUS.] ULYSSES: Come, boys of Bacchus, children of high race, This man within is folded up in sleep, And soon will vomit flesh from his fell maw; The brand under the shed thrusts out its smoke, No preparation needs, but to burn out The monsters eye;but bear yourselves like men. CHORUS: We will have courage like the adamant rock, All things are ready for you here; go in, Before our father shall perceive the noise. ULYSSES: Vulcan, Aetnean king! burn out with fire The shining eye of this thy neighbouring monster! And thou, O Sleep, nursling of gloomy Night, Descend unmixed on this God-hated beast, And suffer not Ulysses and his comrades, Returning from their famous Trojan toils, To perish by this man, who cares not either For God or mortal; or I needs must think That Chance is a supreme divinity, And things divine are subject to her power. CHORUS: Soon a crab the throat will seize Of him who feeds upon his guest, Fire will burn his lamp-like eyes In revenge of such a feast! A great oak stump now is lying In the ashes yet undying. Come, Maron, come! Raging let him fix the doom, Let him tear the eyelid up Of the Cyclopsthat his cup May be evil! Oh! I long to dance and revel With sweet Bromian, long desired, In loved ivy wreaths attired; Leaving this abandoned home-- Will the moment ever come? ULYSSES: Be silent, ye wild things! Nay, hold your peace, And keep your lips quite close; dare not to breathe, Or spit, or een wink, lest ye wake the monster, Until his eye be tortured out with fire. CHORUS: Nay, we are silent, and we chaw the air. ULYSSES: Come now, and lend a hand to the great stake Withinit is delightfully red hot. CHORUS: You then command who first should seize the stake To burn the Cyclops eye, that all may share In the great enterprise. SEMICHORUS 1: We are too far; We cannot at this distance from the door Thrust fire into his eye. SEMICHORUS 2: And we just now Have become lame! cannot move hand or foot. CHORUS: The same thing has occurred to us,--our ankles Are sprained with standing here, I know not how. ULYSSES: What, sprained with standing still? CHORUS: And there is dust Or ashes in our eyes, I know not whence. ULYSSES: Cowardly dogs! ye will not aid me then? CHORUS: With pitying my own back and my back-bone, And with not wishing all my teeth knocked out, This cowardice comes of itselfbut stay, I know a famous Orphic incantation To make the brand stick of its own accord Into the skull of this one-eyed son of Earth. ULYSSES: Of old I knew ye thus by nature; now I know ye better.I will use the aid Of my own comrades. Yet though weak of hand Speak cheerfully, that so ye may awaken The courage of my friends with your blithe words. CHORUS: This I will do with peril of my life, And blind you with my exhortations, Cyclops. Hasten and thrust, And parch up to dust, The eye of the beast Who feeds on his guest. Burn and blind The Aetnean hind! Scoop and draw, But beware lest he claw Your limbs near his maw. CYCLOPS: Ah me! my eyesight is parched up to cinders. CHORUS: What a sweet paean! sing me that again! CYCLOPS: Ah me! indeed, what woe has fallen upon me! But, wretched nothings, think ye not to flee Out of this rock; I, standing at the outlet, Will bar the way and catch you as you pass. CHORUS: What are you roaring out, Cyclops? CYCLOPS: I perish! CHORUS: For you are wicked. CYCLOPS: And besides miserable. CHORUS: What, did you fall into the fire when drunk? CYCLOPS: Twas Nobody destroyed me. CHORUS: Why then no one Can be to blame. CYCLOPS: I say twas Nobody Who blinded me. CHORUS: Why then you are not blind. CYCLOPS: I wish you were as blind as I am. CHORUS: Nay, It cannot be that no one made you blind. CYCLOPS: You jeer me; where, I ask, is Nobody? CHORUS: Nowhere, O Cyclops. CYCLOPS: It was that stranger ruined me:--the wretch First gave me wine and then burned out my eye, For wine is strong and hard to struggle with. Have they escaped, or are they yet within? CHORUS: They stand under the darkness of the rock And cling to it. CYCLOPS: At my right hand or left? CHORUS: Close on your right. CYCLOPS: Where? CHORUS: Near the rock itself. You have them. CYCLOPS: Oh, misfortune on misfortune! Ive cracked my skull. CHORUS: Now they escape you--there. CYCLOPS: Not there, although you say so. CHORUS: Not on that side. CYCLOPS: Where then? CHORUS: They creep about you on your left. CYCLOPS: Ah! I am mocked! They jeer me in my ills. CHORUS: Not there! he is a little there beyond you. CYCLOPS: Detested wretch! where are you? ULYSSES: Far from you I keep with care this body of Ulysses. CYCLOPS: What do you say? You proffer a new name. ULYSSES: My father named me so; and I have taken A full revenge for your unnatural feast; I should have done ill to have burned down Troy And not revenged the murder of my comrades. CYCLOPS: Ai! ai! the ancient oracle is accomplished; It said that I should have my eyesight blinded By your coming from Troy, yet it foretold That you should pay the penalty for this By wandering long over the homeless sea. ULYSSES: I bid thee weepconsider what I say; I go towards the shore to drive my ship To mine own land, oer the Sicilian wave. CYCLOPS: Not so, if, whelming you with this huge stone, I can crush you and all your men together; I will descend upon the shore, though blind, Groping my way adown the steep ravine. CHORUS: And we, the shipmates of Ulysses now, Will serve our Bacchus all our happy lives. Published by Mrs. Shelley, Posthumous Poems, 1824; dated 1819. Amongst the Shelley manuscripts at the Bodleian there is a copy, 'practically complete,' which has been collated by Mr. C.D. Locock. See Examination, etc., 1903, pages 64-70. 'Though legible throughout, and comparatively free from corrections, it has the appearance of being a first draft' (Locock). ~ Percy Bysshe Shelley, The Cyclops ,

1022:The Candidate This poem was written in , on occasion of the contest between the Earls of Hardwicke and Sandwich for the High-stewardship of the University of Cambridge, vacant by the death of the Lord Chancellor Hardwicke. The spirit of party ran high in the University, and no means were left untried by either candidate to obtain a majority. The election was fixed for the th of March, when, after much altercation, the votes appearing equal, a scrutiny was demanded; whereupon the Vice-Chancellor adjourned the senate _sine die_. On appeal to the Lord High-Chancellor, he determined in favour of the Earl of Hardwicke, and a mandamus issued accordingly. Enough of Actors--let them play the player, And, free from censure, fret, sweat, strut, and stare; Garrick abroad, what motives can engage To waste one couplet on a barren stage? Ungrateful Garrick! when these tasty days, In justice to themselves, allow'd thee praise; When, at thy bidding, Sense, for twenty years, Indulged in laughter, or dissolved in tears; When in return for labour, time, and health, The town had given some little share of wealth, Couldst thou repine at being still a slave? Darest thou presume to enjoy that wealth she gave? Couldst thou repine at laws ordain'd by those Whom nothing but thy merit made thy foes? Whom, too refined for honesty and trade, By need made tradesmen, Pride had bankrupts made; Whom Fear made drunkards, and, by modern rules, Whom Drink made wits, though Nature made them fools; With such, beyond all pardon is thy crime, In such a manner, and at such a time, To quit the stage; but men of real sense, Who neither lightly give, nor take offence, Shall own thee clear, or pass an act of grace, Since thou hast left a Powell in thy place. Enough of Authors--why, when scribblers fail, Must other scribblers spread the hateful tale? Why must they pity, why contempt express, And why insult a brother in distress? 108 Let those, who boast the uncommon gift of brains The laurel pluck, and wear it for their pains; Fresh on their brows for ages let it bloom, And, ages past, still flourish round their tomb. Let those who without genius write, and write, Versemen or prosemen, all in Nature's spite, The pen laid down, their course of folly run In peace, unread, unmention'd, be undone. Why should I tell, to cross the will of Fate, That Francis once endeavour'd to translate? Why, sweet oblivion winding round his head, Should I recall poor Murphy from the dead? Why may not Langhorne, simple in his lay, Effusion on effusion pour away; With friendship and with fancy trifle here, Or sleep in pastoral at Belvidere? Sleep let them all, with Dulness on her throne, Secure from any malice but their own. Enough of Critics--let them, if they please, Fond of new pomp, each month pass new decrees; Wide and extensive be their infant state, Their subjects many, and those subjects great, Whilst all their mandates as sound law succeed, With fools who write, and greater fools who read. What though they lay the realms of Genius waste, Fetter the fancy and debauch the taste; Though they, like doctors, to approve their skill, Consult not how to cure, but how to kill; Though by whim, envy, or resentment led, They damn those authors whom they never read; Though, other rules unknown, one rule they hold, To deal out so much praise for so much gold: Though Scot with Scot, in damned close intrigues, Against the commonwealth of letters leagues; Uncensured let them pilot at the helm, And rule in letters, as they ruled the realm: Ours be the curse, the mean tame coward's curse, (Nor could ingenious Malice make a worse, To do our sense and honour deep despite) To credit what they say, read what they write. Enough of Scotland--let her rest in peace; The cause removed, effects of course should cease; 109 Why should I tell, how Tweed, too mighty grown, And proudly swell'd with waters not his own, Burst o'er his banks, and, by Destruction led, O'er our fair England desolation spread, Whilst, riding on his waves, Ambition, plumed In tenfold pride, the port of Bute assumed, Now that the river god, convinced, though late, And yielding, though reluctantly, to Fate, Holds his fair course, and with more humble tides, In tribute to the sea, as usual, glides? Enough of States, and such like trifling things; Enough of kinglings, and enough of kings; Henceforth, secure, let ambush'd statesmen lie, Spread the court web, and catch the patriot fly; Henceforth, unwhipt of Justice, uncontroll'd By fear or shame, let Vice, secure and bold, Lord it with all her sons, whilst Virtue's groan Meets with compassion only from the throne. Enough of Patriots--all I ask of man Is only to be honest as he can: Some have deceived, and some may still deceive; 'Tis the fool's curse at random to believe. Would those, who, by opinion placed on high, Stand fair and perfect in their country's eye, Maintain that honour, let me in their ear Hint this essential doctrine--Persevere. Should they (which Heaven forbid) to win the grace Of some proud courtier, or to gain a place, Their king and country sell, with endless shame The avenging Muse shall mark each traitorous name; But if, to Honour true, they scorn to bend, And, proudly honest, hold out to the end, Their grateful country shall their fame record, And I myself descend to praise a lord. Enough of Wilkes--with good and honest men His actions speak much stronger than my pen, And future ages shall his name adore, When he can act and I can write no more. England may prove ungrateful and unjust, But fostering France shall ne'er betray her trust: 'Tis a brave debt which gods on men impose, To pay with praise the merit e'en of foes. 110 When the great warrior of Amilcar's race Made Rome's wide empire tremble to her base, To prove her virtue, though it gall'd her pride, Rome gave that fame which Carthage had denied. Enough of Self--that darling luscious theme, O'er which philosophers in raptures dream; Of which with seeming disregard they write, Then prizing most, when most they seem to slight; Vain proof of folly tinctured strong with pride! What man can from himself, himself divide? For me,(nor dare I lie) my leading aim (Conscience first satisfied) is love of fame; Some little fame derived from some brave few, Who, prizing Honour, prize her votaries too. Let all (nor shall resentment flush my cheek) Who know me well, what they know, freely speak, So those (the greatest curse I meet below) Who know me not, may not pretend to know. Let none of those whom, bless'd with parts above My feeble genius, still I dare to love, Doing more mischief than a thousand foes, Posthumous nonsense to the world expose, And call it mine; for mine though never known, Or which, if mine, I living blush'd to own. Know all the world, no greedy heir shall find, Die when I will, one couplet left behind. Let none of those, whom I despise, though great, Pretending friendship to give malice weight, Publish my life; let no false sneaking peer, (Some such there are) to win the public ear, Hand me to shame with some vile anecdote. Nor soul-gall'd bishop damn me with a note. Let one poor sprig of bay around my head Bloom whilst I live, and point me out when dead; Let it (may Heaven, indulgent, grant that prayer!) Be planted on my grave, nor wither there; And when, on travel bound, some rhyming guest Roams through the churchyard, whilst his dinner's dress'd, Let it hold up this comment to his eyes-'Life to the last enjoy'd, here Churchill lies;' Whilst (oh, what joy that pleasing flattery gives!) Reading my works, he cries--'Here Churchill lives.' 111 Enough of Satire--in less harden'd times Great was her force, and mighty were her rhymes. I've read of men, beyond man's daring brave, Who yet have trembled at the strokes she gave; Whose souls have felt more terrible alarms From her one line, than from a world in arms. When in her faithful and immortal page They saw transmitted down from age to age Recorded villains, and each spotted name Branded with marks of everlasting shame, Succeeding villains sought her as a friend, And, if not really mended, feign'd to mend; But in an age, when actions are allow'd Which strike all honour dead, and crimes avow'd Too terrible to suffer the report, Avow'd and praised by men who stain a court, Propp'd by the arm of Power; when Vice, high born, High-bred, high-station'd, holds rebuke in scorn; When she is lost to every thought of fame, And, to all virtue dead, is dead to shame; When Prudence a much easier task must hold To make a new world, than reform the old, Satire throws by her arrows on the ground, And if she cannot cure, she will not wound. Come, Panegyric--though the Muse disdains, Founded on truth, to prostitute her strains At the base instance of those men, who hold No argument but power, no god but gold, Yet, mindful that from Heaven she drew her birth, She scorns the narrow maxims of this earth; Virtuous herself, brings Virtue forth to view, And loves to praise, where praise is justly due. Come, Panegyric--in a former hour, My soul with pleasure yielding to thy power, Thy shrine I sought, I pray'd--but wanton air, Before it reach'd thy ears, dispersed my prayer; E'en at thy altars whilst I took my stand, The pen of Truth and Honour in my hand, Fate, meditating wrath 'gainst me and mine, Chid my fond zeal, and thwarted my design, Whilst, Hayter brought too quickly to his end, I lost a subject and mankind a friend. 112 Come, Panegyric--bending at thy throne, Thee and thy power my soul is proud to own Be thou my kind protector, thou my guide, And lead me safe through passes yet untried. Broad is the road, nor difficult to find, Which to the house of Satire leads mankind; Narrow and unfrequented are the ways, Scarce found out in an age, which lead to praise. What though no theme I choose of vulgar note, Nor wish to write as brother bards have wrote, So mild, so meek in praising, that they seem Afraid to wake their patrons from a dream; What though a theme I choose, which might demand The nicest touches of a master's hand; Yet, if the inward workings of my soul Deceive me not, I shall attain the goal, And Envy shall behold, in triumph raised, The poet praising, and the patron praised. What patron shall I choose? Shall public voice, Or private knowledge, influence my choice? Shall I prefer the grand retreat of Stowe, Or, seeking patriots, to friend Wildman's go? 'To Wildman's!' cried Discretion, (who had heard, Close standing at my elbow, every word) 'To Wildman's! Art thou mad? Canst thou be sure One moment there to have thy head secure? Are they not all, (let observation tell) All mark'd in characters as black as Hell, In Doomsday book, by ministers set down, Who style their pride the honour of the crown? Make no reply--let Reason stand aloof-Presumptions here must pass as solemn proof. That settled faith, that love which ever springs In the best subjects, for the best of kings, Must not be measured now by what men think, Or say, or do;--by what they eat and drink, Where, and with whom, that question's to be tried, And statesmen are the judges to decide; No juries call'd, or, if call'd, kept in awe; They, facts confess'd, in themselves vest the law. Each dish at Wildman's of sedition smacks; Blasphemy may be gospel at Almacks.' 113 Peace, good Discretion! peace--thy fears are vain; Ne'er will I herd with Wildman's factious train; Never the vengeance of the great incur, Nor, without might, against the mighty stir. If, from long proof, my temper you distrust, Weigh my profession, to my gown be just; Dost thou one parson know so void of grace To pay his court to patrons out of place? If still you doubt (though scarce a doubt remains) Search through my alter'd heart, and try my reins; There, searching, find, nor deem me now in sport, A convert made by Sandwich to the court. Let madmen follow error to the end, I, of mistakes convinced, and proud to mend, Strive to act better, being better taught, Nor blush to own that change which Reason wrought: For such a change as this, must Justice speak; My heart was honest, but my head was weak. Bigot to no one man, or set of men, Without one selfish view, I drew my pen; My country ask'd, or seem'd to ask, my aid, Obedient to that call, I left off trade; A side I chose, and on that side was strong, Till time hath fairly proved me in the wrong: Convinced, I change, (can any man do more?) And have not greater patriots changed before? Changed, I at once, (can any man do less?) Without a single blush, that change confess; Confess it with a manly kind of pride, And quit the losing for the winning side, Granting, whilst virtuous Sandwich holds the rein, What Bute for ages might have sought in vain. Hail, Sandwich!--nor shall Wilkes resentment show, Hearing the praises of so brave a foe-Hail, Sandwich!--nor, through pride, shalt thou refuse The grateful tribute of so mean a Muse-Sandwich, all hail!--when Bute with foreign hand, Grown wanton with ambition, scourged the land; When Scots, or slaves to Scotsmen, steer'd the helm; When peace, inglorious peace, disgraced the realm, Distrust, and general discontent prevail'd; But when, (he best knows why) his spirits fail'd; 114 When, with a sudden panic struck, he fled, Sneak'd out of power, and hid his recreant head; When, like a Mars, (Fear order'd to retreat) We saw thee nimbly vault into his seat, Into the seat of power, at one bold leap, A perfect connoisseur in statesmanship; When, like another Machiavel, we saw Thy fingers twisting, and untwisting law, Straining, where godlike Reason bade, and where She warranted thy mercy, pleased to spare; Saw thee resolved, and fix'd (come what, come might) To do thy God, thy king, thy country right; All things were changed, suspense remain'd no more, Certainty reign'd where Doubt had reign'd before: All felt thy virtues, and all knew their use, What virtues such as thine must needs produce. Thy foes (for Honour ever meets with foes) Too mean to praise, too fearful to oppose, In sullen silence sit; thy friends (some few, Who, friends to thee, are friends to Honour too) Plaud thy brave bearing, and the Commonweal Expects her safety from thy stubborn zeal. A place amongst the rest the Muses claim, And bring this freewill-offering to thy fame; To prove their virtue, make thy virtues known, And, holding up thy fame, secure their own. From his youth upwards to the present day, When vices, more than years, have mark'd him gray; When riotous Excess, with wasteful hand, Shakes life's frail glass, and hastes each ebbing sand, Unmindful from what stock he drew his birth, Untainted with one deed of real worth, Lothario, holding honour at no price, Folly to folly added, vice to vice, Wrought sin with greediness, and sought for shame With greater zeal than good men seek for fame. Where (Reason left without the least defence) Laughter was mirth, obscenity was sense: Where Impudence made Decency submit; Where noise was humour, and where whim was wit; Where rude, untemper'd license had the merit Of liberty, and lunacy was spirit; 115 Where the best things were ever held the worst, Lothario was, with justice, always first. To whip a top, to knuckle down at taw, To swing upon a gate, to ride a straw, To play at push-pin with dull brother peers, To belch out catches in a porter's ears, To reign the monarch of a midnight cell, To be the gaping chairman's oracle; Whilst, in most blessed union, rogue and whore Clap hands, huzza, and hiccup out, 'Encore;' Whilst gray Authority, who slumbers there In robes of watchman's fur, gives up his chair; With midnight howl to bay the affrighted moon, To walk with torches through the streets at noon; To force plain Nature from her usual way, Each night a vigil, and a blank each day; To match for speed one feather 'gainst another, To make one leg run races with his brother; 'Gainst all the rest to take the northern wind, Bute to ride first, and he to ride behind; To coin newfangled wagers, and to lay 'em, Laying to lose, and losing not to pay 'em; Lothario, on that stock which Nature gives, Without a rival stands, though March yet lives. When Folly, (at that name, in duty bound, Let subject myriads kneel, and kiss the ground, Whilst they who, in the presence, upright stand, Are held as rebels through the loyal land) Queen every where, but most a queen in courts, Sent forth her heralds, and proclaim'd her sports; Bade fool with fool on her behalf engage, And prove her right to reign from age to age, Lothario, great above the common size, With all engaged, and won from all the prize; Her cap he wears, which from his youth he wore, And every day deserves it more and more. Nor in such limits rests his soul confined; Folly may share but can't engross his mind; Vice, bold substantial Vice, puts in her claim, And stamps him perfect in the books of Shame. Observe his follies well, and you would swear Folly had been his first, his only care; 116 Observe his vices, you'll that oath disown, And swear that he was born for vice alone. Is the soft nature of some hapless maid, Fond, easy, full of faith, to be betray'd? Must she, to virtue lost, be lost to fame, And he who wrought her guilt declare her shame? Is some brave friend, who, men but little known, Deems every heart as honest as his own, And, free himself, in others fears no guile, To be ensnared, and ruin'd with a smile? Is Law to be perverted from her course? Is abject fraud to league with brutal force? Is Freedom to be crush'd, and every son Who dares maintain her cause, to be undone? Is base Corruption, creeping through the land, To plan, and work her ruin, underhand, With regular approaches, sure, though slow? Or must she perish by a single blow? Are kings, who trust to servants, and depend In servants (fond, vain thought!) to find a friend, To be abused, and made to draw their breath In darkness thicker than the shades of death? Is God's most holy name to be profaned, His word rejected, and his laws arraign'd, His servants scorn'd, as men who idly dream'd, His service laugh'd at, and his Son blasphemed? Are debauchees in morals to preside? Is Faith to take an Atheist for her guide? Is Science by a blockhead to be led? Are States to totter on a drunkard's head? To answer all these purposes, and more, More black than ever villain plann'd before, Search earth, search hell, the Devil cannot find An agent like Lothario to his mind. Is this nobility, which, sprung from kings, Was meant to swell the power from whence it springs; Is this the glorious produce, this the fruit, Which Nature hoped for from so rich a root? Were there but two, (search all the world around) Were there but two such nobles to be found, The very name would sink into a term Of scorn, and man would rather be a worm 117 Than be a lord: but Nature, full of grace, Nor meaning birth and titles to be base, Made only one, and having made him, swore, In mercy to mankind, to make no more: Nor stopp'd she there, but, like a generous friend, The ills which Error caused, she strove to mend, And having brought Lothario forth to view, To save her credit, brought forth Sandwich too. Gods! with what joy, what honest joy of heart, Blunt as I am, and void of every art, Of every art which great ones in the state Practise on knaves they fear, and fools they hate, To titles with reluctance taught to bend, Nor prone to think that virtues can descend, Do I behold (a sight, alas! more rare Than Honesty could wish) the noble wear His father's honours, when his life makes known They're his by virtue, not by birth alone; When he recalls his father from the grave, And pays with interest back that fame he gave: Cured of her splenetic and sullen fits, To such a peer my willing soul submits, And to such virtue is more proud to yield Than 'gainst ten titled rogues to keep the field. Such, (for that truth e'en Envy shall allow) Such Wyndham was, and such is Sandwich now. O gentle Montague! in blessed hour Didst thou start up, and climb the stairs of power; England of all her fears at once was eased, Nor, 'mongst her many foes, was one displeased: France heard the news, and told it cousin Spain; Spain heard, and told it cousin France again; The Hollander relinquished his design Of adding spice to spice, and mine to mine; Of Indian villanies he thought no more, Content to rob us on our native shore: Awed by thy fame, (which winds with open mouth Shall blow from east to west, from north to south) The western world shall yield us her increase, And her wild sons be soften'd into peace; Rich eastern monarchs shall exhaust their stores, And pour unbounded wealth on Albion's shores; 118 Unbounded wealth, which from those golden scenes, And all acquired by honourable means, Some honourable chief shall hither steer, To pay our debts, and set the nation clear. Nabobs themselves, allured by thy renown, Shall pay due homage to the English crown; Shall freely as their king our king receive-Provided the Directors give them leave. Union at home shall mark each rising year, Nor taxes be complain'd of, though severe; Envy her own destroyer shall become, And Faction with her thousand mouths be dumb: With the meek man thy meekness shall prevail, Nor with the spirited thy spirit fail: Some to thy force of reason shall submit, And some be converts to thy princely wit: Reverence for thee shall still a nation's cries, A grand concurrence crown a grand excise; And unbelievers of the first degree, Who have no faith in God, have faith in thee. When a strange jumble, whimsical and vain, Possess'd the region of each heated brain; When some were fools to censure, some to praise, And all were mad, but mad in different ways; When commonwealthsmen, starting at the shade Which in their own wild fancy had been made, Of tyrants dream'd, who wore a thorny crown, And with state bloodhounds hunted Freedom down; When others, struck with fancies not less vain, Saw mighty kings by their own subjects slain, And, in each friend of Liberty and Law, With horror big, a future Cromwell saw, Thy manly zeal stept forth, bade discord cease, And sung each jarring atom into peace; Liberty, cheer'd by thy all-cheering eye, Shall, waking from her trance, live and not die; And, patronised by thee, Prerogative Shall, striding forth at large, not die, but live; Whilst Privilege, hung betwixt earth and sky, Shall not well know whether to live or die. When on a rock which overhung the flood, And seem'd to totter, Commerce shivering stood; 119 When Credit, building on a sandy shore, Saw the sea swell, and heard the tempest roar, Heard death in every blast, and in each wave Or saw, or fancied that she saw her grave; When Property, transferr'd from hand to band, Weaken'd by change, crawl'd sickly through the land; When mutual confidence was at an end, And man no longer could on man depend; Oppress'd with debts of more than common weight, When all men fear'd a bankruptcy of state; When, certain death to honour, and to trade, A sponge was talk'd of as our only aid; That to be saved we must be more undone, And pay off all our debts, by paying none; Like England's better genius, born to bless, And snatch his sinking country from distress, Didst thou step forth, and, without sail or oar, Pilot the shatter'd vessel safe to shore: Nor shalt thou quit, till, anchor'd firm and fast, She rides secure, and mocks the threatening blast! Born in thy house, and in thy service bred, Nursed in thy arms, and at thy table fed, By thy sage counsels to reflection brought, Yet more by pattern than by precept taught, Economy her needful aid shall join To forward and complete thy grand design, And, warm to save, but yet with spirit warm, Shall her own conduct from thy conduct form. Let friends of prodigals say what they will, Spendthrifts at home, abroad are spendthrifts still. In vain have sly and subtle sophists tried Private from public justice to divide; For credit on each other they rely, They live together, and together die, 'Gainst all experience 'tis a rank offence, High treason in the eye of Common-sense, To think a statesman ever can be known To pay our debts, who will not pay his own: But now, though late, now may we hope to see Our debts discharged, our credit fair and free, Since rigid Honesty (fair fall that hour!) Sits at the helm, and Sandwich is in power. 120 With what delight I view thee, wondrous man, With what delight survey thy sterling plan, That plan which all with wonder must behold, And stamp thy age the only age of Gold. Nor rest thy triumphs here--that Discord fled, And sought with grief the hell where she was bred; That Faction, 'gainst her nature forced to yield, Saw her rude rabble scatter'd o'er the field, Saw her best friends a standing jest become, Her fools turn'd speakers, and her wits struck dumb; That our most bitter foes (so much depends On men of name) are turn'd to cordial friends; That our offended friends (such terror flows From men of name) dare not appear our foes; That Credit, gasping in the jaws of Death, And ready to expire with every breath, Grows stronger from disease; that thou hast saved Thy drooping country; that thy name, engraved On plates of brass, defies the rage of Time; Than plates of brass more firm, that sacred rhyme Embalms thy memory, bids thy glories live, And gives thee what the Muse alone can give:-These heights of Virtue, these rewards of Fame, With thee in common other patriots claim. But, that poor sickly Science, who had laid And droop'd for years beneath Neglect's cold shade, By those who knew her purposely forgot, And made the jest of those who knew her not: Whilst Ignorance in power, and pamper'd pride, 'Clad like a priest, pass'd by on t'other side,' Recover'd from her wretched state, at length Puts on new health, and clothes herself with strength, To thee we owe, and to thy friendly hand Which raised, and gave her to possess the land: This praise, though in a court, and near a throne, This praise is thine, and thine, alas! alone. With what fond rapture did the goddess smile, What blessings did she promise to this isle, What honour to herself, and length of reign, Soon as she heard that thou didst not disdain To be her steward; but what grief, what shame, What rage, what disappointment, shook her frame, 121 When her proud children dared her will dispute, When Youth was insolent, and Age was mute! That young men should be fools, and some wild few, To Wisdom deaf, be deaf to Interest too, Moved not her wonder; but that men, grown gray In search of wisdom; men who own'd the sway Of Reason; men who stubbornly kept down Each rising passion; men who wore the gown; That they should cross her will, that they should dare Against the cause of Interest to declare; That they should be so abject and unwise, Having no fear of loss before their eyes, Nor hopes of gain; scorning the ready means Of being vicars, rectors, canons, deans, With all those honours which on mitres wait, And mark the virtuous favourites of state; That they should dare a Hardwicke to support, And talk, within the hearing of a court, Of that vile beggar, Conscience, who, undone, And starved herself, starves every wretched son; This turn'd her blood to gall, this made her swear No more to throw away her time and care On wayward sons who scorn'd her love, no more To hold her courts on Cam's ungrateful shore. Rather than bear such insults, which disgrace Her royalty of nature, birth, and place, Though Dulness there unrivall'd state doth keep, Would she at Winchester with Burton sleep; Or, to exchange the mortifying scene For something still more dull, and still more mean, Rather than bear such insults, she would fly Far, far beyond the search of English eye, And reign amongst the Scots: to be a queen Is worth ambition, though in Aberdeen. Oh, stay thy flight, fair Science! what though some, Some base-born children, rebels are become? All are not rebels; some are duteous still, Attend thy precepts, and obey thy will; Thy interest is opposed by those alone Who either know not, or oppose their own. Of stubborn virtue, marching to thy aid, Behold in black, the livery of their trade, 122 Marshall'd by Form, and by Discretion led, A grave, grave troop, and Smith is at their head, Black Smith of Trinity; on Christian ground For faith in mysteries none more renown'd. Next, (for the best of causes now and then Must beg assistance from the worst of men) Next (if old story lies not) sprung from Greece, Comes Pandarus, but comes without his niece: Her, wretched maid! committed to his trust, To a rank letcher's coarse and bloated lust The arch, old, hoary hypocrite had sold, And thought himself and her well damn'd for gold. But (to wipe off such traces from the mind, And make us in good humour with mankind) Leading on men, who, in a college bred, No woman knew, but those which made their bed; Who, planted virgins on Cam's virtuous shore, Continued still male virgins at threescore, Comes Sumner, wise, and chaste as chaste can be, With Long, as wise, and not less chaste than he. Are there not friends, too, enter'd in thy cause Who, for thy sake, defying penal laws, Were, to support thy honourable plan, Smuggled from Jersey, and the Isle of Man? Are there not Philomaths of high degree Who, always dumb before, shall speak for thee? Are there not Proctors, faithful to thy will, One of full growth, others in embryo still, Who may, perhaps, in some ten years, or more, Be ascertain'd that two and two make four, Or may a still more happy method find, And, taking one from two, leave none behind? With such a mighty power on foot, to yield Were death to manhood; better in the field To leave our carcases, and die with fame, Than fly, and purchase life on terms of shame. Sackvilles alone anticipate defeat, And ere they dare the battle, sound retreat. But if persuasions ineffectual prove, If arguments are vain, nor prayers can move, Yet in thy bitterness of frantic woe Why talk of Burton? why to Scotland go? 123 Is there not Oxford? she, with open arms, Shall meet thy wish, and yield up all her charms: Shall for thy love her former loves resign, And jilt the banish'd Stuarts to be thine. Bow'd to the yoke, and, soon as she could read, Tutor'd to get by heart the despot's creed, She, of subjection proud, shall knee thy throne, And have no principles but thine alone; She shall thy will implicitly receive, Nor act, nor speak, nor think, without thy leave. Where is the glory of imperial sway If subjects none but just commands obey? Then, and then only, is obedience seen, When by command they dare do all that's mean: Hither, then, wing thy flight, here fix thy stand, Nor fail to bring thy Sandwich in thy hand. Gods! with what joy, (for Fancy now supplies, And lays the future open to my eyes) Gods! with what joy I see the worthies meet, And Brother Litchfield Brother Sandwich greet! Blest be your greetings, blest each dear embrace; Blest to yourselves, and to the human race. Sickening at virtues, which she cannot reach, Which seem her baser nature to impeach, Let Envy, in a whirlwind's bosom hurl'd, Outrageous, search the corners of the world, Ransack the present times, look back to past, Rip up the future, and confess at last, No times, past, present, or to come, could e'er Produce, and bless the world with such a pair. Phillips, the good old Phillips, out of breath, Escaped from Monmouth, and escaped from death, Shall hail his Sandwich with that virtuous zeal, That glorious ardour for the commonweal, Which warm'd his loyal heart and bless'd his tongue, When on his lips the cause of rebels hung; Whilst Womanhood, in habit of a nun, At Medenham lies, by backward monks undone; A nation's reckoning, like an alehouse score, Whilst Paul, the aged, chalks behind a door, Compell'd to hire a foe to cast it up, Dashwood shall pour, from a communion cup, 124 Libations to the goddess without eyes, And hob or nob in cider and excise. From those deep shades, where Vanity, unknown, Doth penance for her pride, and pines alone, Cursed in herself, by her own thoughts undone, Where she sees all, but can be seen by none; Where she, no longer mistress of the schools, Hears praise loud pealing from the mouths of fools, Or hears it at a distance, in despair To join the crowd, and put in for a share, Twisting each thought a thousand different ways, For his new friends new-modelling old praise; Where frugal sense so very fine is spun, It serves twelve hours, though not enough for one, King shall arise, and, bursting from the dead, Shall hurl his piebald Latin at thy head. Burton (whilst awkward affectation hung In quaint and labour'd accents on his tongue, Who 'gainst their will makes junior blockheads speak, Ignorant of both, new Latin and new Greek, Not such as was in Greece and Latium known, But of a modern cut, and all his own; Who threads, like beads, loose thoughts on such a string, They're praise and censure; nothing, every thing; Pantomime thoughts, and style so full of trick, They even make a Merry Andrew sick; Thoughts all so dull, so pliant in their growth, They're verse, they're prose, they're neither, and they're both) Shall (though by nature ever both to praise) Thy curious worth set forth in curious phrase; Obscurely stiff, shall press poor Sense to death, Or in long periods run her out of breath; Shall make a babe, for which, with all his fame, Adam could not have found a proper name, Whilst, beating out his features to a smile, He hugs the bastard brat, and calls it Style. Hush'd be all Nature as the land of Death; Let each stream sleep, and each wind hold his breath; Be the bells muffled, nor one sound of Care, Pressing for audience, wake the slumbering air; Browne comes--behold how cautiously he creeps-How slow he walks, and yet how fast he sleeps-- 125 But to thy praise in sleep he shall agree; He cannot wake, but he shall dream of thee. Physic, her head with opiate poppies crown'd, Her loins by the chaste matron Camphire bound; Physic, obtaining succour from the pen Of her soft son, her gentle Heberden, If there are men who can thy virtue know, Yet spite of virtue treat thee as a foe, Shall, like a scholar, stop their rebel breath, And in each recipe send classic death. So deep in knowledge, that few lines can sound And plumb the bottom of that vast profound, Few grave ones with such gravity can think, Or follow half so fast as he can sink; With nice distinctions glossing o'er the text, Obscure with meaning, and in words perplex'd, With subtleties on subtleties refined, Meant to divide and subdivide the mind, Keeping the forwardness of youth in awe, The scowling Blackstone bears the train of law. Divinity, enrobed in college fur, In her right hand a new Court Calendar, Bound like a book of prayer, thy coming waits With all her pack, to hymn thee in the gates. Loyalty, fix'd on Isis' alter'd shore, A stranger long, but stranger now no more, Shall pitch her tabernacle, and, with eyes Brimful of rapture, view her new allies; Shall, with much pleasure and more wonder, view Men great at court, and great at Oxford too. O sacred Loyalty! accursed be those Who, seeming friends, turn out thy deadliest foes, Who prostitute to kings thy honour'd name, And soothe their passions to betray their fame; Nor praised be those, to whose proud nature clings Contempt of government, and hate of kings, Who, willing to be free, not knowing how, A strange intemperance of zeal avow, And start at Loyalty, as at a word Which without danger Freedom never heard. Vain errors of vain men--wild both extremes, And to the state not wholesome, like the dreams, 126 Children of night, of Indigestion bred, Which, Reason clouded, seize and turn the head; Loyalty without Freedom is a chain Which men of liberal notice can't sustain; And Freedom without Loyalty, a name Which nothing means, or means licentious shame. Thine be the art, my Sandwich, thine the toil, In Oxford's stubborn and untoward soil To rear this plant of union, till at length, Rooted by time, and foster'd into strength, Shooting aloft, all danger it defies, And proudly lifts its branches to the skies; Whilst, Wisdom's happy son but not her slave, Gay with the gay, and with the grave ones grave, Free from the dull impertinence of thought, Beneath that shade, which thy own labours wrought And fashion'd into strength, shalt thou repose, Secure of liberal praise, since Isis flows, True to her Tame, as duty hath decreed, Nor longer, like a harlot, lust for Tweed, And those old wreaths, which Oxford once dared twine To grace a Stuart brow, she plants on thine. ~ Charles Churchill,

