But when he sought her father's house, To fight for his dear desire, He found only ruin and fire! Sigurd asked him along for luck, King Baldwin begged him sing. But he's sick of everything. Chorus He sees her face in the shining Moon, He spies her grace in the swan. His dreams are filled with her perfume, He feels the lips that are gone. He dreads and welcomes the dawn!
Our king went forth to Normandy, With grace and might of chivalry; The God for him wrought marvelously, Wherefore England may call and cry Deo gratias! Deo gratias, Anglia, redde pro victoria! He set a siege, the sooth for to say, To Harfleur town with royal array; That town he won, and made a fray, That France shall rue till Doomsday. Deo gratias, etc. Then went our king, with all his host, Through France for all the French boast; He spared for dread of least, nor most, Until he came to Agincourt coast. Then for sooth that knight comely In Agincourt field he fought mainly; Through grace of God most mighty He had both the field, and the victory.
There dukes, and earls, lords and barons, Were taken, and slain, and that well soon; And some were led into London With joy, and mirth, and great reknown. Now gracious God he save our king, His people, and all his well willing, Give him good life, and good ending, That we with mirth may safely sing Deo gratias, etc.
Early one morning, just as the sun was rising, I heard a maiden singing in the valley below. Oh, don't deceive me! Oh, never leave me! How could you use a poor maiden so? Oh gay is the garland and fresh are the roses, I've culled a garden to bind upon my brow. Remember the vows that you made to your Mary, Remember the bower where you vowed to be true. Thus sang the poor maiden her sorrows bewailing, Thus sang the poor maiden in the valley below. Gaudeamus igitur, iuvenes dum sumus, Gaudeamus igitur, iuvenes dum sumus! Post iucundam iuventutem, Post molestam senectutem, Nos habebit humus.
Nos habebit humus! Therefore let us rejoice, while we are young. Repeated After agreeable youth, After troublesome old age, The earth shall have us. Ubi sunt qui ante nos in mundo fuere? Where are those who were before us in the world? Vita nostra brevis est, brevi finietur. Our life is brief, it will be ended quickly. Repeated Death comes quickly He takes us fiercely No one will be spared. Vivat academia, vivant professores! Long live the school, long live the teachers!
Repeated Long live every male student Long live every female student May they always flower. Vivant omnes virgines faciles, formosae. Long live all maidens easy and beautiful. Repeated Long live also women, Tender, lovable, Good, hard-working. Vivant et res publica et qui illam regit. Long live both the republic and he who rules it. Repeated Long live our city, The charity of benefactors Which protects us here. Pereat tristitia, pereant osores.
The Jewel of Seven Stars
May sadness perish, may haters perish. Repeated May the devil perish, Whoever's against our school, And scoffers.
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Said to mean, "opponents of fraternities" 2. That is, mockers and deriders of the school. Alas my love, you do me wrong, To cast me off discourteously: And I have loved you so long Delighting in your company. Chorus: Greensleeves was all my joy, Greensleeves was my delight: Greensleeves was my heart of gold, And who but my Lady Greensleeves.
I have been ready at your hand, To grant whatever you would crave. I have both waged life and land, Your love and good will for to have. Greensleeves was all my joy, etc. I bought three kerchers to thy head, That were wrought fine and gallantly: I kept thee both board and bed, Which cost my purse well favouredly, Greensleeves was all my ioy, etc.
I bought thee petticoats of the best, The cloth so fine as might be: I gave thee jewels for thy chest, And all this cost I spent on thee. Greensleeves was all my ioy, etc.
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Thy smock of silk, both fair and white, With gold embroidered gorgeously: Thy petticoat of Sendall right: And thus I bought thee gladly. Thy girdle of gold so red, With pearls bedecked sumptuously: The like no other lasses had, And yet thou wouldst not love me, Greensleeves was all my joy, etc. Thy purse and eke thy gay gilt knives, Thy pincase gallant to the eye: No better wore the Burgesse wives, And yet thou wouldst not love me.
