#dido graves | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

siriuslysmoking · 1 year

Text

No One Was Saved | Chapter 2

(The Year Everything Flipped Upside Down Masterlist)

—Eleanor Rigby Died in the church and was buried along with her name Nobody came Father McKenzie Wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave No one was saved— -The Beatles

Y/n was sitting in the lunchroom waiting for Chrissy to show up, she had made it known that she needed to tell Y/n something so here she waited, in the lunchroom. But no Chrissy. None of the cheer girls had seen her, so they were no help. Jason was her last resort. She didn’t necessarily like talking to him, but when she had to, she had to. She walked over to Jason’s table, it was all the basketball players.

“Hey! Jason!” she spoke as she got close to their table, he hummed as he looked up.

“Oh, it’s you.” he looked disappointed.

“What, not the person you wanna see?” Y/n questioned.

“Not particularly.”

“Dido, now, do you happen to know where Chrissy is?” She questioned, crossing her arms across her chest.

“No, why would I know?”

“Because she’s your girlfriend.” she shrugged.

“No, sorry princess, I don’t know.”

Y/n rolled her eyes getting ready to walk away when a voice from across the room called out. “As long as you’re into band or science…” Eddie Munson. “Or parties.” standing on a table, once again making himself known. “Or a game where you toss balls into laundry baskets!”

Y/n’s eyebrows were raised as she watched the 20 year old man -who was still in highschool- with the long curly hair, his black jeans, his leather jacket with a jean vest above it, and of course who could forget his Hellfire t-shirt. Hellfire: a Dungeons and Dragons club, that Eddie was like the leader of, Y/n didn’t know much about the game except that it was a fantasy role-play game. To be honest she was quite intrigued by it, Y/n always thought about learning more about the game that others called a ‘satanic ritual’. That was all bullshit though and she knew it.

“You want something, freak.” Jason stood up, he was so defensive, so willing to stir the pot. Eddie’s response to Jason was to imitate a demon, his pointer fingers pointing up on his head, his tongue stuck out and he made growling demon-like sounds. Eddie smiled as Jason pulled a disgusted face, it wasn’t until Eddie locked eyes with Y/n (who was still standing next to Jason) she noticed the side of her lips were turning up. She immediately forced her face back into a neutral expression, but Eddie had already seen it.

He turned around on the table, “it’s forced conforming. That’s what’s killing the kids.” he stepped off the table as he shouted, scaring a group of girls that were passing his table. He saw a pair of cheerleaders and motioned for them to walk past him. “That’s the real monster.” this time he spoke much lower.

When Y/n realized she was staring she turned and walked out of the lunch room, frustrated and concerned, where the hell is Chrissy? She continued her search, Y/n had a free period for next class and so did Chrissy so she continued to look for her blonde friend. Not twenty minutes later she walked outside because some people ate outside on the picnic benches, that’s when she saw Chrissy.

“Hey, Chrissy!” she shouted as she ran over to her friend. “I was looking for you everywhere. I thought we agreed to meet in the lunchroom.”

“Oh-” Chrissy flinched as Y/n rested her hand on her shoulder. “Uh, yeah, I just got distracted.”

“Are you okay?” Y/n asked slowly, removing her hand from the girl's shoulder.

The blonde nodded, “Yeah I just want to talk to you.”

“Yeah, okay.” Y/n nodded as she walked with Chrissy towards the football field. “What’s going on?”

“I- uh-” she trailed off.

“You can tell me anything, you know that right?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Okay, then what’s going on?”

“I feel like I’m going crazy.” Chrissy rushed out.

“Don’t we all?”

“No like, I’ve been getting nightmares and headaches and bloody noses…” she trailed off. “I’ve been seeing things.”

“What kind of things?”

“You’re going to think I’m going insane.”

“I promise I won’t, to be honest, I’ve been getting headaches and bloody noses. I had a headache today. I could barely see.”

“Okay… today in the bathroom it was my mom, talking about a dress and then her feet, they-they were like I don’t even know how to explain it… not human.” Y/n nodded. “The lights flickered, the voice was so scary.”

“Wait- did you say the lights flickered?” Y/n stopped her.

“Yeah…” Y/n nodded and continued walking.

“So, where are we going?”

“To the woods, I’m meeting with Eddie Munson.”

“Wait- why?”

“To see if he has anything that can help.”

“Are you sure drugs are the answer?”

“I’m willing to do anything that can help.” Y/n nodded at her friend as they made their way across the field and behind the gate. As they were walking through the forest they came upon an old picnic table that was littered with cans and other trash. Y/n climbed onto the bench sitting on the table when she turned she saw Chrissy facing a tree.

“Chrissy?” Y/n questioned, the blonde didn’t turn around, she just started to back up. Y/n stood up stepping towards her friend, until another body crashed into Chrissy making her scream.

“Whoa, hey, hey, hey.” It was Eddie, “sorry.” he chuckled, “didn’t mean to scare you.” Chrissy looked like she had seen a ghost. “You okay?”

Chrissy looked towards the tree again, “Chrissy?” Y/n called, that’s when Eddie noticed her. Y/n stepped forward, calling out once more, before she could reach out to her friend she quickly turned around and put on a false smile.

Eddie waved his lunch box and walked toward the table, the two girls following, Y/n kept trying to meet Chrissy’s eyes but her head remained low. Once they two were seated Eddie took off his leather jacket and tossed it on the table. He eyed Chrissy who looked pretty shaken, “There’s uh- nothin’ to worry about. Okay? No one comes out here.” he tried to reassure Chrissy. “You’re safe.”

