"Scots! Wha Hae Wi' Wallace Bled"

Scots! wha hae wi' Wallace bled,

Scots! wham Bruce has aften led,

Welcome to your gory bed,

Or to victory!

~

Now's the day, and now's the hour;

See the front o' battle lour: 

See approach proud Edward's power;

Chains and slavery!

~

Wha will be a traitor knave?

Wha can fill a coward's grave?

Wha sae base as be a slave?

Let him turn and flee!

~

Wha for Scotland's King and law;

Freedom's sword will strongly draw,

Freeman stand, or freeman fa'?

Let him on wi' me!

~

By oppression's woes and pains!

By your sons in servile chains!

We will drain our dearest veins,

But they shall be free!

~

Lay the proud usurpers low!

Tyrants fall in every foe!

Liberty's in every blow!

Let us do or die!

Robert Burns

* * *

Persevero,

Belshazzar Had A Letter

Belshazzar had a Letter -

He never had but one -

Belshazzar's Correspondent

Concluded and begun

In that immortal Copy

The Conscience of us all

Can read without it Glasses

On Revelation's Wall -

Emily Dickinson

* * *

Persevero,

"Mock On, Mock On Voltaire, Rousseau"

Mock on, Mock on Voltaire, Rousseau;

Mock on, Mock on: 'tis all in vain!

You throw the sand against the wind,

And the wind blows it back again.

~

And every sand becomes a Gem

Reflected in the beams divine;

Blown back they blind the mocking eye,

But still in Israel's paths they shine.

~

The Atoms of Democritus

And Newton's Particles of light

Are sand upon the Red Sea shore,

Where Israel's tents do shine so bright.

William Blake

* * *
Persevero,

"The Gods of the Copybook Headings"

"During the 19th century, students were required to learn and memorize important truths by writing them down as axioms in copy books. In "The Gods in the Copybook Headings," Kipling reveals the intellectual and moral bankruptcy of those who view progress as a constant evolutionary process of finding new trendy philosphies by which to live. In the final analysis, the historic truths of Christianity will vanquish the platitudes of modernity."

Douglas W. Phillips, Poems for Patriarchs

-----------------------------
As I pass through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market-Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.
~
We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.
~
We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market-Place;
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.
~
With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch.
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch.
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings.
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market-Place Who promised these beautiful things.
~
When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes should cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."
~
On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbor and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."
~
In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing collective Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."
~
Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew,
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four -
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.
~
As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man -
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began: -
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt fool's bandaged finger goes wobbling back to the fire;
~
And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return.

Rudyard Kipling

* * *
Persevero,

"To See a World in a Grain of Sand"

To see a world in a grain of sand,

And a heaven in a wild flower,

Hold infinity in the palm of your hand

And eternity in an hour.

~ William Blake

* * *
Persevero,

"On the Babel-Builders"

Sure, if those Babel-builders had thought good

To raise their heaven-high tower before the flood,

The wiser sort of people might deride

Their folly, and that folly had salved their pride;

Or had their faiths but enterprised that plot,

Their hearts had finished what their hands could not;

'Twas not for love of heaven: nor did they aim

So much to raise a building as a name:

They that by works shall seek to make intrusion

To heaven, find nothing but their own confusion.

~ Francis Quarles

"Death, Be Not Proud"

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;

For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow

Die not, poor death, nor yet canst thou kill me.

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,

Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,

And soonest our best men with thee do go,

Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well

And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?

One short sleep past, we wake eternally

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.

~ John Donne

Beowulf

Beowulf got ready,

donned his war-gear, indifferent to death;

his mighty, hand-forged, fine-webbed mail

would soon meet with the menace underwater.

It would keep the bone-cage of his body safe:

no enemy's clasp could crush him in it,

no vicious armlock choke his life out.

To guard his head he had a glittering helmet

that was due to be muddied on the mere bottom

and blurred in the upswirl. It was of beaten gold,

princely headgear hooped and hasped

by a weapon smith who had worked wonders

in days gone by and adorned it with boar shapes;

since then it had resisted every sword.

And another item lent by Unferth

at that moment of need was of no small importance:

the brehon handed him a hilted weapon,

a rare and ancient sword named Hrunting.

The iron blade with its ill-boding patterns

had been tempered in blood. It had never failed

the hand of anyone who hefted it in battle,

anyone who had fought and faced the worst

in the gap of danger. This was not the first time

it had been called to perform heroic feats...

~

Beowulf, son of Ecgtheow, spoke:

"Wisest of kings, now that I have come

to the point of action, I ask you to recall

what we said earlier: that you, son of Halfdane

and gold-friend to retainers, that you, if I should fall

and suffer death while serving your cause,

would act like a father to me afterwards.

If this combat kills me, take care

of my young company, my comrades in arms.

And be sure also, my beloved Hrothgar,

to send Hygelac the treasures I received.

Let the lord of the Geats gaze on that gold,

let Hrethel's son take note of it and see

that I found a ring-giver of rare magnificence

and enjoyed the good of his generosity.