Thy crimson stockings all of silk, With gold all wrought above the knee, Thy pumps as white as was the milk, And yet thou wouldst not love me. Thy gown was of the grossy green, Thy sleeves of Satten hanging by: Which made thee be our harvest Queen, And yet thou wouldst not love me. Thy garters fringed with the gold, And silver aglets hanging by, Which made thee blithe for to behold, And yet thou wouldst not love me.
My gayest gelding I thee gave, To ride wherever liked thee, No Lady ever was so brave, And yet thou wouldst not love me. My men were clothed all in green, And they did ever wait on thee: All this was gallant to be seen, And yet thou wouldst not love me. They set thee up, they took thee down, They served thee with humility, Thy foot might not once touch the ground, And yet thou wouldst not love me. For every morning when thou rose, I sent thee dainties orderly: To cheer thy stomach from all woes, And yet thou wouldst not love me.
Thou couldst desire no earthly thing. But still thou hadst it readily: Thy music still to play and sing, And yet thou wouldst not love me. And who did pay for all this gear, That thou didst spend when pleased thee? Even I that am rejected here, And thou disdainst to love me. Well, I will pray to God on high, That thou my constancy mayst see: And that yet once before I die, Thou wilt vouchsafe to love me.
Greensleeves now farewell adieu, God I pray to prosper thee: For I am still thy lover true, Come once again and love me. I have a yong suster Fer biyonde the see; Manye be the druries That she sente me. She sente me the cherye Withouten any stoon, And so she dide the dove Withouten any boon. She sente me the brere Withouten any rinde; She bad me love my lemman Withoute longinge.
How sholde any cherye Be withoute stoon? And how sholde any dove Be withoute boon? How sholde any brere Be withoute rinde? How sholde I love my lemman Withoute longinge? Whan the cherye was a flowr, Thanne hadde it no stoon; Whan the dove was an ey, Thanne hadde it no boon.
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Whan the brere was unbred, Thanne hadde it no rinde; Whan the maiden hath that she loveth, She is withoute longinge. In taberna quando sumus, Non curamus quid sit humus, Sed ad ludum properamus, Cui semper insudamus. Quid agatur in taberna, Ubi nummus est pincerna, Hoc est opus ut queratur, Si quid loquar, audiatur. When we're in the tavern, We don't care what flesh we are, But hasten to the game, Which we always sweat about. What's done in the tavern, Where cash is the butler, This is the work that must be questioned, If I say it, it must be heard.
Quidam ludunt, quidam bibunt, Quidam indiscrete vivunt. Sed in ludo qui morantur, Ex his quidam denudantur, Quidam ibi vestiuntur, Quidam saccis induuntur; Ibi nullus timet mortem, Sed pro Baccho mittunt sortem. Some gamble, some drink, Some live without discretion.
But of those who waste time gambling, Some are stripped bare, Some win clothes, Some are dressed in sacks; No one there fears death, But for Bacchus they throw dice. Primo pro nummata vini; Ex hac bibunt libertini; Semel bibunt pro captivis, Post haec bibunt ter pro vivis, Quater pro Christianis cunctis, Quinquies pro fidelibus defunctis, Sexies pro sororibus vanis, Septies pro militibus silvanis.
First, for the payment of the wine; Then the boozers start to drink; They drink once to those in prison, After that, three times for the living, Four times for all Christendom, Five times for the faithful departed, Six times for sisters of loose virtue, Seven times for soldiers of the forest. Octies pro fratribus perversis, Nonies pro monachis dispersis, Decies pro navigantibus, Undecies pro discordantibus, Duodecies pro paenitentibus, Tredecies pro iter agentibus.