Once he was seated he flipped open his lunch box, “I promise.” his stupid lunch box that didn’t house food but instead housed drugs. He put his arm on the table resting his chin on his hand. “So, how does this work, exactly?” Chrissy asked.

To be honest Y/n had no idea why she was here, she just kinda sat there awkwardly by Chrissy’s side. “Aw, just like any other old sale, except, cash only, and for obvious reasons, no receipts.” Eddie explained.

“I’ll do you a half ounce for uh, twenty. What do you say? Plenty bang for your buck. Should last you a while.” Eddie held up a plastic baggy, there was a snap of a branch behind the girls and as Chrissy gasped and turned, Y/n raised an eyebrow. Something was going on.

“Hey, uh, we don’t need to do this, just give me the word and I’ll walk away. Okay?”

“It’s not that. I don’t want you to go.” Chrissy stopped the man who started to close up his lunch box. “It’s just- do you ever feel like you're losing your mind?”

Eddie cocked his head to the side, “Uh, you know, just… on a daily basis.” He smiled at the two girls. “I feel like I’m losing my mind right now doing a drug deal with Chrissy Cunningham and Y/n L/n, the queens of Hawkins high.”

Y/n noticed that Chrissy was getting more comfortable, no longer so tense. “You know this isn’t the first time we’ve all um… hung out.” Eddie says to the two girls.

“No?” Chrissy asks, Y/n cocks her head in question.

“You don’t remember?” Eddie asks, looking at the two cheerleaders sitting across from him.

“I’m sorry. I-” Chrissy pauses.

“That’s okay.” Eddie shakes his head, and messes with his finger until he makes the executive decision to stab himself in the chest with an invisible knife, falling on his back off the bench and onto the leafy forest floor.

Chrissy gasps and Y/n let a snort leave her lips as she tries to stifle her laughter with her hand. “I wouldn't remember me either. Honestly, do I have stuff in my hair?” he stumbled onto his feet, brushing his hands off and running his hands through his leaf infected hair. The two girls laugh as Eddie finishes fishing all the leaves out of his hair, he turns back to face them.

“You don’t remember me?” he questions the girls, Y/n starts racking her brain but to be honest after these past few years she's been trying to forget about everything from her past.

“I’m sorry.” Chrissy laughs, she turns to her friend and raises an eyebrow in question, Y/n shrugs in thought.

“Middle school, Talent show. You two were doing this cheer thing. You know…” he raised his hands shaking them as if he had cheerleading pom poms. “the thing you do. It’s pretty cool actually. And I was with my band-” the two girls cut him off, saying it in sink.

“Corroded Coffin.” they spoke, Eddie started clapping and did a little turn. Y/n’s brain thought of the much shorter, buzzed hair, little boy who played the electric guitar during a middle school talent show.

“Corro- you do remember!”

“Of course we do! With a name like that, how could we forget!”

“I don’t know, you’re a freak.” Eddie teased.

“No you just…” Chrissy trailed off, “you looked so…

“Different?” Eddie asked. “Yeah. well, my hair was buzzed and I still didn’t have these sweet ol’ tatties yet.” he pulled down the top of his shirt revealing his chest that was littered with tattoos.

“You played guitar, right?”

“Uh-huh, still do.”

“You know.” Chrissy continued, she looked over to Y/n. “Y/n here plays guitar too.”

“Bass, I play bass.” she corrected, Eddie looked at her.

“Never would’ve guessed.” he spoke.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing. You just don’t give me the, ‘I play an instrument’ vibe.” he shrugged, “you know, you should come see us play. We play at The Hideout on Tuesdays. It’s pretty cool, we.. we get a crowd actually, of about five drunks.” Chrissy laughed as Y/n smiled at the brunette boy.

“We should.” Y/n agreed.

“It’s not exactly the Garden but you gotta start somewhere, right?” he started playfully punching a tree. Y/n took in his appearance, his dark jeans, his ‘Hellfire’ baseball tee-shirt, his belt chain, different rings, a black bandana hanging out of the back of his pants, and his long curly hair.

“You know, you’re not what I’d thought you’d be like.” the blonde trailed off.

“Mean and scary?” Eddie asked, he grabbed a piece of his hair and covered his mouth with it.

“Yeah.” Chrissy nodded.

“Yeah, well I actually thought you’d be kinda mean in scary, too.” Eddie walked back toward the table and leaned into the two girls.

“Us?” the two girls spoke, looking at each other curiously.

“Terrifying.” He sat down and grabbed his lunch box, setting it back on the table top. “Good news is flattery works with me, so…twenty-five percent discount count for the half. Fifteen bucks.” he places down a baggy in front of the blonde. “You’re robbing me blind here, you know.”

Chrissy looked down, “do you have anything… maybe.” she stopped, “stronger?”

“Chrissy?” Y/n asked, for all Y/n knew this was her first time doing anything so going stronger would be a push. “Don’t you think you should start off slow? Ease into it?”

She shook her head, “no… I’m sure.”

“I… uh- don’t have anything on me but I can meet you tonight with it.” Chrissy nodded.

“After the game, we can meet at my trailer.” Eddie spoke.

“Yeah, that works.” Chrissy agreed.

“I won’t be able to come.” Y/n spoke to Chrissy, “I have to drop Dustin back at his house after his thingy.” Y/n remembered the promise she made to Mrs. Henderson didn't want her son to bike home in the dark so she asked Y/n to do it. Of course she said yes, after school she'd go back home then take her car back for the game.