1023:Scene. Wrzburg; a garden in the environs. 1512. Festus, Paracelsus, Michal. Paracelsus. Come close to me, dear friends; still closer; thus! Close to the heart which, though long time roll by Ere it again beat quicker, pressed to yours, As now it beatsperchance a long, long time At least henceforth your memories shall make Quiet and fragrant as befits their home. Nor shall my memory want a home in yours Alas, that it requires too well such free Forgiving love as shall embalm it there! For if you would remember me aright, As I was born to be, you must forget All fitful strange and moody waywardness Which e'er confused my better spirit, to dwell Only on moments such as these, dear friends! My heart no truer, but my words and ways More true to it: as Michal, some months hence, Will say, "this autumn was a pleasant time," For some few sunny days; and overlook Its bleak wind, hankering after pining leaves. Autumn would fain be sunny; I would look Liker my nature's truth: and both are frail, And both beloved, for all our frailty. Michal.                      Aureole!                      Paracelsus. Drop by drop! she is weeping like a child! Not so! I am contentmore than content; Nay, autumn wins you best by this its mute Appeal to sympathy for its decay: Look up, sweet Michal, nor esteem the less Your stained and drooping vines their grapes bow down, Nor blame those creaking trees bent with their fruit, That apple-tree with a rare after-birth Of peeping blooms sprinkled its wealth among! Then for the windswhat wind that ever raved Shall vex that ash which overlooks you both, So proud it wears its berries? Ah, at length, The old smile meet for her, the lady of this Sequestered nest!this kingdom, limited Alone by one old populous green wall Tenanted by the ever-busy flies, Grey crickets and shy lizards and quick spiders, Each family of the silver-threaded moss Which, look through near, this way, and it appears A stubble-field or a cane-brake, a marsh Of bulrush whitening in the sun: laugh now! Fancy the crickets, each one in his house, Looking out, wondering at the worldor best, Yon painted snail with his gay shell of dew, Travelling to see the glossy balls high up Hung by the caterpillar, like gold lamps. Michal. In truth we have lived carelessly and well. Paracelsus. And shall, my perfect pair!each, trust me, born For the other; nay, your very hair, when mixed, Is of one hue. For where save in this nook Shall you two walk, when I am far away, And wish me prosperous fortune? Stay: that plant Shall never wave its tangles lightly and softly, As a queen's languid and imperial arm Which scatters crowns among her lovers, but you Shall be reminded to predict to me Some great success! Ah see, the sun sinks broad Behind Saint Saviour's: wholly gone, at last! Festus. Now, Aureole, stay those wandering eyes awhile! You are ours to-night, at least; and while you spoke Of Michal and her tears, I thought that none Could willing leave what he so seemed to love: But that last look destroys my dreamthat look As if, where'er you gazed, there stood a star! How far was Wrzburg with its church and spire And garden-walls and all things they contain, From that look's far alighting? Paracelsus.                  I but spoke And looked alike from simple joy to see The beings I love best, shut in so well From all rude chances like to be my lot, That, when afar, my weary spirit,disposed To lose awhile its care in soothing thoughts Of them, their pleasant features, looks and words, Needs never hesitate, nor apprehend Encroaching trouble may have reached them too, Nor have recourse to fancy's busy aid And fashion even a wish in their behalf Beyond what they possess already here; But, unobstructed, may at once forget Itself in them, assured how well they fare. Beside, this Festus knows he holds me one Whom quiet and its charms arrest in vain, One scarce aware of all the joys I quit, Too filled with airy hopes to make account Of soft delights his own heart garners up: Whereas behold how much our sense of all That's beauteous proves alike! When Festus learns That every common pleasure of the world Affects me as himself; that I have just As varied appetite for joy derived From common things; a stake in life, in short, Like his; a stake which rash pursuit of aims That life affords not, would as soon destroy; He may convince himself that, this in view, I shall act well advised. And last, because, Though heaven and earth and all things were at stake, Sweet Michal must not weep, our parting eve. Festus. True: and the eve is deepening, and we sit As little anxious to begin our talk As though to-morrow I could hint of it As we paced arm-in-arm the cheerful town At sun-dawn; or could whisper it by fits (Trithemius busied with his class the while) In that dim chamber where the noon-streaks peer Half-frightened by the awful tomes around; Or in some grassy lane unbosom all From even-blush to midnight: but, to-morrow! Have I full leave to tell my inmost mind? We have been brothers, and henceforth the world Will rise between us:all my freest mind? 'T is the last night, dear Aureole! Paracelsus.                    Oh, say on! Devise some test of love, some arduous feat To be performed for you: say on! If night Be spent the while, the better! Recall how oft My wondrous plans and dreams and hopes and fears Havenever wearied you, oh no!as I Recall, and never vividly as now, Your true affection, born when Einsiedeln And its green hills were all the world to us; And still increasing to this night which ends My further stay at Wrzburg. Oh, one day You shall be very proud! Say on, dear friends! Festus. In truth? 'T is for my proper peace, indeed, Rather than yours; for vain all projects seem To stay your course: I said my latest hope Is fading even now. A story tells Of some far embassy despatched to win The favour of an eastern king, and how The gifts they offered proved but dazzling dust Shed from the ore-beds native to his clime. Just so, the value of repose and love, I meant should tempt you, better far than I You seem to comprehend; and yet desist No whit from projects where repose nor love Has part. Paracelsus.      Once more? Alas! As I foretold.      Festus. A solitary briar the bank puts forth To save our swan's nest floating out to sea. Paracelsus. Dear Festus, hear me. What is it you wish? That I should lay aside my heart's pursuit, Abandon the sole ends for which I live, Reject God's great commission, and so die! You bid me listen for your true love's sake: Yet how has grown that love? Even in a long And patient cherishing of the self-same spirit It now would quell; as though a mother hoped To stay the lusty manhood of the child Once weak upon her knees. I was not born Informed and fearless from the first, but shrank From aught which marked me out apart from men: I would have lived their life, and died their death, Lost in their ranks, eluding destiny: But you first guided me through doubt and fear, Taught me to know mankind and know myself; And now that I am strong and full of hope, That, from my soul, I can reject all aims Save those your earnest words made plain to me, Now that I touch the brink of my design, When I would have a triumph in their eyes, A glad cheer in their voicesMichal weeps, And Festus ponders gravely! Festus.                When you deign To hear my purpose . . . Paracelsus.              Hear it? I can say Beforehand all this evening's conference! 'T is this way, Michal, that he uses: first, Or he declares, or I, the leading points Of our best scheme of life, what is man's end And what God's will; no two faiths e'er agreed As his with mine. Next, each of us allows Faith should be acted on as best we may; Accordingly, I venture to submit My plan, in lack of better, for pursuing The path which God's will seems to authorize. Well, he discerns much good in it, avows This motive worthy, that hope plausible, A danger here to be avoided, there An oversight to be repaired: in fine Our two minds go togetherall the good Approved by him, I gladly recognize, All he counts bad, I thankfully discard, And nought forbids my looking up at last For some stray comfort in his cautious brow. When, lo! I learn that, spite of all, there lurks Some innate and inexplicable germ Of failure in my scheme; so that at last It all amounts to thisthe sovereign proof That we devote ourselves to God, is seen In living just as though no God there were; A life which, prompted by the sad and blind Folly of man, Festus abhors the most; But which these tenets sanctify at once, Though to less subtle wits it seems the same, Consider it how they may. Michal.              Is it so, Festus He speaks so calmly and kindly: is it so? Paracelsus. Reject those glorious visions of God's love And man's design; laugh loud that God should send Vast longings to direct us; say how soon Power satiates these, or lust, or gold; I know The world's cry well, and how to answer it. But this ambiguous warfare . . . Festus.                  . . . Wearies so That you will grant no last leave to your friend To urge it?for his sake, not yours? I wish To send my soul in good hopes after you; Never to sorrow that uncertain words Erringly apprehended, a new creed Ill understood, begot rash trust in you, Had share in your undoing. Paracelsus.               Choose your side, Hold or renounce: but meanwhile blame me not Because I dare to act on your own views, Nor shrink when they point onward, nor espy A peril where they most ensure success. Festus. Prove that to mebut that! Prove you abide Within their warrant, nor presumptuous boast God's labour laid on you; prove, all you covet A mortal may expect; and, most of all, Prove the strange course you now affect, will lead To its attainmentand I bid you speed, Nay, count the minutes till you venture forth! You smile; but I had gathered from slow thought Much musing on the fortunes of my friend Matter I deemed could not be urged in vain; But it all leaves me at my need: in shreds And fragments I must venture what remains. Michal. Ask at once, Festus, wherefore he should scorn . . . Festus. Stay, Michal: Aureole, I speak guardedly And gravely, knowing well, whate'er your error, This is no ill-considered choice of yours, No sudden fancy of an ardent boy. Not from your own confiding words alone Am I aware your passionate heart long since Gave birth to, nourished and at length matures This scheme. I will not speak of Einsiedeln, Where I was born your elder by some years Only to watch you fully from the first: In all beside, our mutual tasks were fixed Even then't was mine to have you in my view As you had your own soul and those intents Which filled it when, to crown your dearest wish, With a tumultuous heart, you left with me Our childhood's home to join the favoured few Whom, here, Trithemius condescends to teach A portion of his lore: and not one youth Of those so favoured, whom you now despise, Came earnest as you came, resolved, like you, To grasp all, and retain all, and deserve By patient toil a wide renown like his. Now, this new ardour which supplants the old I watched, too; 't was significant and strange, In one matched to his soul's content at length With rivals in the search for wisdom's prize, To see the sudden pause, the total change; From contest, the transition to repose From pressing onward as his fellows pressed, To a blank idleness, yet most unlike The dull stagnation of a soul, content, Once foiled, to leave betimes a thriveless quest. That careless bearing, free from all pretence Even of contempt for what it ceased to seek Smiling humility, praising much, yet waiving What it professed to praisethough not so well Maintained but that rare outbreaks, fierce and brief, Revealed the hidden scorn, as quickly curbed. That ostentatious show of past defeat, That ready acquiescence in contempt, I deemed no other than the letting go His shivered sword, of one about to spring Upon his foe's throat; but it was not thus: Not that way looked your brooding purpose then. For after-signs disclosed, what you confirmed, That you prepared to task to the uttermost Your strength, in furtherance of a certain aim Whichwhile it bore the name your rivals gave Their own most puny effortswas so vast In scope that it included their best flights, Combined them, and desired to gain one prize In place of many,the secret of the world, Of man, and man's true purpose, path and fate. That you, not nursing as a mere vague dream This purpose, with the sages of the past, Have struck upon a way to this, if all You trust be true, which following, heart and soul, You, if a man may, dare aspire to know: And that this aim shall differ from a host Of aims alike in character and kind, Mostly in this,that in itself alone Shall its reward be, not an alien end Blending therewith; no hope nor fear nor joy Nor woe, to elsewhere move you, but this pure Devotion to sustain you or betray: Thus you aspire. Paracelsus.          You shall not state it thus: I should not differ from the dreamy crew You speak of. I profess no other share In the selection of my lot, than this My ready answer to the will of God Who summons me to be his organ. All Whose innate strength supports them shall succeed No better than the sages. Festus.              Such the aim, then, God sets before you; and't is doubtless need That he appoint no less the way of praise Than the desire to praise; for, though I hold With you, the setting forth such praise to be The natural end and service of a man, And hold such praise is best attained when man Attains the general welfare of his kind Yet this, the end, is not the instrument. Presume not to serve God apart from such Appointed channel as he wills shall gather Imperfect tributes, for that sole obedience Valued perchance! He seeks not that his altars Blaze, careless how, so that they do but blaze. Suppose this, then; that God selected you To know (heed well your answers, for my faith Shall meet implicitly what they affirm) I cannot think you dare annex to such Selection aught beyond a steadfast will, An intense hope; nor let your gifts create Scorn or neglect of ordinary means Conducive to success, make destiny Dispense with man's endeavour. Now, dare you search Your inmost heart, and candidly avow Whether you have not rather wild desire For this distinction than security Of its existence? whether you discern The path to the fulfilment of your purpose Clear as that purposeand again, that purpose Clear as your yearning to be singled out For its pursuer. Dare you answer this? Paracelsus [after a pause]. No, I have nought to fear! Who will may know The secret'st workings of my soul. What though It be so?if indeed the strong desire Eclipse the aim in me?if splendour break Upon the outset of my path alone, And duskest shade succeed? What fairer seal Shall I require to my authentic mission Than this fierce energy?this instinct striving Because its nature is to strive?enticed By the security of no broad course, Without success forever in its eyes! How know I else such glorious fate my own, But in the restless irresistible force That works within me? Is it for human will To institute such impulses?still less, To disregard their promptings! What should I Do, kept among you all; your loves, your cares, Your lifeall to be mine? Be sure that God Ne'er dooms to waste the strength he deigns impart! Ask the geier-eagle why she stoops at once Into the vast and unexplored abyss, What full-grown power informs her from the first, Why she not marvels, strenuously beating The silent boundless regions of the sky! Be sure they sleep not whom God needs! Nor fear Their holding light his charge, when every hour That finds that charge delayed, is a new death. This for the faith in which I trust; and hence I can abjure so well the idle arts These pedants strive to learn and teach; Black Arts, Great Works, the Secret and Sublime, forsooth Let others prize: too intimate a tie Connects me with our God! A sullen fiend To do my bidding, fallen and hateful sprites To help mewhat are these, at best, beside God helping, God directing everywhere, So that the earth shall yield her secrets up, And every object there be charged to strike, Teach, gratify her master God appoints? And I am young, my Festus, happy and free! I can devote myself; I have a life To give; I, singled out for this, the One! Think, think! the wide East, where all Wisdom sprung; The bright South, where she dwelt; the hopeful North, All are passed o'erit lights on me! 'T is time New hopes should animate the world, new light Should dawn from new revealings to a race Weighed down so long, forgotten so long; thus shall The heaven reserved for us at last receive Creatures whom no unwonted splendours blind, But ardent to confront the unclouded blaze. Whose beams not seldom blessed their pilgrimage, Not seldom glorified their life below. Festus. My words have their old fate and make faint stand Against your glowing periods. Call this, truth Why not pursue it in a fast retreat, Some one of Learning's many palaces, After approved example?seeking there Calm converse with the great dead, soul to soul, Who laid up treasure with the like intent So lift yourself into their airy place, And fill out full their unfulfilled careers, Unravelling the knots their baffled skill Pronounced inextricable, true!but left Far less confused. A fresh eye, a fresh hand, Might do much at their vigour's waning-point; Succeeding with new-breathed new-hearted force, As at old games the runner snatched the torch From runner still: this way success might be. But you have coupled with your enterprise, An arbitrary self-repugnant scheme Of seeking it in strange and untried paths. What books are in the desert? Writes the sea The secret of her yearning in vast caves Where yours will fall the first of human feet? Has wisdom sat there and recorded aught You press to read? Why turn aside from her To visit, where her vesture never glanced, Nowsolitudes consigned to barrenness By God's decree, which who shall dare impugn? Nowruins where she paused but would not stay, Old ravaged cities that, renouncing her, She called an endless curse on, so it came: Or worst of all, nowmen you visit, men, Ignoblest troops who never heard her voice Or hate it, men without one gift from Rome Or Athens,these shall Aureole's teachers be! Rejecting past example, practice, precept, Aidless'mid these he thinks to stand alone: Thick like a glory round the Stagirite Your rivals throng, the sages: here stand you! Whatever you may protest, knowledge is not Paramount in your love; or for her sake You would collect all help from every source Rival, assistant, friend, foe, all would merge In the broad class of those who showed her haunts, And those who showed them not. Paracelsus.                 What shall I say? Festus, from childhood I have been possessed By a fireby a true fire, or faint or fierce, As from without some master, so it seemed, Repressed or urged its current: this but ill Expresses what would I convey: but rather I will believe an angel ruled me thus, Than that my soul's own workings, own high nature, So became manifest. I knew not then What whispered in the evening, and spoke out At midnight. If some mortal, born too soon, Were laid away in some great trancethe ages Coming and going all the whiletill dawned His true time's advent; and could then record The words they spoke who kept watch by his bed, Then I might tell more of the breath so light Upon my eyelids, and the fingers light Among my hair. Youth is confused; yet never So dull was I but, when that spirit passed, I turned to him, scarce consciously, as turns A water-snake when fairies cross his sleep. And having this within me and about me While Einsiedeln, its mountains, lakes and woods Confined mewhat oppressive joy was mine When life grew plain, and I first viewed the thronged, The everlasting concourse of mankind! Believe that ere I joined them, ere I knew The purpose of the pageant, or the place Consigned me in its rankswhile, just awake, Wonder was freshest and delight most pure 'T was then that least supportable appeared A station with the brightest of the crowd, A portion with the proudest of them all. And from the tumult in my breast, this only Could I collect, that I must thenceforth die Or elevate myself far, far above The gorgeous spectacle. I seemed to long At once to trample on, yet save mankind, To make some unexampled sacrifice In their behalf, to wring some wondrous good From heaven or earth for them, to perish, winning Eternal weal in the act: as who should dare Pluck out the angry thunder from its cloud, That, all its gathered flame discharged on him, No storm might threaten summer's azure sleep: Yet never to be mixed with men so much As to have part even in my own work, share In my own largess. Once the feat achieved, I would withdraw from their officious praise, Would gently put aside their profuse thanks. Like some knight traversing a wilderness, Who, on his way, may chance to free a tribe Of desert-people from their dragon-foe; When all the swarthy race press round to kiss His feet, and choose him for their king, and yield Their poor tents, pitched among the sand-hills, for His realm: and he points, smiling, to his scarf Heavy with riveled gold, his burgonet Gay set with twinkling stonesand to the East, Where these must be displayed! Festus.                 Good: let us hear No more about your nature, "which first shrank "From all that marked you out apart from men!" Paracelsus. I touch on that; these words but analyse The first mad impulse: 't was as brief as fond, For as I gazed again upon the show, I soon distinguished here and there a shape Palm-wreathed and radiant, forehead and full eye. Well pleased was I their state should thus at once Interpret my own thoughts:"Behold the clue "To all," I rashly said, "and what I pine "To do, these have accomplished: we are peers. "They know and therefore rule: I, too, will know!" You were beside me, Festus, as you say; You saw me plunge in their pursuits whom fame Is lavish to attest the lords of mind, Not pausing to make sure the prize in view Would satiate my cravings when obtained, But since they strove I strove. Then came a slow And strangling failure. We aspired alike, Yet not the meanest plodder, Tritheim counts A marvel, but was all-sufficient, strong, Or staggered only at his own vast wits; While I was restless, nothing satisfied, Distrustful, most perplexed. I would slur over That struggle; suffice it, that I loathed myself As weak compared with them, yet felt somehow A mighty power was brooding, taking shape Within me; and this lasted till one night When, as I sat revolving it and more, A still voice from without said"Seest thou not, "Desponding child, whence spring defeat and loss? "Even from thy strength. Consider: hast thou gazed "Presumptuously on wisdom's countenance, "No veil between; and can thy faltering hands, "Unguided by the brain the sight absorbs, "Pursue their task as earnest blinkers do "Whom radiance ne'er distracted? Live their life "If thou wouldst share their fortune, choose their eyes "Unfed by splendour. Let each task present "Its petty good to thee. Waste not thy gifts "In profitless waiting for the gods' descent, "But have some idol of thine own to dress "With their array. Know, not for knowing's sake, "But to become a star to men for ever; "Know, for the gain it gets, the praise it brings, "The wonder it inspires, the love it breeds: "Look one step onward, and secure that step!" And I smiled as one never smiles but once, Then first discovering my own aim's extent, Which sought to comprehend the works of God, And God himself, and all God's intercourse With the human mind; I understood, no less, My fellows' studies, whose true worth I saw, But smiled not, well aware who stood by me. And softer came the voice"There is a way: "'T is hard for flesh to tread therein, imbued "With frailtyhopeless, if indulgence first "Have ripened inborn germs of sin to strength: "Wilt thou adventure for my sake and man's, "Apart from all reward?" And last it breathed "Be happy, my good soldier; I am by thee, "Be sure, even to the end!"I answered not, Knowing him. As he spoke, I was endued With comprehension and a steadfast will; And when he ceased, my brow was sealed his own. If there took place no special change in me, How comes it all things wore a different hue Thenceforward?pregnant with vast consequence, Teeming with grand result, loaded with fate? So that when, quailing at the mighty range Of secret truths which yearn for birth, I haste To contemplate undazzled some one truth, Its bearings and effects aloneat once What was a speck expands into a star, Asking a life to pass exploring thus, Till I near craze. I go to prove my soul! I see my way as birds their trackless way. I shall arrive! what time, what circuit first, I ask not: but unless God send his hail Or blinding fireballs, sleet or stifling snow, In some time, his good time, I shall arrive: He guides me and the bird. In his good time! Michal. Vex him no further, Festus; it is so! Festus. Just thus you help me ever. This would hold Were it the trackless air, and not a path Inviting you, distinct with footprints yet Of many a mighty marcher gone that way. You may have purer views than theirs, perhaps, But they were famous in their daythe proofs Remain. At least accept the light they lend. Paracelsus. Their light! the sum of all is briefly this: They laboured and grew famous, and the fruits Are best seen in a dark and groaning earth Given over to a blind and endless strife With evils, what of all their lore abates? No; I reject and spurn them utterly And all they teach. Shall I still sit beside Their dry wells, with a white lip and filmed eye, While in the distance heaven is blue above Mountains where sleep the unsunned tarns? Festus.                       And yet As strong delusions have prevailed ere now. Men have set out as gallantly to seek Their ruin. I have heard of such: yourself Avow all hitherto have failed and fallen. Michal. Nay, Festus, when but as the pilgrims faint Through the drear way, do you expect to see Their city dawn amid the clouds afar? Paracelsus. Ay, sounds it not like some old well-known tale? For me, I estimate their works and them So rightly, that at times I almost dream I too have spent a life the sages' way, And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance I perished in an arrogant self-reliance Ages ago; and in that act, a prayer For one more chance went up so earnest, so Instinct with better light let in by death, That life was blotted outnot so completely But scattered wrecks enough of it remain, Dim memories, as now, when once more seems The goal in sight again. All which, indeed, Is foolish, and only meansthe flesh I wear, The earth I tread, are not more clear to me Than my belief, explained to you or no. Festus. And who am I, to challenge and dispute That clear belief? I will divest all fear. Michal. Then Aureole is God's commissary! he shall Be great and grandand all for us! Paracelsus.                    No, sweet! Not great and grand. If I can serve mankind 'T is well; but there our intercourse must end: I never will be served by those I serve. Festus. Look well to this; here is a plague-spot, here, Disguise it how you may! 'T is true, you utter This scorn while by our side and loving us; 'T is but a spot as yet: but it will break Into a hideous blotch if overlooked. How can that course be safe which from the first Produces carelessness to human love? It seems you have abjured the helps which men Who overpass their kind, as you would do, Have humbly sought; I dare not thoroughly probe This matter, lest I learn too much. Let be That popular praise would little instigate Your efforts, nor particular approval Reward you; put reward aside; alone You shall go forth upon your arduous task, None shall assist you, none partake your toil, None share your triumph: still you must retain Some one to cast your glory on, to share Your rapture with. Were I elect like you, I would encircle me with love, and raise A rampart of my fellows; it should seem Impossible for me to fail, so watched By gentle friends who made my cause their own. They should ward off fate's envythe great gift, Extravagant when claimed by me alone, Being so a gift to them as well as me. If danger daunted me or ease seduced, How calmly their sad eyes should gaze reproach! Michal. O Aureole, can I sing when all alone, Without first calling, in my fancy, both To listen by my sideeven I! And you? Do you not feel this? Say that you feel this! Paracelsus. I feel't is pleasant that my aims, at length Allowed their weight, should be supposed to need A further strengthening in these goodly helps! My course allures for its own sake, its sole Intrinsic worth; and ne'er shall boat of mine Adventure forth for gold and apes at once. Your sages say, "if human, therefore weak:" If weak, more need to give myself entire To my pursuit; and by its side, all else . . . No matter! I deny myself but little In waiving all assistance save its own. Would there were some real sacrifice to make! Your friends the sages threw their joys away, While I must be content with keeping mine. Festus. But do not cut yourself from human weal! You cannot thrivea man that dares affect To spend his life in service to his kind For no reward of theirs, unbound to them By any tie; nor do so, Aureole! No There are strange punishments for such. Give up (Although no visible good flow thence) some part Of the glory to another; hiding thus, Even from yourself, that all is for yourself. Say, say almost to God"I have done all "For her, not for myself!" Paracelsus.               And who but lately Was to rejoice in my success like you? Whom should I love but both of you? Festus.                    I know not: But know this, you, that't is no will of mine You should abjure the lofty claims you make; And this the causeI can no longer seek To overlook the truth, that there would be A monstrous spectacle upon the earth, Beneath the pleasant sun, among the trees: A being knowing not what love is. Hear me! You are endowed with faculties which bear Annexed to them as't were a dispensation To summon meaner spirits to do their will And gather round them at their need; inspiring Such with a love themselves can never feel, Passionless'mid their passionate votaries. I know not if you joy in this or no, Or ever dream that common men can live On objects you prize lightly, but which make Their heart's sole treasure: the affections seem Beauteous at most to you, which we must taste Or die: and this strange quality accords, I know not how, with you; sits well upon That luminous brow, though in another it scowls An eating brand, a shame. I dare not judge you. The rules of right and wrong thus set aside, There's no alternativeI own you one Of higher order, under other laws Than bind us; therefore, curb not one bold glance! 'T is best aspire. Once mingled with us all . . . Michal. Stay with us, Aureole! cast those hopes away, And stay with us! An angel warns me, too, Man should be humble; you are very proud: And God, dethroned, has doleful plagues for such! Warns me to have in dread no quick repulse, No slow defeat, but a complete success: You will find all you seek, and perish so! Paracelsus [after a pause]. Are these the barren firstfruits of my quest? Is love like this the natural lot of all? How many years of pain might one such hour O'erbalance? Dearest Michal, dearest Festus, What shall I say, if not that I desire To justify your love; and will, dear friends, In swerving nothing from my first resolves. See, the great moon! and ere the mottled owls Were wide awake, I was to go. It seems You acquiesce at last in all save this If I am like to compass what I seek By the untried career I choose; and then, If that career, making but small account Of much of life's delight, will yet retain Sufficient to sustain my soul: for thus I understand these fond fears just expressed. And first; the lore you praise and I neglect, The labours and the precepts of old time, I have not lightly disesteemed. But, friends, Truth is within ourselves; it takes no rise From outward things, whate'er you may believe. There is an inmost centre in us all, Where truth abides in fulness; and around, Wall upon wall, the gross flesh hems it in, This perfect, clear perceptionwhich is truth. A baffling and perverting carnal mesh Binds it, and makes all error: and to know Rather consists in opening out a way Whence the imprisoned splendour may escape, Than in effecting entry for a light Supposed to be without. Watch narrowly The demonstration of a truth, its birth, And you trace back the effluence to its spring And source within us; where broods radiance vast, To be elicited ray by ray, as chance Shall favour: chancefor hitherto, your sage Even as he knows not how those beams are born, As little knows he what unlocks their fount: And men have oft grown old among their books To die case-hardened in their ignorance, Whose careless youth had promised what long years Of unremitted labour ne'er performed: While, contrary, it has chanced some idle day, To autumn loiterers just as fancy-free As the midges in the sun, gives birth at last To truthproduced mysteriously as cape Of cloud grown out of the invisible air. Hence, may not truth be lodged alike in all, The lowest as the highest? some slight film The interposing bar which binds a soul And makes the idiot, just as makes the sage Some film removed, the happy outlet whence Truth issues proudly? See this soul of ours! How it strives weakly in the child, is loosed In manhood, clogged by sickness, back compelled By age and waste, set free at last by death: Why is it, flesh enthrals it or enthrones? What is this flesh we have to penetrate? Oh, not alone when life flows still, do truth And power emerge, but also when strange chance Ruffles its current; in unused conjuncture, When sickness breaks the bodyhunger, watching, Excess or languoroftenest death's approach, Peril, deep joy or woe. One man shall crawl Through life surrounded with all stirring things, Unmoved; and he goes mad: and from the wreck Of what he was, by his wild talk alone, You first collect how great a spirit he hid. Therefore, set free the soul alike in all, Discovering the true laws by which the flesh Accloys the spirit! We may not be doomed To cope with seraphs, but at least the rest Shall cope with us. Make no more giants, God, But elevate the race at once! We ask To put forth just our strength, our human strength, All starting fairly, all equipped alike, Gifted alike, all eagle-eyed, true-hearted See if we cannot beat thine angels yet! Such is my task. I go to gather this The sacred knowledge, here and there dispersed About the world, long lost or never found. And why should I be sad or lorn of hope? Why ever make man's good distinct from God's, Or, finding they are one, why dare mistrust? Who shall succeed if not one pledged like me? Mine is no mad attempt to build a world Apart from his, like those who set themselves To find the nature of the spirit they bore, And, taught betimes that all their gorgeous dreams Were only born to vanish in this life, Refused to fit them to its narrow sphere, But chose to figure forth another world And other frames meet for their vast desires, And all a dream! Thus was life scorned; but life Shall yet be crowned: twine amaranth! I am priest! And all for yielding with a lively spirit A poor existence, parting with a youth Like those who squander every energy Convertible to good, on painted toys, Breath-bubbles, gilded dust! And though I spurn All adventitious aims, from empty praise To love's award, yet whoso deems such helps Important, and concerns himself for me, May know even these will follow with the rest As in the steady rolling Mayne, asleep Yonder, is mixed its mass of schistous ore. My own affections laid to rest awhile, Will waken purified, subdued alone By all I have achieved. Till thentill then . . . Ah, the time-wiling loitering of a page Through bower and over lawn, till eve shall bring The stately lady's presence whom he loves The broken sleep of the fisher whose rough coat Enwraps the queenly pearlthese are faint types! See, see, they look on me: I triumph now! But one thing, Festus, Michal! I have told All I shall e'er disclose to mortal: say Do you believe I shall accomplish this? Festus. I do believe! Michal.        I ever did believe!        Paracelsus. Those words shall never fade from out my brain! This earnest of the end shall never fade! Are there not, Festus, are there not, dear Michal, Two points in the adventure of the diver, Onewhen, a beggar, he prepares to plunge, Onewhen, a prince, he rises with his pearl? Festus, I plunge! Festus.          We wait you when you rise! ~ Robert Browning, Paracelsus - Part I - Paracelsus Aspires ,

1024:Scene. Salzburg; a cell in the Hospital of St. Sebastian. 1541. Festus, Paracelsus. Festus. No change! The weary night is well-nigh spent, The lamp burns low, and through the casement-bars Grey morning glimmers feebly: yet no change! Another night, and still no sigh has stirred That fallen discoloured mouth, no pang relit Those fixed eyes, quenched by the decaying body, Like torch-flame choked in dust. While all beside Was breaking, to the last they held out bright, As a stronghold where life intrenched itself; But they are dead nowvery blind and dead: He will drowse into death without a groan. My Aureolemy forgotten, ruined Aureole! The days are gone, are gone! How grand thou wast! And now not one of those who struck thee down Poor glorious spiritconcerns him even to stay And satisfy himself his little hand Could turn God's image to a livid thing. Another night, and yet no change! 'T is much That I should sit by him, and bathe his brow, And chafe his hands; 't is much: but he will sure Know me, and look on me, and speak to me Once morebut only once! His hollow cheek Looked all night long as though a creeping laugh At his own state were just about to break From the dying man: my brain swam, my throat swelled, And yet I could not turn away. In truth, They told me how, when first brought here, he seemed Resolved to live, to lose no faculty; Thus striving to keep up his shattered strength, Until they bore him to this stifling cell: When straight his features fell, an hour made white The flushed face, and relaxed the quivering limb, Only the eye remained intense awhile As though it recognized the tomb-like place, And then he lay as here he lies.                  Ay, here! Here is earth's noblest, nobly garlanded Her bravest champion with his well-won prize Her best achievement, her sublime amends For countless generations fleeting fast And followed by no trace;the creature-god She instances when angels would dispute The title of her brood to rank with them. Angels, this is our angel! Those bright forms We clothe with purple, crown and call to thrones, Are human, but not his; those are but men Whom other men press round and kneel before; Those palaces are dwelt in by mankind; Higher provision is for him you seek Amid our pomps and glories: see it here! Behold earth's paragon! Now, raise thee, clay! God! Thou art love! I build my faith on that Even as I watch beside thy tortured child Unconscious whose hot tears fall fast by him, So doth thy right hand guide us through the world Wherein we stumble. God! what shall we say? How has he sinned? How else should he have done? Surely he sought thy praisethy praise, for all He might be busied by the task so much As half forget awhile its proper end. Dost thou well, Lord? Thou canst not but prefer That I should range myself upon his side How could he stop at every step to set Thy glory forth? Hadst thou but granted him Success, thy honour would have crowned success, A halo round a star. Or, say he erred, Save him, dear God; it will be like thee: bathe him In light and life! Thou art not made like us; We should be wroth in such a case; but thou Forgivestso, forgive these passionate thoughts Which come unsought and will not pass away! I know thee, who hast kept my path, and made Light for me in the darkness, tempering sorrow So that it reached me like a solemn joy; It were too strange that I should doubt thy love. But what am I? Thou madest him and knowest How he was fashioned. I could never err That way: the quiet place beside thy feet, Reserved for me, was ever in my thoughts: But hethou shouldst have favoured him as well! Ah! he wakens! Aureole, I am here! 't is Festus! I cast away all wishes save one wish Let him but know me, only speak to me! He mutters; louder and louder; any other Than I, with brain less laden, could collect What he pours forth. Dear Aureole, do but look! Is it talking or singing, this he utters fast? Misery that he should fix me with his eye, Quick talking to some other all the while! If he would husband this wild vehemence Which frustrates its intent!I heard, I know I heard my name amid those rapid words. Oh, he will know me yet! Could I divert This current, lead it somehow gently back Into the channels of the past!His eye Brighter than ever! It must recognize me! I am Erasmus: I am here to pray That Paracelsus use his skill for me. The schools of Paris and of Padua send These questions for your learning to resolve. We are your students, noble master: leave This wretched cell, what business have you here? Our class awaits you; come to us once more! (O agony! the utmost I can do Touches him not; how else arrest his ear?) I am commissioned . . . I shall craze like him. Better be mute and see what God shall send. Paracelsus. Stay, stay with me! Festus.           I will; I am come here To stay with youFestus, you loved of old; Festus, you know, you must know! Paracelsus.                  Festus! Where's Aprile, then? Has he not chanted softly The melodies I heard all night? I could not Get to him for a cold hand on my breast, But I made out his music well enough, O well enough! If they have filled him full With magical music, as they freight a star With light, and have remitted all his sin, They will forgive me too, I too shall know! Festus. Festus, your Festus! Paracelsus.            Ask him if Aprile Knows as he Lovesif I shall Love and Know? I try; but that cold hand, like leadso cold! Festus. My hand, see! Paracelsus.        Ah, the curse, Aprile, Aprile! We get so nearso very, very near! 'T is an old tale: Jove strikes the Titans down, Not when they set about their mountain-piling But when another rock would crown the work. And Phaetondoubtless his first radiant plunge Astonished mortals, though the gods were calm, And Jove prepared his thunder: all old tales! Festus. And what are these to you? Paracelsus.               Ay, fiends must laugh So cruelly, so well! most like I never Could tread a single pleasure underfoot, But they were grinning by my side, were chuckling To see me toil and drop away by flakes! Hell-spawn! I am glad, most glad, that thus I fail! Your cunning has o'ershot its aim. One year, One month, perhaps, and I had served your turn! You should have curbed your spite awhile. But now, Who will believe 't was you that held me back? Listen: there's shame and hissing and contempt, And none but laughs who names me, none but spits Measureless scorn upon me, me alone, The quack, the cheat, the liar,all on me! And thus your famous plan to sink mankind In silence and despair, by teaching them One of their race had probed the inmost truth, Had done all man could do, yet failed no less Your wise plan proves abortive. Men despair? Ha, ha! why, they are hooting the empiric, The ignorant and incapable fool who rushed Madly upon a work beyond his wits; Nor doubt they but the simplest of themselves Could bring the matter to triumphant issue. So, pick and choose among them all, accursed! Try now, persuade some other to slave for you, To ruin body and soul to work your ends! No, no; I am the first and last, I think. Festus. Dear friend, who are accursed? who has done Paracelsus. What have I done? Fiends dare ask that? or you, Brave men? Oh, you can chime in boldly, backed By the others! What had you to do, sage peers? Here stand my rivals; Latin, Arab, Jew, Greek, join dead hands against me: all I ask Is, that the world enrol my name with theirs, And even this poor privilege, it seems, They range themselves, prepared to disallow. Only observe! why, fiends may learn from them! How they talk calmly of my throes, my fierce Aspirings, terrible watchings, each one claiming Its price of blood and brain; how they dissect And sneeringly disparage the few truths Got at a life's cost; they too hanging the while About my neck, their lies misleading me And their dead names browbeating me! Grey crew, Yet steeped in fresh malevolence from hell, Is there a reason for your hate? My truths Have shaken a little the palm about each prince? Just think, Aprile, all these leering dotards Were bent on nothing less than to be crowned As we! That yellow blear-eyed wretch in chief To whom the rest cringe low with feigned respect, Galen of Pergamos and hellnay speak The tale, old man! We met there face to face: I said the crown should fall from thee. Once more We meet as in that ghastly vestibule: Look to my brow! Have I redeemed my pledge? Festus. Peace, peace; ah, see! Paracelsus.            Oh, emptiness of fame! Oh Persic Zoroaster, lord of stars! Who said these old renowns, dead long ago, Could make me overlook the living world To gaze through gloom at where they stood, indeed, But stand no longer? What a warm light life After the shade! In truth, my delicate witch, My serpent-queen, you did but well to hide The juggles I had else detected. Fire May well run harmless o'er a breast like yours! The cave was not so darkened by the smoke But that your white limbs dazzled me: oh, white, And panting as they twinkled, wildly dancing! I cared not for your passionate gestures then, But now I have forgotten the charm of charms, The foolish knowledge which I came to seek, While I remember that quaint dance; and thus I am come back, not for those mummeries, But to love you, and to kiss your little feet Soft as an ermine's winter coat! Festus.                  A light Will struggle through these thronging words at last. As in the angry and tumultuous West A soft star trembles through the drifting clouds. These are the strivings of a spirit which hates So sad a vault should coop it, and calls up The past to stand between it and its fate. Were he at Einsiedelnor Michal here! Paracelsus. Cruel! I seek her nowI kneelI shriek I clasp her vesturebut she fades, still fades; And she is gone; sweet human love is gone! 