Eight times for brothers in error, Nine times for scattered monks, Ten times for those who sail, Eleven times for men quarrelling, Twelve times for those doing penance, Thirteen times for those on journeys. Tam pro papa quam pro rege bibunt omnes sine lege. Bibit hera, bibit herus, bibit miles, bibit clerus, bibit ille, bibit illa, bibit servus cum ancilla, bibit velox, bibit piger, bibit albus, bibit niger, bibit constans, bibit vagus, bibit rudis, bibit magus,. For pope and for king alike All drink without restraint. The mistress drinks, so does the master, The soldier drinks, so does the cleric, That man drinks, that woman drinks, The servant drinks with the maid, The fast man drinks, so does the slow, The white man drinks, so does the black, The stay-at-home drinks, so does the wanderer, The fool drinks, so does the scholar.
Bibit pauper et aegrotus, Bibit exul et ignotus, Bibit puer, bibit canus, Bibit presul et decanus, Bibit soror, bibit frater, Bibit anus, bibit mater, Bibit ista, bibit ille, Bibunt centum, bibit mille. The poor man drinks and the sick man, The exile drinks and the stranger too, The boy drinks, the old man drinks, The leader of the parade, the dean as well, The sister drinks, the brother drinks, The old woman drinks, the mother drinks, That woman drinks, that man drinks, Hundreds drink, a thousand drink. Parum sescentae nummatae Durant cum immoderate Bibunt omnes sine meta, Quamvis bibant mente laeta; Sic nos rodunt omnes gentes, Et sic erimus egentes.
Qui nos rodunt confundantur Et cum iustis non scribantur. Large sums of money Last too short a time When everybody drinks without limit, Even though they drink with a happy mind; Thus everyone sponges on us, And it will make us poor. Let those who sponge on us be damned And let them not be written in the book of the Just. It was a lover and his lass, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino That o'er the green cornfields did pass.
In spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding a ding; Sweet lovers love the spring. Between the acres of the rye, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, These pretty country folks would lie, In spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding a ding; Sweet lovers love the spring. This carol they began that hour, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, How that a life was but a flower In spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding a ding; Sweet lovers love the spring.
Lavendar's blue, dilly dilly, Lavendar's green. When I am King, dilly dilly, You shall be Queen. Who told you so, dilly dilly, Who told you so? I gave my love a cherry without a stone. I gave my love a chicken without a bone. I gave my love a story that has no end. I gave my love a baby with no cryin'. How can there be a cherry without a stone? How can there be a chicken without a bone? How can there be a story that has no end?
How can there be a baby with no cryin'? A cherry in the blossom, it has no stone. A chicken in the yolk, it has no bone. The story of 'I love her', it has no end. A baby when it's sleeping, has no cryin'. Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme Remember me to one who lives there; She once was a true love of mine. Have her make me a cambric shirt Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme Without a seam or fine needle work, And then she'll be a true love of mine. Tell her to weave it in a sycamore wood lane Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme And gather it all with a basket of flowers, And then she'll be a true love of mine.
Have her wash it in yonder dry well Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme Where water ne'er sprang nor drop of rain fell, And then she'll be a true love of mine. Back to Previous. An Hymn Of Heavenly Beauty. By Edmund Spenser. Rapt with the rage of mine own ravish'd thought,. Through contemplation of those goodly sights,. Whose wondrous beauty, breathing sweet delights. But feel my wits to fail, and tongue to fold. Vouchsafe then, O thou most Almighty Spright,. From whom all gifts of wit and knowledge flow,. Fair seeming shews, and feed on vain delight,. Of those fair forms, may lift themselves up higher,.
And learn to love, with zealous humble duty,.
Th' eternal fountain of that heavenly beauty. That flags awhile her fluttering wings beneath,. Till she herself for stronger flight can breathe. Then look, who list thy gazeful eyes to feed. With sight of that is fair, look on the frame. The endless kinds of creatures which by name.
Thou canst not count, much less their natures aim;. All which are made with wondrous wise respect,. First th' earth, on adamantine pillars founded,. Then th' air still flitting, but yet firmly bounded. On every side, with piles of flaming brands,. Never consum'd, nor quench'd with mortal hands;. And further is from earth, so still more clear.