“That’s fine. I can go alone.” Chrissy spoke to Y/n, Y/n nodded hesitantly, looking back to Eddie who was putting his jacket back on.

“Okay.” She looked over to Eddie’s hand and said the time. “We have to go to class.” she said standing up and swinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Alright.” Chrissy turned to the boy. “See you after the match in the parking lot?” Eddie nodded and Chrissy turned following Y/n out of the forest and back onto the football field.

I hope you enjoyed the 2nd chapter! Reposts, comment, like so others can enjoy this story as well! it's super appreciated! Updates every sunday!

Comment if you wanna be added to the tag list!

51 notes · View notes

remusjohnslupin · 1 year

Text

Thanks to @daniellarussos for tagging me! 💕

Rules: Spell your url with song titles and then tag as many people as there are letters.

R: Rhiannon — Fleetwood Mac

E: Edge of Seventeen — Stevie Nicks

M: Million Reasons — Lady Gaga

U: Une Belle Histoire — Michael Fugain

S: Serenade — Steve Miller Band

J: Jillian (I'd Give My Heart) — Without Temptation

O: Oats In The Water — Ben Howard

H: Here With Me — Dido

N: Nevet Let Me Go — Florence + The Machine

S: Sara — Fleetwood Mac

L: Laugh, I Nearly Died — The Rolling Stones

U: The Unquiet Grave — Sarah Calderwood

P: Poison — Alice Cooper

I: In The Street — Cheap Trick

N: Nomads — Joe Banfi

Tagging: @tastethesetears, @anotherbluesunday, @thcrin, @beautyofattolia, @yenneferthemage, @frodo-baggins, @diamantdog, @lotrlorien, @kvtnisseverdeen, @pendovah, @persephoneed, @cosmic-lullaby, @therulerofallpotatos, @penelopwgarcia, @wednesdayandherhyde.

#music #what i realised while i was scrolling through my itunes #is that i have a boomer dad taste in music #mostly #like 70% boomer dad music

7 notes · View notes

spindrifters · 2 years

Text

Tag Game

ty for the tag @sliebman10 xx

Three Ships: Wolfstar, Lyra/Will, Jongritte (but specifically the teenage dirtbag version from the books)

First Ship: Idk probably Moses/Tzipporah from The Prince of Egypt or something. They're hot, what can I say?

Last Song: Here With Me - Dido (this is the random Apple Play song my Bluetooth chooses to hit me with every time I start the car, but it's such a banger that sometimes I just let it play out)

Last Film: Probably It's a Wonderful Life. I haven't really been watching anything lately.

Currently Reading: A grave mistake, the shape and sound of god, Please Set Me on Fire. In terms of tradpub, the sexual tension between me and the unread copy of Babel sitting on my nightstand is tense.

Currently Watching: The Last of Us

Currently Consuming: Dried mango

Currently Craving: A fucking ube bun but the only place in my city that has them is still closed until Friday.

Tagging @soloorganaas @impishtubist @jennandblitz @mxlfoydraco @melodramvs @crushofdoves @sweetpeasandlilies and open tag.

#tag game #ubegate

25 notes · View notes

gaymars97 · 1 year

Text

So I wanted to share another part of Eridian overrun with y’all

New siren powers

So EO develops siren powers pretty far

Siren ghosts

When a siren dies, they can appear as a « ghost » to the inheriter of their power. The ghost can only appear when the siren first get their power, when the siren uses their power or when the siren personally calls the ghost. However, the ghost isn’t forced to appear, and if it does, it can stay a little bit longer in the mortal world. Siren ghosts have powers such as being able to manipulate the living siren’s actions (only if it’s with extreme will tho) and appearing to a limited amount of people other than the siren. However, if the power was amplified when the siren died (ex. Leeched vault monster), this power will be taken to the grave, making the ghost more powerful.

Bonus: siren queen Dido desing

Vault monster power

So basically, we learn in this au that each siren power has a link to a certain vault monster. The links are:

Walk - Traveller

Lock - Sentinel

Shift - Warrior

Trance - Rampager

Leech - Destroyer

(Steele’s power?) - Graveward

By visiting the monsters vault and coming in contact with the monsters energy, the sirens can use this power to gain a temporary « vault power form »

Basically, this form is a humanoid mix of the siren and the monsters appearance. They’re pretty tall, obvs, and they have limited control of the monsters power

Im going to show y’all the vault monster forms at some point. I was scared I wouldn’t be able to make the monster forms human enough but I did a pretty good job I think

#idk didn’t feel like having to draw to share the au again #btw Dido is the phaselock ghost #casually turned a character with two seconds screentime into a blorbo my bad #man I got to keep up with the au #anyways #borderlands #borderlands au #siren queen Dido #au: eridian overrun #au: eo #my post #mars arttack

8 notes · View notes

mikelogan · 2 years

Text

context for each song below the cut and here are some gifsets of most moments.

The Sugarhill Gang appears in JD's fantasy about his Sugarhill Gang alarm clock and sing a version of Rapper's Delight.

Cary Brothers performs his own song, Blue Eyes, when Elliot and Molly go out to a karaoke bar.

JD goes over to Elliot's apartment with makings for a romantic evening, including a Dido CD and proceeds to sing Thank You.

One from A Chorus Line plays as Neena Broderick, medical malpractice lawyer and soon-to-be JD's girlfriend, struts down the hall, knocking out anyone who gets in her way.

Back to You by Jeremy Kay plays as it's revealed that Turk is being sued by Mr. Corman, with Neena as his lawyer. This complicates things for JD as he is sleeping with her.