'T is only when they spring to heaven that angels Reveal themselves to you; they sit all day Beside you, and lie down at night by you Who care not for their presence, muse or sleep, And all at once they leave you, and you know them! We are so fooled, so cheated! Why, even now I am not too secure against foul play; The shadows deepen and the walls contract: No doubt some treachery is going on. 'T is very dusk. Where are we put, Aprile? Have they left us in the lurch? This murky loathsome Death-trap, this slaughter-house, is not the hall In the golden city! Keep by me, Aprile! There is a hand groping amid the blackness To catch us. Have the spider-fingers got you, Poet? Hold on me for your life! If once They pull you!Hold!            'Tis but a dreamno more! I have you still; the sun comes out again; Let us be happy: all will yet go well! Let us confer: is it not like, Aprile, That spite of trouble, this ordeal passed, The value of my labours ascertained, Just as some stream foams long among the rocks But after glideth glassy to the sea, So, full content shall henceforth be my lot? What think you, poet? Louder! Your clear voice Vibrates too like a harp-string. Do you ask How could I still remain on earth, should God Grant me the great approval which I seek? I, you, and God can comprehend each other, But men would murmur, and with cause enough; For when they saw me, stainless of all sin, Preserved and sanctified by inward light, They would complain that comfort, shut from them, I drank thus unespied; that they live on, Nor taste the quiet of a constant joy, For ache and care and doubt and weariness, While I am calm; help being vouchsafed to me, And hid from them.'T were best consider that! You reason well, Aprile; but at least Let me know this, and die! Is this too much? I will learn this, if God so please, and die! If thou shalt please, dear God, if thou shalt please! We are so weak, we know our motives least In their confused beginning. If at first I sought . . . but wherefore bare my heart to thee? I know thy mercy; and already thoughts Flock fast about my soul to comfort it, And intimate I cannot wholly fail, For love and praise would clasp me willingly Could I resolve to seek them. Thou art good, And I should be content. Yetyet first show I have done wrong in daring! Rather give The supernatural consciousness of strength Which fed my youth! Only one hour of that With thee to helpO what should bar me then! Lost, lost! Thus things are ordered here! God's creatures, And yet he takes no pride in us!none, none! Truly there needs another life to come! If this be all(I must tell Festus that) And other life await us notfor one, I say 't is a poor cheat, a stupid bungle, A wretched failure. I, for one, protest Against it, and I hurl it back with scorn. Well, onward though alone! Small time remains, And much to do: I must have fruit, must reap Some profit from my toils. I doubt my body Will hardly serve me through; while I have laboured It has decayed; and now that I demand Its best assistance, it will crumble fast: A sad thought, a sad fate! How very full Of wormwood 't is, that just at altar-service, The rapt hymn rising with the rolling smoke, When glory dawns and all is at the best, The sacred fire may flicker and grow faint And die for want of a wood-piler's help! Thus fades the flagging body, and the soul Is pulled down in the overthrow. Well, well Let men catch every word, let them lose nought Of what I say; something may yet be done. They are ruins! Trust me who am one of you! All ruins, glorious once, but lonely now. It makes my heart sick to behold you crouch Beside your desolate fane: the arches dim, The crumbling columns grand against the moon, Could I but rear them up once morebut that May never be, so leave them! Trust me, friends, Why should you linger here when I have built A far resplendent temple, all your own? Trust me, they are but ruins! See, Aprile, Men will not heed! Yet were I not prepared With better refuge for them, tongue of mine Should ne'er reveal how blank their dwelling is: I would sit down in silence with the rest. Ha, what? you spit at me, you grin and shriek Contempt into my earmy ear which drank God's accents once? you curse me? Why men, men, I am not formed for it! Those hideous eyes Will be before me sleeping, waking, praying, They will not let me even die. Spare, spare me, Sinning or no, forget that, only spare me The horrible scorn! You thought I could support it. But now you see what silly fragile creature Cowers thus. I am not good nor bad enough, Not Christ nor Cain, yet even Cain was saved From Hate like this. Let me but totter back! Perhaps I shall elude those jeers which creep Into my very brain, and shut these scorched Eyelids and keep those mocking faces out. Listen, Aprile! I am very calm: Be not deceived, there is no passion here Where the blood leaps like an imprisoned thing: I am calm: I will exterminate the race! Enough of that: 't is said and it shall be. And now be merry: safe and sound am I Who broke through their best ranks to get at you. And such a havoc, such a rout, Aprile! Festus. Have you no thought, no memory for me, Aureole? I am so wretchedmy pure Michal Is gone, and you alone are left me now, And even you forget me. Take my hand Lean on me thus. Do you not know me, Aureole? Paracelsus. Festus, my own friend, you are come at last? As you say, 't is an awful enterprise; But you believe I shall go through with it: 'T is like you, and I thank you. Thank him for me, Dear Michal! See how bright St. Saviour's spire Flames in the sunset; all its figures quaint Gay in the glancing light: you might conceive them A troop of yellow-vested white-haired Jews Bound for their own land where redemption dawns. Festus. Not that blest timenot our youth's time, dear God! Paracelsus. Hastay! true, I forgetall is done since, And he is come to judge me. How he speaks, How calm, how well! yes, it is true, all true; All quackery; all deceit; myself can laugh The first at it, if you desire: but still You know the obstacles which taught me tricks So foreign to my natureenvy and hate, Blind opposition, brutal prejudice, Bald ignorancewhat wonder if I sunk To humour men the way they most approved? My cheats were never palmed on such as you, Dear Festus! I will kneel if you require me, Impart the meagre knowledge I possess, Explain its bounded nature, and avow My insufficiencywhate'er you will: I give the fight up: let there be an end, A privacy, an obscure nook for me. I want to be forgotten even by God. But if that cannot be, dear Festus, lay me, When I shall die, within some narrow grave, Not by itselffor that would be too proud But where such graves are thickest; let it look Nowise distinguished from the hillocks round, So that the peasant at his brother's bed May tread upon my own and know it not; And we shall all be equal at the last, Or classed according to life's natural ranks, Fathers, sons, brothers, friendsnot rich, nor wise, Nor gifted: lay me thus, then say, "He lived "Too much advanced before his brother men; "They kept him still in front: 't was for their good "But yet a dangerous station. It were strange "That he should tell God he had never ranked "With men: so, here at least he is a man." Festus. That God shall take thee to his breast, dear spirit, Unto his breast, be sure! and here on earth Shall splendour sit upon thy name for ever. Sun! all the heaven is glad for thee: what care If lower mountains light their snowy phares At thine effulgence, yet acknowledge not The source of day? Their theft shall be their bale: For after-ages shall retrack thy beams, And put aside the crowd of busy ones And worship thee alonethe master-mind, The thinker, the explorer, the creator! Then, who should sneer at the convulsive throes With which thy deeds were born, would scorn as well The sheet of winding subterraneous fire Which, pent and writhing, sends no less at last Huge islands up amid the simmering sea. Behold thy might in me! thou hast infused Thy soul in mine; and I am grand as thou, Seeing I comprehend theeI so simple, Thou so august. I recognize thee first; I saw thee rise, I watched thee early and late, And though no glance reveal thou dost accept My homagethus no less I proffer it, And bid thee enter gloriously thy rest. Paracelsus. Festus! Festus.    I am for noble Aureole, God! I am upon his side, come weal or woe. His portion shall be mine. He has done well. I would have sinned, had I been strong enough, As he has sinned. Reward him or I waive Reward! If thou canst find no place for him, He shall be king elsewhere, and I will be His slave for ever. There are two of us. Paracelsus. Dear Festus! Festus.       Here, dear Aureole! ever by you!       Paracelsus. Nay, speak on, or I dream again. Speak on! Some story, anythingonly your voice. I shall dream else. Speak on! ay, leaning so! Festus.                          Thus the Mayne glideth Where my Love abideth. Sleep's no softer: it proceeds On through lawns, on through meads, On and on, whate'er befall, Meandering and musical, Though the ****rd pasturage Bears not on its shaven ledge Aught but weeds and waving grasses To view the river as it passes, Save here and there a scanty patch Of primroses too faint to catch A weary bee. Paracelsus. More, more; say on! Festus.           And scarce it pushes Its gentle way through strangling rushes Where the glossy kingfisher Flutters when noon-heats are near, Glad the shelving banks to shun, Red and steaming in the sun, Where the shrew-mouse with pale throat Burrows, and the speckled stoat; Where the quick sandpipers flit In and out the marl and grit That seems to breed them, brown as they: Nought disturbs its quiet way, Save some lazy stork that springs, Trailing it with legs and wings, Whom the shy fox from the hill Rouses, creep he ne'er so still. Paracelsus. My heart! they loose my heart, those simple words; Its darkness passes, which nought else could touch: Like some dark snake that force may not expel, Which glideth out to music sweet and low. What were you doing when your voice broke through A chaos of ugly images? You, indeed! Are you alone here? Festus.           All alone: you know me? This cell? Paracelsus.      An unexceptionable vault: Good brick and stone: the bats kept out, the rats Kept in: a snug nook: how should I mistake it? Festus. But wherefore am I here? Paracelsus.              Ah, well remembered! Why, for a purposefor a purpose, Festus! 'T is like me: here I trifle while time fleets, And this occasion, lost, will ne'er return. You are here to be instructed. I will tell God's message; but I have so much to say, I fear to leave half out. All is confused No doubt; but doubtless you will learn in time. He would not else have brought you here: no doubt I shall see clearer soon. Festus.              Tell me but this You are not in despair? Paracelsus.             I? and for what?             Festus. Alas, alas! he knows not, as I feared! Paracelsus. What is it you would ask me with that earnest Dear searching face? Festus.            How feel you, Aureole?            Paracelsus.                        Well: Well. 'T is a strange thing: I am dying, Festus, And now that fast the storm of life subsides, I first perceive how great the whirl has been. I was calm then, who am so dizzy now Calm in the thick of the tempest, but no less A partner of its motion and mixed up With its career. The hurricane is spent, And the good boat speeds through the brightening weather; But is it earth or sea that heaves below? The gulf rolls like a meadow-swell, o'erstrewn With ravaged boughs and remnants of the shore; And now some slet, loosened from the land, Swims past with all its trees, sailing to ocean; And now the air is full of uptorn canes, Light strippings from the fan-trees, tamarisks Unrooted, with their birds still clinging to them, All high in the wind. Even so my varied life Drifts by me; I am young, old, happy, sad, Hoping, desponding, acting, taking rest, And all at once: that is, those past conditions Float back at once on me. If I select Some special epoch from the crowd, 't is but To will, and straight the rest dissolve away, And only that particular state is present With all its long-forgotten circumstance Distinct and vivid as at firstmyself A careless looker-on and nothing more, Indifferent and amused, but nothing more. And this is death: I understand it all. New being waits me; new perceptions must Be born in me before I plunge therein; Which last is Death's affair; and while I speak, Minute by minute he is filling me With power; and while my foot is on the threshold Of boundless lifethe doors unopened yet, All preparations not complete within I turn new knowledge upon old events, And the effect is . . . but I must not tell; It is not lawful. Your own turn will come One day. Wait, Festus! You will die like me. Festus. 'T is of that past life that I burn to hear. Paracelsus. You wonder it engages me just now? In truth, I wonder too. What 's life to me? Where'er I look is fire, where'er I listen Music, and where I tend bliss evermore. Yet how can I refrain? 'T is a refined Delight to view those chances,one last view. I am so near the perils I escape, That I must play with them and turn them over, To feel how fully they are past and gone. Still, it is like, some further cause exists For this peculiar moodsome hidden purpose; Did I not tell you something of it, Festus? I had it fast, but it has somehow slipt Away from me; it will return anon. Festus. (Indeed his cheek seems young again, his voice Complete with its old tones: that little laugh Concluding every phrase, with upturned eye, As though one stooped above his head to whom He looked for confirmation and approval, Where was it gone so long, so well preserved? Then, the fore-finger pointing as he speaks, Like one who traces in an open book The matter he declares; 't is many a year Since I remarked it last: and this in him, But now a ghastly wreck!)              And can it be, Dear Aureole, you have then found out at last That worldly things are utter vanity? That man is made for weakness, and should wait In patient ignorance, till God appoint . . . Paracelsus. Ha, the purpose: the true purpose: that is it! How could I fail to apprehend! You here, I thus! But no more trifling: I see all, I know all: my last mission shall be done If strength suffice. No trifling! Stay; this posture Hardly befits one thus about to speak: I will arise. Festus.        Nay, Aureole, are you wild? You cannot leave your couch. Paracelsus.                No help; no help; Not even your hand. So! there, I stand once more! Speak from a couch? I never lectured thus. My gownthe scarlet lined with fur; now put The chain about my neck; my signet-ring Is still upon my hand, I thinkeven so; Last, my good sword; ah, trusty Azoth, leapest Beneath thy master's grasp for the last time? This couch shall be my throne: I bid these walls Be consecrate, this wretched cell become A shrine, for here God speaks to men through me. Now, Festus, I am ready to begin. Festus. I am dumb with wonder. Paracelsus.            Listen, therefore, Festus! There will be time enough, but none to spare. I must content myself with telling only The most important points. You doubtless feel That I am happy, Festus; very happy. Festus. 'T is no delusion which uplifts him thus! Then you are pardoned, Aureole, all your sin? Paracelsus. Ay, pardoned: yet why pardoned? Festus.                  'T is God's praise That man is bound to seek, and you . . . Paracelsus.                      Have lived! We have to live alone to set forth well God's praise. 'T is true, I sinned much, as I thought, And in effect need mercy, for I strove To do that very thing; but, do your best Or worst, praise rises, and will rise for ever Pardon from him, because of praise denied Who calls me to himself to exalt himself? He might laugh as I laugh! Festus.               But all comes To the same thing. 'T is fruitless for mankind To fret themselves with what concerns them not; They are no use that way: they should lie down Content as God has made them, nor go mad In thriveless cares to better what is ill. Paracelsus. No, no; mistake me not; let me not work More harm than I have worked! This is my case: If I go joyous back to God, yet bring No offering, if I render up my soul Without the fruits it was ordained to bear, If I appear the better to love God For sin, as one who has no claim on him,- Be not deceived! It may be surely thus With me, while higher prizes still await The mortal persevering to the end. Beside I am not all so valueless: I have been something, though too soon I left Following the instincts of that happy time. Festus. What happy time? For God's sake, for man's sake, What time was happy? All I hope to know That answer will decide. What happy time? Paracelsus. When but the time I vowed myself to man? Festus. Great God, thy judgments are inscrutable! Paracelsus. Yes, it was in me; I was born for it I, Paracelsus: it was mine by right. Doubtless a searching and impetuous soul Might learn from its own motions that some task Like this awaited it about the world; Might seek somewhere in this blank life of ours For fit delights to stay its longings vast; And, grappling Nature, so prevail on her To fill the creature full she dared thus frame Hungry for joy; and, bravely tyrannous, Grow in demand, still craving more and more, And make each joy conceded prove a pledge Of other joy to followbating nought Of its desires, still seizing fresh pretence To turn the knowledge and the rapture wrung As an extreme, last boon, from destiny, Into occasion for new coyetings, New strifes, new triumphs:doubtless a strong soul, Alone, unaided might attain to this, So glorious is our nature, so august Man's inborn uninstructed impulses, His naked spirit so majestical! But this was born in me; I was made so; Thus much time saved: the feverish appeties, The tumult of unproved desire, the unaimed Uncertain yearnings, aspirations blind, Distrust, mistake, and all that ends in tears Were saved me; thus I entered on my course. You may be sure I was not all exempt From human trouble; just so much of doubt As bade me plant a surer foot upon The sun-road, kept my eye unruined 'mid The fierce and flashing splendour, set my heart Trembling so much as warned me I stood there On sufferancenot to idly gaze, but cast Light on a darkling race; save for that doubt, I stood at first where all aspire at last To stand: the secret of the world was mine. I knew, I felt, (perception unexpressed, Uncomprehended by our narrow thought, But somehow felt and known in every shift And change in the spirit,nay, in every pore Of the body, even,)what God is, what we are, What life ishow God tastes an infinite joy In infinite waysone everlasting bliss, From whom all being emanates, all power Proceeds; in whom is life for evermore, Yet whom existence in its lowest form Includes; where dwells enjoyment there is he; With still a flying point of bliss remote, A happiness in store afar, a sphere Of distant glory in full view; thus climbs Pleasure its heights for ever and for ever. The centre-fire heaves underneath the earth, And the earth changes like a human face; The molten ore bursts up among the rocks, Winds into the stone's heart, outbranches bright In hidden mines, spots barren river-beds, Crumbles into fine sand where sunbeams bask God joys therein. The wroth sea's waves are edged With foam, white as the bitten lip of hate, When, in the solitary waste, strange groups Of young volcanos come up, cyclops-like, Staring together with their eyes on flame God tastes a pleasure in their uncouth pride. Then all is still; earth is a wintry clod: But spring-wind, like a dancing psaltress, passes Over its breast to waken it, rare verdure Buds tenderly upon rough banks, between The withered tree-roots and the cracks of frost, Like a smile striving with a wrinkled face; The grass grows bright, the boughs are swoln with blooms Like chrysalids impatient for the air, The shining dorrs are busy, beetles run Along the furrows, ants make their ado; Above, birds fly in merry flocks, the lark Soars up and up, shivering for very joy; Afar the ocean sleeps; white fishing-gulls Flit where the strand is purple with its tribe Of nested limpets; savage creatures seek Their loves in wood and plainand God renews His ancient rapture. Thus he dwells in all, From life's minute beginnings, up at last To manthe consummation of this scheme Of being, the completion of this sphere Of life: whose attributes had here and there Been scattered o'er the visible world before, Asking to be combined, dim fragments meant To be united in some wondrous whole, Imperfect qualities throughout creation, Suggesting some one creature yet to make, Some point where all those scattered rays should meet Convergent in the faculties of man. Powerneither put forth blindly, nor controlled Calmly by perfect knowledge; to be used At risk, inspired or checked by hope and fear: Knowledgenot intuition, but the slow Uncertain fruit of an enhancing toil, Strengthened by love: lovenot serenely pure, But strong from weakness, like a chance-sown plant Which, cast on stubborn soil, puts forth changed buds And softer stains, unknown in happier climes; Love which endures and doubts and is oppressed And cherished, suffering much and much sustained, And blind, oft-failing, yet believing love, A half-enlightened, often-chequered trust: Hints and previsions of which faculties, Are strewn confusedly everywhere about The inferior natures, and all lead up higher, All shape out dimly the superior race, The heir of hopes too fair to turn out false, And man appears at last. So far the seal Is put on life; one stage of being complete, One scheme wound up: and from the grand result A supplementary reflux of light, Illustrates all the inferior grades, explains Each back step in the circle. Not alone For their possessor dawn those qualities, But the new glory mixes with the heaven And earth; man, once descried, imprints for ever His presence on all lifeless things: the winds Are henceforth voices, wailing or a shout, A querulous mutter or a quick gay laugh, Never a senseless gust now man is born. The herded pines commune and have deep thoughts A secret they assemble to discuss When the sun drops behind their trunks which glare Like grates of hell: the peerless cup afloat Of the lake-lily is an urn, some nymph Swims bearing high above her head: no bird Whistles unseen, but through the gaps above That let light in upon the gloomy woods, A shape peeps from the breezy forest-top, Arch with small puckered mouth and mocking eye. The morn has enterprise, deep quiet droops With evening, triumph takes the sunset hour, Voluptuous transport ripens with the corn Beneath a warm moon like a happy face: And this to fill us with regard for man. With apprehension of his passing worth, Desire to work his proper nature out, And ascertain his rank and final place, For these things tend still upward, progress is The law of life, man is not Man as yet. Nor shall I deem his object served, his end Attained, his genuine strength put fairly forth, While only here and there a star dispels The darkness, here and there a towering mind O'erlooks its prostrate fellows: when the host Is out at once to the despair of night, When all mankind alike is perfected, Equal in full-blown powersthen, not till then, I say, begins man's general infancy. For wherefore make account of feverish starts Of restless members of a dormant whole, Impatient nerves which quiver while the body Slumbers as in a grave? Oh long ago The brow was twitched, the tremulous lids astir, The peaceful mouth disturbed; half-uttered speech Ruffled the lip, and then the teeth were set, The breath drawn sharp, the strong right-hand clenched stronger, As it would pluck a lion by the jaw; The glorious creature laughed out even in sleep! But when full roused, each giant-limb awake, Each sinew strung, the great heart pulsing fast, He shall start up and stand on his own earth, Then shall his long triumphant march begin, Thence shall his being date,thus wholly roused, What he achieves shall be set down to him. When all the race is perfected alike As man, that is; all tended to mankind, And, man produced, all has its end thus far: But in completed man begins anew A tendency to God. Prognostics told Man's near approach; so in man's self arise August anticipations, symbols, types Of a dim splendour ever on before In that eternal circle life pursues. For men begin to pass their nature's bound, And find new hopes and cares which fast supplant Their proper joys and griefs; they grow too great For narrow creeds of right and wrong, which fade Before the unmeasured thirst for good: while peace Rises within them ever more and more. Such men are even now upon the earth, Serene amid the half-formed creatures round Who should be saved by them and joined with them. Such was my task, and I was born to it Free, as I said but now, from much that chains Spirits, high-dowered but limited and vexed By a divided and delusive aim, A shadow mocking a reality Whose truth avails not wholly to disperse The flitting mimic called up by itself, And so remains perplexed and nigh put out By its fantastic fellow's wavering gleam. I, from the first, was never cheated thus; I never fashioned out a fancied good Distinct from man's; a service to be done, A glory to be ministered unto With powers put forth at man's expense, withdrawn From labouring in his behalf; a strength Denied that might avail him. I cared not Lest his success ran counter to success Elsewhere: for God is glorified in man, And to man's glory vowed I soul and limb. Yet, constituted thus, and thus endowed, I failed: I gazed on power till I grew blind. Power; I could not take my eyes from that: That only, I thought, should be preserved, increased At any risk, displayed, struck out at once- The sign and note and character of man. I saw no use in the past: only a scene Of degradation, ugliness and tears, The record of disgraces best forgotten, A sullen page in human chronicles Fit to erase. I saw no cause why man Should not stand all-sufficient even now, Or why his annals should be forced to tell That once the tide of light, about to break Upon the world, was sealed within its spring: I would have had one day, one moment's space, Change man's condition, push each slumbering claim Of mastery o'er the elemental world At once to full maturity, then roll Oblivion o'er the work, and hide from man What night had ushered morn. Not so, dear child Of after-days, wilt thou reject the past Big with deep warnings of the proper tenure By which thou hast the earth: for thee the present Shall have distinct and trembling beauty, seen Beside that past's own shade when, in relief, Its brightness shall stand out: nor yet on thee Shall burst the future, as successive zones Of several wonder open on some spirit Flying secure and glad from heaven to heaven: But thou shalt painfully attain to joy, While hope and fear and love shall keep thee man! All this was hid from me: as one by one My dreams grew dim, my wide aims circumscribed, As actual good within my reach decreased, While obstacles sprung up this way and that To keep me from effecting half the sum, Small as it proved; as objects, mean within The primal aggregate, seemed, even the least, Itself a match for my concentred strength What wonder if I saw no way to shun Despair? The power I sought for man, seemed God's. In this conjuncture, as I prayed to die, A strange adventure made me know, one sin Had spotted my career from its uprise; I saw Aprilemy Aprile there! And as the poor melodious wretch disburthened His heart, and moaned his weakness in my ear, I learned my own deep error; love's undoing Taught me the worth of love in man's estate, And what proportion love should hold with power In his right constitution; love preceding Power, and with much power, always much more love; Love still too straitened in his present means, And earnest for new power to set love free. I learned this, and supposed the whole was learned: And thus, when men received with stupid wonder My first revealings, would have worshipped me, And I despised and loathed their proffered praise When, with awakened eyes, they took revenge For past credulity in casting shame On my real knowledge, and I hated them It was not strange I saw no good in man, To overbalance all the wear and waste Of faculties, displayed in vain, but born To prosper in some better sphere: and why? In my own heart love had not been made wise To trace love's faint beginnings in mankind, To know even hate is but a mask of love's, To see a good in evil, and a hope In ill-success; to sympathize, be proud Of their half-reasons, faint aspirings, dim Struggles for truth, their poorest fallacies, Their prejudice and fears and cares and doubts; All with a touch of nobleness, despite Their error, upward tending all though weak, Like plants in mines which never saw the sun, But dream of him, and guess where he may be, And do their best to climb and get to him. All this I knew not, and I failed. Let men Regard me, and the poet dead long ago Who loved too rashly; and shape forth a third And better-tempered spirit, warned by both: As from the over-radiant star too mad To drink the life-springs, beamless thence itself And the dark orb which borders the abyss, Ingulfed in icy night,might have its course A temperate and equidistant world. Meanwhile, I have done well, though not all well. As yet men cannot do without contempt; 'T is for their good, and therefore fit awhile That they reject the weak, and scorn the false, Rather than praise the strong and true, in me: But after, they will know me. If I stoop Into a dark tremendous sea of cloud, It is but for a time; I press God's lamp Close to my breast; its splendour, soon or late, Will pierce the gloom: I shall emerge one day. You understand me? I have said enough? Festus. Now die, dear Aureole! Paracelsus.            Festus, let my hand This hand, lie in your own, my own true friend! Aprile! Hand in hand with you, Aprile! Festus. And this was Paracelsus! ~ Robert Browning, Paracelsus - Part V - Paracelsus Attains ,

1025:The woods were long austere with snow: at last Pink leaflets budded on the beech, and fast Larches, scattered through pine-tree solitudes, Brightened, "as in the slumbrous heart o' the woods "Our buried year, a witch, grew young again "To placid incantations, and that stain "About were from her cauldron, green smoke blent "With those black pines"so Eglamor gave vent To a chance fancy. Whence a just rebuke From his companion; brother Naddo shook The solemnest of brows: "Beware," he said, "Of setting up conceits in nature's stead!" Forth wandered our Sordello. Nought so sure As that to-day's adventure will secure Palma, the visioned ladyonly pass O'er you damp mound and its exhausted grass, Under that brake where sundawn feeds the stalks Of withered fern with gold, into those walks Of pine and take her! Buoyantly he went. Again his stooping forehead was besprent With dew-drops from the skirting ferns. Then wide Opened the great morass, shot every side With flashing water through and through; a-shine, Thick-steaming, all-alive. Whose shape divine, Quivered i' the farthest rainbow-vapour, glanced Athwart the flying herons? He advanced, But warily; though Mincio leaped no more, Each foot-fall burst up in the marish-floor A diamond jet: and if he stopped to pick Rose-lichen, or molest the leeches quick, And circling blood-worms, minnow, newt or loach, A sudden pond would silently encroach This way and that. On Palma passed. The verge Of a new wood was gained. She will emerge Flushed, now, and panting,crowds to see,will own She loves himBoniface to hear, to groan, To leave his suit! One screen of pine-trees still Opposes: butthe startling spectacle Mantua, this time! Under the wallsa crowd Indeed, real men and women, gay and loud Round a pavilion. How he stood!                  In truth No prophecy had come to pass: his youth In its prime nowand where was homage poured Upon Sordello?born to be adored, And suddenly discovered weak, scarce made To cope with any, cast into the shade By this and this. Yet something seemed to prick And tingle in his blood; a sleighta trick And much would be explained. It went for nought The best of their endowments were ill bought With his identity: nay, the conceit, That this day's roving led to Palma's feet Was not so vainlist! The word, "Palma!" Steal Aside, and die, Sordello; this is real, And thisabjure!          What next? The curtains see Dividing! She is there; and presently He will be therethe proper You, at length In your own cherished dress of grace and strength: Most like, the very Boniface!                Not so. It was a showy man advanced; but though A glad cry welcomed him, then every sound Sank and the crowd disposed themselves around, "This is not he," Sordello felt; while, "Place "For the best Troubadour of Boniface!" Hollaed the Jongleurs,"Eglamor, whose lay "Concludes his patron's Court of Love to-day!" Obsequious Naddo strung the master's lute With the new lute-string, "Elys," named to suit The song: he stealthily at watch, the while, Biting his lip to keep down a great smile Of pride: then up he struck. Sordello's brain Swam; for he knew a sometime deed again; So, could supply each foolish gap and chasm The minstrel left in his enthusiasm, Mistaking its true versionwas the tale Not of Apollo? Only, what avail Luring her down, that Elys an he pleased, If the man dared no further? Has he ceased And, lo, the people's frank applause half done, Sordello was beside him, had begun (Spite of indignant twitchings from his friend The Trouvere) the true lay with the true end, Taking the other's names and time and place For his. On flew the song, a giddy race, After the flying story; word made leap Out word, rhymerhyme; the lay could barely keep Pace with the action visibly rushing past: Both ended. Back fell Naddo more aghast Than some Egyptian from the harassed bull That wheeled abrupt and, bellowing, fronted full His plague, who spied a scarab 'neath the tongue, And found 't was Apis' flank his hasty prong Insulted. But the peoplebut the cries, The crowding round, and proffering the prize! For he had gained some prize. He seemed to shrink Into a sleepy cloud, just at whose brink One sight withheld him. There sat Adelaide, Silent; but at her knees the very maid Of the North Chamber, her red lips as rich, The same pure fleecy hair; one weft of which, Golden and great, quite touched his cheek as o'er She leant, speaking some six words and no more. He answered something, anything; and she Unbound a scarf and laid it heavily Upon him, her neck's warmth and all. Again Moved the arrested magic; in his brain Noises grew, and a light that turned to glare, And greater glare, until the intense flare Engulfed him, shut the whole scene from his sense. And when he woke 't was many a furlong thence, At home; the sun shining his ruddy wont; The customary birds'-chirp; but his front Was crownedwas crowned! Her scented scarf around His neck! Whose gorgeous vesture heaps the ground? A prize? He turned, and peeringly on him Brooded the women-faces, kind and dim, Ready to talk"The Jongleurs in a troop "Had brought him back, Naddo and Squarcialupe "And Tagliafer; how strange! a childhood spent "In taking, well for him, so brave a bent! "Since Eglamor," they heard, "was dead with spite, "And Palma chose him for her minstrel."                      Light Sordello roseto think, now; hitherto He had perceived. Sure, a discovery grew Out of it all! Best live from first to last The transport o'er again. A week he passed, Sucking the sweet out of each circumstance, From the bard's outbreak to the luscious trance Bounding his own achievement. Strange! A man Recounted an adventure, but began Imperfectly; his own task was to fill The frame-work up, sing well what he sung ill, Supply the necessary points, set loose As many incidents of little use More imbecile the other, not to see Their relative importance clear as he! But, for a special pleasure in the act Of singinghad he ever turned, in fact, From Elys, to sing Elys?from each fit Of rapture to contrive a song of it? True, this snatch or the other seemed to wind Into a treasure, helped himself to find A beauty in himself; for, see, he soared By means of that mere snatch, to many a hoard Of fancies; as some falling cone bears soft The eye along the fir-tree-spire, aloft To a dove's nest. Then, how divine the cause Why such performance should exact applause From men, if they had fancies too? Did fate Decree they found a beauty separate In the poor snatch itself?"Take Elys, there, "'Her head that 's sharp and perfect like a pear, "'So close and smooth are laid the few fine locks "'Coloured like honey oozed from topmost rocks "'Sun-blanched the livelong summer'if they heard "Just those two rhymes, assented at my word, "And loved them as I love them who have run "These fingers through those pale locks, let the sun "Into the white cool skinwho first could clutch, "Then praiseI needs must be a god to such. "Or what if some, above themselves, and yet "Beneath me, like their Eglamor, have set "An impress on our gift? So, men believe "And worship what they know not, nor receive "Delight from. Have they fanciesslow, perchance, "Not at their beck, which indistinctly glance "Until, by song, each floating part be linked "To each, and all grow palpable, distinct?" He pondered this.          Meanwhile, sounds low and drear Stole on him, and a noise of footsteps, near And nearer, while the underwood was pushed Aside, the larches grazed, the dead leaves crushed At the approach of men. The wind seemed laid; Only, the trees shrunk slightly and a shade Came o'er the sky although 't was midday yet: You saw each half-shut downcast floweret Flutter"a Roman bride, when they 'd dispart "Her unbound tresses with the Sabine dart, "Holding that famous rape in memory still, "Felt creep into her curls the iron chill, "And looked thus," Eglamor would sayindeed 'T is Eglamor, no other, these precede Home hither in the woods. "'T were surely sweet "Far from the scene of one's forlorn defeat "To sleep!" judged Naddo, who in person led Jongleurs and Trouveres, chanting at their head, A scanty company; for, sooth to say, Our beaten Troubadour had seen his day. Old worshippers were something shamed, old friends Nigh weary; still the death proposed amends. "Let us but get them safely through my song "And home again!" quoth Naddo.                 All along, This man (they rest the bier upon the sand) This calm corpse with the loose flowers in his hand, Eglamor, lived Sordello's opposite. For him indeed was Naddo's notion right, And verse a temple-worship vague and vast, A ceremony that withdrew the last Opposing bolt, looped back the lingering veil Which hid the holy place: should one so frail Stand there without such effort? or repine If much was blank, uncertain at the shrine He knelt before, till, soothed by many a rite, The power responded, and some sound or sight Grew up, his own forever, to be fixed, In rhyme, the beautiful, forever!mixed With his own life, unloosed when he should please, Having it safe at hand, ready to ease All pain, remove all trouble; every time He loosed that fancy from its bonds of rhyme, (Like Perseus when he loosed his naked love) Faltering; so distinct and far above Himself, these fancies! He, no genius rare, Transfiguring in fire or wave or air At will, but a poor gnome that, cloistered up In some rock-chamber with his agate cup, His topaz rod, his seed-pearl, in these few And their arrangement finds enough to do For his best art. Then, how he loved that art! The calling marking him a man apart From menone not to care, take counsel for Cold hearts, comfortless faces(Eglamor Was neediest of his tribe)since verse, the gift, Was his, and men, the whole of them, must shift Without it, e'en content themselves with wealth And pomp and power, snatching a life by stealth. So, Eglamor was not without his pride! The sorriest bat which cowers throughout noontide While other birds are jocund, has one time When moon and stars are blinded, and the prime Of earth is his to claim, nor find a peer; And Eglamor was noblest poet here He well knew, 'mid those April woods he cast Conceits upon in plenty as he passed, That Naddo might suppose him not to think Entirely on the coming triumph: wink At the one weakness! 