And Unferth is to have what I inherited:

to that far-famed man I bequeath my own

sharp-honed, wave-sheened wonderblade.

With Hrunting I shall gain glory or die."

~ excerpt taken from Beowulf,
lines 442-463 and 473-492,
translated by Seamus Heaney

* * *
Persevero,

King Alfred's War Song

When the enemy comes a'roarin' like a flood,

Coveting the kingdom and hungering for blood,

The Lord will raise a standard up and lead His people on,

The Lord of Hosts will go before defeating every foe;

        defeating every foe.

~

For the Lord is our defense, Jesus defend,

For the Lord is our defense, Jesu defend.

~

Some men trust in chariots, some trust in the horse,

But we will depend upon the Name of Christ our Lord,

The Lord has made my hands for war and my fingers to fight.

The Lord lays low our enemies, but He raises us upright;

He raises us upright.

~

For the Lord is our defense, Jesus defend,

For the Lord is our defense, Jesu defend.

~

A thousand fall on my left hand, ten thousand to the right,

But He will defend us from the arrow in the night.

Protect us from the terrors of the teeth of the devourer,

Embue us with Your Spirit, Lord, encompass us with with power;

encompass us with power.

~

For the Lord is our defense, Jesus defend,

For the Lord is our defense, Jesu defend.

* * *

Persevero,

"The Book of Books"

Within this ample volume lies

The mystery of mysteries.

Happiest they of human race

To whom their God has given grace

To read, to fear, to hope, to pray,

To lift the latch, to force the way;

But better had they ne'er been born

That read to doubt or read to scorn.

~ Sir Walter Scott

* * *

Persevero,

Scribe

One Crown That No One Seeks

One crown that no one seeks

And yet the highest head

Its isolation coveted

Its stigma defied

~

While Pontious Pilate lives

In whatsoever hell

That coronation pierces him

He recollects it well.

~ Emily Dickenson

* * *

Persevero,

Scribe

"Saviour of the Nations, Come"

Saviour of the nations, come,

Virgin's Son, make here Thy home!

Marvel now, O heav'n and earth,

That the Lord chose such a birth.

~

Not of flesh and blood the Son,

Offspring of the Holy One;

Born of Mary ever blest

God in flesh is manifest.

~

Wondrous birth! O wondrous Child

Of the virgin undefiled!

Though by all the world disowned,

Still to be in heav'n enthroned.

~Ambrose of Milan

* * *

Persevero,

Scribe

"Come, Thou Long-Expected Jesus"

Come, Thou long-expected Jesus,

Born to set Thy people free;

From our fears and sins release us;

Let us find our rest in Thee.

Israel's Strength and Consolation,

Hope if all the earth Thou art;

Dear Desire of ev'ry nation,

Joy of ev'ry longing heart.

~

Born Thy people to deliver,

Born a child, and yet a King,

Born to reign in us forever,

Now Thy gracious kingdom bring.

By Thine Own eternal Spirit

Rule in all our hearts alone;

By Thine all-sufficient merit

Raise us to Thy glorious throne.

~ Charles Wesley

* * *

Persevero,

Scribe

Neutrality Loathesome

God will have all, or none; serve Him or fall

Down before Baal, Bel, or Belial:

Either be hot, or cold: God doth despise,

Abhor, and spew out all Neutralities.

~ Robert Herrick

* * *

Persevero,

Scribe

"Recessional"

God of our fathers, known of old --

Lord of our far-flung battle-line --

Beneath whose awful hand we hold

Dominion over palm and pine --

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet

Lest we forget -- lest we forget!

~

The tumult and the shouting dies --

The Captains and the Kings depart --

Still stands Thine ancient Sacrifice,

An humble and contrite heart.

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

Lest we forget -- lest we forget!

~

Far-called, our navies melt away --

On dune and headland sinks the fire --

Lo, all our pomp of yesterday

Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!

Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,

Lest we forget -- lest we forget!

~

If, drunk with sight of power, we loose

Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe --

Such boasting as the Gentiles use

Or lesser breeds without the Law --

Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,

Lest we forget -- lest we forget!

~

For heathen heart that puts her trust

In reeking tube and iron shard --

All valiant dust that builds on dust,

And guarding calls not Thee to guard --

For frantic boast and foolish word,

Have mercy on Thy People, Lord!

~Rudyard Kipling


* * *
Persevero,
Scribe

"A Son's Most Precious Inheritance"

You got it from your father.

It was all he had to give.

So it's yours to use and cherish

For as long as you may live.

~

If you lose the tools he gave you

They can always be replaced.

But a black mark on your name, Son,

Can never be erased.

~

So make sure you guard it wisely

After all is said and done.

You'll be glad your name is spotless

When you give it to your son.


~ Author Unknown


* * *
Persevero,
Scribe

From the School Library...