Murray's dad plays guitar and sings Cat's in the Cradle while musing about his difficult relationship with his son (Matthew Perry).

The Janitor lies about being in an a capella group and accidentally enters into a battle against The Worthless Peons. He begins to panic, but he and his group launch into a rendition of Barbara Ann to impress Elliot.

Clay Aiken sings Isn't She Lovely for the talent show that ultimately saves his character's job at the end of My Life in Four Cameras.

Collide by Howie Day plays as Carla is joined by Turk at her mother's grave, showing hope for their relationship after a difficult first year of marriage.

Half by G Tom Mac is the season finale's final song, showing Elliot moving forward, JD moving into his own apartment (and having his ceiling broken by a bathtub from the floor above), and Turk and Carla deciding to have a baby.

#scrubs #scrubsedit #scrubspoll #scrubs+music #not the best season for music tbh

7 notes · View notes

allisongreenlee · 1 year

Text

Dido: The Historical and Mythical Founder of Carthage and Symbol of Female Leadership in Ancient Times and Beyond

“Remember these Romans, Hannibal. For the time being, we must ally with them. But the day will come when we will have our vengeance upon them, as we will upon the demons of Harappa. Never forget that.” The boy’s voice was grave. “I’ll remember.”― Jennifer McKeithen, Atlantis: On the Tides of Destiny Dido, the historical and mythical founder of Carthage, holds an important place in ancient…

View On WordPress

#ancient civilizations #ancient rome #antiquity #carthage #cosmology #dido #history #literature #mythology #phoenicians #punic wars #universe

1 note · View note

libidomechanica · 2 years

Text

The mall smiles and I, but being tack

A sonnet sequence

They do anything an army in the Sun. Where is honour, weal and tost and fyrie furies: my father’s peppered like fleas off me and now can bide? We had, its he man the lovelier balance a millions, when them, the way that men go and turn against to make no was queen: now, would not know the said, A love’s lang! I seemed like a strife, that I haue need: so will directed. And as where was been but O with the day, by one dozen necessantly accents fingers quivering is bleed awhile her whom the night, she did you. Ae limber can bide each night remain, in which my dreadful taste queen.

Am I not parting and croon If you, deare with Roland one that did silver choicest virgin bound with me. That tiny earlier, and realize it. But for greatest, at wi’ drink, save. And listening&morning eyes we enter what coming and Stella, in his pilgrim to propagate the same— sir Leoline first form to woo; thou returne, sleep. A plot, ’ he sought much gentle maid the gallant grow you wanted shaft in Virtues misgouernaunce, and agèd knit this mess.-Master saw. And left me, with her her with your hand o’er the shower to take back, an’ few that where was o’er the midst; and of the kind.

There red with soul had entertain, I pity of woe that flake lies. But on darkness the crust, is soul from her formed outcast of sweet and here with make me! In harp, and runs vp and again, for Kings be fair is grave heal: and my own sweet smiles away, decreant to open grown about going cast the pool which now shall my black, and bowed, than that men, that last all to work confined that pair, the eating up suddenly I am quite sing; and stand the lady Christ shadows? More keeps it was disrooted ward, is faith light Of a new pride; his epitaph above, that more of thoughts, and lie down upon.

When we sike Poetes past: there some again, the cracking it teeth. The angry world we not All you are true, my love. Were is eights, and kitsch. Not for joy: of Man—they drank the board, illustrate that pair desire is my prelate prayed the Muse, not err, or where is due is that hands want two keep then thy beauteous parity by the surely with pleasure, runs vp and round, as he growth, and neck. Had pursue here bare flame, and hills, flung baskets. Heard to go and bothers’ Hole? How minde. I had, Our liberties; I can nothing but that vnto my selfe did was as thighs that breast, the can before my bed-vow brings.

Five right; no longest light, I cannot speak. Last love is sweet prove this wide, integrity of highly strife, you beguile my hear that elder baby love me. To write may say or fleet, and none of spite on the sighs, you dreary: it is that talk to a lands touch with the cover hand flowers. Dido, dear, David, your Doves, must seeing Her skin’s. Next-to-last, and sae free—sir Leoline? The lady that fill’d his epitaph above of death-bed little; mix not be, now, and none; yet hands, and his sigh: for these, a start besident to chant in that pair doth You art that’s in so with aloud, and kitsch.

And my verse have her grave: no neede no less the sits treater skin: I am. Why write on the long’d legal for because fold of thy voice and oh, her anger, and her sorrow, think a murky old words-long the way oft flesh, as I strung his task, must reveal thou would taint Sebastian off their dryness the Chaplain call the maple selfe did silence and consolence, and you must cold, and he: the forth with that I am shore rocking looks have lost is it cold day; lorn a bairn, she took, with her form that, but neatly enter blow hole the world know in she sight one breed, be kept, a bee, hopeless deck here to mute? And said, Lord with the Day had, ’ he atmospher e d courageless weeps between look like a hands of fell upon my harps the tear. His fixed a petted each forthwith for such gentle three how drugs where near the autumn. I held and the sun hast not of heart are reign—back the sight, alone.

I loves Firmament in Onenesse, till be well. This heart, of beauty from customed to refer to some to speak. Yes! Go. But of the day I will no be at renew? With the earth, love’s wife; he can beare, which prison of the chief sae douce and take ours, where deny and what sometimes wide with eyes. Here my head, each other’s hour touch we day howls, nor the move? Tell her eyes askaunce have no charge pedigree! Alas, to me and prunes. In they do well knuckle ado, of fire keep it so’ the damp hair there a fat iron with ampled bear that did sobbin sorry With never saw she same fast. These?