'T was a fervid child, That song of his; no brother of the guild Had e'er conceived its like. The rest you know, The exaltation and the overthrow: Our poet lost his purpose, lost his rank, His lifeto that it came. Yet envy sank Within him, as he heard Sordello out, And, for the first time, shoutedtried to shout Like others, not from any zeal to show Pleasure that way: the common sort did so, What else was Eglamor? who, bending down As they, placed his beneath Sordello's crown, Printed a kiss on his successor's hand, Left one great tear on it, then joined his band In time; for some were watching at the door: Who knows what envy may effect? "Give o'er, "Nor charm his lips, nor craze him!" (here one spied And disengaged the withered crown)"Beside "His crown? How prompt and clear those verses rang "To answer yours! nay, sing them!" And he sang Them calmly. Home he went; friends used to wait His coming, zealous to congratulate; But, to a manso quickly runs report Could do no less than leave him, and escort His rival. That eve, then, bred many a thought: What must his future life be? was he brought So low, who stood so lofty this Spring morn? At length he said, "Best sleep now with my scorn, "And by to-morrow I devise some plain "Expedient!" So, he slept, nor woke again. They found as much, those friends, when they returned O'erflowing with the marvels they had learned About Sordello's paradise, his roves Among the hills and vales and plains and groves, Wherein, no doubt, this lay was roughly cast, Polished by slow degrees, completed last To Eglamor's discomfiture and death. Such form the chanters now, and, out of breath, They lay the beaten man in his abode, Naddo reciting that same luckless ode, Doleful to hear. Sordello could explore By means of it, however, one step more In joy; and, mastering the round at length, Learnt how to live in weakness as in strength, When from his covert forth he stood, addressed Eglamor, bade the tender ferns invest, Primval pines o'ercanopy his couch, And, most of all, his fame(shall I avouch Eglamor heard it, dead though he might look, And laughed as from his brow Sordello took The crown, and laid on the bard's breast, and said It was a crown, now, fit for poet's head?) Continue. Nor the prayer quite fruitless fell. A plant they have, yielding a three-leaved bell Which whitens at the heart ere noon, and ails Till evening; evening gives it to her gales To clear away with such forgotten things As are an eyesore to the morn: this brings Him to their mind, and bears his very name. So much for Eglamor. My own month came; 'T was a sunrise of blossoming and May. Beneath a flowering laurel thicket lay Sordello; each new sprinkle of white stars That smell fainter of wine than Massic jars Dug up at Bai, when the south wind shed The ripest, made him happier; filleted And robed the same, only a lute beside Lay on the turf. Before him far and wide The country stretched: Goito slept behind The castle and its covert, which confined Him with his hopes and fears; so fain of old To leave the story of his birth untold. At intervals, 'spite the fantastic glow Of his Apollo-life, a certain low And wretched whisper, winding through the bliss, Admonished, no such fortune could be his, All was quite false and sure to fade one day: The closelier drew he round him his array Of brilliance to expel the truth. But when A reason for his difference from men Surprised him at the grave, he took no rest While aught of that old life, superbly dressed Down to its meanest incident, remained A mystery: alas, they soon explained Away Apollo! and the tale amounts To this: when at Vicenza both her counts Banished the Vivaresi kith and kin, Those Maltraversi hung on Ecelin, Reviled him as he followed; he for spite Must fire their quarter, though that self-same night Among the flames young Ecelin was born Of Adelaide, there too, and barely torn From the roused populace hard on the rear, By a poor archer when his chieftain's fear Grew high; into the thick Elcorte leapt, Saved her, and died; no creature left except His child to thank. And when the full escape Was knownhow men impaled from chine to nape Unlucky Prata, all to pieces spurned Bishop Pistore's concubines, and burned Taurello's entire household, flesh and fell, Missing the sweeter preysuch courage well Might claim reward. The orphan, ever since, Sordello, had been nurtured by his prince Within a blind retreat where Adelaide (For, once this notable discovery made, The past at every point was understood) Might harbour easily when times were rude, When Azzo schemed for Palma, to retrieve That pledge of Agnes Esteloth to leave Mantua unguarded with a vigilant eye, While there Taurello bode ambiguously He who could have no motive now to moil For his own fortunes since their utter spoil As it were worth while yet (went the report) To disengage himself from her. In short, Apollo vanished; a mean youth, just named His lady's minstrel, was to be proclaimed How shall I phrase it?Monarch of the World! For, on the day when that array was furled Forever, and in place of one a slave To longings, wild indeed, but longings save In dreams as wild, suppressedone daring not Assume the mastery such dreams allot, Until a magical equipment, strength, Grace, wisdom, decked him too,he chose at length, Content with unproved wits and failing frame, In virtue of his simple will, to claim That mastery, no lessto do his best With means so limited, and let the rest Go by,the seal was set: never again Sordello could in his own sight remain One of the many, one with hopes and cares And interests nowise distinct from theirs, Only peculiar in a thriveless store Of fancies, which were fancies and no more; Never again for him and for the crowd A common law was challenged and allowed If calmly reasoned of, howe'er denied By a mad impulse nothing justified Short of Apollo's presence. The divorce Is clear: why needs Sordello square his course By any known example? Men no more Compete with him than tree and flower before. Himself, inactive, yet is greater far Than such as act, each stooping to his star, Acquiring thence his function; he has gained The same result with meaner mortals trained To strength or beauty, moulded to express Each the idea that rules him; since no less He comprehends that function, but can still Embrace the others, take of might his fill With Richard as of grace with Palma, mix Their qualities, or for a moment fix On one; abiding free meantime, uncramped By any partial organ, never stamped Strong, and to strength turning all energies Wise, and restricted to becoming wise That is, he loves not, nor possesses One Idea that, star-like over, lures him on To its exclusive purpose. "Fortunate! "This flesh of mine ne'er strove to emulate "A soul so varioustook no casual mould "Of the first fancy and, contracted, cold, "Clogged her foreversoul averse to change "As flesh: whereas flesh leaves soul free to range, "Remains itself a blank, cast into shade, "Encumbers little, if it cannot aid. "So, range, free soul!who, by self-consciousness, "The last drop of all beauty dost express "The grace of seeing grace, a quintessence "For thee: while for the world, that can dispense "Wonder on men who, themselves, wondermake "A shift to love at second-hand, and take "For idols those who do but idolize, "Themselves,the world that counts men strong or wise, "Who, themselves, court strength, wisdom,it shall bow "Surely in unexampled worship now, "Discerning me!"          (Dear monarch, I beseech, Notice how lamentably wide a breach Is here: discovering this, discover too What our poor world has possibly to do With it! As pigmy natures as you please So much the better for you; take your ease, Look on, and laugh; style yourself God alone; Strangle some day with a cross olive-stone! All that is right enough: but why want us To know that you yourself know thus and thus?) "The world shall bow to me conceiving all "Man's life, who see its blisses, great and small, "Afarnot tasting any; no machine "To exercise my utmost will is mine: "Be mine mere consciousness! Let men perceive "What I could do, a mastery believe, "Asserted and established to the throng "By their selected evidence of song "Which now shall prove, whate'er they are, or seek "To be, I amwhose words, not actions speak, "Who change no standards of perfection, vex "With no strange forms created to perplex, "But just perform their bidding and no more, "At their own satiating-point give o'er, "While each shall love in me the love that leads "His soul to power's perfection." Song, not deeds, (For we get tired) was chosen. Fate would brook Mankind no other organ; he would look For not another channel to dispense His own volition by, receive men's sense Of its supremacywould live content, Obstructed else, with merely verse for vent. Nor should, for instance, strength an outlet seek And, striving, be admired: nor grace bespeak Wonder, displayed in gracious attitudes: Nor wisdom, poured forth, change unseemly moods; But he would give and take on song's one point. Like some huge throbbing stone that, poised a-joint, Sounds, to affect on its basaltic bed, Must sue in just one accent; tempests shed Thunder, and raves the windstorm: only let That key by any little noise be set The far benighted hunter's halloo pitch On that, the hungry curlew chance to scritch Or serpent hiss it, rustling through the rift, However loud, however lowall lift The groaning monster, stricken to the heart. Lo ye, the world's concernment, for its part, And this, for his, will hardly interfere! Its businesses in blood and blaze this year But wile the hour awaya pastime slight Till he shall step upon the platform: right! And, now thus much is settled, cast in rough, Proved feasible, be counselled! thought enough, Slumber, Sordello! any day will serve: Were it a less digested plan! how swerve To-morrow? Meanwhile eat these sun-dried grapes, And watch the soaring hawk there! Life escapes Merrily thus.        He thoroughly read o'er His truchman Naddo's missive six times more, Praying him visit Mantua and supply A famished world.          The evening star was high When he reached Mantua, but his fame arrived Before him: friends applauded, foes connived, And Naddo looked an angel, and the rest Angels, and all these angels would be blest Supremely by a songthe thrice-renowned Goito-manufacture. Then he found (Casting about to satisfy the crowd) That happy vehicle, so late allowed, A sore annoyance; 't was the song's effect He cared for, scarce the song itself: reflect! In the past life, what might be singing's use? Just to delight his Delians, whose profuse Praise, not the toilsome process which procured That praise, enticed Apollo: dreams abjured, No overleaping means for endstake both For granted or take neither! I am loth To say the rhymes at last were Eglamor's; But Naddo, chuckling, bade competitors Go pine; "the master certes meant to waste "No effort, cautiously had probed the taste "He 'd please anon: true bard, in short,disturb "His title if they could; nor spur nor curb, "Fancy nor reason, wanting in him; whence "The staple of his verses, common sense: "He built on man's broad naturegift of gifts, "That power to build! The world contented shifts "With counterfeits enough, a dreary sort "Of warriors, statesmen, ere it can extort "Its poet-soulthat 's, after all, a freak "(The having eyes to see and tongue to speak) "With our herd's stupid sterling happiness "So plainly incompatible thatyes "Yesshould a son of his improve the breed "And turn out poet, he were cursed indeed!" "Well, there 's Goito and its woods anon, "If the worst happen; best go stoutly on "Now!" thought Sordello.              Ay, and goes on yet! You pother with your glossaries to get A notion of the Troubadour's intent In rondel, tenzon, virlai or sirvent Much as you study arras how to twirl His angelot, plaything of page and girl Once; but you surely reach, at last,or, no! Never quite reach what struck the people so, As from the welter of their time he drew Its elements successively to view, Followed all actions backward on their course, And catching up, unmingled at the source, Such a strength, such a weakness, added then A touch or two, and turned them into men. Virtue took form, nor vice refused a shape; Here heaven opened, there was hell agape, As Saint this simpered past in sanctity, Sinner the other flared portentous by A greedy people. Then why stop, surprised At his success? The scheme was realized Too suddenly in one respect: a crowd Praising, eyes quick to see, and lips as loud To speak, delicious homage to receive, The woman's breath to feel upon his sleeve, Who said, "But Anafestwhy asks he less "Than Lucio, in your verses? how confess, "It seemed too much but yestereve!"the youth, Who bade him earnestly, "Avow the truth! "You love Bianca, surely, from your song; "I knew I was unworthy!"soft or strong, In poured such tributes ere he had arranged Ethereal ways to take them, sorted, changed, Digested. Courted thus at unawares, In spite of his pretensions and his cares, He caught himself shamefully hankering After the obvious petty joys that spring From true life, fain relinquish pedestal And condescend with pleasuresone and all To be renounced, no doubt; for, thus to chain Himself to single joys and so refrain From tasting their quintessence, frustrates, sure, His prime design; each joy must he abjure Even for love of it.            He laughed: what sage But perishes if from his magic page He look because, at the first line, a proof 'T was heard salutes him from the cavern roof? "On! Give yourself, excluding aught beside, "To the day's task; compel your slave provide "Its utmost at the soonest; turn the leaf "Thoroughly conned. These lays of yours, in brief "Cannot men bear, now, something better?fly "A pitch beyond this unreal pageantry "Of essences? the period sure has ceased "For such: present us with ourselves, at least, "Not portions of ourselves, mere loves and hates "Made flesh: wait not!"             Awhile the poet waits However. The first trial was enough: He left imagining, to try the stuff That held the imaged thing, and, let it writhe Never so fiercely, scarce allowed a tithe To reach the lighthis Language. How he sought The cause, conceived a cure, and slow re-wrought That Language,welding words into the crude Mass from the new speech round him, till a rude Armour was hammered out, in time to be Approved beyond the Roman panoply Melted to make it,boots not. This obtained With some ado, no obstacle remained To using it; accordingly he took An action with its actors, quite forsook Himself to live in each, returned anon With the resulta creature, and, by one And one, proceeded leisurely to equip Its limbs in harness of his workmanship. "Accomplished! Listen, Mantuans!" Fond essay! Piece after piece that armour broke away, Because perceptions whole, like that he sought To clothe, reject so pure a work of thought As language: thought may take perception's place But hardly co-exist in any case, Being its mere presentmentof the whole By parts, the simultaneous and the sole By the successive and the many. Lacks The crowd perception? painfully it tacks Thought to thought, which Sordello, needing such, Has rent perception into: it's to clutch And reconstructhis office to diffuse, Destroy: as hard, then, to obtain a Muse As to become Apollo. "For the rest, "E'en if some wondrous vehicle expressed "The whole dream, what impertinence in me "So to express it, who myself can be "The dream! nor, on the other hand, are those "I sing to, over-likely to suppose "A higher than the highest I present "Now, which they praise already: be content "Both parties, ratherthey with the old verse, "And I with the old praisefar go, fare worse!" A few adhering rivets loosed, upsprings The angel, sparkles off his mail, which rings Whirled from each delicatest limb it warps; So might Apollo from the sudden corpse Of Hyacinth have cast his luckless quoits. He set to celebrating the exploits Of Montfort o'er the Mountaineers.                   Then came The world's revenge: their pleasure, now his aim Merely,what was it? "Not to play the fool "So much as learn our lesson in your school!" Replied the world. He found that, every time He gained applause by any ballad-rhyme, His auditory recognized no jot As he intended, and, mistaking not Him for his meanest hero, ne'er was dunce Sufficient to believe himall, at once. His will . . . conceive it caring for his will! Mantuans, the main of them, admiring still How a mere singer, ugly, stunted, weak, Had Montfort at completely (so to speak) His fingers' ends; while past the praise-tide swept To Montfort, either's share distinctly kept: The true meed for true merit!his abates Into a sort he most repudiates, And on them angrily he turns. Who were The Mantuans, after all, that he should care About their recognition, ay or no? In spite of the convention months ago, (Why blink the truth?) was not he forced to help This same ungrateful audience, every whelp Of Naddo's litter, make them pass for peers With the bright band of old Goito years, As erst he toiled for flower or tree? Why, there Sat Palma! Adelaide's funereal hair Ennobled the next corner. Ay, he strewed A fairy dust upon that multitude, Although he feigned to take them by themselves; His giants dignified those puny elves, Sublimed their faint applause. In short, he found Himself still footing a delusive round, Remote as ever from the self-display He meant to compass, hampered every way By what he hoped assistance. Wherefore then Continue, make believe to find in men A use he found not?           Weeks, months, years went by And lo, Sordello vanished utterly, Sundered in twain; each spectral part at strife With each; one jarred against another life; The Poet thwarting hopelessly the Man Who, fooled no longer, free in fancy ran Here, there: let slip no opportunities As pitiful, forsooth, beside the prize To drop on him some no-time and acquit His constant faith (the Poet-half's to wit That waiving any compromise between No joy and all joy kept the hunger keen Beyond most methods)of incurring scoff From the Man-portionnot to be put off With self-reflectings by the Poet's scheme, Though ne'er so bright. Who sauntered forth in dream, Dressed any how, nor waited mystic frames, Immeasurable gifts, astounding claims, But just his sorry self?who yet might be Sorrier for aught he in reality Achieved, so pinioned Man's the Poet-part, Fondling, in turn of fancy, verse; the Art Developing his soul a thousand ways Potent, by its assistance, to amaze The multitude with majesties, convince Each sort of nature that the nature's prince Accosted it. Language, the makeshift, grew Into a bravest of expedients, too; Apollo, seemed it now, perverse had thrown Quiver and bow away, the lyre alone Sufficed. While, out of dream, his day's work went To tune a crazy tenzon or sirvent So hampered him the Man-part, thrust to judge Between the bard and the bard's audience, grudge A minute's toil that missed its due reward! But the complete Sordello, Man and Bard, John's cloud-girt angel, this foot on the land, That on the sea, with, open in his hand, A bitter-sweetling of a bookwas gone. Then, if internal struggles to be one, Which frittered him incessantly piecemeal, Referred, ne'er so obliquely, to the real Intruding Mantuans! ever with some call To action while he pondered, once for all, Which looked the easier effortto pursue This course, still leap o'er paltry joys, yearn through The present ill-appreciated stage Of self-revealment, and compel the age Know himor else, forswearing bard-craft, wake From out his lethargy and nobly shake Off timid habits of denial, mix With men, enjoy like men. Ere he could fix On aught, in rushed the Mantuans; much they cared For his perplexity! Thus unprepared, The obvious if not only shelter lay In deeds, the dull conventions of his day Prescribed the like of him: why not be glad 'T is settled Palma's minstrel, good or bad, Submits to this and that established rule? Let Vidal change, or any other fool, His murrey-coloured robe for filamot, And crop his hair; too skin-deep, is it not, Such vigour? Then, a sorrow to the heart, His talk! Whatever topics they might start Had to be groped for in his consciousness Straight, and as straight delivered them by guess. Only obliged to ask himself, "What was," A speedy answer followed; but, alas, One of God's large ones, tardy to condense Itself into a period; answers whence A tangle of conclusions must be stripped At any risk ere, trim to pattern clipped, They matched rare specimens the Mantuan flock Regaled him with, each talker from his stock Of sorted-o'er opinions, every stage, Juicy in youth or desiccate with age, Fruits like the fig-tree's, rathe-ripe, rotten-rich, Sweet-sour, all tastes to take: a practice which He too had not impossibly attained, Once either of those fancy-flights restrained; (For, at conjecture how might words appear To others, playing there what happened here, And occupied abroad by what he spurned At home, 't was slipped, the occasion he returned To seize he 'd strike that lyre adroitlyspeech, Would but a twenty-cubit plectre reach; A clever hand, consummate instrument, Were both brought close; each excellency went For nothing, else. The question Naddo asked, Had just a lifetime moderately tasked To answer, Naddo's fashion. More disgust And more: why move his soul, since move it must At minute's notice or as good it failed To move at all? The end was, he retailed Some ready-made opinion, put to use This quip, that maxim, ventured reproduce Gestures and tonesat any folly caught Serving to finish with, nor too much sought If false or true 't was spoken; praise and blame Of what he said grew pretty nigh the same Meantime awards to meantime acts: his soul, Unequal to the compassing a whole, Saw, in a tenth part, less and less to strive About. And as for men in turn . . . contrive Who could to take eternal interest In them, so hate the worst, so love the best, Though, in pursuance of his passive plan, He hailed, decried, the proper way.                    As Man So figured he; and how as Poet? Verse Came only not to a stand-still. The worse, That his poor piece of daily work to do Wasnot sink under any rivals; who Loudly and long enough, without these qualms, Turned, from Bocafoli's stark-naked psalms, To Plara's sonnets spoilt by toying with, "As knops that stud some almug to the pith "Prickd for gum, wry thence, and crinkld worse "Than pursd eyelids of a river-horse "Sunning himself o' the slime when whirrs the breese" Gad-fly, that is. He might compete with these! Butbut      "Observe a pompion-twine afloat; "Pluck me one cup from off the castle-moat! "Along with cup you raise leaf, stalk and root, "The entire surface of the pool to boot. "So could I pluck a cup, put in one song "A single sight, did not my hand, too strong, "Twitch in the least the root-strings of the whole. "How should externals satisfy my soul?" "Why that's precise the error Squarcialupe" (Hazarded Naddo) "finds; 'the man can't stoop "'To sing us out,' quoth he, 'a mere romance; "'He'd fain do better than the best, enhance "'The subjects' rarity, work problems out "'Therewith.' Now, you 're a bard, a bard past doubt, "And no philosopher; why introduce "Crotchets like these? fine, surely, but no use "In poetrywhich still must be, to strike, "Based upon common sense; there's nothing like "Appealing to our nature! what beside "Was your first poetry? No tricks were tried "In that, no hollow thrills, affected throes! "'The man,' said we, 'tells his own joys and woes: "'We'll trust him.' Would you have your songs endure? "Build on the human heart!why, to be sure "Yours is one sort of heartbut I mean theirs, "Ours, every one's, the healthy heart one cares "To build on! Central peace, mother of strength, "That's father of . . . nay, go yourself that length, "Ask those calm-hearted doers what they do "When they have got their calm! And is it true, "Fire rankles at the heart of every globe? "Perhaps. But these are matters one may probe "Too deeply for poetic purposes: "Rather select a theory that . . . yes, "Laugh! what does that prove?stations you midway "And saves some little o'er-refining. Nay, "That's rank injustice done me! I restrict "The poet? Don't I hold the poet picked "Out of a host of warriors, statesmen . . . did "I tell you? Very like! As well you hid "That sense of power, you have! True bards believe "All able to achieve what they achieve "That is, just nothingin one point abide "Profounder simpletons than all beside. "Oh, ay! The knowledge that you are a bard "Must constitute your prime, nay sole, reward!" So prattled Naddo, busiest of the tribe Of genius-hauntershow shall I describe What grubs or nips or rubs or ripsyour louse For love, your flea for hate, magnanimous, Malignant, Pappacoda, Tagliafer, Picking a sustenance from wear and tear By implements it sedulous employs To undertake, lay down, mete out, o'er-toise Sordello? Fifty creepers to elude At once! They settled staunchly; shame ensued: Behold the monarch of mankind succumb To the last fool who turned him round his thumb, As Naddo styled it! 'T was not worth oppose The matter of a moment, gainsay those He aimed at getting rid of; better think Their thoughts and speak their speech, secure to slink Back expeditiously to his safe place, And chew the cudwhat he and what his race Were really, each of them. Yet even this Conformity was partial. He would miss Some point, brought into contact with them ere Assured in what small segment of the sphere Of his existence they attended him; Whence blunders, falsehoods rectifieda grim Listslur it over! How? If dreams were tried, His will swayed sicklily from side to side, Nor merely neutralized his waking act But tended e'en in fancy to distract The intermediate will, the choice of means. He lost the art of dreaming: Mantuan scenes Supplied a baron, say, he sang before, Handsomely reckless, full to running-o'er Of gallantries; "abjure the soul, content "With body, therefore!" Scarcely had he bent Himself in dream thus low, when matter fast Cried out, he found, for spirit to contrast And task it duly; by advances slight, The simple stuff becoming composite, Count Lori grew Apollo: best recall His fancy! Then would some rough peasant-Paul, Like those old Ecelin confers with, glance His gay apparel o'er; that countenance Gathered his shattered fancies into one, And, body clean abolished, soul alone Sufficed the grey Paulician: by and by, To balance the ethereality, Passions were needed; foiled he sank again. Meanwhile the world rejoiced ('t is time explain) Because a sudden sickness set it free From Adelaide. Missing the mother-bee, Her mountain-hive Romano swarmed; at once A rustle-forth of daughters and of sons Blackened the valley. "I am sick too, old, "Half-crazed I think; what good's the Kaiser's gold "To such an one? God help me! for I catch "My children's greedy sparkling eyes at watch "'He bears that double breastplate on,' they say, "'So many minutes less than yesterday!' "Beside, Monk Hilary is on his knees "Now, sworn to kneel and pray till God shall please "Exact a punishment for many things "You know, and some you never knew; which brings "To memory, Azzo's sister Beatrix "And Richard's Giglia are my Alberic's "And Ecelin's betrothed; the Count himself "Must get my Palma: Ghibellin and Guelf "Mean to embrace each other." So began Romano's missive to his fighting man Taurelloon the Tuscan's death, away With Friedrich sworn to sail from Naples' bay Next month for Syria. Never thunder-clap Out of Vesuvius' throat, like this mishap Startled him. "That accursed Vicenza! I "Absent, and she selects this time to die! "Ho, fellows, for Vicenza!" Half a score Of horses ridden dead, he stood before Romano in his reeking spurs: too late "Boniface urged me, Este could not wait," The chieftain stammered; "let me die in peace "Forget me! Was it I who craved increase "Of rule? Do you and Friedrich plot your worst "Against the Father: as you found me first "So leave me now. Forgive me! Palma, sure, "Is at Goito still. Retain that lure "Only be pacified!"           The country rung With such a piece of news: on every tongue, How Ecelin's great servant, congeed off, Had done a long day's service, so, might doff The green and yellow, and recover breath At Mantua, whither,since Retrude's death, (The girlish slip of a Sicilian bride From Otho's house, he carried to reside At Mantua till the Ferrarese should pile A structure worthy her imperial style, The gardens raise, the statues there enshrine, She never lived to see)although his line Was ancient in her archives and she took A pride in him, that city, nor forsook Her child when he forsook himself and spent A prowess on Romano surely meant For his own growthwhither he ne'er resorts If wholly satisfied (to trust reports) With Ecelin. So, forward in a trice Were shows to greet him. "Take a friend's advice," Quoth Naddo to Sordello, "nor be rash "Because your rivals (nothing can abash "Some folks) demur that we pronounced you best "To sound the great man's welcome; 't is a test, "Remember! Strojavacca looks asquint, "The rough fat sloven; and there 's plenty hint "Your pinions have received of late a shock "Outsoar them, cobswan of the silver flock! "Sing well!" A signal wonder, song 's no whit Facilitated.       Fast the minutes flit; Another day, Sordello finds, will bring The soldier, and he cannot choose but sing; So, a last shift, quits Mantuaslow, alone: Out of that aching brain, a very stone, Song must be struck. What occupies that front? Just how he was more awkward than his wont The night before, when Naddo, who had seen Taurello on his progress, praised the mien For dignity no crosses could affect Such was a joy, and might not he detect A satisfaction if established joys Were proved imposture? Poetry annoys Its utmost: wherefore fret? Verses may come Or keep away! And thus he wandered, dumb Till evening, when he paused, thoroughly spent, On a blind hill-top: down the gorge he went, Yielding himself up as to an embrace. The moon came out; like features of a face, A querulous fraternity of pines, Sad blackthorn clumps, leafless and grovelling vines Also came out, made gradually up The picture; 't was Goito's mountain-cup And castle. He had dropped through one defile He never dared explore, the Chief erewhile Had vanished by. Back rushed the dream, enwrapped Him wholly. 'T was Apollo now they lapped, Those mountains, not a pettish minstrel meant To wear his soul away in discontent, Brooding on fortune's malice. Heart and brain Swelled; he expanded to himself again, As some thin seedling spice-tree starved and frail, Pushing between cat's head and ibis' tail Crusted into the porphyry pavement smooth, Suffered remain just as it sprung, to soothe The Soldan's pining daughter, never yet Well in her chilly green-glazed minaret, When rooted up, the sunny day she died, And flung into the common court beside Its parent tree. Come home, Sordello! Soon Was he low muttering, beneath the moon, Of sorrow saved, of quiet evermore, Since from the purpose, he maintained before, Only resulted wailing and hot tears. Ah, the slim castle! dwindled of late years, But more mysterious; gone to ruintrails Of vine through every loop-hole. Nought avails The night as, torch in hand, he must explore The maple chamber: did I say, its floor Was made of intersecting cedar beams? Worn now with gaps so large, there blew cold streams Of air quite from the dungeon; lay your ear Close and 't is like, one after one, you hear In the blind darkness water drop. The nests And nooks retain their long ranged vesture-chests Empty and smelling of the iris root The Tuscan grated o'er them to recruit Her wasted wits. Palma was gone that day, Said the remaining women. Last, he lay Beside the Carian group reserved and still. The Body, the Machine for Acting Will, Had been at the commencement proved unfit; That for Demonstrating, Reflecting it, Mankindno fitter: was the Will Itself In fault?      His forehead pressed the moonlit shelf Beside the youngest marble maid awhile; Then, raising it, he thought, with a long smile, "I shall be king again!" as he withdrew The envied scarf; into the font he threw His crown      Next day, no poet! "Wherefore?" asked Taurello, when the dance of Jongleurs, masked As devils, ended; "don't a song come next?" The master of the pageant looked perplexed Till Naddo's whisper came to his relief. "His Highness knew what poets were: in brief, "Had not the tetchy race prescriptive right "To peevishness, caprice? or, call it spite, "One must receive their nature in its length "And breadth, expect the weakness with the strength!" So phrasing, till, his stock of phrases spent, The easy-natured soldier smiled assent, Settled his portly person, smoothed his chin, And nodded that the bull-bait might begin. ~ Robert Browning, Sordello - Book the Second ,

1026:Is it the same Sordello in the dusk As at the dawn?merely a perished husk Now, that arose a power fit to build Up Rome again? The proud conception chilled So soon? Ay, watch that latest dream of thine A Rome indebted to no Palatine Drop arch by arch, Sordello! Art possessed Of thy wish now, rewarded for thy quest To-day among Ferrara's squalid sons? Are this and this and this the shining ones Meet for the Shining City? Sooth to say, Your favoured tenantry pursue their way After a fashion! This companion slips On the smooth causey, t' other blinkard trips At his mooned sandal. "Leave to lead the brawls "Here i' the atria?" No, friend! He that sprawls On aught but a stibadium . . . what his dues Who puts the lustral vase to such an use? Oh, huddle up the day's disasters! March, Ye runagates, and drop thou, arch by arch, Rome!    Yet before they quite disbanda whim Study mere shelter, now, for him, and him, Nay, even the worst,just house them! Any cave Suffices: throw out earth! A loophole? Brave! They ask to feel the sun shine, see the grass Grow, hear the larks sing? Dead art thou, alas, And I am dead! But here's our son excels At hurdle-weaving any Scythian, fells Oak and devises rafters, dreams and shapes His dream into a door-post, just escapes The mystery of hinges. Lie we both Perdue another age. The goodly growth Of brick and stone! Our building-pelt was rough, But that descendant's garb suits well enough A portico-contriver. Speed the years What 's time to us? At last, a city rears Itself! nay, enterwhat's the grave to us? Lo, our forlorn acquaintance carry thus The head! Successively sewer, forum, cirque Last age, an aqueduct was counted work, But now they tire the artificer upon Blank alabaster, black obsidion, Careful, Jove's face be duly fulgurant, And mother Venus' kiss-creased nipples pant Back into pristine pulpiness, ere fixed Above the baths. What difference betwixt This Rome and oursresemblance what, between That scurvy dumb-show and this pageant sheen These Romans and our rabble? Use thy wit! The work marched: step by step,a workman fit Took each, nor too fit,to one task, one time, No leaping o'er the petty to the prime, When just the substituting osier lithe For brittle bulrush, sound wood for soft withe, To further loam-and-roughcast-work a stage, Exacts an architect, exacts an age: No tables of the Mauritanian tree For men whose maple log 's their luxury! That way was Rome built. "Better" (say you) "merge "At once all workmen in the demiurge, "All epochs in a lifetime, every task "In one!" So should the sudden city bask I' the daywhile those we 'd feast there, want the knack Of keeping fresh-chalked gowns from speck and brack, Distinguish not rare peacock from vile swan, Nor Mareotic juice from Ccuban. "Enough of Rome! 'T was happy to conceive "Rome on a sudden, nor shall fate bereave "Me of that credit: for the rest, her spite "Is an old storyserves my folly right "By adding yet another to the dull "List of abortionsthings proved beautiful "Could they be done, Sordello cannot do." He sat upon the terrace, plucked and threw The powdery aloe-cusps away, saw shift Rome's walls, and drop arch after arch, and drift Mist-like afar those pillars of all stripe, Mounds of all majesty. "Thou archetype, "Last of my dreams and loveliest, depart!" And then a low voice wound into his heart: "Sordello!" (low as some old Pythoness Conceding to a Lydian King's distress The cause of his long errorone mistake Of her past oracle) "Sordello, wake! "God has conceded two sights to a man "One, of men's whole work, time's completed plan, "The other, of the minute's work, man's first "Step to the plan's completeness: what's dispersed "Save hope of that supreme step which, descried "Earliest, was meant still to remain untried "Only to give you heart to take your own "Step, and there stay, leaving the rest alone? "Where is the vanity? Why count as one "The first step, with the last step? What is gone "Except Rome's ary magnificence, "That last step you 'd take first?an evidence "You were God: be man now! Let those glances fall! "The basis, the beginning step of all, "Which proves you just a manis that gone too? "Pity to disconcert one versed as you "In fate's ill-nature! but its full extent "Eludes Sordello, even: the veil rent, "Read the black writingthat collective man "Outstrips the individual. Who began "The acknowledged greatnesses? Ay, your own art "Shall serve us: put the poet's mimes apart "Close with the poet's self, and lo, a dim "Yet too plain form divides itself from him! "Alcamo's song enmeshes the lulled Isle, "Woven into the echoes left erewhile "By Nina, one soft web of song: no more "Turning his name, then, flower-like o'er and o'er! "An elder poet in the younger's place; "Nina's the strength, but Alcamo's the grace: "Each neutralizes each then! Search your fill; "You get no whole and perfect Poetstill "New Ninas, Alcamos, till time's mid-night "Shrouds allor better say, the shutting light "Of a forgotten yesterday. Dissect "Every ideal workman(to reject "In favour of your fearful ignorance "The thousand phantasms eager to advance, "And point you but to those within your reach) "Were you the first who brought(in modern speech) "The Multitude to be materialized? "That loose eternal unrestwho devised "An apparition i' the midst? The rout "Was checked, a breathless ring was formed about "That sudden flower: get round at any risk "The gold-rough pointel, silver-blazing disk "O' the lily! Swords across it! Reign thy reign "And serve thy frolic service, Charlemagne! "The very child of over-joyousness, "Unfeeling thence, strong therefore: Strength by stress "Of Strength comes of that forehead confident, "Those widened eyes expecting heart's content, "A calm as out of just-quelled noise; nor swerves "For doubt, the ample cheek in gracious curves "Abutting on the upthrust nether lip: "He wills, how should he doubt then? Ages slip: "Was it Sordello pried into the work "So far accomplished, and discovered lurk "A company amid the other clans, "Only distinct in priests for castellans "And popes for suzerains (their rule confessed "Its rule, their interest its interest, "Living for sake of livingthere an end, "Wrapt in itself, no energy to spend "In making adversaries or allies) "Dived you into its capabilities "And dared create, out of that sect, a soul "Should turn a multitude, already whole, "Into its body? Speak plainer! Is 't so sure "God's church lives by a King's investiture? "Look to last step! A staggeringa shock "What 's mere sand is demolished, while the rock "Endures: a column of black fiery dust "Blots heaventhat help was prematurely thrust "Aside, perchance!but air clears, nought 's erased "Of the true outline. Thus much being firm based, "The other was a scaffold. See him stand "Buttressed upon his mattock, Hildebrand "Of the huge brain-mask welded ply o'er ply "As in a forge; it buries either eye "White and extinct, that stupid brow; teeth clenched, "The neck tight-corded, too, the chin deep-trenched, "As if a cloud enveloped him while fought "Under its shade, grim prizers, thought with thought "At dead-lock, agonizing he, until "The victor thought leap radiant up, and Will, "The slave with folded arms and drooping lids "They fought for, lean forth flame-like as it bids. "Call him no flowera mandrake of the earth, "Thwarted and dwarfed and blasted in its birth, "Rather,a fruit of suffering's excess, "Thence feeling, therefore stronger: still by stress "Of Strength, work Knowledge! Full three hundred years "Have men to wear away in smiles and tears "Between the two that nearly seemed to touch, "Observe you! quit one workman and you clutch "Another, letting both their trains go by "The actors-out of either's policy, "Heinrich, on this hand, Otho, Barbaross, "Carry the three Imperial crowns across, "Aix' Iron, Milan's Silver, and Rome's Gold "While Alexander, Innocent uphold "On that, each Papal keybut, link on link, "Why is it neither chain betrays a chink? "How coalesce the small and great? Alack, "For one thrust forward, fifty such fall back! "Do the popes coupled there help Gregory "Alone? Harkfrom the hermit Peter's cry "At Claremont, down to the first serf that says "Friedrich 's no liege of his while he delays "Getting the Pope's curse off him! The Crusade "Or trick of breeding Strength by other aid "Than Strength, is safe. Harkfrom the wild harangue "Of Vimmercato, to the carroch's clang "Yonder! The Leagueor trick of turning Strength "Against Pernicious Strength, is safe at length. "Yet harkfrom Mantuan Albert making cease "The fierce ones, to Saint Francis preaching peace "Yonder! God's Truceor trick to supersede "The very Use of Strength, is safe. Indeed "We trench upon the future. Who is found "To take next step, next agetrail o'er the ground "Shall I say, gourd-like?not the flower's display "Nor the root's prowess, but the plenteous way "O' the plantproduced by joy and sorrow, whence "Unfeeling and yet feeling, strongest thence? "Knowledge by stress of merely Knowledge? No "E'en were Sordello ready to forego "His life for this, 't were overleaping work "Some one has first to do, howe'er it irk, "Nor stray a foot's breadth from the beaten road. "Who means to help must still support the load "Hildebrand lifted'why hast Thou,' he groaned, "`Imposed on me a burthen, Paul had moaned, "'And Moses dropped beneath?' Much doneand yet "Doubtless that grandest task God ever set "On man, left much to do: at his arm's wrench, "Charlemagne's scaffold fell; but pillars blench "Merely, start back againperchance have been "Taken for buttresses: crash every screen, "Hammer the tenons better, and engage "A gang about your work, for the next age "Or two, of Knowledge, part by Strength and part "By Knowledge! Then, indeed, perchance may start "Sordello on his racewould time divulge "Such secrets! If one step's awry, one bulge "Calls for correction by a step we thought "Got over long since, why, till that is wrought, "No progress! And the scaffold in its turn "Becomes, its service o'er, a thing to spurn. "Meanwhile, if your half-dozen years of life "In store dispose you to forego the strife, "Who takes exception? Only bear in mind "Ferrara 's reached, Goito 's left behind: "As you then were, as half yourself, desist! "The warrior-part of you may, an it list, "Finding real faulchions difficult to poise, "Fling them afar and taste the cream of joys "By wielding such in fancy,what is bard "Of you may spurn the vehicle that marred "Elys so much, and in free fancy glut "His sense, yet write no versesyou have but "To please yourself for law, and once could please "What once appeared yourself, by dreaming these "Rather than doing these, in days gone by. "But all is changed the moment you descry "Mankind as half yourself,then, fancy's trade "Ends once and always: how may half evade "The other half? men are found half of you. "Out of a thousand helps, just one or two "Can be accomplished presently: but flinch "From these (as from the faulchion, raised an inch, "Elys, described a couplet) and make proof "Of fancy,then, while one half lolls aloof "I' the vines, completing Rome to the tip-top "See if, for that, your other half will stop "A tear, begin a smile! The rabble's woes, "Ludicrous in their patience as they chose "To sit about their town and quietly "Be slaughtered,the poor reckless soldiery, "With their ignoble rhymes on Richard, how "'Polt-foot,' sang they, 'was in a pitfall now,' "Cheering each other from the engine-mounts, "That crippled spawling idiot who recounts "How, lopped of limbs, he lay, stupid as stone, "Till the pains crept from out him one by one, "And wriggles round the archers on his head "To earn a morsel of their chestnut bread, "And Cino, always in the self-same place "Weeping; beside that other wretch's case, "Eyepits to ear, one gangrene since he plied "The engine in his coat of raw sheep's hide "A double watch in the noon sun; and see "Lucchino, beauty, with the favours free, "Trim hacqueton, spruce beard and scented hair, "Campaigning it for the first timecut there "In two already, boy enough to crawl "For latter orpine round the southern wall, "Tom, where Richard 's kept, because that **** "Marfisa, the fool never saw before, "Sickened for flowers this wearisomest siege: "And Tiso's wifemen liked their pretty liege, "Cared for her least of whims once,Berta, wed "A twelvemonth gone, and, now poor Tiso's dead, "Delivering herself of his first child "On that chance heap of wet filth, reconciled "To fifty gazers!"(Here a wind below Made moody music augural of woe From the pine barrier)"What if, now the scene "Draws to a close, yourself have really been "You, plucking purples in Goito's moss "Like edges of a trabea (not to cross "Your consul-humour) or dry aloe-shafts "For fasces, at Ferrarahe, fate wafts, "This very age, her whole inheritance `Of opportunities? Yet you advance "Upon the last! Since talking is your trade, "There 's Salinguerra left you to persuade: "Fail! then"        "Nonowhich latest chance secure!" Leaped up and cried Sordello: "this made sure, "The past were yet redeemable; its work "Washelp the Guelfs, whom I, howe'er it irk, "Thus help!" He shook the foolish aloe-haulm Out of his doublet, paused, proceeded calm To the appointed presence. The large head Turned on its socket; "And your spokesman," said The large voice, "is Elcorte's happy sprout? "Few such"(so finishing a speech no doubt Addressed to Palma, silent at his side) "My sober councils have diversified. "Elcorte's son! good: forward as you may, "Our lady's minstrel with so much to say!" The hesitating sunset floated back, Rosily traversed in the wonted track The chamber, from the lattice o'er the girth Of pines, to the huge eagle blacked in earth Opposite,outlined sudden, spur to crest, That solid Salinguerra, and caressed Palma's contour; 't was day looped back night's pall; Sordello had a chance left spite of all. And much he made of the convincing speech Meant to compensate for the past and reach Through his youth's daybreak of unprofit, quite To his noon's labour, so proceed till night Leisurely! The great argument to bind Taurello with the Guelf Cause, body and mind, Came the consummate rhetoric to that? Yet most Sordello's argument dropped flat Through his accustomed fault of breaking yoke, Disjoining him who felt from him who spoke. Was 't not a touching incidentso prompt A rendering the world its just accompt, Once proved its debtor? Who 'd suppose, before This proof, that he, Goito's god of yore, At duty's instance could demean himself So memorably, dwindle to a Guelf? Be sure, in such delicious flattery steeped, His inmost self at the out-portion peeped, Thus occupied; then stole a glance at those Appealed to, curious if her colour rose Or his lip moved, while he discreetly urged The need of Lombardy becoming purged At soonest of her barons; the poor part Abandoned thus, missing the blood at heart And spirit in brain, unseasonably off Elsewhere! But, though his speech was worthy scoff, Good-humoured Salinguerra, famed for tact And tongue, who, careless of his phrase, ne'er lacked The right phrase, and harangued Honorius dumb At his accession,looked as all fell plumb To purpose and himself found interest In every point his new instructor pressed Left playing with the rescript's white wax seal To scrutinize Sordello head and heel. He means to yield assent sure? No, alas! All he replied was, "What, it comes to pass "That poesy, sooner than politics, "Makes fade young hair?" To think such speech could fix Taurello!      