...[Satyrane] said, "Arise thou cursed Miscreant,
That haste with knightless guile and treacherous train
Fair knighthood foully shamed, and doest vaunt
That good knight of the Redcross to have slain.
Arise, and with like treason now maintain
Thy guilty wrong, or else thee guilty yield."
The Sarazin this hearing, rose amain,
And catching up in haste his three square shield,
And shining helmet, soon buckled him to the field...
~
Therewith they 'gan, both furious and fell,

To thunder blows, and fiercely to assail,

Each other bent his enemy to quell,

That with their force they pierced both plate and mail

And made wide furrows in their fleshes frail,

That it would pity any living eye.

Large floods of blood adown their sides did rail;

But floods of blood could not them satisfy:

Both hungered after death; both chose to win, or die.

~

So long they fight, and fell revenge pursue,

That fainting each, themselves to breathen let,

And oft refreshed, battle oft renew.

As when two Boars with rankling malice met,

Their gory sides fresh bleeding fiercely fret,

Til breathless both themselves aside retire,

Where foaming wrath, their cruel tusks they whet,

And trample the earth, the whiles they may respire;

Then back to fight again, new breathed and entire.
~

So fiercely, when these knights had breathed once,
They 'gan to fight return, increasing more
Their puissant force, and cruel rage at once,
With heaped strokes more hugely, than before,
That with their dreary wounds and bloody gore
They both deformed, scarcely could be known.

~ Excerpt from Book I of The Faerie Queen by Edmund Spenser

* * *

Persevero,

Scribe

"Once to Every Man and Nation"

Once to every man and nation comes the moment to decide,

In strife of truth and falsehood, for the good or evil side;

Some great cause, some great decision, diff'ring each the bloom or blight,

And the choice goes by forever 'twixt that darkness and that light.

~

Then to side with truth is noble, when we share her wretched crust,

Ere her cause bring fame and profit, and 'tis prosp'rous to be just;

Then it is the brave man chooses while the coward stands aside,

Till the multitude make virtue of the faith they had denied.

~

Though the cause of evil prosper, yet truth alone is strong;

Though her portion be the scaffold, and upon the throne be wrong,

Yet that scaffold sways the future, and behind the dim unknown,

Standeth God within the shadow keeping watch above His own.

~ James R. Lowell

* * *

Persevero,

Scribe

"The Charge of the Light Brigade"

"The Charge of the Light Brigade" is based on an actual event that occured in the Battle of Balaclava (1854) during the Crimean War. For a greater appreciation of this poem, read the story here...
* * *
Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,

All in the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

"Forward, the Light Brigade!

Charge for the guns!" he said:

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

~
"Forward, the Light Brigade!"

Was there a man dismay'd?

Not tho' the soldier knew

Someone had blundered:

Their's not to make reply,

Their's not to reason why,

Their's but to do or die:

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

~

Cannon to the right of them,

Cannon to the left of them,

Cannon in front of them

Volley'd and thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

Boldly they rode and well,

Into the jaws of Death,

Into the mouth of Hell

Rode the six hundred.

~

Flash'd all their sabres bare,

Flash'd as they turn'd in air,

Sabring the gunners there,

Charging an army, while

All the world wondered:

Plunged in the battery smoke,

Right thro' the line they broke;

Cossack and Russian

Reel'd from the sabre stroke

Shatter'd and sunder'd.

Then they rode back, but not

Not the six hundred.

~

Cannon to the right of them,

Cannon to the left of them,

Cannon in front of them

Volley'd and thunder'd;

Storm'd at with shot and shell,

While horse and hero fell,

They that had fought so well

Came thro' the jaws of Death

Back from the mouth of Hell,

All that was left of them,

Left of six hundred.

~

When can their glory fade?

O the wild charge they made!

All the world wondered.

Honor the charge they made,

Honor the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred.

~ Alfred Lord Tennyson

* * *

Persevero,

Scribe

Sampling Some Shakespeare

Even if you don't care for all of Shakespeare's works (I don't), you've got to admit, his style and prose are sometimes nothing short of brilliant...

But screw your courage to the sticking place,
And we'll not fail. ~ Macbeth, Act 1, Scene 1

Et tu, Brute! ~ Julius Caeser, Act 3, Scene 1

Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown. ~ Henry IV, Part 2, Act 3, Scene 1

Cry 'Havoc!' and let slip the dogs of war. ~ Julius Caeser, Act 3, Scene 1

Once more to the breach, dear friends, once more;
Or close up the wall with our English dead! ~ Henry V, Act 3, Scene 1

Neither borrower, nor lender be;
For loan oft loses both itself and friend. ~ Hamlet, Act 1, Scene 3

This was the most unkindest cut of all. ~ Julius Caeser, Act 3, Scene 2

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers. ~ Henry V, Act 4, Scene 3

There's a divinity that shapes our ends,
Rough-hew them as we will. ~ Hamlet, Act 5, Scene 2

I thought upon one pair of English legs
Did march three Frenchmen. ~ Henry V, Act 3, Scene 6

King Henry V (played by Kenneth Brannagh) delivers the St. Crispin's Day Speech (read it here)...



Note: this video excerpt is taking from Brannagh's film Henry V (1989), based on Shakespeare's play. Highly recommended. (The soundtrack for this movie is one of our family's favorites. Search for it on iTunes to hear some samples...)

* * *

Persevero,

Scribe