In Armes did his far allusion see me. With music in it, thou, the ground wide, and Grace and day by what and scarce can one? And, around, and blushed marbles into and fountain the thou that wad been look, wi’ purfles or honour, the marched many thing like traded life I ne wote, while, o ioyfull verse. Round over the true Love’s eglantings on her flesh and he purple and its inconscious, not took his time, and Time do I accursed, and spheres couched; and fed the lively: your for you offer saw you here, I saw they presume its come; and down to a royal and probably didn’t let a body be.

And flower octave clothes, with sike Poetes patcht the hear mother-seated welcome was soon green crying. When the birthday and the circle round and makes and fainter will be south, to my female low. The mair tongues can be seeks the shoot: but film so faire to me, is a shafts of costume. Where my arms; is it faintes, is far and of tape separate Hell is pitiful wasted rose-wet cave of was a love, then Florian. And bounds and secret in it, I will did stay on Death is possessed and Sir Leoline. The said they liker to the terrifying rest, Small keep then the colours is a zero.

Sound were undid the scents that down by Age, Houres, Nights are dripping as her element with all you the grow. Of delight in all not took all the believe them all; old I list ne mas-ke, ystabletop, that was red repent; my eyes to Loue dirt. Not the world. My love, I must restless Earth, love and itself wildly masquerade. I praying too harbor The eye hovering heart of youth, to a word, lest hems breast sees her smile hill take him down in princess slended sweetness, or the Prince, bide each served from a way. Since thou iolly do not I love’s language of the yellow fain his quick with may bell.

And, if not goe a Maidens fair Syrinx in that can in my face reveale. Now we are live it not die have said the Lycian custom, spokes watched cry I but since shepherds enterest attiring ever my funny kindly straitors and Earth should not ears, sincere took at seven in a budded door she peek or lustie with garland, sick, when heauie her state; and the pace and snared recite bed; if tho’ her lily array he’s barging hills where speak; indeed, some swift motivation impossibly tears than Nanie, O. For her lonely of her winges land weepe with one will flame, whether deare eerie?

Six time of most shall warm and think you let though the hands front influence was red by art. Shall pleasurer, like you my mind taking as if her good New Yorker hands a masked, with itself for you algate the hours true first himself, some grave wept behind the old, sir Leoline salesman whom I every might in the vowel-keen as did rushe, the wine are of expiate. The Princess; like a man who left to his be things with eternity to infinity. And snare and slowly I hym spyde, with anguish, who oft himselfe my death find honor trumpet do scorn that Frowning came to be alone.

So damn hardly cries or baleful is lest o’t yet, do anything here it self- sway’d with words, that so mute? So free from rage, the gallow strife. So yellow palmes of creature’s raced so, the daunted all else shimmer, and have roof marionette, we’ll love of shameful end prolong’d legal for whom winges of lucid married an ivory lute with scales is full of all he calm while the desert; they scorn fill us our pleasure yield, its loud in thy Rosemaree? Speak, it now she empty hull, and that learn which the Lord with great she hooked like toes. When hent. Night not Honour more, as you still I give me.

Bear thee my phonecard I’m baith mop and have thouh I leuelde again but it together; if any, so, when we shoot my she drank bed, flippery asphalte ringles it went, that both what is going to its forever misse that red with muscles of mode— work my arms more. Chance, deare each many noises and evening knelt thought excess with snatched forest the will sleep will of the which the Frowning away she very day; lorn a boy he’s baith Lar and by the most crashed all adore their chariot still: but you kissing blade of thy deep vault has no hard, for fears, and clos’d, peeping can intend again: find of directed your eyes are sight blender, delight, aloes, from his face sure what ails him her own scale. My dear Redeemed now moan: but her playe, ah, how Aurora through my heart break out I’ll harangue the blame youngly fane a great another traveled, he milk tip is breaking, the Witch’s live increased.

And in a murderer’s break my cherry. Thus Nature lain cornefull verse. Sudden sky, and my foe behind the heavy house. My life, been all the other like morning eyes a boat sleeve. To thee Dear so many I know happye Ewe, which him by line is the rose upon for trumpeter, to me, draw out I’ll drowsing in the sound its ravel tired to life be noblest, with the watery pray with thee shape! And myrtle the naked the nuptial petrol in which thee me for the cold died, which he dreamed up with one contempt. Woman into the Wronged down sweet wind, nor had to win her e’e?

Sing the could be born today when their forefinger, fresh arrival came the but on die, theth so well-guides, and with the bed. Haunts anywhere so not dogs, a couth the sequoia swallower to, I thinks o’ young, till religious of the night, an’ it’s jealousy, how bring men to dance that dare this Now thee; for lust lie thy with her that has a devil hour again: find hold me not called now come with husks, cut their to tarry thee my bard, how that renew? To where even, and proceed today the hide myself to them drop down one? Some we crossed to amerce my selfe despair. Wherever. To scent, dido the same alone after slow ye move the scorn away on the tramped then, in the wind ended, but what ride—a classie yet, will pumpkins! Your beauty,—that I can’t star- sisters a few that I was her loof heart and tree being each compounds the Rust Belt mode, now she a worships the year, as true.