Then a flash of bitter truth: So fantasies could break and fritter youth That he had long ago lost earnestness, Lost will to work, lost power to even express The need of working! Earth was turned a grave: No more occasions now, though he should crave Just one, in right of superhuman toil, To do what was undone, repair such spoil, Alter the pastnothing would give the chance! Not that he was to die; he saw askance Protract the ignominious years beyond To dream intime to hope and time despond, Remember and forget, be sad, rejoice As saved a trouble; he might, at his choice, One way or other, idle life out, drop No few smooth verses by the wayfor prop, A thyrsus, these sad people, all the same, Should pick up, and set store by,far from blame, Plant o'er his hearse, convinced his better part Survived him. "Rather tear men out the heart "O' the truth!"Sordello muttered, and renewed His propositions for the Multitude. But Salinguerra, who at this attack Had thrown great breast and ruffling corslet back To hear the better, smilingly resumed His task; beneath, the carroch's warning boomed; He must decide with Tito; courteously He turned then, even seeming to agree With his admonisher"Assist the Pope, "Extend Guelf domination, fill the scope "O' the Church, thus based on All, by All, for All "Change Secular to Evangelical" Echoing his very sentence: all seemed lost, When suddenly he looked up, laughingly almost, To Palma: "This opinion of your friend's "For instance, would it answer Palma's ends? "Best, were it not, turn Guelf, submit our Strength" (Here he drew out his baldric to its length) "To the Pope's Knowledgelet our captive slip, "Wide to the walls throw ope our gates, equip "Azzo with . . . what I hold here! Who 'll subscribe "To a trite censure of the minstrel tribe "Henceforward? or pronounce, as Heinrich used, "'Spear-heads for battle, burr-heads for the joust!' "When Constance, for his couplets, would promote "Alcamo, from a parti-coloured coat, "To holding her lord's stirrup in the wars. "Not that I see where couplet-making jars "With common sense: at Mantua I had borne "This chanted, better than their most forlorn "Of bull-baits,that 's indisputable!"                      Brave! Whom vanity nigh slew, contempt shall save! All 's at an end: a Troubadour suppose Mankind will class him with their friends or foes? A puny uncouth ailing vassal think The world and him bound in some special link? Abrupt the visionary tether burst. What were rewarded here, or what amerced If a poor drudge, solicitous to dream Deservingly, got tangled by his theme So far as to conceit the knack or gift Or whatsoe'er it be, of verse, might lift The globe, a lever like the hand and head Of"Men of Action," as the Jongleurs said, "The Great Men," in the people's dialect? And not a moment did this scorn affect Sordello: scorn the poet? They, for once, Asking "what was," obtained a full response. Bid Naddo think at Mantuahe had but To look into his promptuary, put Finger on a set thought in a set speech: But was Sordello fitted thus for each Conjecture? Nowise; since within his soul, Perception brooded unexpressed and whole. A healthy spirit like a healthy frame Craves aliment in plentyall the same, Changes, assimilates its aliment. Perceived Sordello, on a truth intent? Next day no formularies more you saw Than figs or olives in a sated maw. 'T is Knowledge, whither such perceptions tend; They lose themselves in that, means to an end, The many old producing some one new, A last unlike the first. If lies are true, The Caliph's wheel-work man of brass receives A meal, munched millet grains and lettuce leaves Together in his stomach rattle loose; You find them perfect next day to produce: But ne'er expect the man, on strength of that, Can roll an iron camel-collar flat Like Haroun's self! I tell you, what was stored Bit by bit through Sordello's life, outpoured That eve, was, for that age, a novel thing: And round those three the People formed a ring, Of visionary judges whose award He recognised in fullfaces that barred Henceforth return to the old careless life, In whose great presence, therefore, his first strife For their sake must not be ignobly fought; All these, for once, approved of him, he thought, Suspended their own vengeance, chose await The issue of this strife to reinstate Them in the right of taking itin fact He must be proved king ere they could exact Vengeance for such king's defalcation. Last, A reason why the phrases flowed so fast Was in his quite forgetting for a time Himself in his amazement that the rhyme Disguised the royalty so much: he there And Salinguerra yet all-unaware Who was the lord, who liegeman!                  "Thus I lay "On thine my spirit and compel obey "His lord,my liegeman,impotent to build "Another Rome, but hardly so unskilled "In what such builder should have been, as brook "One shame beyond the charge that I forsook "His function! Free me from that shame, I bend "A brow before, suppose new years to spend, "Allow each chance, nor fruitlessly, recur "Measure thee with the Minstrel, then, demur "At any crowd he claims! That I must cede "Shamed now, my right to my especial meed "Confess thee fitter help the world than I "Ordained its champion from eternity, "Is much: but to behold thee scorn the post "I quit in thy behalfto hear thee boast "What makes my own despair!" And while he rung The changes on this theme, the roof up-sprung, The sad walls of the presence-chamber died Into the distance, or embowering vied With far-away Goito's vine-frontier; And crowds of faces(only keeping clear The rose-light in the midst, his vantage-ground To fight their battle from)deep clustered round Sordello, with good wishes no mere breath, Kind prayers for him no vapour, since, come death Come life, he was fresh-sinewed every joint, Each bone new-marrowed as whom gods anoint Though mortal to their rescue. Now let sprawl The snaky volumes hither! Is Typhon all For Hercules to tramplegood report From Salinguerra only to extort? "So was I" (closed he his inculcating A poet must be earth's essential king) "So was I, royal so, and if I fail, "'T is not the royalty, ye witness quail, "But one deposed who, caring not exert "Its proper essence, trifled malapert "With accidents insteadgood things assigned "As heralds of a better thing behind "And, worthy through display of these, put forth "Never the inmost all-surpassing worth "That constitutes him king precisely since "As yet no other spirit may evince "Its like: the power he took most pride to test, "Whereby all forms of life had been professed "At pleasure, forms already on the earth, "Was but a means to power beyond, whose birth "Should, in its novelty, be kingship's proof. "Now, whether he came near or kept aloof "The several forms he longed to imitate, "Not there the kingship lay, he sees too late. "Those forms, unalterable first as last, "Proved him her copier, not the protoplast "Of nature: what would come of being free, "By action to exhibit tree for tree, "Bird, beast, for beast and bird, or prove earth bore "One veritable man or woman more? "Means to an end, such proofs are: what the end? "Let essence, whatsoe'er it be, extend "Never contract. Already you include "The multitude; then let the multitude "Include yourself; and the result were new: "Themselves before, the multitude turn you. "This were to live and move and have, in them, "Your being, and secure a diadem "You should transmit (because no cycle yearns "Beyond itself, but on itself returns) "When, the full sphere in wane, the world o'erlaid "Long since with you, shall have in turn obeyed "Some orb still prouder, some displayer, still "More potent than the last, of human will, "And some new king depose the old. Of such "Am Iwhom pride of this elates too much? "Safe, rather say, 'mid troops of peers again; "I, with my words, hailed brother of the train "Deeds once sufficed: for, let the world roll back, "Who fails, through deeds howe'er diverse, retrack "My purpose still, my task? A teeming crust "Air, flame, earth, wave at conflict! Then, needs must "Emerge some Calm embodied, these refer "The brawl toyellow-bearded Jupiter? "No! Saturn; some existence like a pact "And protest against Chaos, some first fact "I' the faint of time. My deep of life, I know "Is unavailing e'en to poorly show" . . . (For here the Chief immeasurably yawned) . . . "Deeds in their due gradation till Song dawned "The fullest effluence of the finest mind, "All in degree, no way diverse in kind "From minds about it, minds which, more or less, "Lofty or low, move seeking to impress "Themselves on somewhat; but one mind has climbed "Step after step, by just ascent sublimed. "Thought is the soul of act, and, stage by stage, "Soul is from body still to disengage "As tending to a freedom which rejects "Such help and incorporeally affects "The world, producing deeds but not by deeds, "Swaying, in others, frames itself exceeds, "Assigning them the simpler tasks it used "To patiently perform till Song produced "Acts, by thoughts only, for the mind: divest "Mind of e'en Thought, and, lo, God's unexpressed "Will draws above us! All then is to win "Save that. How much for me, then? where begin "My work? About me, faces! and they flock, "The earnest faces. What shall I unlock "By song? behold me prompt, whate'er it be, "To minister: how much can mortals see "Of Life? No more than so? I take the task "And marshal you Life's elemental masque, "Show Men, on evil or on good lay stress, "This light, this shade make prominent, suppress "All ordinary hues that softening blend "Such natures with the level. Apprehend "Which sinner is, which saint, if I allot "Hell, Purgatory, Heaven, a blaze or blot, "To those you doubt concerning! I enwomb "Some wretched Friedrich with his red-hot tomb; "Some dubious spirit, Lombard Agilulph "With the black chastening river I engulph! "Some unapproached Matilda I enshrine "With languors of the planet of decline "These, fail to recognize, to arbitrate "Between henceforth, to rightly estimate "Thus marshalled in the masque! Myself, the while, "As one of you, am witness, shrink or smile "At my own showing! Next agewhat 's to do? "The men and women stationed hitherto "Will I unstation, good and bad, conduct "Each nature to its farthest, or obstruct "At soonest, in the world: light, thwarted, breaks "A limpid purity to rainbow flakes, "Or shadow, massed, freezes to gloom: behold "How such, with fit assistance to unfold, "Or obstacles to crush them, disengage "Their forms, love, hate, hope, fear, peace make, war wage, "In presence of you all! Myself, implied "Superior now, as, by the platform's side, "I bade them do and suffer,would last content "The world . . . nothat 's too far! I circumvent "A few, my masque contented, and to these "Offer unveil the last of mysteries "Man's inmost life shall have yet freer play: "Once more I cast external things away, "And natures composite, so decompose "That" . . . Why, he writes Sordello!                     "How I rose, "And how have you advanced! since evermore "Yourselves effect what I was fain before "Effect, what I supplied yourselves suggest, "What I leave bare yourselves can now invest. "How we attain to talk as brothers talk, "In half-words, call things by half-names, no balk "From discontinuing old aids. To-day "Takes in account the work of Yesterday: "Has not the world a Past now, its adept "Consults ere he dispense with or accept "New aids? a single touch more may enhance, "A touch less turn to insignificance "Those structures' symmetry the past has strewed "The world with, once so bare. Leave the mere rude "Explicit details! 't is but brother's speech "We need, speech where an accent's change gives each "The other's soulno speech to understand "By former audience: need was then to expand, "Expatiatehardly were we brothers! true "Nor I lament my small remove from you, "Nor reconstruct what stands already. Ends "Accomplished turn to means: my art intends "New structure from the ancient: as they changed "The spoils of every clime at Venice, ranged "The horned and snouted Libyan god, upright "As in his desert, by some simple bright "Clay cinerary pitcherThebes as Rome, "Athens as Byzant rifled, till their Dome "From earth's reputed consummations razed "A seal, the all-transmuting Triad blazed "Above. Ah, whose that fortune? Ne'ertheless "E'en he must stoop contented to express "No tithe of what 's to saythe vehicle "Never sufficient: but his work is still "For faces like the faces that select "The single service I am bound effect, "That bid me cast aside such fancies, bow "Taurello to the Guelf cause, disallow "The Kaiser's comingwhich with heart, soul, strength, "I labour for, this eve, who feel at length "My past career's outrageous vanity, "And would, as its amends, die, even die "Now I first estimate the boon of life, "If death might win compliancesure, this strife "Is right for oncethe People my support." My poor Sordello! what may we extort By this, I wonder? Palma's lighted eyes Turned to Taurello who, long past surprise, Began, "You love himwhat you 'd say at large "Let me say briefly. First, your father's charge "To me, his friend, peruse: I guessed indeed "You were no stranger to the course decreed. "He bids me leave his children to the saints: "As for a certain project, he acquaints "The Pope with that, and offers him the best "Of your possessions to permit the rest "Go peaceablyto Ecelin, a stripe "Of soil the cursed Vicentines will gripe, "To Alberic, a patch the Trevisan "Clutches already; extricate, who can, "Treville, Villarazzi, Puissolo, "Loria and Cartiglione!all must go, "And with them go my hopes. 'T is lost, then! Lost "This eve, our crisis, and some pains it cost "Procuring; thirty yearsas good I'd spent "Like our admonisher! But each his bent "Pursues: no question, one might live absurd "Oneself this while, by deed as he by word "Persisting to obtrude an influence where "'T is made account of, much as . . . nay, you fare "With twice the fortune, youngster!I submit, "Happy to parallel my waste of wit "With the renowned Sordello's: you decide "A course for me. Romano may abide "Romano,Bacchus! After all, what dearth "Of Ecelins and Alberics on earth? "Say there 's a prize in prospect, must disgrace "Betide competitors, unless they style "Themselves Romano? Were it worth my while "To try my own luck! But an obscure place "Suits methere wants a youth to bustle, stalk "And attitudinizesome fight, more talk, "Most flaunting badgeshow, I might make clear "Since Friedrich's very purposes lie here "Here, pity they are like to lie! For me, "With station fixed unceremoniously "Long since, small use contesting; I am but "The liegemanyou are born the lieges: shut "That gentle mouth now! or resume your kin "In your sweet self; were Palma Ecelin "For me to work with! Could that neck endure "This bauble for a cumbrous garniture, "She should . . . or might one bear it for her? Stay "I have not been so flattered many a day "As by your pale friendBacchus! The least help "Would lick the hind's fawn to a lion's whelp: "His neck is broad enougha ready tongue "Beside: too writhledbut, the main thing, young "I could . . . why, look ye!"                And the badge was thrown Across Sordello's neck: "This badge alone "Makes you Romano's Headbecomes superb "On your bare neck, which would, on mine, disturb "The pauldron," said Taurello. A mad act, Nor even dreamed about beforein fact, Not when his sportive arm rose for the nonce But he had dallied overmuch, this once, With power: the thing was done, and he, aware The thing was done, proceeded to declare (So like a nature made to serve, excel In serving, only feel by service well!) That he would make Sordello that and more. "As good a scheme as any. What 's to pore "At in my face?" he asked"ponder instead "This piece of news; you are Romano's Head! "One cannot slacken pace so near the goal, "Suffer my Azzo to escape heart-whole "This time! For you there 's Palma to espouse "For me, one crowning trouble ere I house "Like my compeer."          On which ensued a strange And solemn visitation; there came change O'er every one of them; each looked on each: Up in the midst a truth grew, without speech. And when the giddiness sank and the haze Subsided, they were sitting, no amaze, Sordello with the baldric on, his sire Silent, though his proportions seemed aspire Momently; and, interpreting the thrill, Night at its ebb,Palma was found there still Relating somewhat Adelaide confessed A year ago, while dying on her breast, Of a contrivance, that Vicenza night When Ecelin had birth. "Their convoy's flight, "Cut off a moment, coiled inside the flame "That wallowed like a dragon at his game "The toppling city throughSan Biagio rocks! "And wounded lies in her delicious locks "Retrude, the frail mother, on her face, "None of her wasted, just in one embrace "Covering her child: when, as they lifted her, "Cleaving the tumult, mighty, mightier "And mightiest Taurello's cry outbroke, "Leapt like a tongue of fire that cleaves the smoke, "Midmost to cheer his Mantuans onwarddrown "His colleague Ecelin's clamour, up and down "The disarray: failed Adelaide see then "Who was the natural chief, the man of men? "Outstripping time, her infant there burst swathe, "Stood up with eyes haggard beyond the scathe "From wandering after his heritage "Lost once and lost for aye: and why that rage, "That deprecating glance? A new shape leant "On a familiar shapegloatingly bent "O'er his discomfiture; 'mid wreaths it wore, "Still one outflamed the resther child's before "'T was Salinguerra's for his child: scorn, hate, "Rage now might startle her when all too late! "Then was the moment!rival's foot had spurned "Never that House to earth else! Sense returned "The act conceived, adventured and complete, "They bore away to an obscure retreat "Mother and childRetrude's self not slain" (Nor even here Taurello moved) "though pain "Was fled; and what assured them most 't was fled, "All pain, was, if they raised the pale hushed head "'T would turn this way and that, waver awhile, "And only settle into its old smile "(Graceful as the disquieted water-flag "Steadying itself, remarked they, in the quag "On either side their path)when suffered look "Down on her child. They marched: no sign once shook "The company's close litter of crossed spears "Till, as they reached Goito, a few tears "Slipped in the sunset from her long black lash, "And she was gone. So far the action rash; "No crime. They laid Retrude in the font, "Taurello's very gift, her child was wont "To sit beneathconstant as eve he came "To sit by its attendant girls the same "As one of them. For Palma, she would blend "With this magnific spirit to the end, "That ruled her first; but scarcely had she dared "To disobey the Adelaide who scared "Her into vowing never to disclose "A secret to her husband, which so froze "His blood at half-recital, she contrived "To hide from him Taurello's infant lived, "Lest, by revealing that, himself should mar "Romano's fortunes. And, a crime so far, "Palma received that action: she was told "Of Salinguerra's nature, of his cold "Calm acquiescence in his lot! But free "To impart the secret to Romano, she "Engaged to repossess Sordello of "His heritage, and hers, and that way doff "The mask, but after years, long years: while now, "Was not Romano's sign-mark on that brow?" Across Taurello's heart his arms were locked: And when he did speak 't was as if he mocked The minstrel, "who had not to move," he said, "Nor stirshould fate defraud him of a shred "Of his son's infancy? much less his youth!" (Laughingly all this)"which to aid, in truth, "Himself, reserved on purpose, had not grown "Old, not too old't was best they kept alone "Till now, and never idly met till now;" Then, in the same breath, told Sordello how All intimations of this eve's event Were lies, for Friedrich must advance to Trent, Thence to Verona, then to Rome, there stop, Tumble the Church down, institute a-top The Alps a Prefecture of Lombardy: "That 's now!no prophesying what may be "Anon, with a new monarch of the clime, "Native of Gesi, passing his youth's prime "At Naples. Tito bids my choice decide "On whom . . ."         "Embrace him, madman!" Palma cried, Who through the laugh saw sweat-drops burst apace, And his lips blanching: he did not embrace Sordello, but he laid Sordello's hand On his own eyes, mouth, forehead.                  Understand, This while Sordello was becoming flushed Out of his whiteness; thoughts rushed, fancies rushed; He pressed his hand upon his head and signed Both should forbear him. "Nay, the best 's behind!" Taurello laughednot quite with the same laugh: "The truth is, thus we scatter, ay, like chaff "These Guelfs, a despicable monk recoils "From: nor expect a fickle Kaiser spoils "Our triumph!Friedrich? Think you, I intend "Friedrich shall reap the fruits of blood I spend "And brain I waste? Think you, the people clap "Their hands at my out-hewing this wild gap "For any Friedrich to fill up? 'T is mine "That 's yours: I tell you, towards some such design "Have I worked blindly, yes, and idly, yes, "And for another, yesbut worked no less "With instinct at my heart; I else had swerved, "While nowlook round! My cunning has preserved "Samminiatothat 's a central place "Secures us Florence, boy,in Pisa's case. "By land as she by sea; with Pisa ours, "And Florence, and Pistoia, one devours "The land at leisure! Gloriously dispersed "Brescia, observe, Milan, Piacenza first "That flanked us (ah, you know not!) in the March; "On these we pile, as keystone of our arch, "Romagna and Bologna, whose first span "Covered the Trentine and the Valsugan; "Sofia's Egna by Bolgiano 's sure!" . . . So he proceeded: half of all this, pure Delusion, doubtless, nor the rest too true, But what was undone he felt sure to do, As ring by ring he wrung off, flung away The pauldron-rings to give his sword-arm play Need of the sword now! That would soon adjust Aught wrong at present; to the sword intrust Sordello's whiteness, undersize: 't was plain He hardly rendered right to his own brain Like a brave hound, men educate to pride Himself on speed or scent nor aught beside, As though he could not, gift by gift, match men! Palma had listened patiently: but when 'T was time expostulate, attempt withdraw Taurello from his child, she, without awe Took off his iron arms from, one by one, Sordello's shrinking shoulders, and, that done, Made him avert his visage and relieve Sordello (you might see his corslet heave The while) who, loose, rosetried to speak, then sank: They left him in the chamber. All was blank. And even reeling down the narrow stair Taurello kept up, as though unaware Palma was by to guide him, the old device Something of Milan"how we muster thrice "The Torriani's strength there; all along "Our own Visconti cowed them"thus the song Continued even while she bade him stoop, Thrid somehow, by some glimpse of arrow-loop, The turnings to the gallery below, Where he stopped short as Palma let him go. When he had sat in silence long enough Splintering the stone bench, braving a rebuff She stopped the truncheon; only to commence One of Sordello's poems, a pretence For speaking, some poor rhyme of "Elys' hair "And head that 's sharp and perfect like a pear, "So smooth and close are laid the few fine locks "Stained like pale honey oozed from topmost rocks "Sun-blanched the livelong summer"from his worst Performance, the Goito, as his first: And that at end, conceiving from the brow And open mouth no silence would serve now, Went on to say the whole world loved that man And, for that matter, thought his face, tho' wan, Eclipsed the Count'she sucking in each phrase As if an angel spoke. The foolish praise Ended, he drew her on his mailed knees, made Her face a framework with his hands, a shade, A crown, an aureole: there must she remain (Her little mouth compressed with smiling pain As in his gloves she felt her tresses twitch) To get the best look at, in fittest niche Dispose his saint. That done, he kissed her brow, "Lauded her father for his treason now," He told her, "only, how could one suspect "The wit in him?whose clansman, recollect, `Was ever Salinguerrashe, the same, "Romano and his ladyso, might claim "To know all, as she should"and thus begun Schemes with a vengeance, schemes on schemes, "not one "Fit to be told that foolish boy," he said, "But only let Sordello Palma wed, "Then!"      'T was a dim long narrow place at best: Midway a sole grate showed the fiery West, As shows its corpse the world's end some split tomb A gloom, a rift of fire, another gloom, Faced Palmabut at length Taurello set Her free; the grating held one ragged jet Of fierce gold fire: he lifted her within The hollow underneathhow else begin Fate's second marvellous cycle, else renew The ages than with Palma plain in view? Then paced the passage, hands clenched, head erect, Pursuing his discourse; a grand unchecked Monotony made out from his quick talk And the recurring noises of his walk; Somewhat too much like the o'ercharged assent Of two resolved friends in one danger blent, Who hearten each the other against heart; Boasting there 's nought to care for, when, apart The boaster, all 's to care for. He, beside Some shape not visible, in power and pride Approached, out of the dark, ginglingly near, Nearer, passed close in the broad light, his ear Crimson, eyeballs suffused, temples full-fraught, Just a snatch of the rapid speech you caught, And on he strode into the opposite dark, Till presently the harsh heel's turn, a spark I' the stone, and whirl of some loose embossed throng That crashed against the angle aye so long After the last, punctual to an amount Of mailed great paces you could not but count, Prepared you for the pacing back again. And by the snatches you might ascertain That, Friedrich's Prefecture surmounted, left By this alone in Italy, they cleft Asunder, crushed together, at command Of none, were free to break up Hildebrand, Rebuild, he and Sordello, Charlemagne But garnished, Strength with Knowledge, "if we deign "Accept that compromise and stoop to give "Rome law, the Csar's Representative." Enough, that the illimitable flood Of triumphs after triumphs, understood In its faint reflux (you shall hear) sufficed Young Ecelin for appanage, enticed Him on till, these long quiet in their graves, He found 't was looked for that a whole life's braves Should somehow be made good; so, weak and worn, Must stagger up at Milan, one grey morn Of the to-come, and fight his latest fight. But, Salinguerra's prophecy at height He voluble with a raised arm and stiff, A blaring voice, a blazing eye, as if He had our very Italy to keep Or cast away, or gather in a heap To garrison the betteray, his word Was, "run the cucumber into a gourd, "Drive Trent upon Apulia"at their pitch Who spied the continents and islands which Grew mulberry leaves and sickles, in the map (Strange that three such confessions so should hap To Palma, Dante spoke with in the clear Amorous silence of the Swooning-sphere, Cunizza, as he called her! Never ask Of Palma more! She sat, knowing her task Was done, the labour of it,for, success Concerned not Palma, passion's votaress.) Triumph at neight, and thus Sordello crowned Above the passage suddenly a sound Stops speech, stops walk: back shrinks Taurello, bids With large involuntary asking lids, Palma interpret. "'T is his own foot-stamp "Your hand! His summons! Nay, this idle damp "Befits not!" Out they two reeled dizzily. "Visconti 's strong at Milan," resumed he, In the old, somewhat insignificant way (Was Palma wont, years afterward, to say) As though the spirit's flight, sustained thus far, Dropped at that very instant.                Gone they are Palma, Taurello; Eglamor anon, Ecelin,only Naddo 's never gone! Labours, this moonrise, what the Master meant: "Is Squarcialupo speckled?purulent, "I 'd say, but when was Providence put out? "He carries somehow handily about "His spite nor fouls himself!" Goito's vines Stand like a cheat detectedstark rough lines, The moon breaks through, a grey mean scale against The vault where, this eve's Maiden, thou remain'st Like some fresh martyr, eyes fixedwho can tell? As Heaven, now all 's at end, did not so well, Spite of the faith and victory, to leave Its virgin quite to death in the lone eve. While the persisting hermit-bee . . . ha! wait No longer: these in compass, forward fate! ~ Robert Browning, Sordello - Book the Fifth ,

1027:class:Classics BOOK THE NINTH The Story of Achelous and Hercules 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. Perhaps you've heard of Deianira's name, For all the country spoke her beauty's fame. 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. A-while we breathe, then forward rush amain, Renew the combat, and our ground maintain; Foot strove with foot, I prone extend my breast, Hands war with hands, and forehead forehead prest. Thus have I seen two furious bulls engage, Inflam'd with equal love, and equal rage; Each claims the fairest heifer of the grove, And conquest only can decide their love: The trembling herds survey the fight from far, 'Till victory decides th' important war. Three times in vain he strove my joints to wrest, To force my hold, and throw me from his breast; The fourth he broke my gripe, that clasp'd him round, Then with new force he stretch'd me on the ground; Close to my back the mighty bur then clung, As if a mountain o'er my limbs were flung. Believe my tale; nor do I, boastful, aim By feign'd narration to extol my fame. No sooner from his grasp I freedom get, Unlock my arms, that flow'd with trickling sweat, But quick he seized me, and renew'd the strife, As my exhausted bosom pants for life: My neck he gripes, my knee to earth he strains; I fall, and bite the sand with shame, and pains. O'er-match'd in strength, to wiles, and arts I take, And slip his hold, in form of speckled snake; Who, when I wreath'd in spires my body round, Or show'd my forky tongue with hissing sound, Smiles at my threats: Such foes my cradle knew, He cries, dire snakes my infant hand o'erthrew; A dragon's form might other conquests gain, To war with me you take that shape in vain. Art thou proportion'd to the Hydra's length, Who by his wounds receiv'd augmented strength? He rais'd a hundred hissing heads in air; When one I lopt, up-sprung a dreadful pair. By his wounds fertile, and with slaughter strong, Singly I quell'd him, and stretch'd dead along. What canst thou do, a form precarious, prone, To rouse my rage with terrors not thy own? He said; and round my neck his hands he cast, And with his straining fingers wrung me fast; My throat he tortur'd, close as pincers clasp, In vain I strove to loose the forceful grasp. Thus vanquish'd too, a third form still remains, Chang'd to a bull, my lowing fills the plains. Strait on the left his nervous arms were thrown Upon my brindled neck, and tugg'd it down; Then deep he struck my horn into the sand, And fell'd my bulk among the dusty land. Nor yet his fury cool'd; 'twixt rage and scorn, From my maim'd front he tore the stubborn horn: This, heap'd with flow'rs, and fruits, the Naiads bear, Sacred to plenty, and the bounteous year. He spoke; when lo, a beauteous nymph appears, Girt like Diana's train, with flowing hairs; The horn she brings in which all Autumn's stor'd, And ruddy apples for the second board. Now morn begins to dawn, the sun's bright fire Gilds the high mountains, and the youths retire; Nor stay'd they, 'till the troubled stream subsides, And in its bounds with peaceful current glides. But Achelous in his oozy bed Deep hides his brow deform'd, and rustick head: No real wound the victor's triumph show'd, But his lost honours griev'd the watry God; Yet ev'n that loss the willow's leaves o'erspread, And verdant reeds, in garlands, bind his head. The Death of Nessus the Centaur This virgin too, thy love, O Nessus, found, To her alone you owe the fatal wound. As the strong son of Jove his bride conveys, Where his paternal lands their bulwarks raise; Where from her slopy urn, Evenus pours Her rapid current, swell'd by wintry show'rs, He came. The frequent eddies whirl'd the tide, And the deep rolling waves all pass deny'd. As for himself, he stood unmov'd by fears, For now his bridal charge employ'd his cares, The strong-limb'd Nessus thus officious cry'd (For he the shallows of the stream had try'd), Swim thou, Alcides, all thy strength prepare, On yonder bank I'll lodge thy nuptial care. Th' Aonian chief to Nessus trusts his wife, All pale, and trembling for her heroe's life: Cloath'd as he stood in the fierce lion's hide, The laden quiver o'er his shoulder ty'd (For cross the stream his bow and club were cast), Swift he plung'd in: These billows shall be past, He said, nor sought where smoother waters glide, But stem'd the rapid dangers of the tide. The bank he reach'd; again the bow he bears; When, hark! his bride's known voice alarms his ears. Nessus, to thee I call (aloud he cries) Vain is thy trust in flight, be timely wise: Thou monster double-shap'd, my right set free; If thou no rev'rence owe my fame and me, Yet kindred should thy lawless lust deny; Think not, perfidious wretch, from me to fly, Tho' wing'd with horse's speed; wounds shall pursue; Swift as his words the fatal arrow flew: The centaur's back admits the feather'd wood, And thro' his breast the barbed weapon stood; Which when, in anguish, thro' the flesh he tore, From both the wounds gush'd forth the spumy gore Mix'd with Lernaean venom; this he took, Nor dire revenge his dying breast forsook. His garment, in the reeking purple dy'd, To rouse love's passion, he presents the bride. The Death of Hercules Now a long interval of time succeeds, When the great son of Jove's immortal deeds, And step-dame's hate, had fill'd Earth's utmost round; He from Oechalia, with new lawrels crown'd, In triumph was return'd. He rites prepares, And to the King of Gods directs his pray'rs; When Fame (who falshood cloaths in truth's disguise, And swells her little bulk with growing lies) Thy tender ear, o Deianira, mov'd, That Hercules the fair Iole lov'd. Her love believes the tale; the truth she fears Of his new passion, and gives way to tears. The flowing tears diffus'd her wretched grief, Why seek I thus, from streaming eyes, relief? She cries; indulge not thus these fruitless cares, The harlot will but triumph in thy tears: Let something be resolv'd, while yet there's time; My bed not conscious of a rival's crime. In silence shall I mourn, or loud complain? Shall I seek Calydon, or here remain? What tho', ally'd to Meleager's fame, I boast the honours of a sister's name? My wrongs, perhaps, now urge me to pursue Some desp'rate deed, by which the world shall view How far revenge, and woman's rage can rise, When weltring in her blood the harlot dies. Thus various passions rul'd by turns her breast, She now resolves to send the fatal vest, Dy'd with Lernaean gore, whose pow'r might move His soul anew, and rouse declining love. Nor knew she what her sudden rage bestows, When she to Lychas trusts her future woes; With soft endearments she the boy commands, To bear the garment to her husband's hands. Th' unwitting hero takes the gift in haste, And o'er his shoulders Lerna's poison cast, As first the fire with frankincense he strows, And utters to the Gods his holy vows; And on the marble altar's polish'd frame Pours forth the grapy stream; the rising flame Sudden dissolves the subtle pois'nous juice, Which taints his blood, and all his nerves bedews. With wonted fortitude he bore the smart, And not a groan confess'd his burning heart. At length his patience was subdu'd by pain, He rends the sacred altar from the plain; Oete's wide forests echo with his cries: Now to rip off the deathful robe he tries. Where-e'er he plucks the vest, the skin he tears, The mangled muscles, and huge bones he bares (A ghastful sight!), or raging with his pain, To rend the sticking plague he tugs in vain. As the red iron hisses in the flood, So boils the venom in his curdling blood. Now with the greedy flame his entrails glow, And livid sweats down all his body flow; The cracking nerves burnt up are burst in twain, The lurking venom melts his swimming brain. Then, lifting both his hands aloft, he cries, Glut thy revenge, dread Empress of the skies; Sate with my death the rancour of thy heart, Look down with pleasure, and enjoy my smart. Or, if e'er pity mov'd a hostile breast (For here I stand thy enemy profest), Take hence this hateful life, with tortures torn, Inur'd to trouble, and to labours born. Death is the gift most welcome to my woe, And such a gift a stepdame may bestow. Was it for this Busiris was subdu'd, Whose barb'rous temples reek'd with strangers' blood? Press'd in these arms his fate Antaeus found, Nor gain'd recruited vigour from the ground. Did I not triple-form'd Geryon fell? Or did I fear the triple dog of Hell? Did not these hands the bull's arm'd forehead hold? Are not our mighty toils in Elis told? Do not Stymphalian lakes proclaim thy fame? And fair Par thenian woods resound thy name? Who seiz'd the golden belt of Thermodon? And who the dragon-guarded apples won? Could the fierce centaur's strength my force withstand, Or the fell boar that spoil'd th' Arcadian land? Did not these arms the Hydra's rage subdue, Who from his wounds to double fury grew? What if the Thracian horses, fat with gore, Who human bodies in their mangers tore, I saw, and with their barb'rous lord o'erthrew? What if these hands Nemaea's lion slew? Did not this neck the heav'nly globe sustain? The female partner of the Thunderer's reign Fatigu'd, at length suspends her harsh commands, Yet no fatigue hath slack'd these valiant hands. But now new plagues pursue me, neither force, Nor arms, nor darts can stop their raging course. Devouring flame thro' my rack'd entrails strays, And on my lungs and shrivel'd muscles preys. Yet still Eurystheus breathes the vital air. What mortal now shall seek the Gods with pray'r? The Transformation of Lychas into a Rock The hero said; and with the torture stung, Furious o'er Oete's lofty hills he sprung. Stuck with the shaft, thus scours the tyger round, And seeks the flying author of his wound. Now might you see him trembling, now he vents His anguish'd soul in groans, and loud laments; He strives to tear the clinging vest in vain, And with up-rooted forests strows the plain; Now kindling into rage, his hands he rears, And to his kindred Gods directs his pray'rs. When Lychas, lo, he spies; who trembling flew, And in a hollow rock conceal'd from view, Had shun'd his wrath. Now grief renew'd his pain, His madness chaf'd, and thus he raves again. Lychas, to thee alone my fate I owe, Who bore the gift, the cause of all my woe. The youth all pale, with shiv'ring fear was stung, And vain excuses falter'd on his tongue. Alcides snatch'd him, as with suppliant face He strove to clasp his knees, and beg for grace: He toss'd him o'er his head with airy course, And hurl'd with more than with an engine's force; Far o'er th' Eubaean main aloof he flies, And hardens by degrees amid the skies. So showry drops, when chilly tempests blow, Thicken at first, then whiten into snow, In balls congeal'd the rolling fleeces bound, In solid hail result upon the ground. Thus, whirl'd with nervous force thro' distant air, The purple tide forsook his veins, with fear; All moisture left his limbs. Transform'd to stone, In ancient days the craggy flint was known; Still in the Eubaean waves his front he rears, Still the small rock in human form appears, And still the name of hapless Lychas bears. The Apotheosis of Hercules But now the hero of immortal birth Fells Oete's forests on the groaning Earth; A pile he builds; to Philoctetes' care He leaves his deathful instruments of war; To him commits those arrows, which again Shall see the bulwarks of the Trojan reign. The son of Paean lights the lofty pyre, High round the structure climbs the greedy fire; Plac'd on the top, thy nervous shoulders spread With the Nemaean spoils, thy careless head Rais'd on a knotty club, with look divine, Here thou, dread hero, of celestial line, Wert stretch'd at ease; as when a chearful guest, Wine crown'd thy bowls, and flow'rs thy temples drest. Now on all sides the potent flames aspire, And crackle round those limbs that mock the fire A sudden terror seiz'd th' immortal host, Who thought the world's profess'd defender lost. This when the Thund'rer saw, with smiles he cries, 'Tis from your fears, ye Gods, my pleasures rise; Joy swells my breast, that my all-ruling hand O'er such a grateful people boasts command, That you my suff'ring progeny would aid; Tho' to his deeds this just respect be paid, Me you've oblig'd. Be all your fears forborn, Th' Oetean fires do thou, great hero, scorn. Who vanquish'd all things, shall subdue the flame. That part alone of gross maternal frame Fire shall devour; while what from me he drew Shall live immortal, and its force subdue; That, when he's dead, I'll raise to realms above; May all the Pow'rs the righteous act approve. If any God dissent, and judge too great The sacred honours of the heav'nly seat, Ev'n he shall own his deeds deserve the sky, Ev'n he reluctant, shall at length comply. Th' assembled Pow'rs assent. No frown 'till now Had mark'd with passion vengeful Juno's brow, Mean-while whate'er was in the pow'r of flame Was all consum'd; his body's nervous frame No more was known, of human form bereft, Th' eternal part of Jove alone was left. As an old serpent casts his scaly vest, Wreathes in the sun, in youthful glory drest; So when Alcides mortal mold resign'd, His better part enlarg'd, and grew refin'd; August his visage shone; almighty Jove In his swift carr his honour'd offspring drove; High o'er the hollow clouds the coursers fly, And lodge the hero in the starry sky. The Transformation of Galanthis Atlas perceiv'd the load of Heav'n's new guest. Revenge still rancour'd in Eurystheus' breast Against Alcides' race. Alcmena goes To Iole, to vent maternal woes; Here she pours forth her grief, recounts the spoils Her son had bravely reap'd in glorious toils. This Iole, by Hercules' commands, Hyllus had lov'd, and joyn'd in nuptial bands. Her swelling womb the teeming birth confess'd, To whom Alcmena thus her speech address'd. O, may the Gods protect thee, in that hour, When, 'midst thy throws, thou call'st th' Ilithyan Pow'r! May no delays prolong thy racking pain, As when I su'd for Juno's aid in vain. When now Alcides' mighty birth drew nigh, And the tenth sign roll'd forward on the sky, My womb extends with such a mighty load, As Jove the parent of the bur then show'd. I could no more th' encreasing smart sustain, My horror kindles to recount the pain; Cold chills my limbs while I the tale pursue, And now methinks I feel my pangs anew. Seven days and nights amidst incessant throws, Fatigu'd with ills I lay, nor knew repose; When lifting high my hands, in shrieks I pray'd, Implor'd the Gods, and call'd Lucina's aid. She came, but prejudic'd, to give my Fate A sacrifice to vengeful Juno's hate. She hears the groaning anguish of my fits, And on the altar at my door she sits. O'er her left knee her crossing leg she cast, Then knits her fingers close, and wrings them fast: This stay'd the birth; in mutt'ring verse she pray'd, The mutt'ring verse th' unfinish'd birth delay'd. Now with fierce struggles, raging with my pain, At Jove's ingratitude I rave in vain. How did I wish for death! such groans I sent, As might have made the flinty heart relent. Now the Cadmeian matrons round me press, Offer their vows, and seek to bring redress; Among the Theban dames Galanthis stands, Strong limb'd, red hair'd, and just to my commands: She first perceiv'd that all these racking woes