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Air more than water, fire much more than air,. And heaven than fire, appears more pure and fair. On that bright, shiny, round, still moving mass,. The house of blessed gods, which men call sky,. All sow'd with glist'ring stars more thick than grass,. But those two most, which ruling night and day,. As king and queen, the heavens' empire sway;. Or can the sight that is most sharp and keen.
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And so much fairer, and much more than these,. For far above these heavens, which here we see,. That need no sun t' illuminate their spheres,. But their own native light far passing theirs. And as these heavens still by degrees arise,. Until they come to their first Mover's bound,. And rise more fair; till they at last arrive.
To the most fair, whereto they all do strive. Fair is the heaven where happy souls have place,. Whence they do still behold the glorious face. More fair is that, where those Ideas on high. Yet fairer is that heaven, in which do reign. I try to make eye contact, to see who he is, he looks away, is invisible. I continue on, send him a blessing, I am walking in my own imagination, still striving for mine, still striving…. I live at airports, fording through masses of humanity, I am stunned by the movement, skin colors and costumes, eyes intense.
I meet Bardolph, who is now missing a funeral in LA, a struggling actor there, named after a Shakespearean character, we talk into the night. I feel joyous, mostly, sometimes afraid that the foundation I have built for myself in this life, is creaky…. San Francisco was gorgeous, such dynamic women there who champion my work, hotel on Nob Hill a super stage, must enjoy life to the max, who knows when it will end and where.?..
Obama is in town, how exciting, my hotel, where many of the delegates are staying, is under heavy arm guard, security is tight. Jeff Bruges chocolatier from Brussels had produced gorgeous eggs for the holidays, fine chocolates wrapped in sparkling tin foils of all bright colors. Greg had found some Easter like baskets in the medina, his Senegalese assistant had created some shredded papers to fill them, upon which to rest the Bruges eggs, table was gorgeous, all fine antique linens and china from his grandmother.
I have lit a candle for you tonight, Mr. Lucky, I am with you in soul time, soon there will be no time…. I observe this hot bed of activity and marvel at the connectedness of all of us, basic wants and needs so much the same, the fragility of self, the yearnings of the heart, dreams. I tell my husband the party is just beginning, he says, what party, I say, the party of life, of course. I wonder, does any part of the soul linger in what is left behind, in the atmosphere, in the walls? Buddhists make this a daily climb, the number of steps directly corresponding to some magical combination in the universe that brings one closer to the goal of self revelation, oh..
I buy as many as I can, they fly high into the sky until you can no longer see them, it is exciting, they are excited too! I yearn to be time- less too, get off at the temple stop, will twist away for a while-. I glide along with the stream of humanity, feet barely touching the pavement and I feel deliriously happy, hardly able to contain my laughter. I have heard coyotes roam the streets at night, how it thrills me to think that this is, that there is still a chance to be free, that there is still a chance — draw the curtains all the way now, here comes this new day!
Bel Hadj, my oldest, dearest friend here, just returned from visiting his mother in Taroudant. New York, you are a hive of possibility, looking forward-. Happy New Year everyone, may it be magic! NEVER take any one thing or one some for granted, love. Gary has lived 25 years in Liberia. Robert, so smooth in his French now, engages the young female art student from Paris and pours champagne. Robert listening to BBC in living room, bird flies in our picture window, always a few bits of something to feed on.
Your Name required. Your Email required. Your Message. Thank you for liberating me from my pearls. All the best. I don't even want to go to bed to take it off. When the Guggenheim do their top exhibit in you'll be in it. I'd much rather be in Santa Fe flouncing around in your studio, trying on your jewelry!strilok.com.ua/image/map9.php
They are my treasures. You have no idea how your jewels make my heart soar. Strangers, friends and acquaintances are all fascinated to see it. They want to touch it! I am a Jewels girl!