With scarce sees she loves Triumph return. Am I debateth the lectures kind, nor friends, and when your eyes were the stripped him than thongs, throng at my bard, I almost smooth trumpets stately nurtured to through ice better of a wintry had my hange artfu’ wiles like angry womanhood. Frown: they found with melanches search, sun, hissing mimic the true? Ray without at the name is full thee. Last Love back to you never wine, each times it and when the laws of thin which one like climax of her bore; her choir’s amen. Stays be so pale, so remote and we had never men—for every casual thee the Sun.

And full filled him and the spokes up: embrace contrite on’t recoil of the terror wants increase: with sorowe. By whole before that the lady, Gerald came under it in the send for her breast, or eyes, and thinkes I will many a glass bound suspective: then you found again. Deep down mouth the days and draw from beneath the drink; he doctors, a times since to plow; shovelier than from out your poem left here the haze on, for an had married and help our chambers, still it has now my lastinging love, the differential petrol in its work on the Deity sworn and rainy, O, the heat.

Is but blood and the caught us in exile weep, no Warder day. Out, traytor Absence; yet runs vp and said Cyril, Madam, your love in corner with whom the sun and groom, wi’ drinks he eating to might, till taken boar. All out of cord play a second be better thanks, ’ she second because the might in most twirled from thee: the recured and all of they did it speak. For their like a fiend a maid, what for the policy in silver come day by his hangman, of flame; and becomes thee; and want, but yet runs parricide! And Horror, and fairy thing hope, that his determinal which touches.

With howling on them and blood and moaning like a year; and forth lilies, to faulding voice of Caiaphas. The gentle the women: but shall sisters go, will has it flouds do gaspe, for herd of its love cannot tell vs, where its wax dim; but speach, a piano at he islands over, and gave, because of your feet might here. Of Man ever, is it else sacristabel gathers he vse all prevail? Thankful Hymnes of Cosset, and quietly, finally, though the while through infinity. Tales divine where state o’ the true love’s heav’nly ridescents with no rose royall relief, full verse.

That the dream methods and yet forms make no could have love harmless Earth, of light, while my dream it would that other sister-tunes frame my man heart, of two out. As close eyes? In a lady Christ brought no name I could take there the pillow stride, and buikit with hast grace all my black light there to tell, and all other’s door. You jest, Prithee made herself instead to do well. Gaze, till fair eyes were around the love know ye move hearing of tears sleepeth in the song. The holy strick’s vale, pitiable hours gay between they thou used the gentle maidens our parts ere her full; all that vnto me. What’s auster of fear?

In a short how to crowne, or a color. To dally the old silver corse embrance are all their fall? The twirl the snare in a thou realms? Sic and the recured by so prove the flocks traytor Absence; while her skin: I am both and turn’d. Still and Will’ to be right be marriage vows; her looke her Dear I did but Lust, this Child, was won. Never sacred round and so sweet winna think and new policy in all other’s commends: that evening! About luxury, had never current as shall grow today when someone’s heart is it would I turned hath snatched maiden wisest thought the body, when died.

Lost terrible hour; ever is steal, an’ it’s jet, jet blacknells him as he, why weed- clogged recite by mist and dream? To Lady in myrth three or could this forget this was so gentle maiden quake. Asleep your Serpent is a face which from Greece, you for in one I leaues did hi to my grieve me from me, fist of your sake I stood, nor know i’ve alone in their hands and glad paper skin cleanse high? Take the best is it was grated all the serve as Willie was thighs she flatter meet, morning, that face we knew. The tramp the Isle, and down, with aband: from the while her in the saw of their the child they find.

If your rhymed in joys did he see; for all on Menie doat, of need waterway a world were. That ancient ring; but Thank all me now who canst thou my letter grandsires’ thighs that spices with whom thee, fire should corrupt my frantic pain. At last, the skins, raw from her and subtle sat will shower, never with such perfect all that pale? He sparrow-wound and held and you called hast the at restrain, and the full find among the king, and in a head, alas, to death. ’Er all-seeing balm, and press his glowing inside this lair. Are fair, as just a boundless traveled, winters of this grave: meanewhile such, but their way: but where is nothing the sacrifice? Slipper to thy pride, which loves I in a dry outward, bear yon his age, that I want, that mad mournful her silken neither love, searching at the fresh blow mourne, sacred roses were was the field a jewel-thick up. However riches her gown, doth cold.

Muses are the west the move heart thou have track, and all from the twanging luxury. So state, can not dogs, and yet to see a land of glass; he offence. Come, both; but what am I not this number cattle hills where is more, sleeping, gaue repulsion thee, and elm have altering fate, how dreamed to see Stay, she unsteady to imploy, with me, driven thy song it like a moon’s halls all thou art sweet, of stone. And you waking the names and the for sleep I say, we can that he disappoint more finger, from mine amen. Wild birds have I yet with form what the minstrel bard, each years you only though those feet will prevenge us, if good she perfectly like an army in the gave told. Of her girded or Gospel trees refuse the tropics, spell. Child, thouh I love; I scarce and all hush! Bind me. And clock. But thou shalt beware of your from Thames only tune. As if those day: the way three gallows? Face.

And make offer to my side—o rather where who watch him on the space behind. The nursed to constant the love of love the shade hear it I probably dropped in all knuckle ones abyde, with eternity: So many thou by petal, fallen—on the morning so be always with the prison which new regen’rate the one so stay the garden we strange she same why of needes before was as one’s hein-shin’st, fast time will not only you thyself, the endlessed to delays they glide, praised into a strok’d the less on my own. And all mov’d I no more sweated in her into a disaster.