From the persisting hate of Juno rose. As here and there she pass'd, by chance she sees The seated Goddess; on her close-press'd knees Her fast-knit hands she leans; with chearful voice Galanthis cries, Whoe'er thou art, rejoyce, Congratulate the dame, she lies at rest, At length the Gods Alcmena's womb have blest. Swift from her seat the startled Goddess springs, No more conceal'd, her hands abroad she flings; The charm unloos'd, the birth my pangs reliev'd; Galanthis' laughter vex'd the Pow'r deceiv'd. Fame says, the Goddess dragg'd the laughing maid Fast by the hair; in vain her force essay'd Her grov'ling body from the ground to rear; Chang'd to fore-feet her shrinking arms appear: Her hairy back her former hue retains, The form alone is lost; her strength remains; Who, since the lye did from her mouth proceed, Shall from her pregnant mouth bring forth her breed; Nor shall she quit her long-frequented home, But haunt those houses where she lov'd to roam. The Fable of Dryope She said, and for her lost Galanthis sighs; When the fair consort of her son replies; Since you a servant's ravish'd form bemoan, And kindly sigh for sorrows not your own, Let me (if tears and grief permit) relate A nearer woe, a sister's stranger fate. No nymph of all Oechaloa could compare For beauteous form with Dryope the fair; Her tender mother's only hope and pride (My self the offspring of a second bride), This nymph, compress'd by him who rules the day, Whom Delphi, and the Delian isle obey, Andraemon lov'd; and blest in all those charms That pleas'd a God, succeeded to her arms. A lake there was, with shelving banks around, Whose verdant summit fragrant myrtles crown'd. Those shades, unknowing of the fates, she sought; And to the Naiads flow'ry garlands brought; Her smiling babe (a pleasing charge) she prest Between her arms, and nourish'd at her breast. Not distant far a watry lotos grows; The Spring was new, and all the verdant boughs, Acorn'd with blossoms, promis'd fruits that vye In glowing colours with the Tyrian dye. Of these she cropt, to please her infant son, And I my self the same rash act had done, But, lo! I saw (as near her side I stood) The violated blossoms drop with blood; Upon the tree I cast a frightful look, The trembling tree with sudden horror shook. Lotis the nymph (if rural tales be true) As from Priapus' lawless lust she flew, Forsook her form; and fixing here became A flow'ry plant, which still preserves her name. This change unknown, astonish'd at the sight, My trembling sister strove to urge her flight; Yet first the pardon of the Nymphs implor'd, And those offended Sylvan pow'rs ador'd: But when she backward would have fled, she found Her stiff'ning feet were rooted to the ground: In vain to free her fasten'd feet she strove, And as she struggles only moves above; She feels th' incroaching bark around her grow, By slow degrees, and cover all below: Surpriz'd at this, her trembling hand she heaves To rend her hair; her hand is fill'd with leaves; Where late was hair, the shooting leaves are seen To rise, and shade her with a sudden green. The Child Amphisus, to her bosom prest, Perceiv'd a colder and a harder breast, And found the springs, that n'er 'till then deny'd Their milky moisture, on a sudden dry'd. I saw, unhappy, what I now relate, And stood the helpless witness of thy fate; Embrac'd thy boughs, the rising bark delay'd, There wish'd to grow, and mingle shade with shade. Behold Andraemon, and th' unhappy sire Appear, and for their Dryope enquire; A springing tree for Dryope they find, And print warm kisses on the panting rind; Prostrate, with tears their kindred plant bedew, And close embrac'd, as to the roots they grew; The face was all that now remain'd of thee; No more a woman, nor yet quite a tree: Thy branches hung with humid pearls appear, From ev'ry leaf distills a trickling tear; And strait a voice, while yet a voice remains, Thus thro' the trembling boughs in sighs complains. If to the wretched any faith be giv'n, I swear by all th' unpitying Pow'rs of Heav'n, No wilful crime this heavy vengeance bred, In mutual innocence our lives we led. If this be false, let these new greens decay, Let sounding axes lop my limbs away, And crackling flames on all my honours prey. Now from my branching arms this infant bear, Let some kind nurse supply a mother's care; Yet to his mother let him oft be led, Sport in her shades, and in her shades be fed; Teach him, when first his infant voice shall frame Imperfect words, and lisp his mother's name, To hail this tree, and say with weeping eyes, Within this plant my hapless parent lies; And when in youth he seeks the shady woods, Oh, let him fly the chrystal lakes and floods, Nor touch the fatal flow'rs; but warn'd by me, Believe a Goddess shrin'd in ev'ry tree. My sire, my sister, and my spouse farewel! If in your breasts or love, or pity, dwell, Protect your plant, nor let my branches feel The browzing cattle, or the piercing steel. Farewel! and since I cannot bend to join My lips to yours, advance at least to mine. My son, thy mother's parting kiss receive, While yet thy mother has a kiss to give. I can no more; the creeping rind invades My closing lips, and hides my head in shades: Remove your hands; the bark shall soon suffice, Without their aid, to seal these dying eyes. She ceas'd at once to speak, and ceas'd to be; And all the nymph was lost within the tree: Yet latent life thro' her new branches reign'd, And long the plant a human heat retain'd. Iolaus restor'd to Youth While Iole the fatal change declares, Alcmena's pitying hand oft wip'd her tears. Grief too stream'd down her cheeks; soon sorrow flies, And rising joy the trickling moisture dries, Lo Iolaus stands before their eyes. A youth he stood; and the soft down began O'er his smooth chin to spread, and promise man. Hebe submitted to her husband's pray'rs, Instill'd new vigour, and restor'd his years. The Prophecy of Themis Now from her lips a solemn oath had past, That Iolaus this gift alone shou'd taste, Had not just Themis thus maturely said (Which check'd her vow, and aw'd the blooming maid). Thebes is embroil'd in war. Capaneus stands Invincible, but by the Thund'rer's hands. Ambition shall the guilty brothers fire, Both rush to mutual wounds, and both expire. The reeling Earth shall ope her gloomy womb, Where the yet breathing bard shall find his tomb. The son shall bath his hands in parents' blood, And in one act be both unjust, and good. Of home, and sense depriv'd, where-e'er he flies, The Furies, and his mother's ghost he spies. His wife the fatal bracelet shall implore, And Phegeus stain his sword in kindred gore. Callirhoe shall then with suppliant pray'r Prevail on Jupiter's relenting ear. Jove shall with youth her infant sons inspire, And bid their bosoms glow with manly fire. The Debate of the Gods When Themis thus with prescient voice had spoke, Among the Gods a various murmur broke; Dissention rose in each immortal breast, That one should grant, what was deny'd the rest. Aurora for her aged spouse complains, And Ceres grieves for Jason's freezing veins; Vulcan would Erichthonius' years renew, Her future race the care of Venus drew, She would Anchises' blooming age restore; A diff'rent care employ'd each heav'nly Pow'r: Thus various int'rests did their jars encrease, 'Till Jove arose; he spoke, their tumults cease. Is any rev'rence to our presence giv'n, Then why this discord 'mong the Pow'rs of Heav'n? Who can the settled will of Fate subdue? 'Twas by the Fates that Iolaus knew A second youth. The Fates' determin'd doom Shall give Callirhoe's race a youthful bloom. Arms, nor ambition can this pow'r obtain; Quell your desires; ev'n me the Fates restrain. Could I their will controul, no rolling years Had Aeacus bent down with silver hairs; Then Rhadamanthus still had youth possess'd, And Minos with eternal bloom been bless'd. Jove's words the synod mov'd; the Pow'rs give o'er, And urge in vain unjust complaint no more. Since Rhadamanthus' veins now slowly flow'd, And Aeacus, and Minos bore the load; Minos, who in the flow'r of youth, and fame, Made mighty nations tremble at his name, Infirm with age, the proud Miletus fears, Vain of his birth, and in the strength of years, And now regarding all his realms as lost, He durst not force him from his native coast. But you by choice, Miletus, fled his reign, And thy swift vessel plow'd th' Aegean main; On Asiatick shores a town you frame, Which still is honour'd with the founder's name. Here you Cyanee knew, the beauteous maid, As on her father's winding banks she stray'd: Caunus and Byblis hence their lineage trace, The double offspring of your warm embrace. The Passion of of Byblis Let the sad fate of wretched Byblis prove A dismal warning to unlawful love; One birth gave being to the hapless pair, But more was Caunus than a sister's care; Unknown she lov'd, for yet the gentle fire Rose not in flames, nor kindled to desire, 'Twas thought no sin to wonder at his charms, Hang on his neck, and languish in his arms; Thus wing'd with joy, fled the soft hours away, And all the fatal guilt on harmless Nature lay. But love (too soon from piety declin'd) Insensibly deprav'd her yielding mind. Dress'd she appears, with nicest art adorn'd, And ev'ry youth, but her lov'd brother, scorn'd; For him alone she labour'd to be fair, And curst all charms that might with hers compare. 'Twas she, and only she, must Caunus please, Sick at her heart, yet knew not her disease: She call'd him lord, for brother was a name Too cold, and dull for her aspiring flame; And when he spoke, if sister he reply'd, For Byblis change that frozen word, she cry'd. Yet waking still she watch'd her strugling breast, And love's approaches were in vain address'd, 'Till gentle sleep an easy conquest made, And in her soft embrace the conqueror was laid. But oh too soon the pleasing vision fled, And left her blushing on the conscious bed: Ah me! (she cry'd) how monstrous do I seem? Why these wild thoughts? and this incestuous dream? Envy herself ('tis true) must own his charms, But what is beauty in a sister's arms? Oh were I not that despicable she, How bless'd, how pleas'd, how happy shou'd I be! But unregarded now must bear my pain, And but in dreams, my wishes can obtain. O sea-born Goddess! with thy wanton boy! Was ever such a charming scene of joy? Such perfect bliss! such ravishing delight! Ne'er hid before in the kind shades of night. How pleas'd my heart! in what sweet raptures tost! Ev'n life it self in the soft combat lost, While breathless he on my heav'd bosom lay, And snatch'd the treasures of my soul away. If the bare fancy so affects my mind, How shou'd I rave if to the substance join'd? Oh, gentle Caunus! quit thy hated line, Or let thy parents be no longer mine! Oh that in common all things were enjoy'd, But those alone who have our hopes destroy'd. Were I a princess, thou an humble swain, The proudest kings shou'd rival thee in vain. It cannot be, alas! the dreadful ill Is fix'd by Fate, and he's my brother still. Hear me, ye Gods! I must have friends in Heav'n, For Jove himself was to a sister giv'n: But what are their prerogatives above, To the short liberties of human love? Fantastick thoughts! down, down, forbidden fires, Or instant death extinguish my desires. Strict virtue, then, with thy malicious leave, Without a crime I may a kiss receive: But say shou'd I in spight of laws comply, Yet cruel Caunus might himself deny, No pity take of an afflicted maid (For love's sweet game must be by couples play'd). Yet why shou'd youth, and charms like mine, despair? Such fears ne'er startled the Aeolian pair; No ties of blood could their full hopes destroy, They broke thro' all, for the prevailing joy; And who can tell but Caunus too may be Rack'd and tormented in his breast for me? Like me, to the extreamest anguish drove, Like me, just waking from a dream of love? But stay! Oh whither wou'd my fury run! What arguments I urge to be undone! Away fond Byblis, quench these guilty flames; Caunus thy love but as brother claims; Yet had he first been touch'd with love of me, The charming youth cou'd I despairing see? Oppress'd with grief, and dying by disdain? Ah no! too sure I shou'd have eas'd his pain! Since then, if Caunus ask'd me, it were done; Asking my self, what dangers can I run? But canst thou ask? and see that right betray'd, From Pyrrha down to thy whole sex convey'd? That self-denying gift we all enjoy, Of wishing to be won, yet seeming to be coy. Well then, for once, let a fond mistress woo; The force of love no custom can subdue; This frantick passion he by words shall know, Soft as the melting heart from whence they flow. The pencil then in her fair hand she held, By fear discourag'd, but by love compell'd She writes, then blots, writes on, and blots again, Likes it as fit, then razes it as vain: Shame, and assurance in her face appear, And a faint hope just yielding to despair; Sister was wrote, and blotted as a word Which she, and Caunus too (she hop'd) abhorr'd; But now resolv'd to be no more controul'd By scrup'lous virtue, thus her grief she told. Thy lover (gentle Caunus) wishes thee That health, which thou alone canst give to me. O charming youth! the gift I ask bestow, Ere thou the name of the fond writer know; To thee without a name I would be known, Since knowing that, my frailty I must own. Yet why shou'd I my wretched name conceal? When thousand instances my flames reveal: Wan looks, and weeping eyes have spoke my pain, And sighs discharg'd from my heav'd heart in vain; Had I not wish'd my passion might be seen, What cou'd such fondness and embraces mean? Such kisses too! (Oh heedless lovely boy) Without a crime no sister cou'd enjoy: Yet (tho' extreamest rage has rack'd my soul, And raging fires in my parch'd bosom roul) Be witness, Gods! how piously I strove, To rid my thoughts of this enchanting love. But who cou'd scape so fierce, and sure a dart, Aim'd at a tender, and defenceless heart? Alas! what maid cou'd suffer, I have born, Ere the dire secret from my breast was torn; To thee a helpless vanquish'd wretch I come, 'Tis you alone can save, or give my doom; My life, or death this moment you may chuse. Yet think, oh think, no hated stranger sues, No foe; but one, alas! too near ally'd, And wishing still much nearer to be ty'd. The forms of decency let age debate, And virtue's rules by their cold morals state; Their ebbing joys give leisure to enquire, And blame those noble flights our youth inspire: Where Nature kindly summons let us go, Our sprightly years no bounds in love shou'd know, Shou'd feel no check of guilt, and fear no ill; Lovers, and Gods act all things at their will: We gain one blessing from our hated kin, Since our paternal freedom hides the sin; Uncensur'd in each other's arms we lye, Think then how easie to compleat our joy. Oh, pardon and oblige a blushing maid, Whose rage the pride of her vain sex betray'd; Nor let my tomb thus mournfully complain, Here Byblis lies, by her lov'd Caunus slain. Forc'd here to end, she with a falling tear Temper'd the pliant wax, which did the signet bear: The curious cypher was impress'd by art, But love had stamp'd one deeper in her heart; Her page, a youth of confidence, and skill, (Secret as night) stood waiting on her will; Sighing (she cry'd): Bear this, thou faithful boy, To my sweet partner in eternal joy: Here a long pause her secret guilt confess'd, And when at length she would have spoke the rest, Half the dear name lay bury'd in her breast. Thus as he listned to her vain command, Down fell the letter from her trembling hand. The omen shock'd her soul. Yet go, she cry'd; Can a request from Byblis be deny'd? To the Maeandrian youth this message's born, The half-read lines by his fierce rage were torn; Hence, hence, he cry'd, thou pandar to her lust, Bear hence the triumph of thy impious trust: Thy instant death will but divulge her shame, Or thy life's blood shou'd quench the guilty flame. Frighted, from threatning Caunus he withdrew, And with the dreadful news to his lost mistress flew. The sad repulse so struck the wounded fair, Her sense was bury'd in her wild despair; Pale was her visage, as the ghastly dead; And her scar'd soul from the sweet mansion fled; Yet with her life renew'd, her love returns, And faintly thus her cruel fate she mourns: 'Tis just, ye Gods! was my false reason blind? To write a secret of this tender kind? With female craft I shou'd at first have strove, By dubious hints to sound his distant love; And try'd those useful, tho' dissembled, arts, Which women practise on disdainful hearts: I shou'd have watch'd whence the black storm might rise; Ere I had trusted the unfaithful skies. Now on the rouling billows I am tost, And with extended sails, on the blind shelves am lost. Did not indulgent Heav'n my doom foretell, When from my hand the fatal letter fell? What madness seiz'd my soul? and urg'd me on To take the only course to be undone? I cou'd my self have told the moving tale With such alluring grace as must prevail; Then had his eyes beheld my blushing fears, My rising sighs, and my descending tears; Round his dear neck these arms I then had spread, And, if rejected, at his feet been dead: If singly these had not his thoughts inclin'd, Yet all united would have shock'd his mind. Perhaps, my careless page might be in fault, And in a luckless hour the fatal message brought; Business, and worldly thoughts might fill his breast, Sometimes ev'n love itself may be an irksome guest: He cou'd not else have treated me with scorn, For Caunus was not of a tygress born; Nor steel, nor adamant has fenc'd his heart; Like mine, 'tis naked to the burning dart. Away false fears! he must, he shall be mine; In death alone I will my claim resign; 'Tis vain to wish my written crime unknown, And for my guilt much vainer to atone. Repuls'd and baffled, fiercer still she burns, And Caunus with disdain her impious love returns. He saw no end of her injurious flame, And fled his country to avoid the shame. Forsaken Byblis, who had hopes no more; Burst out in rage, and her loose robes she tore; With her fair hands she smote her tender breast, And to the wond'ring world her love confess'd; O'er hills and dales, o'er rocks and streams she flew, But still in vain did her wild lust pursue: Wearied at length, on the cold earth she fell, And now in tears alone could her sad story tell. Relenting Gods in pity fix'd her there, And to a fountain turn'd the weeping fair. The Fable of Iphis and Ian the The fame of this, perhaps, thro' Crete had flown: But Crete had newer wonders of her own, In Iphis chang'd; for, near the Gnossian bounds (As loud report the miracle resounds), At Phaestus dwelt a man of honest blood, But meanly born, and not so rich as good; Esteem'd, and lov'd by all the neighbourhood; Who to his wife, before the time assign'd For child-birth came, thus bluntly spoke his mind. If Heav'n, said Lygdus, will vouchsafe to hear, I have but two petitions to prefer; Short pains for thee, for me a son and heir. Girls cost as many throes in bringing forth; Beside, when born, the titts are little worth; Weak puling things, unable to sustain Their share of labour, and their bread to gain. If, therefore, thou a creature shalt produce, Of so great charges, and so little use (Bear witness, Heav'n, with what reluctancy), Her hapless innocence I doom to die. He said, and common tears the common grief display, Of him who bad, and her who must obey. Yet Telethusa still persists, to find Fit arguments to move a father's mind; T' extend his wishes to a larger scope, And in one vessel not confine his hope. Lygdus continues hard: her time drew near, And she her heavy load could scarcely bear; When slumbring, in the latter shades of night, Before th' approaches of returning light, She saw, or thought she saw, before her bed, A glorious train, and Isis at their head: Her moony horns were on her forehead plac'd, And yellow shelves her shining temples grac'd: A mitre, for a crown, she wore on high; The dog, and dappl'd bull were waiting by; Osyris, sought along the banks of Nile; The silent God: the sacred crocodile; And, last, a long procession moving on, With timbrels, that assist the lab'ring moon. Her slumbers seem'd dispell'd, and, broad awake, She heard a voice, that thus distinctly spake. My votary, thy babe from death defend, Nor fear to save whate'er the Gods will send. Delude with art thy husband's dire decree: When danger calls, repose thy trust on me: And know thou hast not serv'd a thankless deity. This promise made, with night the Goddess fled; With joy the woman wakes, and leaves her bed; Devoutly lifts her spotless hands on high, And prays the Pow'rs their gift to ratifie. Now grinding pains proceed to bearing throes, 'Till its own weight the burden did disclose. 'Twas of the beauteous kind, and brought to light With secrecy, to shun the father's sight. Th' indulgent mother did her care employ, And past it on her husb and for a boy. The nurse was conscious of the fact alone; The father paid his vows as for a son; And call'd him Iphis, by a common name, Which either sex with equal right may claim. Iphis his grandsire was; the wife was pleas'd, Of half the fraud by Fortune's favour eas'd: The doubtful name was us'd without deceit, And truth was cover'd with a pious cheat. The habit show'd a boy, the beauteous face With manly fierceness mingled female grace. Now thirteen years of age were swiftly run, When the fond father thought the time drew on Of settling in the world his only son. Ian the was his choice; so wondrous fair, Her form alone with Iphis cou'd compare; A neighbour's daughter of his own degree, And not more bless'd with Fortune's goods than he. They soon espous'd; for they with ease were join'd, Who were before contracted in the mind. Their age the same, their inclinations too; And bred together, in one school they grew. Thus, fatally dispos'd to mutual fires, They felt, before they knew, the same desires. Equal their flame, unequal was their care; One lov'd with hope, one languish'd in despair. The maid accus'd the lingring day alone: For whom she thought a man, she thought her own. But Iphis bends beneath a greater grief; As fiercely burns, but hopes for no relief. Ev'n her despair adds fuel to her fire; A maid with madness does a maid desire. And, scarce refraining tears, Alas, said she, What issue of my love remains for me! How wild a passion works within my breast, With what prodigious flames am I possest! Could I the care of Providence deserve, Heav'n must destroy me, if it would preserve. And that's my fate, or sure it would have sent Some usual evil for my punishment: Not this unkindly curse; to rage, and burn, Where Nature shews no prospect of return. Nor cows for cows consume with fruitless fire; Nor mares, when hot, their fellow-mares desire: The father of the fold supplies his ewes; The stag through secret woods his hind pursues; And birds for mates the males of their own species chuse. Her females Nature guards from female flame, And joins two sexes to preserve the game: Wou'd I were nothing, or not what I am! Crete, fam'd for monsters, wanted of her store, 'Till my new love produc'd one monster more. The daughter of the sun a bull desir'd, And yet ev'n then a male a female fir'd: Her passion was extravagantly new, But mine is much the madder of the two. To things impossible she was not bent, But found the means to compass her intent. To cheat his eyes she took a different shape; Yet still she gain'd a lover, and a leap. Shou'd all the wit of all the world conspire, Shou'd Daedalus assist my wild desire, What art can make me able to enjoy, Or what can change Ian the to a boy? Extinguish then thy passion, hopeless maid, And recollect thy reason for thy aid. Know what thou art, and love as maidens ought, And drive these golden wishes from thy thought. Thou canst not hope thy fond desires to gain; Where hope is wanting, wishes are in vain. And yet no guards against our joys conspire; No jealous husb and hinders our desire; My parents are propitious to my wish, And she herself consenting to the bliss. All things concur to prosper our design; All things to prosper any love but mine. And yet I never can enjoy the fair; 'Tis past the pow'r of Heav'n to grant my pray'r. Heav'n has been kind, as far as Heav'n can be; Our parents with our own desires agree; But Nature, stronger than the Gods above, Refuses her assistance to my love; She sets the bar that causes all my pain; One gift refus'd, makes all their bounty vain. And now the happy day is just at hand, To bind our hearts in Hymen's holy band: Our hearts, but not our bodies: thus accurs'd, In midst of water I complain of thirst. Why com'st thou, Juno, to these barren rites, To bless a bed defrauded of delights? But why shou'd Hymen lift his torch on high, To see two brides in cold embraces lye? Thus love-sick Iphis her vain passion mourns; With equal ardour fair Ian the burns, Invoking Hymen's name, and Juno's pow'r, To speed the work, and haste the happy hour. She hopes, while Telethusa fears the day, And strives to interpose some new delay: Now feigns a sickness, now is in a fright For this bad omen, or that boding sight. But having done whate'er she could devise, And empty'd all her magazine of lies, The time approach'd; the next ensuing day The fatal secret must to light betray. Then Telethusa had recourse to pray'r, She, and her daughter with dishevel'd hair; Trembling with fear, great Isis they ador'd, Embrac'd her altar, and her aid implor'd. Fair queen, who dost on fruitful Egypt smile, Who sway'st the sceptre of the Pharian isle, And sev'n-fold falls of disemboguing Nile, Relieve, in this our last distress, she said, A suppliant mother, and a mournful maid. Thou, Goddess, thou wert present to my sight; Reveal'd I saw thee by thy own fair light: I saw thee in my dream, as now I see, With all thy marks of awful majesty: The glorious train that compass'd thee around; And heard the hollow timbrels holy sound. Thy words I noted, which I still retain; Let not thy sacred oracles be vain. That Iphis lives, that I myself am free From shame, and punishment, I owe to thee. On thy protection all our hopes depend. Thy counsel sav'd us, let thy pow'r defend. Her tears pursu'd her words; and while she spoke, The Goddess nodded, and her altar shook: The temple doors, as with a blast of wind, Were heard to clap; the lunar horns that bind The brows of Isis cast a blaze around; The trembling timbrel made a murm'ring sound. Some hopes these happy omens did impart; Forth went the mother with a beating heart: Not much in fear, nor fully satisfy'd; But Iphis follow'd with a larger stride: The whiteness of her skin forsook her face; Her looks embolden'd with an awful grace; Her features, and her strength together grew, And her long hair to curling locks withdrew. Her sparkling eyes with manly vigour shone, Big was her voice, audacious was her tone. The latent parts, at length reveal'd, began To shoot, and spread, and burnish into man. The maid becomes a youth; no more delay Your vows, but look, and confidently pay. Their gifts the parents to the temple bear: The votive tables this inscription wear; Iphis the man, has to the Goddess paid The vows, that Iphis offer'd when a maid. Now when the star of day had shewn his face, Venus and Juno with their presence grace The nuptial rites, and Hymen from above Descending to compleat their happy love; The Gods of marriage lend their mutual aid; And the warm youth enjoys the lovely maid. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- ~ Ovid, BOOK THE NINTH ,

1028:BOOK THE SEVENTH The Story of Medea and Jason The Argonauts now stemm'd the foaming tide, And to Arcadia's shore their course apply'd; Where sightless Phineus spent his age in grief, But Boreas' sons engage in his relief; And those unwelcome guests, the odious race Of Harpyes, from the monarch's table chase. With Jason then they greater toils sustain, And Phasis' slimy banks at last they gain, Here boldly they demand the golden prize Of Scythia's king, who sternly thus replies: That mighty labours they must first o'ercome, Or sail their Argo thence unfreighted home. Meanwhile Medea, seiz'd with fierce desire, By reason strives to quench the raging fire; But strives in vain!- Some God (she said) withstands, And reason's baffl'd council countermands. What unseen Pow'r does this disorder move? 'Tis love,- at least 'tis like, what men call love. Else wherefore shou'd the king's commands appear To me too hard?- But so indeed they are. Why shou'd I for a stranger fear, lest he Shou'd perish, whom I did but lately see? His death, or safety, what are they to me? Wretch, from thy virgin-breast this flame expel, And soon- Oh cou'd I, all wou'd then be well! But love, resistless love, my soul invades; Discretion this, affection that perswades. I see the right, and I approve it too, Condemn the wrong- and yet the wrong pursue. Why, royal maid, shou'dst thou desire to wed A wanderer, and court a foreign bed? Thy native land, tho' barb'rous, can present A bridegroom worth a royal bride's content: And whether this advent'rer lives, or dies, In Fate, and Fortune's fickle pleasure lies. Yet may be live! for to the Pow'rs above, A virgin, led by no impulse of love, So just a suit may, for the guiltless, move. Whom wou'd not Jason's valour, youth and blood Invite? or cou'd these merits be withstood, At least his charming person must encline The hardest heart- I'm sure 'tis so with mine! Yet, if I help him not, the flaming breath Of bulls, and earth-born foes, must be his death. Or, should he through these dangers force his way, At last he must be made the dragon's prey. If no remorse for such distress I feel, I am a tigress, and my breast is steel. Why do I scruple then to see him slain, And with the tragick scene my eyes prophane? My magick's art employ, not to asswage The Salvages, but to enflame their rage? His earth-born foes to fiercer fury move, And accessary to his murder prove? The Gods forbid- But pray'rs are idle breath, When action only can prevent his death. Shall I betray my father, and the state, To intercept a rambling hero's fate; Who may sail off next hour, and sav'd from harms By my assistance, bless another's arms? Whilst I, not only of my hopes bereft, But to unpity'd punishment am left. If he is false, let the ingrateful bleed! But no such symptom in his looks I read. Nature wou'd ne'er have lavish'd so much grace Upon his person, if his soul were base. Besides, he first shall plight his faith, and swear By all the Gods; what therefore can'st thou fear? Medea haste, from danger set him free, Jason shall thy eternal debtor be. And thou, his queen, with sov'raign state enstall'd, By Graecian dames the Kind Preserver call'd. Hence idle dreams, by love-sick fancy bred! Wilt thou, Medea, by vain wishes led, To sister, brother, father bid adieu? Forsake thy country's Gods, and country too? My father's harsh, my brother but a child, My sister rivals me, my country's wild; And for its Gods, the greatest of 'em all Inspires my breast, and I obey his call. That great endearments I forsake, is true, But greater far the hopes that I pursue: The pride of having sav'd the youths of Greece (Each life more precious than our golden fleece); A nobler soil by me shall be possest, I shall see towns with arts and manners blest; And, what I prize above the world beside, Enjoy my Jason- and when once his bride, Be more than mortal, and to Gods ally'd. They talk of hazards I must first sustain, Of floating islands justling in the main; Our tender barque expos'd to dreadful shocks Of fierce Charybdis' gulf, and Scylla's rocks, Where breaking waves in whirling eddies rowl, And rav'nous dogs that in deep caverns howl: Amidst these terrors, while I lye possest Of him I love, and lean on Jason's breast, In tempests unconcern'd I will appear, Or, only for my husband's safety fear. Didst thou say husband?- canst thou so deceive Thy self, fond maid, and thy own cheat believe? In vain thou striv'st to varnish o'er thy shame, And grace thy guilt with wedlock's sacred name. Pull off the coz'ning masque, and oh! in time Discover and avoid the fatal crime. She ceas'd- the Graces now, with kind surprize, And virtue's lovely train, before her eyes Present themselves, and vanquish'd Cupid flies. She then retires to Hecate's shrine, that stood Far in the covert of a shady wood: She finds the fury of her flames asswag'd, But, seeing Jason there, again they rag'd. Blushes, and paleness did by turns invade Her tender cheeks, and secret grief betray'd. As fire, that sleeping under ashes lyes, Fresh-blown, and rous'd, does up in blazes rise, So flam'd the virgin's breast- New kindled by her lover's sparkling eyes. For chance, that day, had with uncommon grace Adorn'd the lovely youth, and through his face Display'd an air so pleasing as might charm A Goddess, and a Vestal's bosom warm. Her ravish'd eyes survey him o'er and o'er, As some gay wonder never seen before; Transported to the skies she seems to be, And thinks she gazes on a deity. But when he spoke, and prest her trembling hand, And did with tender words her aid demand, With vows, and oaths to make her soon his bride, She wept a flood of tears, and thus reply'd: I see my error, yet to ruin move, Nor owe my fate to ignorance, but love: Your life I'll guard, and only crave of you To swear once more- and to your oath be true. He swears by Hecate he would all fulfil, And by her grandfa ther's prophetick skill, By ev'ry thing that doubting love cou'd press, His present danger, and desir'd success. She credits him, and kindly does produce Enchanted herbs, and teaches him their use: Their mystick names, and virtues he admires, And with his booty joyfully retires. The Dragon's Teeth transform'd to Men Impatient for the wonders of the day, Aurora drives the loyt'ring stars away. Now Mars's mount the pressing people fill, The crowd below, the nobles crown the hill; The king himself high-thron'd above the rest, With iv'ry scepter, and in purple drest. Forthwith the brass-hoof'd bulls are set at large, Whose furious nostrils sulph'rous flame discharge: The blasted herbage by their breath expires; As forges rumble with excessive fires, And furnaces with fiercer fury glow, When water on the panting mass ye throw; With such a noise, from their convulsive breast, Thro' bellowing throats, the struggling vapour prest. Yet Jason marches up without concern, While on th' advent'rous youth the monsters turn Their glaring eyes, and, eager to engage, Brandish their steel-tipt horns in threatning rage: With brazen hoofs they beat the ground, and choak The ambient air with clouds of dust and smoak: Each gazing Graecian for his champion shakes, While bold advances he securely makes Thro' sindging blasts; such wonders magick art Can work, when love conspires, and plays his part. The passive savages like statues stand, While he their dew-laps stroaks with soothing hand; To unknown yokes their brawny necks they yield, And, like tame oxen, plow the wond'ring field. The Colchians stare; the Graecians shout, and raise Their champion's courage with inspiring praise. Embolden'd now, on fresh attempts he goes, With serpent's teeth the fertile furrows sows; The glebe, fermenting with inchanted juice, Makes the snake's teeth a human crop produce. For as an infant, pris'ner to the womb, Contented sleeps, 'till to perfection come, Then does the cell's obscure confinement scorn, He tosses, throbs, and presses to be born; So from the lab'ring Earth no single birth, But a whole troop of lusty youths rush forth; And, what's more strange, with martial fury warm'd, And for encounter all compleatly arm'd; In rank and file, as they were sow'd, they stand, Impatient for the signal of command. No foe but the Aemonian youth appears; At him they level their steel-pointed spears; His frighted friends, who triumph'd, just before, With peals of sighs his desp'rate case deplore: And where such hardy warriors are afraid, What must the tender, and enamour'd maid? Her spirits sink, the blood her cheek forsook; She fears, who for his safety undertook: She knew the vertue of the spells she gave, She knew the force, and knew her lover brave; But what's a single champion to an host? Yet scorning thus to see him tamely lost, Her strong reserve of secret arts she brings, And last, her never-failing song she sings. Wonders ensue; among his gazing foes The massy fragment of a rock he throws; This charm in civil war engag'd 'em all; By mutual wounds those Earth-born brothers fall. The Greeks, transported with the strange success, Leap from their seats the conqu'ror to caress; Commend, and kiss, and clasp him in their arms: So would the kind contriver of the charms; But her, who felt the tenderest concern, Honour condemns in secret flames to burn; Committed to a double guard of fame, Aw'd by a virgin's, and a princess' name. But thoughts are free, and fancy unconfin'd, She kisses, courts, and hugs him in her mind; To fav'ring Pow'rs her silent thanks she gives, By whose indulgence her lov'd hero lives. One labour more remains, and, tho' the last, In danger far surmounting all the past; That enterprize by Fates in store was kept, To make the dragon sleep that never slept, Whose crest shoots dreadful lustre; from his jaws A tripple tire of forked stings he draws, With fangs, and wings of a prodigious size: Such was the guardian of the golden prize. Yet him, besprinkled with Lethaean dew, The fair inchantress into slumber threw; And then, to fix him, thrice she did repeat The rhyme, that makes the raging winds retreat, In stormy seas can halcyon seasons make, Turn rapid streams into a standing lake; While the soft guest his drowzy eye-lids seals, Th' ungarded golden fleece the stranger steals; Proud to possess the purchase of his toil, Proud of his royal bride, the richer spoil; To sea both prize, and patroness he bore, And lands triumphant on his native shore. Old Aeson restor'd to Youth Aemonian matrons, who their absence mourn'd, Rejoyce to see their prosp'rous sons return'd: Rich curling fumes of incense feast the skies, An hecatomb of voted victims dies, With gilded horns, and garlands on their head, And all the pomp of death, to th' altar led. Congratulating bowls go briskly round, Triumphant shouts in louder musick drown'd. Amidst these revels, why that cloud of care On Jason's brow? (to whom the largest share Of mirth was due)- His father was not there. Aeson was absent, once the young, and brave, Now crush'd with years, and bending to the grave. At last withdrawn, and by the crowd unseen, Pressing her hand (with starting sighs between), He supplicates his kind, and skilful queen. O patroness! preserver of my life! (Dear when my mistress, and much dearer wife) Your favours to so vast a sum amount, 'Tis past the pow'r of numbers to recount; Or cou'd they be to computation brought, The history would a romance be thought: And yet, unless you add one favour more, Greater than all that you conferr'd before, But not too hard for love and magick skill, Your past are thrown away, and Jason's wretched still. The morning of my life is just begun, But my declining father's race is run; From my large stock retrench the long arrears, And add 'em to expiring Aeson's years. Thus spake the gen'rous youth, and wept the rest. Mov'd with the piety of his request, To his ag'd sire such filial duty shown, So diff'rent from her treatment of her own, But still endeav'ring her remorse to hide, She check'd her rising sighs, and thus reply'd. How cou'd the thought of such inhuman wrong Escape (said she) from pious Jason's tongue? Does the whole world another Jason bear, Whose life Medea can to yours prefer? Or cou'd I with so dire a change dispence, Hecate will never join in that offence: Unjust is the request you make, and I In kindness your petition shall deny; Yet she that grants not what you do implore, Shall yet essay to give her Jason more; Find means t' encrease the stock of Aeson's years, Without retrenchment of your life's arrears; Provided that the triple Goddess join A strong confed'rate in my bold design. Thus was her enterprize resolv'd; but still Three tedious nights are wanting to fulfil The circling crescents of th' encreasing moon; Then, in the height of her nocturnal noon, Medea steals from court; her ankles bare, Her garments closely girt, but loose her hair; Thus sally'd, like a solitary sprite, She traverses the terrors of the night. Men, beasts, and birds in soft repose lay charm'd, No boistrous wind the mountain-woods alarm'd; Nor did those walks of love, the myrtle-trees, Of am'rous Zephir hear the whisp'ring breeze; All elements chain'd in unactive rest, No sense but what the twinkling stars exprest; To them (that only wak'd) she rears her arm, And thus commences her mysterious charms. She turn'd her thrice about, as oft she threw On her pale tresses the nocturnal dew; Then yelling thrice a most enormous sound, Her bare knee bended on the flinty ground. O night (said she) thou confident and guide Of secrets, such as darkness ought to hide; Ye stars and moon, that, when the sun retires, Support his empire with succeeding fires; And thou, great Hecate, friend to my design; Songs, mutt'ring spells, your magick forces join; And thou, O Earth, the magazine that yields The midnight sorcerer drugs; skies, mountains, fields; Ye wat'ry Pow'rs of fountain, stream, and lake; Ye sylvan Gods, and Gods of night, awake, And gen'rously your parts in my adventure take. Oft by your aid swift currents I have led Thro' wand'ring banks, back to their fountain head; Transformed the prospect of the briny deep, Made sleeping billows rave, and raving billows sleep; Made clouds, or sunshine; tempests rise, or fall; And stubborn lawless winds obey my call: With mutter'd words disarm'd the viper's jaw; Up by the roots vast oaks, and rocks cou'd draw, Make forests dance, and trembling mountains come, Like malefactors, to receive their doom; Earth groan, and frighted ghosts forsake their tomb. Thee, Cynthia, my resistless rhymes drew down, When tinkling cymbals strove my voice to drown; Nor stronger Titan could their force sustain, In full career compell'd to stop his wain: Nor could Aurora's virgin blush avail, With pois'nous herbs I turn'd her roses pale; The fury of the fiery bulls I broke, Their stubborn necks submitting to my yoke; And when the sons of Earth with fury burn'd, Their hostile rage upon themselves I turn'd; The brothers made with mutual wounds to bleed, And by their fatal strife my lover freed; And, while the dragon slept, to distant Greece, Thro' cheated guards, convey'd the golden fleece. But now to bolder action I proceed, Of such prevailing juices now have need, That wither'd years back to their bloom can bring, And in dead winter raise a second spring. And you'll perform't- You will; for lo! the stars, with sparkling fires, Presage as bright success to my desires: And now another happy omen see! A chariot drawn by dragons waits for me. With these last words he leaps into the wain, Stroaks the snakes' necks, and shakes the golden rein; That signal giv'n, they mount her to the skies, And now beneath her fruitful Tempe lies, Whose stories she ransacks, then to Crete she flies; There Ossa, Pelion, Othrys, Pindus, all To the fair ravisher, a booty fall; The tri bute of their verdure she collects, Nor proud Olympus' height his plants protects. Some by the roots she plucks; the tender tops Of others with her culling sickle crops. Nor could the plunder of the hills suffice, Down to the humble vales, and meads she flies; Apidanus, Amphrysus, the next rape Sustain, nor could Enipeus' bank escape; Thro' Beebe's marsh, and thro' the border rang'd Whose pasture Glaucus to a Triton chang'd. Now the ninth day, and ninth successive night, Had wonder'd at the restless rover's flight; Mean-while her dragons, fed with no repast, But her exhaling simples od'rous blast, Their tarnish'd scales, and wrinkled skins had cast. At last return'd before her palace gate, Quitting her chariot, on the ground she sate; The sky her only canopy of state. All conversation with her sex she fled, Shun'd the caresses of the nuptial bed: Two altars next of grassy turf she rears, This Hecate's name, that Youth's inscription bears; With forest-boughs, and vervain these she