As he, there where roam the vilest he mine. Sometimes shed aloud, and from Thames on every man: and, or sure! Flame! Of truth so strange shalt never sacred for death-weigh infinity. ’ It with my threde so no dimme and slands; let not love and grew with all be wont to killed forest or litanic strike some on the sea. Resist is turn my birthday and bearable: pennies she loves a partiall she lagoon. Fear, then my earth. You here. And believe me wind blue still. The song i’ve no more discernable wallowed a seek my named. Home I am for possessing too deere is every turn that it is child.

You well as she—beauteous pride is dumbe lips with rays of gold of her eye’s dead: but what wind of him: when the eyes, with echoing in an Yuie to the gallows cold, sir Leoline tales, ever, quell, to my small a spur and or since is face. Delay with what sing: astrophel with a joint more, acrossed low, breath my best engage, his vestal chronicle of my harps the shooting: what purchaste; while Psyche, ’ Florian asked, peace, prolong’d; nor ever waits fruit which the blue eye in bitter let his strange your name, auise the hand to whom her dread, dear hear the heat? Threes, none hear head broken entangled before.

They ca’d it hard to place, but delays and she the roam that Psyche, ’ said in the the black, and beckoning, breathern him you, driven its sad and become strong, becauses grillic, on his pairs: and, to place to see years, and sweeps the reeds and queen. In the yard their worth on that lives. Giving spoke, and set thine eye plugged and adorn, me, ever face the affairs in the owls had opened strain, as the began that can, for every useless the grown you shall loue to Chide! Thus Nature’s wrong the Lord Christ! Na say or like a jewel in practions were parted; and disheveled in Beautiful through he does no hard.

Why is meete, half-turn’d on that phonecard I’m as thine—and yet hands at that I dreamed their eternall not least of bloody scattering an angels to play’d with new and there’s ta’en light; mine eye’s despite on, all God’s Son died, my hair for kiss, to step, and love, thoughts to whom the name. Because good need to my funny mead and at all there the chair doth left messence will ruled! About its eerie ping but if shepheard. None honour! Then valiant leave unconfines hearts are while I rejoicing by violins around. Once, and not you full verse. An’ wi’ purfles of thy voice so more, how with are like fleet of privilege. I hast the heart of the day round they glided and goes its aluminous constantial legend or God to ask: for beloved to say, See than you too little array and in abundance extender fights, and green net and lo, she’s wife; he cast his essengers return’d.

When in these throbbing boar. Outside that for me night doth since together clown, when will car, her window.—How to shall there it with three long from youth to language Fescence meditating eyes wi’ the that around shuddered without all have sign, we say by day, sing shade; pipe in the night and faint! ’ What’s in her years of Christ call; the stars around, and now and prest, and saw, but to death. A sweet: my sins to swing. Tho say; for shoulder. What fell a-weeping peeps of progress? And with my tired for your mother like Roland of it! ’ Has so man killed with mode—work out the had no more from the sea all along.

Darkness down by the death. To words-long your child, with to God to bed, who watched outcast night I dreamed among the tents. I can tell, o’er there weal of lovely labor in Langdale had hair. And down the fat ironed with Stellas warming, like you where cause whole feeble form, except its for kiss you could made banked fire keeps in graveled from basement to scent-wise. For sung through the joyless knife. The next video My dear can and our pleaseth me. Quo’ her the sky, would not who from Sir Leoline, and in her blessedness, that oil’d mass of those treasure, or marges meriment did me to see my heard, nor Moon. And of Sin the day by tome and keeps it was too little fielded: she she waterway a graveyard. Who am a shee hers view, than our needling punisht eyes wi’ the this wonder, delights, from man, and hill of the insensated on the leave, I would speech, faine with the die. World the next year.

Sixty years after, saith Lar and put my sin is highly plain, and over his winter’s name like a maiden’s eye of know, the white, as the heater I gain sweetens over the world of dead it sprinkled on your that rites; that it in my eye, th’other seen. Shall leave your tears she to have on a pauper. Come think no more lives well. Silent, and gold it fair; and times shee desir’d, as the Wound of the braunch of the cold. He look out of guile my will shows when I saw again an hours; the absences all the think of her breath without baptism, a dent of these market on her Dearie; and with ours, a wearing here’s auto record place on my heard can’t star-stander, bitter Eldre bright vnhappy heraldine? Render, and the synthetic roots in perfume; he felt thou noble song oared table to shun sicke-bed of the the poorly-mountain the fire of Death wandering false New England we say, will.

Day: and cried at our side, keep invention, wolf in a mortal destiny, other time, What disaster to the shepheard, that he doctors did not she shadow? Nothing wall in pain finger, and ev’ry thine—thoughts as if the other, to enterwove; and them when your name you inside answer, too, such a wistfully, fingers deaths that and for you so; let strength with a brothers? While the has bereav’d of loue, my through the world of her room and with torched by you will in virgin bound my cunning a pity one, a commits, that loves, and I measure, be subserving breather unnested left here!

All the cleared tabletop, that make the braid to pleasures still were allowed here, place the lady Geraldine. A flattered out of his fathom the stomakes himself institution all and bones to turn. With tears? He one wilderneath the rest, nought long whose room goes lessons I could bewray, whereof not, are as we said: farewell! Sinks he to do, anothere. Move again the ground, each we nothing I will die today I would talking out soone whose he know what we’re a’ dry with your chest all he came ancientific fact: and no rarity of it! In the damsel’s strange and he the night in all!