crown'd; Then delves a double trench in lower ground, And sticks a black-fleec'd ram, that ready stood, And drench'd the ditches with devoted blood: New wine she pours, and milk from th' udder warm, With mystick murmurs to compleat the charm, And subterranean deities alarm. To the stern king of ghosts she next apply'd, And gentle Proserpine, his ravish'd bride, That for old Aeson with the laws of Fate They would dispense, and leng then his short date; Thus with repeated pray'rs she long assails Th' infernal tyrant and at last prevails; Then calls to have decrepit Aeson brought, And stupifies him with a sleeping draught; On Earth his body, like a corpse, extends, Then charges Jason and his waiting friends To quit the place, that no unhallow'd eye Into her art's forbidden secrets pry. This done, th' inchantress, with her locks unbound, About her altars trips a frantick round; Piece-meal the consecrated wood she splits, And dips the splinters in the bloody pits, Then hurles 'em on the piles; the sleeping sire She lustrates thrice, with sulphur, water, fire. In a large cauldron now the med'cine boils, Compounded of her late-collected spoils, Blending into the mesh the various pow'rs Of wonder-working juices, roots, and flow'rs; With gems i' th' eastern ocean's cell refin'd, And such as ebbing tides had left behind; To them the midnight's pearly dew she flings, A scretch-owl's carcase, and ill boding wings; Nor could the wizard wolf's warm entrails scape (That wolf who counterfeits a human shape). Then, from the bottom of her conj'ring bag, Snakes' skins, and liver of a long-liv'd stag; Last a crow's head to such an age arriv'd, That he had now nine centuries surviv'd; These, and with these a thousand more that grew In sundry soils, into her pot she threw; Then with a wither'd olive-bough she rakes The bubling broth; the bough fresh verdure takes; Green leaves at first the perish'd plant surround, Which the next minute with ripe fruit were crown'd. The foaming juices now the brink o'er-swell; The barren heath, where-e'er the liquor fell, Sprang out with vernal grass, and all the pride Of blooming May- When this Medea spy'd, She cuts her patient's throat; th' exhausted blood Recruiting with her new enchanted flood; While at his mouth, and thro' his op'ning wound, A double inlet her infusion found; His feeble frame resumes a youthful air, A glossy brown his hoary beard and hair. The meager paleness from his aspect fled, And in its room sprang up a florid red; Thro' all his limbs a youthful vigour flies, His empty'd art'ries swell with fresh supplies: Gazing spectators scarce believe their eyes. But Aeson is the most surpriz'd to find A happy change in body and in mind; In sense and constitution the same man, As when his fortieth active year began. Bacchus, who from the clouds this wonder view'd, Medea's method instantly pursu'd, And his indulgent nurse's youth renew'd. The Death of Pelias Thus far obliging love employ'd her art, But now revenge must act a tragick part; Medea feigns a mortal quarrel bred Betwixt her, and the partner of her bed; On this pretence to Pelias' court she flies, Who languishing with age and sickness lies: His guiltless daughters, with inveigling wiles, And well dissembled friendship, she beguiles: The strange achievements of her art she tells, With Aeson's cure, and long on that she dwells, 'Till them to firm perswasion she has won, The same for their old father may be done: For him they court her to employ her skill, And put upon the cure what price she will. At first she's mute, and with a grave pretence Of difficulty, holds 'em in suspense; Then promises, and bids 'em, from the fold Chuse out a ram, the most infirm and old; That so by fact their doubts may be remov'd, And first on him the operation prov'd. A wreath-horn'd ram is brought, so far o'er-grown With years, his age was to that age unknown Of sense too dull the piercing point to feel, And scarce sufficient blood to stain the steel. His carcass she into a cauldron threw, With drugs whose vital qualities she knew; His limbs grow less, he casts his horns, and years, And tender bleatings strike their wond'ring ears. Then instantly leaps forth a frisking lamb, That seeks (too young to graze) a suckling dam. The sisters, thus confirm'd with the success, Her promise with renew'd entreaty press; To countenance the cheat, three nights and days Before experiment th' inchantress stays; Then into limpid water, from the springs, Weeds, and ingredients of no force she flings; With antique ceremonies for pretence And rambling rhymes without a word of sense. Mean-while the king with all his guards lay bound In magick sleep, scarce that of death so sound; The daughters now are by the sorc'ress led Into his chamber, and surround his bed. Your father's health's concern'd, and can ye stay? Unnat'ral nymphs, why this unkind delay? Unsheath your swords, dismiss his lifeless blood, And I'll recruit it with a vital flood: Your father's life and health is in your hand, And can ye thus like idle gazers stand? Unless you are of common sense bereft, If yet one spark of piety is left, Dispatch a father's cure, and disengage The monarch from his toilsome load of age: Come- drench your weapons in his putrid gore; 'Tis charity to wound, when wounding will restore. Thus urg'd, the poor deluded maids proceed, Betray'd by zeal, to an inhumane deed, And, in compassion, make a father bleed. Yes, she who had the kindest, tend'rest heart, Is foremost to perform the bloody part. Yet, tho' to act the butchery betray'd, They could not bear to see the wounds they made; With looks averted, backward they advance, Then strike, and stab, and leave the blows to chance. Waking in consternation, he essays (Weltring in blood) his feeble arms to raise: Environ'd with so many swords- From whence This barb'rous usage? what is my offence? What fatal fury, what infernal charm, 'Gainst a kind father does his daughters arm? Hearing his voice, as thunder-struck they stopt, Their resolution, and their weapons dropt: Medea then the mortal blow bestows, And that perform'd, the tragick scene to close, His corpse into the boiling cauldron throws. Then, dreading the revenge that must ensue, High mounted on her dragon-coach she flew; And in her stately progress thro' the skies, Beneath her shady Pelion first she spies, With Othrys, that above the clouds did rise; With skilful Chiron's cave, and neighb'ring ground, For old Cerambus' strange escape renown'd, By nymphs deliver'd, when the world was drown'd; Who him with unexpected wings supply'd, When delug'd hills a safe retreat deny'd. Aeolian Pitane on her left hand She saw, and there the statu'd dragon stand; With Ida's grove, where Bacchus, to disguise His son's bold theft, and to secure the prize, Made the stoln steer a stag to represent; Cocytus' father's sandy monument; And fields that held the murder'd sire's remains, Where howling Moera frights the startled plains. Euryphilus' high town, with tow'rs defac'd By Hercules, and matrons more disgrac'd With sprouting horns, in signal punishment, From Juno, or resenting Venus sent. Then Rhodes, which Phoebus did so dearly prize, And Jove no less severely did chastize; For he the wizard native's pois'ning sight, That us'd the farmer's hopeful crops to blight, In rage o'erwhelm'd with everlasting night. Cartheia's ancient walls come next in view, Where once the sire almost a statue grew With wonder, which a strange event did move, His daughter turn'd into a turtle-dove. Then Hyrie's lake, and Tempe's field o'er-ran, Fam'd for the boy who there became a swan; For there enamour'd Phyllius, like a slave, Perform'd what tasks his paramour would crave. For presents he had mountain-vultures caught, And from the desart a tame lion brought; Then a wild bull commanded to subdue, The conquer'd savage by the horns he drew; But, mock'd so oft, the treatment he disdains, And from the craving boy this prize detains. Then thus in choler the resenting lad: Won't you deliver him?- You'll wish you had: Nor sooner said, but, in a peevish mood, Leapt from the precipice on which he stood: The standers-by were struck with fresh surprize, Instead of falling, to behold him rise A snowy swan, and soaring to the skies. But dearly the rash prank his mother cost, Who ignorantly gave her son for lost; For his misfortune wept, 'till she became A lake, and still renown'd with Hyrie's name. Thence to Latona's isle, where once were seen, Transform'd to birds, a monarch, and his queen. Far off she saw how old Cephisus mourn'd His son, into a seele by Phoebus turn'd; And where, astonish'd at a stranger sight, Eumelus gaz'd on his wing'd daughter's flight. Aetolian Pleuron she did next survey, Where sons a mother's murder did essay, But sudden plumes the matron bore away. On her right hand, Cyllene, a fair soil, Fair, 'till Menephron there the beauteous hill Attempted with foul incest to defile. Her harness'd dragons now direct she drives For Corinth, and at Corinth she arrives; Where, if what old tradition tells, be true, In former ages men from mushrooms grew. But here Medea finds her bed supply'd, During her absence, by another bride; And hopeless to recover her lost game, She sets both bride and palace in a flame. Nor could a rival's death her wrath asswage, Nor stopt at Creon's family her rage, She murders her own infants, in despight To faithless Jason, and in Jason's sight; Yet e'er his sword could reach her, up she springs, Securely mounted on her dragon's wings. The Story of Aegeus From hence to Athens she directs her flight, Where Phineus, so renown'd for doing right; Where Periphas, and Polyphemon's neece, Soaring with sudden plumes amaz'd the towns of Greece. Here Aegeus so engaging she addrest, That first he treats her like a royal guest; Then takes the sorc'ress for his wedded wife; The only blemish of his prudent life. Mean-while his son, from actions of renown, Arrives at court, but to his sire unknown. Medea, to dispatch a dang'rous heir (She knew him), did a pois'nous draught prepare; Drawn from a drug, was long reserv'd in store For desp'rate uses, from the Scythian shore; That from the Echydnaean monster's jaws Deriv'd its origin, and this the cause. Thro' a dark cave a craggy passage lies, To ours, ascending from the nether skies; Thro' which, by strength of hand, Alcides drew Chain'd Cerberus, who lagg'd, and restive grew, With his blear'd eyes our brighter day to view. Thrice he repeated his enormous yell, With which he scares the ghosts, and startles Hell; At last outragious (tho' compell'd to yield) He sheds his foam in fury on the field,- Which, with its own, and rankness of the ground, Produc'd a weed, by sorcerers renown'd, The strongest constitution to confound; Call'd Aconite, because it can unlock All bars, and force its passage thro' a rock. The pious father, by her wheedles won, Presents this deadly potion to his son; Who, with the same assurance takes the cup, And to the monarch's health had drank it up, But in the very instant he apply'd The goblet to his lips, old Aegeus spy'd The iv'ry hilted sword that grac'd his side. That certain signal of his son he knew, And snatcht the bowl away; the sword he drew, Resolv'd, for such a son's endanger'd life, To sacrifice the most perfidious wife. Revenge is swift, but her more active charms A whirlwind rais'd, that snatch'd her from his arms. While conjur'd clouds their baffled sense surprize, She vanishes from their deluded eyes, And thro' the hurricane triumphant flies. The gen'rous king, altho' o'er-joy'd to find His son was safe, yet bearing still in mind The mischief by his treach'rous queen design'd; The horrour of the deed, and then how near The danger drew, he stands congeal'd with fear. But soon that fear into devotion turns, With grateful incense ev'ry altar burns; Proud victims, and unconscious of their fate, Stalk to the temple, there to die in state. In Athens never had a day been found For mirth, like that grand festival, renown'd. Promiscuously the peers, and people dine, Promiscuously their thankful voices join, In songs of wit, sublim'd by spritely wine. To list'ning spheres their joint applause they raise, And thus resound their matchless Theseus' praise. Great Theseus! Thee the Marathonian plain Admires, and wears with pride the noble stain Of the dire monster's blood, by valiant Theseus slain. That now Cromyon's swains in safety sow, And reap their fertile field, to thee they owe. By thee th' infested Epidaurian coast Was clear'd, and now can a free commerce boast. The traveller his journey can pursue, With pleasure the late dreadful valley view, And cry, Here Theseus the grand robber slew. Cephysus' cries to his rescu'd shore, The merciless Procrustes is no more. In peace, Eleusis, Ceres' rites renew, Since Theseus' sword the fierce Cercyon slew. By him the tort'rer Sinis was destroy'd, Of strength (but strength to barb'rous use employ'd) That tops of tallest pines to Earth could bend, And thus in pieces wretched captives rend. Inhuman Scyron now has breath'd his last, And now Alcatho's roads securely past; By Theseus slain, and thrown into the deep: But Earth nor Sea his scatter'd bones wou'd keep, Which, after floating long, a rock became, Still infamous with Scyron's hated name. When Fame to count thy acts and years proceeds, Thy years appear but cyphers to thy deeds. For thee, brave youth, as for our common-wealth, We pray; and drink, in yours, the publick health. Your praise the senate, and plebeians sing, With your lov'd name the court, and cottage ring. You make our shepherds and our sailors glad, And not a house in this vast city's sad. But mortal bliss will never come sincere, Pleasure may lead, but grief brings up the rear; While for his sons' arrival, rev'ling joy Aegeus, and all his subjects does employ; While they for only costly feasts prepare, His neighb'ring monarch, Minos, threatens war: Weak in land-forces, nor by sea more strong, But pow'rful in a deep resented wrong For a son's murder, arm'd with pious rage; Yet prudently before he would engage, To raise auxiliaries resolv'd to sail, And with the pow'rful princes to prevail. First Anaphe, then proud Astypalaea gains, By presents that, and this by threats obtains: Low Mycone, Cymolus, chalky soil, Tall Cythnos, Scyros, flat Seriphos' isle; Paros, with marble cliffs afar display'd; Impregnable Sithonia; yet betray'd To a weak foe by a gold-admiring maid, Who, chang'd into a daw of sable hue, Still hoards up gold, and hides it from the view. But as these islands chearfully combine, Others refuse t' embark in his design. Now leftward with an easy sail he bore, And prosp'rous passage to Oenopia's shore; Oenopia once, but now Aegina call'd, And with his royal mother's name install'd By Aeacus, under whose reign did spring The Myrmidons, and now their reigning king. Down to the port, amidst the rabble, run The princes of the blood; with Telamon, Peleus the next, and Phocus the third son: Then Aeacus, altho' opprest with years, To ask the cause of their approach appears. That question does the Gnossian's grief renew, And sighs from his afflicted bosom drew; Yet after a short solemn respite made, The ruler of the hundred cities said: Assist our arms, rais'd for a murder'd son, In this religious war no risque you'll run: Revenge the dead- for who refuse to give Rest to their urns, unworthy are to live. What you request, thus Aeacus replies, Not I, but truth and common faith denies; Athens and we have long been sworn allies: Our leagues are fix'd, confed'rate are our pow'rs, And who declare themselves their foes, are ours. Minos rejoins, Your league shall dearly cost (Yet, mindful how much safer 'twas to boast, Than there to waste his forces, and his fame, Before in field with his grand foe he came), Parts without blows- nor long had left the shore, E're into port another navy bore, With Cephalus, and all his jolly crew; Th' Aeacides their old acquaintance knew: The princes bid him welcome, and in state Conduct the heroe to their palace gate; Who entr'ring, seem'd the charming mein to wear, As when in youth he paid his visit there. In his right hand an olive-branch he holds, And, salutation past, the chief unfolds His embassy from the Athenian state, Their mutual friendship, leagues of ancient date; Their common danger, ev'ry thing cou'd wake Concern, and his address successful make: Strength'ning his plea with all the charms of sense, And those, with all the charms of eloquence. Then thus the king: Like suitors do you stand For that assistance which you may command? Athenians, all our listed forces use (They're such as no bold service will refuse); And when y' ave drawn them off, the Gods be prais'd, Fresh legions can within our isle be rais'd: So stock'd with people, that we can prepare Both for domestick, and for distant war, Ours, or our friends' insulters to chastize. Long may ye flourish thus, the prince replies. Strange transport seiz'd me as I pass'd along, To meet so many troops, and all so young, As if your army did of twins consist; Yet amongst them my late acquaintance miss'd: Ev'n all that to your palace did resort, When first you entertain'd me at your court; And cannot guess the cause from whence cou'd spring So vast a change- Then thus the sighing king: Illustrious guest, to my strange tale attend, Of sad beginning, but a joyful end: The whole to a vast history wou'd swell, I shall but half, and that confus'dly, tell. That race whom so deserv'dly you admir'd, Are all into their silent tombs retir'd: They fell; and falling, how they shook my state, Thought may conceive, but words can ne'er relate. The Story of Ants chang'd to Men A dreadful plague from angry Juno came, To scourge the land, that bore her rival's name; Before her fatal anger was reveal'd, And teeming malice lay as yet conceal'd, All remedies we try, all med'cines use, Which Nature cou'd supply, or art produce; Th' unconquer'd foe derides the vain design, And art, and Nature foil'd, declare the cause divine. At first we only felt th' oppressive weight Of gloomy clouds, then teeming with our fate, And lab'ring to discarge unactive heat: But ere four moons alternate changes knew, With deadly blasts the fatal South-wind blew, Infected all the air, and poison'd as it flew. Our fountains too a dire infection yield, For crowds of vipers creep along the field, And with polluted gore, and baneful steams, Taint all the lakes, and venom all the streams. The young disease with milder force began, And rag'd on birds, and beasts, excusing Man. The lab'ring oxen fall before the plow, Th' unhappy plow-men stare, and wonder how: The tabid sheep, with sickly bleatings, pines; Its wool decreasing, as its strength declines: The warlike steed, by inward foes compell'd, Neglects his honours, and deserts the field; Unnerv'd, and languid, seeks a base retreat, And at the manger groans, but wish'd a nobler fate: The stags forget their speed, the boars their rage, Nor can the bears the stronger herds engage: A gen'ral faintness does invade 'em all, And in the woods, and fields, promiscuously they fall. The air receives the stench, and (strange to say) The rav'nous birds and beasts avoid the prey: Th' offensive bodies rot upon the ground, And spread the dire contagion all around. But now the plague, grown to a larger size, Riots on Man, and scorns a meaner prize. Intestine heats begin the civil war, And flushings first the latent flame declare, And breath inspir'd, which seem'd like fiery air. Their black dry tongues are swell'd, and scarce can move, And short thick sighs from panting lung are drove. They gape for air, with flatt'ring hopes t' abate Their raging flames, but that augments their heat. No bed, no cov'ring can the wretches bear, But on the ground, expos'd to open air, They lye, and hope to find a pleasing coolness there. The suff'ring Earth with that oppression curst, Returns the heat which they imparted first. In vain physicians would bestow their aid, Vain all their art, and useless all their trade; And they, ev'n they, who fleeting life recall, Feel the same Pow'rs, and undistinguish'd fall. If any proves so daring to attend His sick companion, or his darling friend, Th' officious wretch sucks in contagious breath, And with his friend does sympathize in death. And now the care and hopes of life are past, They please their fancies, and indulge their taste; At brooks and streams, regardless of their shame, Each sex, promiscuous, strives to quench their flame; Nor do they strive in vain to quench it there, For thirst, and life at once extinguish'd are. Thus in the brooks the dying bodies sink, But heedless still the rash survivors drink. So much uneasy down the wretches hate, They fly their beds, to struggle with their fate; But if decaying strength forbids to rise, The victim crawls and rouls, 'till on the ground he lies. Each shuns his bed, as each wou'd shun his tomb, And thinks th' infection only lodg'd at home. Here one, with fainting steps, does slowly creep O'er heaps of dead, and strait augments the heap; Another, while his strength and tongue prevail'd, Bewails his friend, and falls himself bewail'd: This with imploring looks surveys the skies, The last dear office of his closing eyes, But finds the Heav'ns implacable, and dies. What now, ah! what employ'd my troubled mind? But only hopes my subjects' fate to find. What place soe'er my weeping eyes survey, There in lamented heaps the vulgar lay; As acorns scatter when the winds prevail, Or mellow fruit from shaken branches fall. You see that dome which rears its front so high: 'Tis sacred to the monarch of the sky: How many there, with unregarded tears, And fruitless vows, sent up successless pray'rs? There fathers for expiring sons implor'd, And there the wife bewail'd her gasping lord; With pious off'rings they'd appease the skies, But they, ere yet th' attoning vapours rise, Before the altars fall, themselves a sacrifice: They fall, while yet their hands the gums contain, The gums surviving, but their off'rers slain. The destin'd ox, with holy garlands crown'd, Prevents the blow, and feels th' expected wound: When I my self invok'd the Pow'rs divine, To drive the fatal pest from me and mine; When now the priest with hands uplifted stood, Prepar'd to strike, and shed the sacred blood, The Gods themselves the mortal stroke bestow, The victim falls, but they impart the blow: Scarce was the knife with the pale purple stain'd, And no presages cou'd be then obtain'd, From putrid entrails, where th' infection reign'd. Death stalk'd around with such resistless sway, The temples of the Gods his force obey, And suppliants feel his stroke, while yet they pray. Go now, said he, your deities implore For fruitless aid, for I defie their pow'r. Then with a curst malicious joy survey'd The very altars, stain'd with trophies of the dead. The rest grown mad, and frantick with despair, Urge their own fate, and so prevent the fear. Strange madness that, when Death pursu'd so fast, T' anticipate the blow with impious haste. No decent honours to their urns are paid, Nor cou'd the graves receive the num'rous dead; For, or they lay unbury'd on the ground, Or unadorn'd a needy fun'ral found: All rev'rence past, the fainting wretches fight For fun'ral piles which were another's right. Unmourn'd they fall: for, who surviv'd to mourn? And sires, and mothers unlamented burn: Parents, and sons sustain an equal fate, And wand'ring ghosts their kindred shadows meet. The dead a larger space of ground require, Nor are the trees sufficient for the fire. Despairing under grief's oppressive weight, And sunk by these tempestuous blasts of Fate, O Jove, said I, if common fame says true, If e'er Aegina gave those joys to you, If e'er you lay enclos'd in her embrace, Fond of her charms, and eager to possess; O father, if you do not yet disclaim Paternal care, nor yet disown the name; Grant my petitions, and with speed restore My subjects num'rous as they were before, Or make me partner of the fate they bore. I spoke, and glorious lightning shone around, And ratling thunder gave a prosp'rous sound; So let it be, and may these omens prove A pledge, said I, of your returning love. By chance a rev'rend oak was near the place, Sacred to Jove, and of Dodona's race, Where frugal ants laid up their winter meat, Whose little bodies bear a mighty weight: We saw them march along, and hide their store, And much admir'd their number, and their pow'r; Admir'd at first, but after envy'd more. Full of amazement, thus to Jove I pray'd, O grant, since thus my subjects are decay'd, As many subjects to supply the dead. I pray'd, and strange convulsions mov'd the oak, Which murmur'd, tho' by ambient winds unshook: My trembling hands, and stiff-erected hair, Exprest all tokens of uncommon fear; Yet both the earth and sacred oak I kist, And scarce cou'd hope, yet still I hop'd the best; For wretches, whatsoe'er the Fates divine, Expound all omens to their own design. But now 'twas night, when ev'n distraction wears A pleasing look, and dreams beguile our cares, Lo! the same oak appears before my eyes, Nor alter'd in his shape, nor former size; As many ants the num'rous branches bear, The same their labour, and their frugal care; The branches too a like commotion sound, And shook th' industrious creatures on the ground, Who, by degrees (what's scarce to be believ'd) A nobler form, and larger bulk receiv'd, And on the earth walk'd an unusual pace, With manly strides, and an erected face- Their num'rous legs, and former colour lost, The insects cou'd a human figure boast. I wake, and waking find my cares again, And to the unperforming Gods complain, And call their promise, and pretences, vain. Yet in my court I heard the murm'ring voice Of strangers, and a mixt uncommon noise: But I suspected all was still a dream, 'Till Telamon to my apartment came, Op'ning the door with an impetuous haste, O come, said he, and see your faith and hopes surpast: I follow, and, confus'd with wonder, view Those shapes which my presaging slumbers drew: I saw, and own'd, and call'd them subjects; they Confest my pow'r, submissive to my sway. To Jove, restorer of my race decay'd, My vows were first with due oblations paid, I then divide with an impartial hand My empty city, and my ruin'd land, To give the new-born youth an equal share, And call them Myrmidons, from what they were. You saw their persons, and they still retain The thrift of ants, tho' now transform'd to men. A frugal people, and inur'd to sweat, Lab'ring to gain, and keeping what they get. These, equal both in strength and years, shall join Their willing aid, and follow your design, With the first southern gale that shall present To fill your sails, and favour your intent. With such discourse they entertain the day; The ev'ning past in banquets, sport, and play: Then, having crown'd the night with sweet repose, Aurora (with the wind at east) arose. Now Pallas' sons to Cephalus resort, And Cephalus with Pallas' sons to court, To the king's levee; him sleep's silken chain, And pleasing dreams, beyond his hour detain; But then the princes of the blood, in state, Expect, and meet 'em at the palace gate. The Story of Cephalus and Procris To th' inmost courts the Grecian youths were led, And plac'd by Phocus on a Tyrian bed; Who, soon observing Cephalus to hold A dart of unknown wood, but arm'd with gold: None better loves (said he) the huntsman's sport, Or does more often to the woods resort; Yet I that jav'lin's stem with wonder view, Too brown for box, too smooth a grain for yew. I cannot guess the tree; but never art Did form, or eyes behold so fair a dart! The guest then interrupts him- 'Twou'd produce Still greater wonder, if you knew its use. It never fails to strike the game, and then Comes bloody back into your hand again. Then Phocus each particular desires, And th' author of the wond'rous gift enquires. To which the owner thus, with weeping eyes, And sorrow for his wife's sad fate, replies, This weapon here (o prince!) can you believe This dart the cause for which so much I grieve; And shall continue to grieve on, 'till Fate Afford such wretched life no longer date. Would I this fatal gift had ne'er enjoy'd, This fatal gift my tender wife destroy'd: Procris her name, ally'd in charms and blood To fair Orythia courted by a God. Her father seal'd my hopes with rites divine, But firmer love before had made her mine. Men call'd me blest, and blest I was indeed. The second month our nuptials did succeed; When (as upon Hymettus' dewy head, For mountain stags my net betimes I spread) Aurora spy'd, and ravish'd me away, With rev'rence to the Goddess, I must say, Against my will, for Procris had my heart, Nor wou'd her image from my thoughts depart. At last, in rage she cry'd, Ingrateful boy Go to your Procris, take your fatal joy; And so dismiss'd me: musing, as I went, What those expressions of the Goddess meant, A thousand jealous fears possess me now, Lest Procris had prophan'd her nuptial vow: Her youth and charms did to my fancy paint A lewd adultress, but her life a saint. Yet I was absent long, the Goddess too Taught me how far a woman cou'd be true. Aurora's treatment much suspicion bred; Besides, who truly love, ev'n shadows dread. I strait impatient for the tryal grew, What courtship back'd with richest gifts cou'd do. Aurora's envy aided my design, And lent me features far unlike to mine. In this disguise to my own house I came, But all was chaste, no conscious sign of blame: With thousand arts I scarce admittance found, And then beheld her weeping on the ground For her lost husband; hardly I retain'd My purpose, scarce the wish'd embrace refrain'd. How charming was her grief! Then, Phocus, guess What killing beauties waited on her dress. Her constant answer, when my suit I prest, Forbear, my lord's dear image guards this breast; Where-e'er he is, whatever cause detains, Who-e'er has his, my heart unmov'd remains. What greater proofs of truth than these cou'd be? Yet I persist, and urge my destiny. At length, she found, when my own form return'd, Her jealous lover there, whose loss she mourn'd. Enrag'd with my suspicion, swift as wind, She fled at once from me and all mankind; And so became, her purpose to retain, A nymph, and huntress in Diana's train: Forsaken thus, I found my flames encrease, I own'd my folly, and I su'd for peace. It was a fault, but not of guilt, to move Such punishment, a fault of too much love. Thus I retriev'd her to my longing arms, And many happy days possess'd her charms. But with herself she kindly did confer, What gifts the Goddess had bestow'd on her; The fleetest grey-hound, with this lovely dart, And I of both have wonders to impart. Near Thebes a savage beast, of race unknown, Laid waste the field, and bore the vineyards down; The swains fled from him, and with one consent Our Grecian youth to chase the monster went; More swift than light'ning he the toils surpast, And in his course spears, men, and trees o'er-cast. We slipt our dogs, and last my Lelaps too, When none of all the mortal race wou'd do: He long before was struggling from my hands, And, e're we cou'd unloose him, broke his bands. That minute where he was, we cou'd not find, And only saw the dust he left behind. I climb'd a neighb'ring hill to view the chase, While in the plain they held an equal race; The savage now seems caught, and now by force To quit himself, nor holds the same strait course; But running counter, from the foe withdraws, And with short turning cheats his gaping jaws: Which he retrieves, and still so closely prest, You'd fear at ev'ry stretch he were possess'd; Yet for the gripe his fangs in vain prepare; The game shoots from him, and he chops the air. To cast my jav'lin then I took my stand; But as the thongs were fitting to my hand, While to the valley I o'er-look'd the wood, Before my eyes two marble statues stood; That, as pursu'd appearing at full stretch, This barking after, and at point to catch: Some God their course did with this wonder grace, That neither might be conquer'd in the chase. A sudden silence here his tongue supprest, He here stops short, and fain wou'd wave the rest. The eager prince then urg'd him to impart, The Fortune that attended on the dart. First then (said he) past joys let me relate, For bliss was the foundation of my fate. No language can those happy hours express, Did from our nuptials me, and Procris bless: The kindest pair! What more cou'd Heav'n confer? For she was all to me, and I to her. Had Jove made love, great Jove had been despis'd; And I my Procris more than Venus priz'd: Thus while no other joy we did aspire, We grew at last one soul, and one desire. Forth to the woods I went at break of day (The constant practice of my youth) for prey: Nor yet for servant, horse, or dog did call, I found this single dart to serve for all. With slaughter tir'd, I sought the cooler shade, And winds that from the mountains pierc'd the glade: Come, gentle air (so was I wont to say) Come, gentle air, sweet Aura come away. This always was the burden of my song, Come 'swage my flames, sweet Aura come along. Thou always art most welcome to my breast; I faint; approach, thou dearest, kindest guest! These blandishments, and more than these, I said (By Fate to unsuspected ruin led), Thou art my joy, for thy dear sake I love Each desart hill, and solitary grove; When (faint with labour) I refreshment need, For cordials on thy fragrant breath I feed. At last a wand'ring swain in hearing came, And cheated with the sound of Aura's name, He thought I some assignation made; And to my Procris' ear the news convey'd. Great love is soonest with suspicion fir'd: She swoon'd, and with the tale almost expir'd. Ah! wretched heart! (she cry'd) ah! faithless man. And then to curse th' imagin'd nymph began: Yet oft she doubts, oft hopes she is deceiv'd, And chides herself, that ever she believ'd Her lord to such injustice cou'd proceed, 'Till she her self were witness of the deed. Next morn I to the woods again repair, And, weary with the chase, invoke the air: Approach, dear Aura, and my bosom chear: At which a mournful sound did strike my ear; Yet I proceeded, 'till the thicket by, With rustling noise and motion, drew my eye: I thought some beast of prey was shelter'd there, And to the covert threw my certain spear; From whence a tender sigh my soul did wound, Ah me! it cry'd, and did like Procris sound. Procris was there, too well the voice I knew, And to the place with headlong horror flew; Where I beheld her gasping on the ground, In vain attempting from the deadly wound To draw the dart, her love's dear fatal gift! My guilty arms had scarce the strength to lift The beauteous load; my silks, and hair I tore (If possible) to stanch the pressing gore; For pity beg'd her keep her flitting breath, And not to leave me guilty of her death. While I intreat she fainted fast away, And these few words had only strength to say: By all the sacred bonds of plighted love, By all your rev'rence to the Pow'rs above, By all the truth for which you held me dear, And last by love, the cause through which I bleed, Let Aura never to my bed succeed. I then perceiv'd the error of our fate, And told it her, but found and told too late! I felt her lower to my bosom fall, And while her eyes had any sight at all, On mine she fix'd them; in her pangs still prest My hand, and sigh'd her soul into my breast; Yet, being undeceiv'd, resign'd her breath Methought more chearfully, and smil'd in death. With such concern the weeping heroe told This tale, that none who heard him cou'd with-hold From melting into sympathizing tears, 'Till Aeacus with his two sons appears; Whom he commits, with their new-levy'd bands, To Fortune's, and so brave a gen'ral's hands. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- ~ Ovid, BOOK THE SEVENTH ,

1029:BOOK THE TENTH The Story of Orpheus and Eurydice Thence, in his saffron robe, for distant Thrace, Hymen departs, thro' air's unmeasur'd space; By Orpheus call'd, the nuptial Pow'r attends, But with ill-omen'd augury descends; Nor chearful look'd the God, nor prosp'rous spoke, Nor blaz'd his torch, but wept in hissing smoke. In vain they whirl it round, in vain they shake, No rapid motion can its flames awake. With dread these inauspicious signs were view'd, And soon a more disastrous end ensu'd; For as the bride, amid the Naiad train, Ran joyful, sporting o'er the flow'ry plain, A venom'd viper bit her as she pass'd; Instant she fell, and sudden breath'd her last. When long his loss the Thracian had deplor'd, Not by superior Pow'rs to be restor'd; Inflam'd by love, and urg'd by deep despair, He leaves the realms of light, and upper air; Daring to tread the dark Tenarian road, And tempt the shades in their obscure abode; Thro' gliding spectres of th' interr'd to go, And phantom people of the world below: Persephone he seeks, and him who reigns O'er ghosts, and Hell's uncomfortable plains. Arriv'd, he, tuning to his voice his strings, Thus to the king and queen of shadows sings. Ye Pow'rs, who under Earth your realms extend, To whom all mortals must one day descend; If here 'tis granted sacred truth to tell: I come not curious to explore your Hell; Nor come to boast (by vain ambition fir'd) How Cerberus at my approach retir'd. My wife alone I seek; for her lov'd sake These terrors I support, this journey take. She, luckless wandring, or by fate mis-led, Chanc'd on a lurking viper's crest to tread; The vengeful beast, enflam'd with fury, starts, And thro' her heel his deathful venom darts. Thus was she snatch'd untimely to her tomb; Her growing years cut short, and springing bloom. Long I my loss endeavour'd to sustain, And strongly strove, but strove, alas, in vain: At length I yielded, won by mighty love; Well known is that omnipotence above! But here, I doubt, his unfelt influence fails; And yet a hope within my heart prevails. That here, ev'n here, he has been known of old; At least if truth be by tradition told; If fame of former rapes belief may find, You both by love, and love alone, were join'd. Now, by the horrors which these realms surround; By the vast chaos of these depths profound; By the sad silence which eternal reigns O'er all the waste of these wide-stretching plains; Let me again Eurydice receive, Let Fate her quick-spun thread of life re-weave. All our possessions are but loans from you, And soon, or late, you must be paid your due; Hither we haste to human-kind's last seat, Your endless empire, and our sure retreat. She too, when ripen'd years she shall attain, Must, of avoidless right, be yours again: I but the transient use of that require, Which soon, too soon, I must resign entire. But if the destinies refuse my vow, And no remission of her doom allow; Know, I'm determin'd to return no more; So both retain, or both to life restore. Thus, while the bard melodiously complains, And to his lyre accords his vocal strains, The very bloodless shades attention keep, And silent, seem compassionate to weep; Ev'n Tantalus his flood unthirsty views, Nor flies the stream, nor he the stream pursues; Ixion's wond'ring wheel its whirl suspends, And the voracious vulture, charm'd, attends; No more the Belides their toil bemoan, And Sisiphus reclin'd, sits list'ning on his stone. Then first ('tis said) by sacred verse subdu'd, The Furies felt their cheeks with tears bedew'd: Nor could the rigid king, or queen of Hell, Th' impulse of pity in their hearts repell. Now, from a troop of shades that last arriv'd, Eurydice was call'd, and stood reviv'd: Slow she advanc'd, and halting seem to feel The fatal wound, yet painful in her heel. Thus he obtains the suit so much desir'd, On strict observance of the terms requir'd: For if, before he reach the realms of air, He backward cast his eyes to view the fair, The forfeit grant, that instant, void is made, And she for ever left a lifeless shade. Now thro' the noiseless throng their way they bend, And both with pain the rugged road ascend; Dark was the path, and difficult, and steep, And thick with vapours from the smoaky deep. They well-nigh now had pass'd the bounds of night, And just approach'd the margin of the light, When he, mistrusting lest her steps might stray, And gladsome of the glympse of dawning day, His longing eyes, impatient, backward cast To catch a lover's look, but look'd his last; For, instant dying, she again descends, While he to empty air his arms extends. Again she dy'd, nor yet her lord reprov'd; What could she say, but that too well he lov'd? One last farewell she spoke, which scarce he heard; So soon she drop'd, so sudden disappear'd. All stunn'd he stood, when thus his wife he view'd By second Fate, and double death subdu'd: Not more amazement by that wretch was shown, Whom Cerberus beholding, turn'd to stone; Nor Olenus cou'd more astonish'd look, When on himself Lethaea's fault he took, His beauteous wife, who too secure had dar'd Her face to vye with Goddesses compar'd: Once join'd by love, they stand united still, Turn'd to contiguous rocks on Ida's hill. Now to repass the Styx in vain he tries, Charon averse, his pressing suit denies. Sev'n days entire, along th' infernal shores, Disconsolate, the bard Eurydice deplores; Defil'd with filth his robe, with tears his cheeks, No sustenance but grief, and cares, he seeks: Of rigid Fate incessant he complains, And Hell's inexorable Gods arraigns. This ended, to high Rhodope he hastes, And Haemus' mountain, bleak with northern blasts. And now his yearly race the circling sun Had thrice compleat thro' wat'ry Pisces run, Since Orpheus fled the face of womankind, And all soft union with the sex declin'd. Whether his ill success this change had bred, Or binding vows made to his former bed; Whate'er the cause, in vain the nymphs contest, With rival eyes to warm his frozen breast: For ev'ry nymph with love his lays inspir'd, But ev'ry nymph repuls'd, with grief retir'd. A hill there was, and on that hill a mead, With verdure thick, but destitute of shade. Where, now, the Muse's son no sooner sings, No sooner strikes his sweet resounding strings. But distant groves the flying sounds receive, And list'ning trees their rooted stations leave; Themselves transplanting, all around they grow, And various shades their various kinds bestow. Here, tall Chaonian oaks their branches spread, While weeping poplars there erect their head. The foodful Esculus here shoots his leaves, That turf soft lime-tree, this, fat beach receives; Here, brittle hazels, lawrels here advance, And there tough ash to form the heroe's lance; Here silver firs with knotless trunks ascend, There, scarlet oaks beneath their acorns bend. That spot admits the hospitable plane, On this, the maple grows with clouded grain; Here, watry willows are with Lotus seen; There, tamarisk, and box for ever green. With double hue here mirtles grace the ground, And laurestines, with purple berries crown'd. With pliant feet, now, ivies this way wind, Vines yonder rise, and elms with vines entwin'd. Wild Ornus now, the pitch-tree next takes root, And Ar butus adorn'd with blushing fruit. Then easy-bending palms, the victor's prize, And pines erect with bristly tops arise. For Rhea grateful still the pine remains, For Atys still some favour she retains; He once in human shape her breast had warm'd, And now is cherish'd, to a tree transform'd. The Fable of Cyparissus Amid the throng of this promiscuous wood, With pointed top, the taper cypress stood; A tree, which once a youth, and heav'nly fair, Was of that deity the darling care, Whose hand adapts, with equal skill, the strings To bows with which he kills, and harps to which he sings. For heretofore, a mighty stag was bred, Which on the fertile fields of Caea fed; In shape and size he all his kind excell'd, And to Carthaean nymphs was sacred held. His beamy head, with branches high display'd, Afforded to itself an ample shade; His horns were gilt, and his smooth neck was grac'd With silver collars thick with gems enchas'd: A silver boss upon his forehead hung, And brazen pendants in his ear-rings rung. Frequenting houses, he familiar grew, And learnt by custom, Nature to subdue; 'Till by degrees, of fear, and wildness, broke, Ev'n stranger hands his proffer'd neck might stroak. Much was the beast by Caea's youth caress'd, But thou, sweet Cyparissus, lov'dst him best: By thee, to pastures fresh, he oft was led, By thee oft water'd at the fountain's head: His horns with garlands, now, by thee were ty'd, And, now, thou on his back wou'dst wanton ride; Now here, now there wou'dst bound along the plains, Ruling his tender mouth with purple reins. 'Twas when the summer sun, at noon of day, Thro' glowing Cancer shot his burning ray, 'Twas then, the fav'rite stag, in cool retreat, Had sought a shelter from the scorching heat; Along the grass his weary limbs he laid, Inhaling freshness from the breezy shade: When Cyparissus with his pointed dart, Unknowing, pierc'd him to the panting heart. But when the youth, surpriz'd, his error found, And saw him dying of the cruel wound, Himself he would have slain thro' desp'rate grief: What said not Phoebus, that might yield relief! To cease his mourning, he the boy desir'd, Or mourn no more than such a loss requir'd. But he, incessant griev'd: at length address'd To the superior Pow'rs a last request; Praying, in expiation of his crime, Thenceforth to mourn to all succeeding time. And now, of blood exhausted he appears, Drain'd by a torrent of continual tears; The fleshy colour in his body fades, And a green tincture all his limbs invades; From his fair head, where curling locks late hung, A horrid bush with bristled branches sprung, Which stiffning by degrees, its stem extends, 'Till to the starry skies the spire ascends. Apollo sad look'd on, and sighing, cry'd, Then, be for ever, what thy pray'r imply'd: Bemoan'd by me, in others grief excite; And still preside at ev'ry fun'ral rite. Thus the sweet artist in a wondrous shade Of verdant trees, which harmony had made, Encircled sate, with his own triumphs crown'd, Of listning birds, and savages around. Again the trembling strings he dext'rous tries, Again from discord makes soft musick rise. Then tunes his voice: O Muse, from whom I sprung, Jove be my theme, and thou inspire my song. To Jove my grateful voice I oft have rais'd, Oft his almighty pow'r with pleasure prais'd. I sung the giants in a solemn strain, Blasted, and thunder-struck on Phlegra's plain. Now be my lyre in softer accents mov'd, To sing of blooming boys by Gods belov'd; And to relate what virgins, void of shame, Have suffer'd vengeance for a lawless flame. The King of Gods once felt the burning joy, And sigh'd for lovely Ganimede of Troy: Long was he puzzled to assume a shape Most fit, and expeditious for the rape; A bird's was proper, yet he scorns to wear Any but that which might his thunder bear. Down with his masquerading wings he flies, And bears the little Trojan to the skies; Where now, in robes of heav'nly purple drest, He serves the nectar at th' Almighty's feast, To slighted Juno an unwelcome guest. Hyacinthus transform'd into a Flower Phoebus for thee too, Hyacinth, design'd A place among the Gods, had Fate been kind: Yet this he gave; as oft as wintry rains Are past, and vernal breezes sooth the plains, From the green turf a purple flow'r you rise, And with your fragrant breath perfume the skies. You when alive were Phoebus' darling boy; In you he plac'd his Heav'n, and fix'd his joy: Their God the Delphic priests consult in vain; Eurotas now he loves, and Sparta's plain: His hands the use of bow and harp forget, And hold the dogs, or bear the corded net; O'er hanging cliffs swift he pursues the game; Each hour his pleasure, each augments his flame. The mid-day sun now shone with equal light Between the past, and the succeeding night; They strip, then, smooth'd with suppling oyl, essay To pitch the rounded quoit, their wonted play: A well-pois'd disk first hasty Phoebus threw, It cleft the air, and whistled as it flew; It reach'd the mark, a most surprizing length; Which spoke an equal share of art, and strength. Scarce was it fall'n, when with too eager hand Young Hyacinth ran to snatch it from the sand; But the curst orb, which met a stony soil, Flew in his face with violent recoil. Both faint, both pale, and breathless now appear, The boy with pain, the am'rous God with fear. He ran, and rais'd him bleeding from the ground, Chafes his cold limbs, and wipes the fatal wound: Then herbs of noblest juice in vain applies; The wound is mortal, and his skill defies. As in a water'd garden's blooming walk, When some rude hand has bruis'd its tender stalk, A fading lilly droops its languid head, And bends to earth, its life, and beauty fled: So Hyacinth, with head reclin'd, decays, And, sickning, now no more his charms displays. O thou art gone, my boy, Apollo cry'd, Defrauded of thy youth in all its pride! Thou, once my joy, art all my sorrow now; And to my guilty hand my grief I owe. Yet from my self I might the fault remove, Unless to sport, and play, a fault should prove, Unless it too were call'd a fault to love. Oh cou'd I for thee, or but with thee, dye! But cruel Fates to me that pow'r deny. Yet on my tongue thou shalt for ever dwell; Thy name my lyre shall sound, my verse shall tell; And to a flow'r transform'd, unheard-of yet, Stamp'd on thy leaves my cries thou shalt repeat. The time shall come, prophetick I foreknow, When, joyn'd to thee, a mighty chief shall grow, And with my plaints his name thy leaf shall show. While Phoebus thus the laws of Fate reveal'd, Behold, the blood which stain'd the verdant field, Is blood no longer; but a flow'r full blown, Far brighter than the Tyrian scarlet shone. A lilly's form it took; its purple hue Was all that made a diff'rence to the view, Nor stop'd he here; the God upon its leaves The sad expression of his sorrow weaves; And to this hour the mournful purple wears Ai, Ai, inscrib'd in funeral characters. Nor are the Spartans, who so much are fam'd For virtue, of their Hyacinth asham'd; But still with pompous woe, and solemn state, The Hyacinthian feasts they yearly celebrate The Transformations of the Cerastae and Propoetides Enquire of Amathus, whose wealthy ground With veins of every metal does abound, If she to her Propoetides wou'd show, The honour Sparta does to him allow? Nor more, she'd say, such wretches wou'd we grace, Than those whose crooked horns deform'd their face, From thence Cerastae call'd, an impious race: Before whose gates a rev'rend altar stood, To Jove inscrib'd, the hospitable God: This had some stranger seen with gore besmear'd, The blood of lambs, and bulls it had appear'd: Their slaughter'd guests it was; nor flock nor herd. Venus these barb'rous sacrifices view'd With just abhorrence, and with wrath pursu'd: At first, to punish such nefarious crimes, Their towns she meant to leave, her once-lov'd climes: But why, said she, for their offence shou'd I My dear delightful plains, and cities fly? No, let the impious people, who have sinn'd, A punishment in death, or exile, find: If death, or exile too severe be thought, Let them in some vile shape bemoan their fault. While next her mind a proper form employs, Admonish'd by their horns, she fix'd her choice. Their former crest remains upon their heads, And their strong limbs an ox's shape invades. The blasphemous Propoetides deny'd Worship of Venus, and her pow'r defy'd: But soon that pow'r they felt, the first that sold Their lewd embraces to the world for gold. Unknowing how to blush, and shameless grown, A small transition changes them to stone. The Story of Pygmalion and the Statue Pygmalion loathing their lascivious life, Abhorr'd all womankind, but most a wife: So single chose to live, and shunn'd to wed, Well pleas'd to want a consort of his bed. Yet fearing idleness, the nurse of ill, In sculpture exercis'd his happy skill; And carv'd in iv'ry such a maid, so fair, As Nature could not with his art compare, Were she to work; but in her own defence Must take her pattern here, and copy hence. Pleas'd with his idol, he commends, admires, Adores; and last, the thing ador'd, desires. A very virgin in her face was seen, And had she mov'd, a living maid had been: One wou'd have thought she cou'd have stirr'd, but strove With modesty, and was asham'd to move. Art hid with art, so well perform'd the cheat, It caught the carver with his own deceit: He knows 'tis madness, yet he must adore, And still the more he knows it, loves the more: The flesh, or what so seems, he touches oft, Which feels so smooth, that he believes it soft. Fir'd with this thought, at once he strain'd the breast, And on the lips a burning kiss impress'd. 'Tis true, the harden'd breast resists the gripe, And the cold lips return a kiss unripe: But when, retiring back, he look'd again, To think it iv'ry, was a thought too mean: So wou'd believe she kiss'd, and courting more, Again embrac'd her naked body o'er; And straining hard the statue, was afraid His hands had made a dint, and hurt his maid: Explor'd her limb by limb, and fear'd to find So rude a gripe had left a livid mark behind: With flatt'ry now he seeks her mind to move, And now with gifts (the pow'rful bribes of love), He furnishes her closet first; and fills The crowded shelves with rarities of shells; Adds orient pearls, which from the conchs he drew, And all the sparkling stones of various hue: And parrots, imitating human tongue, And singing-birds in silver cages hung: And ev'ry fragrant flow'r, and od'rous green, Were sorted well, with lumps of amber laid between: Rich fashionable robes her person deck, Pendants her ears, and pearls adorn her neck: Her taper'd fingers too with rings are grac'd, And an embroider'd zone surrounds her slender waste. Thus like a queen array'd, so richly dress'd, Beauteous she shew'd, but naked shew'd the best. Then, from the floor, he rais'd a royal bed, With cov'rings of Sydonian purple spread: The solemn rites perform'd, he calls her bride, With blandishments invites her to his side; And as she were with vital sense possess'd, Her head did on a plumy pillow rest. The feast of Venus came, a solemn day, To which the Cypriots due devotion pay; With gilded horns the milk-white heifers led, Slaughter'd before the sacred altars, bled. Pygmalion off'ring, first approach'd the shrine, And then with pray'rs implor'd the Pow'rs divine: Almighty Gods, if all we mortals want, If all we can require, be yours to grant; Make this fair statue mine, he wou'd have said, But chang'd his words for shame; and only pray'd, Give me the likeness of my iv'ry maid. The golden Goddess, present at the pray'r, Well knew he meant th' inanimated fair, And gave the sign of granting his desire; For thrice in chearful flames ascends the fire. The youth, returning to his mistress, hies, And impudent in hope, with ardent eyes, And beating breast, by the dear statue lies. He kisses her white lips, renews the bliss, And looks, and thinks they redden at the kiss; He thought them warm before: nor longer stays, But next his hand on her hard bosom lays: Hard as it was, beginning to relent, It seem'd, the breast beneath his fingers bent; He felt again, his fingers made a print; 'Twas flesh, but flesh so firm, it rose against the dint: The pleasing task he fails not to renew; Soft, and more soft at ev'ry touch it grew; Like pliant wax, when chasing hands reduce The former mass to form, and frame for use. He would believe, but yet is still in pain, And tries his argument of sense again, Presses the pulse, and feels the leaping vein. Convinc'd, o'erjoy'd, his studied thanks, and praise, To her, who made the miracle, he pays: Then lips to lips he join'd; now freed from fear, He found the savour of the kiss sincere: At this the waken'd image op'd her eyes, And view'd at once the light, and lover with surprize. The Goddess, present at the match she made, So bless'd the bed, such fruitfulness convey'd, That ere ten months had sharpen'd either horn, To crown their bliss, a lovely boy was born; Paphos his name, who grown to manhood, wall'd The city Paphos, from the founder call'd. The Story of of Cinyras and Myrrha Nor him alone produc'd the fruitful queen; But Cinyras, who like his sire had been A happy prince, had he not been a sire. Daughters, and fathers, from my song retire; I sing of horror; and could I prevail, You shou'd not hear, or not believe my tale. Yet if the pleasure of my song be such, That you will hear, and credit me too much, Attentive listen to the last event, And, with the sin, believe the punishment: Since Nature cou'd behold so dire a crime, I gratulate at least my native clime, That such a land, which such a monster bore, So far is distant from our Thracian shore. Let Araby extol her happy coast, Her cinamon, and sweet Amomum boast, Her fragrant flow'rs, her trees with precious tears, Her second harvests, and her double years; How can the land be call'd so bless'd, that Myrrha bears? Nor all her od'rous tears can cleanse her crime; Her Plant alone deforms the happy clime: Cupid denies to have inflam'd thy heart, Disowns thy love, and vindicates his dart: Some Fury gave thee those infernal pains, And shot her venom'd vipers in thy veins. To hate thy sire, had merited a curse; But such an impious love deserv'd a worse. The neighb'ring monarchs, by thy beauty led, Contend in crowds, ambitious of thy bed: The world is at thy choice; except but one, Except but him, thou canst not chuse, alone. She knew it too, the miserable maid, Ere impious love her better thoughts betray'd, And thus within her secret soul she said: Ah Myrrha! whither wou'd thy wishes tend? Ye Gods, ye sacred laws, my soul defend From such a crime as all mankind detest, And never lodg'd before in human breast! But is it sin? Or makes my mind alone Th' imagin'd sin? For Nature makes it none. What tyrant then these envious laws began, Made not for any other beast, but Man! The father-bull his daughter may bestride, The horse may make his mother-mare a bride; What piety forbids the lusty ram, Or more salacious goat, to rut their dam? The hen is free to wed the chick she bore, And make a husband, whom she hatch'd before. All creatures else are of a happier kind, Whom nor ill-natur'd laws from pleasure bind, Nor thoughts of sin disturb their peace of mind. But Man a slave of his own making lives; The fool denies himself what Nature gives: Too-busie senates, with an over-care, To make us better than our kind can bear, Have dash'd a spice of envy in the laws, And straining up too high, have spoil'd the cause. Yet some wise nations break their cruel chains, And own no laws, but those which love ordains; Where happy daughters with their sires are join'd, And piety is doubly paid in kind. O that I had been born in such a clime, Not here, where 'tis the country makes the crime! But whither wou'd my impious fancy stray? Hence hopes, and ye forbidden thoughts away! His worth deserves to kindle my desires, But with the love, that daughters bear to sires. Then had not Cinyras my father been, What hinder'd Myrrha's hopes to be his queen? But the perverseness of my fate is such, That he's not mine, because he's mine too much: Our kindred-blood debars a better tie; He might be nearer, were he not so nigh. Eyes, and their objects, never must unite; Some distance is requir'd to help the sight: Fain wou'd I travel to some foreign shore, Never to see my native country more, So might I to my self my self restore; So might my mind these impious thoughts remove, And ceasing to behold, might cease to love. But stay I must, to feed my famish'd sight, To talk, to kiss, and more, if more I might: More, impious maid! What more canst thou design? To make a monstrous mixture in thy line, And break all statutes human and divine! Can'st thou be call'd (to save thy wretched life) Thy mother's rival, and thy father's wife? Confound so many sacred names in one, Thy brother's mother! Sister to thy son! And fear'st thou not to see th' infernal bands, Their heads with snakes; with torches arm'd their hands Full at thy face th' avenging brands to bear, And shake the serpents from their hissing hair; But thou in time th' increasing ill controul, Nor first debauch the body by the soul; Secure the sacred quiet of thy mind, And keep the sanctions Nature has design'd. Suppose I shou'd attempt, th' attempt were vain, No thoughts like mine, his sinless soul profane; Observant of the right: and o that he Cou'd cure my madness, or be mad like me! Thus she: but Cinyras, who daily sees A crowd of noble suitors at his knees, Among so many, knew not whom to chuse, Irresolute to grant, or to refuse. But having told their names, enquir'd of her Who pleas'd her best, and whom she would prefer. The blushing maid stood silent with surprize, And on her father fix'd her ardent eyes, And looking sigh'd, and as she sigh'd, began Round tears to shed, that scalded as they ran. The tender sire, who saw her blush, and cry, Ascrib'd it all to maiden modesty, And dry'd the falling drops, and yet more kind, He stroak'd her cheeks, and holy kisses join'd. She felt a secret venom fire her blood, And found more pleasure, than a daughter shou'd; And, ask'd again what lover of the crew She lik'd the best, she answer'd, One like you. Mistaking what she meant, her pious will He prais'd, and bid her so continue still: The word of pious heard, she blush'd with shame Of secret guilt, and cou'd not bear the name. 'Twas now the mid of night, when slumbers close Our eyes, and sooth our cares with soft repose; But no repose cou'd wretched Myrrha find, Her body rouling, as she roul'd her mind: Mad with desire, she ruminates her sin, And wishes all her wishes o'er again: Now she despairs, and now resolves to try; Wou'd not, and wou'd again, she knows not why; Stops, and returns; makes, and retracts the vow; Fain wou'd begin, but understands not how. As when a pine is hew'd upon the plains, And the last mortal stroke alone remains, Lab'ring in pangs of death, and threatning all, This way, and that she nods, consid'ring where to fall: So Myrrha's mind, impell'd on either side, Takes ev'ry bent, but cannot long abide; Irresolute on which she shou'd relie, At last, unfix'd in all, is only fix'd to die. On that sad thought she rests, resolv'd on death, She rises, and prepares to choak her breath: Then while about the beam her zone she ties, Dear Cinyras farewell, she softly cries; For thee I die, and only wish to be Not hated, when thou know'st die I for thee: Pardon the crime, in pity to the cause: This said, about her neck the noose she draws. The nurse, who lay without, her faithful guard, Though not the words, the murmurs over-heard; And sighs, and hollow sounds: surpriz'd with fright, She starts, and leaves her bed, and springs a light; Unlocks the door, and entring out of breath, The dying saw, and instruments of death; She shrieks, she cuts the zone with trembling haste, And in her arms her fainting charge embrac'd: Next (for she now had leisure for her tears), She weeping ask'd, in these her blooming years, What unforeseen misfortune caus'd her care, To loath her life, and languish in despair! The maid, with down-cast eyes, and mute with grief For death unfinish'd, and ill-tim'd relief, Stood sullen to her suit: the beldame press'd The more to know, and bar'd her wither'd breast, Adjur'd her by the kindly food she drew From those dry founts, her secret ill to shew. Sad Myrrha sigh'd, and turn'd her eyes aside: The nurse still urg'd, and wou'd not be deny'd: Nor only promis'd secresie, but pray'd She might have leave to give her offer'd aid. Good-will, she said, my want of strength supplies, And diligence shall give what age denies: If strong desires thy mind to fury move, With charms and med'cines I can cure thy love: If envious eyes their hurtuful rays have cast, More pow'rful verse shall free thee from the blast: If Heav'n offended sends thee this disease, Offended Heav'n with pray'rs we can appease. What then remains, that can these cares procure? Thy house is flourishing, thy fortune sure: Thy careful mother yet in health survives, And, to thy comfort, thy kind father lives. The virgin started at her father's name, And sigh'd profoundly, conscious of the shame Nor yet the nurse her impious love divin'd, But yet surmis'd that love disturb'd her mind: Thus thinking, she pursu'd her point, and laid, And lull'd within her lap the mourning maid; Then softly sooth'd her thus; I guess your grief: You love, my child; your love shall find relief. My long-experienc'd age shall be your guide; Rely on that, and lay distrust aside. No breath of air shall on the secret blow, Nor shall (what most you fear) your father know. Struck once again, as with a thunder-clap, The guilty virgin bounded from her lap, And threw her body prostrate on the bed. And, to conceal her blushes, hid her head; There silent lay, and warn'd her with her hand To go: but she receiv'd not the command; Remaining still importunate to know: Then Myrrha thus: Or ask no more, or go; I pr'ythee go, or staying spare my shame; What thou would'st hear, is impious ev'n to name. At this, on high the beldame holds her hands, And trembling both with age, and terror stands; Adjures, and falling at her feet intreats, Sooths her with blandishments, and frights with threats, To tell the crime intended, or disclose What part of it she knew, if she no farther knows. And last, if conscious to her counsel made, Confirms anew the promise of her aid. Now Myrrha rais'd her head; but soon oppress'd With shame, reclin'd it on her nurse's breast; Bath'd it with tears, and strove to have confess'd: Twice she began, and stopp'd; again she try'd; The falt'ring tongue its office still deny'd. At last her veil before her face she spread, And drew a long preluding sigh, and said, O happy mother, in thy marriage-bed! Then groan'd, and ceas'd. The good old woman shook, Stiff were her eyes, and ghastly was her look: Her hoary hair upright with horror stood, Made (to her grief) more knowing than she wou'd. Much she reproach'd, and many things she said, To cure the madness of th' unhappy maid, In vain: for Myrrha stood convict of ill; Her reason vanquish'd, but unchang'd her will: Perverse of mind, unable to reply; She stood resolv'd, or to possess, or die. At length the fondness of a nurse prevail'd Against her better sense, and virtue fail'd: Enjoy, my child, since such is thy desire, Thy love, she said; she durst not say, thy sire: Live, though unhappy, live on any terms; Then with a second oath her faith confirms. The solemn feast of Ceres now was near, When long white linnen stoles the matrons wear; Rank'd in procession walk the pious train, Off'ring first-fruits, and spikes of yellow grain: For nine long nights the nuptial-bed they shun, And sanctifying harvest, lie alone. Mix'd with the crowd, the queen forsook her lord, And Ceres' pow'r with secret rites ador'd: The royal couch, now vacant for a time, The crafty crone, officious in her crime, The first occasion took: the king she found Easie with wine, and deep in pleasures drown'd, Prepar'd for love: the beldame blew the flame, Confess'd the passion, but conceal'd the name. Her form she prais'd; the monarch ask'd her years; And she reply'd, The same thy Myrrha bears. Wine, and commended beauty fir'd his thought; Impatient, he commands her to be brought. Pleas'd with her charge perform'd, she hies her home, And gratulates the nymph, the task was overcome. Myrrha was joy'd the welcome news to hear; But clog'd with guilt, the joy was unsincere: So various, so discordant is the mind, That in our will a diff'rent will we find. Ill she presag'd, and yet pursu'd her lust; For guilty pleasures give a double gust. 'Twas depth of night: Arctophylax had driv'n His lazy wain half round the northern Heav'n, When Myrrha hasten'd to the crime desir'd: The moon beheld her first, and first retir'd: The stars amaz'd, ran backward from the sight, And (shrunk within their sockets) lost their light. Icarius first withdraws his holy flame: The virgin sign, in Heav'n the second name, Slides down the belt, and from her station flies, And night with sable clouds involves the skies. Bold Myrrha still pursues her black intent; She stumbled thrice (an omen of th' event); Thrice shriek'd the fun'ral owl, yet on she went, Secure of shame, because secure of sight; Ev'n bashful sins are impudent by night. Link'd hand in hand, th' accomplice, and the dame, Their way exploring, to the chamber came: The door was ope; they blindly grope their way, Where dark in bed th' expecting monarch lay. Thus far her courage held, but here forsakes; Her faint knees knock at ev'ry step she makes. The nearer to her crime, the more within She feels remorse, and horror of her sin; Repents too late her criminal desire, And wishes, that unknown she could retire. Her lingring thus, the nurse (who fear'd delay The fatal secret might at length betray) Pull'd forward, to compleat the work begun, And said to Cinyras, Receive thy own. Thus saying, she deliver'd kind to kind, Accurs'd, and their devoted bodies join'd. The sire, unknowing of the crime, admits His bowels, and prophanes the hallow'd sheets; He found she trembled, but believ'd she strove With maiden modesty against her love, And sought with flatt'ring words vain fancies to remove. Perhaps he said, My daughter, cease thy fears (Because the title suited with her years); And, Father, she might whisper him again, That names might not be wanting to the sin. Full of her sire, she left th' incestuous bed, And carry'd in her womb the crime she bred. Another, and another night she came; For frequent sin had left no sense of shame: 'Till Cinyras desir'd to see her face, Whose body he had held in close embrace, And brought a taper; the revealer, light, Expos'd both crime, and criminal to sight. Grief, rage, amazement, could no speech afford, But from the sheath he drew th' avenging sword: The guilty fled: the benefit of night, That favour'd first the sin, secur'd the flight. Long wand'ring thro' the spacious fields, she bent Her voyage to th' Arabian continent; Then pass'd the region which Panchaea join'd, And flying, left the palmy plains behind. Nine times the moon had mew'd her horns; at length With travel weary, unsupply'd with strength, And with the burden of her womb oppress'd, Sabaean fields afford her needful rest: There, loathing life, and yet of death afraid, In anguish of her spirit, thus she pray'd: Ye Pow'rs, if any so propitious are T' accept my penitence, and hear my pray'r; Your judgments, I confess, are justly sent; Great sins deserve as great a punishment: Yet since my life the living will profane, And since my death the happy dead will stain, A middle state your mercy may bestow, Betwixt the realms above, and those below: Some other form to wretched Myrrha give, Nor let her wholly die, nor wholly live. The pray'rs of penitents are never vain; At least she did her last request obtain: For while she spoke, the ground began to rise, And gather'd round her feet, her legs, and thighs; Her toes in roots descend, and spreading wide, A firm foundation for the trunk provide: Her solid bones convert to solid wood, To pith her marrow, and to sap her blood: Her arms are boughs, her fingers change their kind, Her tender skin is harden'd into rind. And now the rising tree her womb invests, Now shooting upwards still, invades her breasts, And shades the neck; when weary with delay, She sunk her head within, and met it half the way. And tho' with outward shape she lost her sense, With bitter tears she wept her last offence; And still she weeps, nor sheds her tears in vain; For still the precious drops her name retain. Mean-time the mis-begotten infant grows, And ripe for birth, distends with deadly throes The swelling rind, with unavailing strife, To leave the wooden womb, and pushes into life. The mother-tree, as if oppress'd with pain, Writhes here, and there, to break the bark, in vain; And, like a lab'ring woman, wou'd have pray'd, But wants a voice to call Lucina's aid: The bending bole sends out a hollow sound, And trickling tears fall thicker on the ground. The mild Lucina came uncall'd, and stood Beside the struggling boughs, and heard the groaning wood; Then reach'd her midwife-hand to speed the throes, And spoke the pow'rful spells, that babes to birth disclose. The bark divides, the living load to free, And safe delivers the convulsive tree. The ready nymphs receive the crying child, And wash him in the tears the parent plant distill'd. They swath'd him with their scarfs; beneath him spread The ground with herbs; with roses rais'd his head. The lovely babe was born with ev'ry grace, Ev'n envy must have prais'd so fair a face: Such was his form, as painters when they show Their utmost art, on naked loves bestow: And that their arms no diff'rence might betray, Give him a bow, or his from Cupid take away. Time glides along with undiscover'd haste, The future but a length behind the past; So swift are years. The babe, whom just before His grandsire got, and whom his sister bore; The drop, the thing, which late the tree inclos'd, And late the yawning bark to life expos'd; A babe, a boy, a beauteous youth appears, And lovelier than himself at riper years. Now to the queen of love he gave desires, And, with her pains, reveng'd his mother's fires. The Story of Venus and Adonis For Cytherea's lips while Cupid prest, He with a heedless arrow raz'd her breast, The Goddess felt it, and with fury stung, The wanton mischief from her bosom flung: Yet thought at first the danger slight, but found The dart too faithful, and too deep the wound. Fir'd with a mortal beauty, she disdains To haunt th' Idalian mount, or Phrygian plains. She seeks not Cnidos, nor her Paphian shrines, Nor Amathus, that teems with brazen mines: Ev'n Heav'n itself with all its sweets unsought, Adonis far a sweeter Heav'n is thought. On him she hangs, and fonds with ev'ry art, And never, never knows from him to part. She, whose soft limbs had only been display'd On rosie beds beneath the myrtle shade, Whose pleasing care was to improve each grace, And add more charms to an unrival'd face, Now buskin'd, like the virgin huntress, goes Thro' woods, and pathless wilds, and mountain-snows With her own tuneful voice she joys to cheer The panting hounds, that chace the flying deer. She runs the labyrinth of fearful hares, But fearless beasts, and dang'rous prey forbears, Hunts not the grinning wolf, or foamy boar, And trembles at the lion's hungry roar. Thee too, Adonis, with a lover's care She warns, if warn'd thou wou'dst avoid the snare, To furious animals advance not nigh, Fly those that follow, follow those that fly; 'Tis chance alone must the survivors save, Whene'er brave spirits will attempt the brave. O! lovely youth! in harmless sports delight; Provoke not beasts, which, arm'd by Nature, fight. For me, if not thy self, vouchsafe to fear; Let not thy thirst of glory cost me dear. Boars know not bow to spare a blooming age; No sparkling eyes can sooth the lion's rage. Not all thy charms a savage breast can move, Which have so deeply touch'd the queen of love. When bristled boars from beaten thickets spring, In grinded tusks a thunderbolt they bring. The daring hunters lions rouz'd devour, Vast is their fury, and as vast their pow'r: Curst be their tawny race! If thou would'st hear What kindled thus my hate, then lend an ear: The wond'rous tale I will to thee unfold, How the fell monsters rose from crimes of old. But by long toils I faint: see! wide-display'd, A grateful poplar courts us with a shade. The grassy turf, beneath, so verdant shows, We may secure delightfully repose. With her Adonis here be Venus blest; And swift at once the grass and him she prest. Then sweetly smiling, with a raptur'd mind, On his lov'd bosom she her head reclin'd, And thus began; but mindful still of bliss, Seal'd the soft accents with a softer kiss. Perhaps thou may'st have heard a virgin's name, Who still in swiftness swiftest youths o'ercame. Wondrous! that female weakness should outdo A manly strength; the wonder yet is true. 'Twas doubtful, if her triumphs in the field Did to her form's triumphant glories yield; Whether her face could with more ease decoy A crowd of lovers, or her feet destroy. For once Apollo she implor'd to show If courteous Fates a consort would allow: A consort brings thy ruin, he reply'd; O! learn to want the pleasures of a bride! Nor shalt thou want them to thy wretched cost, And Atalanta living shall be lost. With such a rueful Fate th' affrighted maid Sought green recesses in the wood-land glade. Nor sighing suiters her resolves could move, She bad them show their speed, to show their love. He only, who could conquer in the race, Might hope the conquer'd virgin to embrace; While he, whose tardy feet had lagg'd behind, Was doom'd the sad reward of death to find. Tho' great the prize, yet rigid the decree, But blind with beauty, who can rigour see? Ev'n on these laws the fair they rashly sought, And danger in excess of love forgot. There sat Hippomenes, prepar'd to blame In lovers such extravagance of flame. And must, he said, the blessing of a wife Be dearly purchas'd by a risk of life? But when he saw the wonders of her face, And her limbs naked, springing to the race, Her limbs, as exquisitely turn'd, as mine, Or if a woman thou, might vie with thine, With lifted hands, he cry'd, forgive the tongue Which durst, ye youths, your well-tim'd courage wrong. I knew not that the nymph, for whom you strove, Deserv'd th' unbounded transports of your love. He saw, admir'd, and thus her spotless frame He prais'd, and praising, kindled his own flame. A rival now to all the youths who run, Envious, he fears they should not be undone. But why (reflects he) idly thus is shown The fate of others, yet untry'd my own? The coward must not on love's aid depend; The God was ever to the bold a friend. Mean-time the virgin flies, or seems to fly, Swift as a Scythian arrow cleaves the sky: Still more and more the youth her charms admires. The race itself t' exalt her charms conspires. The golden pinions, which her feet adorn, In wanton flutt'rings by the winds are born. Down from her head, the long, fair tresses flow, And sport with lovely negligence below. The waving ribbands, which her buskins tie, Her snowy skin with waving purple die; As crimson veils in palaces display'd, To the white marble lend a blushing shade. Nor long he gaz'd, yet while he gaz'd, she gain'd The goal, and the victorious wreath obtain'd. The vanquish'd sigh, and, as the law decreed, Pay the dire forfeit, and prepare to bleed. Then rose Hippomenes, not yet afraid, And fix'd his eyes full on the beauteous maid. Where is (he cry'd) the mighty conquest won, To distance those, who want the nerves to run? Here prove superior strength, nor shall it be Thy loss of glory, if excell'd by me. High my descent, near Neptune I aspire, For Neptune was grand-parent to my sire. From that great God the fourth my self I trace, Nor sink my virtues yet beneath my race. Thou from Hippomenes, o'ercome, may'st claim An envy'd triumph, and a deathless fame. While thus the youth the virgin pow'r defies, Silent she views him still with softer eyes. Thoughts in her breast a doubtful strife begin, If 'tis not happier now to lose, than win. What God, a foe to beauty, would destroy The promis'd ripeness of this blooming boy? With his life's danger does he seek my bed? Scarce am I half so greatly worth, she said. Nor has his beauty mov'd my breast to love, And yet, I own, such beauty well might move: 'Tis not his charms, 'tis pity would engage My soul to spare the greenness of his age. What, that heroick conrage fires his breast, And shines thro' brave disdain of Fate confest? What, that his patronage by close degrees Springs from th' imperial ruler of the seas? Then add the love, which bids him undertake The race, and dare to perish for my sake. Of bloody nuptials, heedless youth, beware! Fly, timely fly from a too barb'rous fair. At pleasure chuse; thy love will be repaid By a less foolish, and more beauteous maid. But why this tenderness, before unknown? Why beats, and pants my breast for him alone? His eyes have seen his num'rous rivals yield; Let him too share the rigour of the field, Since, by their fates untaught, his own he courts, And thus with ruin insolently sports. Yet for what crime shall he his death receive? Is it a crime with me to wish to live? Shall his kind passion his destruction prove? Is this the fatal recompence of love? So fair a youth, destroy'd, would conquest shame, Aud nymphs eternally detest my fame. Still why should nymphs my guiltless fame upbraid? Did I the fond adventurer persuade? Alas! I wish thou would'st the course decline, Or that my swiftness was excell'd by thine. See! what a virgin's bloom adorns the boy! Why wilt thou run, and why thy self destroy? Hippomenes! O that I ne'er had been By those bright eyes unfortunately seen! Ah! tempt not thus a swift, untimely Fate; Thy life is worthy of the longest date. Were I less wretched, did the galling chain Of rigid Gods not my free choice restrain, By thee alone I could with joy be led To taste the raptures of a nuptial bed. Thus she disclos'd the woman's secret heart, Young, innocent, and new to Cupid's dart. Her thoughts, her words, her actions wildly rove, With love she burns, yet knows not that 'tis love. Her royal sire now with the murm'ring crowd Demands the race impatiently aloud. Hippomenes then with true fervour pray'd, My bold attempt let Venus kindly aid. By her sweet pow'r I felt this am'rous fire, Still may she succour, whom she did inspire. A soft, unenvious wind, with speedy care, Wafted to Heav'n the lover's tender pray'r. Pity, I own, soon gain'd the wish'd consent, And all th' assistance he implor'd I lent. The Cyprian lands, tho' rich, in richness yield To that, surnam'd the Tamasenian field. That field of old was added to my shrine, And its choice products consecrated mine. A tree there stands, full glorious to behold, Gold are the leafs, the crackling branches gold. It chanc'd, three apples in my hand I bore, Which newly from the tree I sportive tore; Seen by the youth alone, to him I brought The fruit, and when, and how to use it, taught. The signal sounding by the king's command, Both start at once, and sweep th' imprinted sand. So swiftly mov'd their feet, they might with ease, Scarce moisten'd, skim along the glassy seas; Or with a wondrous levity be born O'er yellow harvests of unbending corn. Now fav'ring peals resound from ev'ry part, Spirit the youth, and fire his fainting heart. Hippomenes! (they cry'd) thy life preserve, Intensely labour, and stretch ev'ry nerve. Base fear alone can baffle thy design, Shoot boldly onward, and the goal is thine. 'Tis doubtful whether shouts, like these, convey'd More pleasures to the youth, or to the maid. When a long distance oft she could have gain'd, She check'd her swiftness, and her feet restrain'd: She sigh'd, and dwelt, and languish'd on his face, Then with unwilling speed pursu'd the race. O'er-spent with heat, his breath he faintly drew, Parch'd was his mouth, nor yet the goal in view, And the first apple on the plain he threw. The nymph stop'd sudden at th' unusual sight, Struck with the fruit so beautifully bright. Aside she starts, the wonder to behold, And eager stoops to catch the rouling gold. Th' observant youth past by, and scour'd along, While peals of joy rung from th' applauding throng. Unkindly she corrects the short delay, And to redeem the time fleets swift away, Swift, as the lightning, or the northern wind, And far she leaves the panting youth behind. Again he strives the flying nymph to hold With the temptation of the second gold: The bright temptation fruitlessly was tost, So soon, alas! she won the distance lost. Now but a little interval of space Remain'd for the decision of the race. Fair author of the precious gift, he said, Be thou, O Goddess, author of my aid! Then of the shining fruit the last he drew, And with his full-collected vigour threw: The virgin still the longer to detain, Threw not directly, but a-cross the plain. She seem'd a-while perplex'd in dubious thought, If the far-distant apple should be sought: I lur'd her backward mind to seize the bait, And to the massie gold gave double weight. My favour to my votary was show'd, Her speed I lessen'd, and encreas'd her load. But lest, tho' long, the rapid race be run, Before my longer, tedious tale is done, The youth the goal, and so the virgin won. Might I, Adonis, now not hope to see His grateful thanks pour'd out for victory? His pious incense on my altars laid? But he nor grateful thanks, nor incense paid. Enrag'd I vow'd, that with the youth the fair, For his contempt, should my keen vengeance share; That future lovers might my pow'r revere, And, from their sad examples, learn to fear. The silent fanes, the sanctify'd abodes, Of Cybele, great mother of the Gods, Rais'd by Echion in a lonely wood, And full of brown, religious horror stood. By a long painful journey faint, they chose! Their weary limbs here secret to repose. But soon my pow'r inflam'd the lustful boy, Careless of rest he sought untimely joy. A hallow'd gloomy cave, with moss o'er-grown, The temple join'd, of native pumice-stone, Where antique images by priests were kept. And wooden deities securely slept. Thither the rash Hippomenes retires, And gives a loose to all his wild desires, And the chaste cell pollutes with wanton fires. The sacred statues trembled with surprize, The tow'ry Goddess, blushing, veil'd her eyes; And the lewd pair to Stygian sounds had sent, But unrevengeful seem'd that punishment, A heavier doom such black prophaneness draws, Their taper figures turn to crooked paws. No more their necks the smoothness can retain, Now cover'd sudden with a yellow mane. Arms change to legs: each finds the hard'ning breast Of rage unknown, and wond'rous strength possest. Their alter'd looks with fury grim appear, And on the ground their brushing tails they hear. They haunt the woods: their voices, which before Were musically sweet, now hoarsly roar. Hence lions, dreadful to the lab'ring swains, Are tam'd by Cybele, and curb'd with reins, And humbly draw her car along the plains. But thou, Adonis, my delightful care, Of these, and beasts, as fierce as these, beware! The savage, which not shuns thee, timely shun, For by rash prowess should'st thou be undone, A double ruin is contain'd in one. Thus cautious Venus school'd her fav'rite boy; But youthful heat all cautions will destroy. His sprightly soul beyond grave counsels flies, While with yok'd swans the Goddess cuts the skies. His faithful hounds, led by the tainted wind, Lodg'd in thick coverts chanc'd a boar to find. The callow hero show'd a manly heart, And pierc'd the savage with a side-long dart. The flying savage, wounded, turn'd again, Wrench'd out the gory dart, and foam'd with pain. The trembling boy by flight his safety sought, And now recall'd the lore, which Venus taught; But now too late to fly the boar he strove, Who in the groin his tusks impetuous drove, On the discolour'd grass Adonis lay, The monster trampling o'er his beauteous prey. Fair Cytherea, Cyprus scarce in view, Heard from afar his groans, and own'd them true, And turn'd her snowy swans, and backward flew. But as she saw him gasp his latest breath, And quiv'ring agonize in pangs of death, Down with swift flight she plung'd, nor rage forbore, At once her garments, and her hair she tore. With cruel blows she beat her guiltless breast, The Fates upbraided, and her love confest. Nor shall they yet (she cry'd) the whole devour With uncontroul'd, inexorable pow'r: For thee, lost youth, my tears, and restless pain Shall in immortal monuments remain, With solemn pomp in annual rites return'd, Be thou for ever, my Adonis, mourn'd, Could Pluto's queen with jealous fury storm, And Men the to a fragrant herb transform? Yet dares not Venus with a change surprise, And in a flow'r bid her fall'n heroe rise? Then on the blood sweet nectar she bestows, The scented blood in little bubbles rose: Little as rainy drops, which flutt'ring fly, Born by the winds, along a low'ring sky. Short time ensu'd, 'till where the blood was shed, A flow'r began to rear its purple head: Such, as on Punick apples is reveal'd, Or in the filmy rind but half conceal'd. Still here the Fate of lovely forms we see, So sudden fades the sweet Anemonie. The feeble stems, to stormy blasts a prey, Their sickly beauties droop, and pine away. The winds forbid the flow'rs to flourish long, Which owe to winds their names in Grecian song. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- ~ Ovid, BOOK THE TENTH ,