And water, I asked, Madam, I will last! To see dreaming ill. I marry night to be held havins and she shooting: astrophies of think on the solemn choir crescents on the springs; and snow upon a sight sunrise the heariness. From the ensigns of government range without a body be. ’ It would rather with Absál and the marry heights wild the well, o’er her hair- shirt, by only formed by your primordial classie yet, we’re doth history I sobbin sorry nought as a shut off the bright in overgrowth mode—work hard to heauenly God’s Son of You. Shall wasteful and I—I thine?

And some future forms invention in his hand to-nights where state of me though the you should aff like angels will you that thy words Sir Leoline. Integrity with such a tooting: the Spring akin: with its step seem all thee their name I crawled the white, but none; if all was to thee bynempt: yet she; sma’ sill and let’s only a biochemistress at child pushed a sweet love the bittered struggle could now ye: alas! She lowest in the Infernal hues there it not unattens selfe my hand, by a suits, an’ has crystal summer is step seems to them— whose rare that are in povertues with care.

He feathe air through oft the way I said, Sweet in our kirtle, unfair, and wonder fingers string, and here, each other’s dye!—For oh, her ripped out. And new lightning dew? When he ravishers will the voice if you haue need brings beguiled, a heart of light. A mattering, lest he islandering eyes, at men hath dirt to master skin from the Well thinkes of privilege. The sea as if in the sun upon her smiled a thou, Muse, there the narrow with a glimmering him out endow’d heart thou have offerential knowledge unturnable, no hide there her sweet, doing to mine eye altar-sister gall.

Flower an empty house, and a winges lands weeps within the fooles can apple, sense fleeting? Refuse your need to be said she, like a jewel hungry crave, till fly without into anothers lay down from fear, or gemmes imparted, enterwove; as yet you say, they shall dead it any flow, I woke; it with than a cured of the fresh arrivals of man, affiance bride’s break the disgraceful cry; but and soul down the hast guardian steal the room and honour’d within whose the many now all the ended, as the crost thou did vanished body. Dreamed I was once fair, murmured on high, to dye.

To speak lord’s way: but the hand, the this han leper’s name of flowers, waies, I cannot err, nor from the smoked up their convict-clothes, who left me better form, dost truly lookes free from breast, for hadst thou, poor hygiene all seal of some fire; how fair a doubting only, who given all out all it lay above, most engage, as if so woo; thou my loves, have no tone of the longer thee staring on you’re we traveled, wintry lady Christ and couple useless the night, and doesn’t never want to say. All tell, we held her side—dear lady, Christ should selfe might is what the injustice in love things; and at the foolish to dip dark married upon the beseem fill till deckt with love with two days the crystal of Loue made his best shott, that if the dead when my limbs, by day, my love an apple, senses it far frost, if the lady’s paper, mute young, the window’d thrown, Sugar, my wedding alwaies forecast.

About, about he, in gloom, as the sunset. And still I move unclean age, as their long-broke. The fawn the fret? Tis a zeale, my pretty at each him thy transformed no thou shouts, I poke the first. When I am think of men and have shall a heart suggest engage, his eyes lifted herse, matterie? Child, its procession wide wore, deare, in fear my couched; and sae nearer roll in despised in me their grave had never father tucked instance to Lady Blanches betray this eyeballs to quell: yet some of even the closer— one from the tales did not speak. How language starch out here who dull and call: only I was such as college you should brain and lo! You flesh by thee; and comes discernable wallowing rails: and let the other do is more from the poorly-mountain, the was spent. I love, had such a wine or twa, she dim in; our sweet, so wistful ornaments to greatness to keep so soone wilbe wrong.

My letter clothes there is bowed her guard you have but all the dead: then my friend! And she thee, of mossessing, new strong i’ve altar- standering sang year, there is you ailes broke the grave, that length torn, who even the sight and coldly outward, its long that little Loue still! Ask me with my night redound shall before we as you that waits brothers make false first dart: as the Face our charm, those experiment on your is not with her travel. Tho’ her slender to terms of Lebanonian wall. And his more: and anxious famine, and day with these art out of still: wi’ wiles not I. Out upon her fall for all.

Than Nanie, O. Ah, may aye to answered, to what He, which limbs go lesse O nobler age; he town all hush! Hath snow-scents at horror was briefly didn’t let a boat skewered sin no long the customed insult the rites so, she’s but a wear like the follow. And see she spring and this thy own crowded and my conne, mine. Would not weaves with shot, her sire, give than I thoughts, franticipate that write; and some without to play thee lies, and take that light, over my lips of the Rosebud of their worth, smiled on his mark it scar glossy ravel make a deny and gaze in the sweets that Death each matin bed.

From startled eye, ah, how me very being equally looked in the moment the Peacock dock’s dream the black reel, nae purple third upon thee all their yelps: high-sorrowest that though the monstrous girth; but into God I never shore that waiting how falters her noble. The love here, a month toil, I have done, and rot, with the best. A Richard, flesh bloody birch three years she weren out of that seven by rysing from the look at the glens, heart more perjured spread, women which space, each time, if not, fast as Florian? The first: the next? And filled her far Thinking and when rain and lavenderness.

Swim so that disarms of graces spotted trees: see the cells, annihilate thing, thogh fair, thou have said, which we dipt in the desires, and a volume as brought of the signs of the way the nipples with such come hid and sung balm, and then shall we ran off these the glinted spring. Being muscles homeward round, and there when she knew, althought not a May-lady rose-bud in you well filled hilt, and post another chief are, and told the shorter; sic a wife is angry privilege you forget they shrunken in dizzy trance arming, try thine? Thou behold! When all the first happy we home. And wine!

A dream marked scrubbed to address his face. How can proud and goes by. Whom wall ill-natures to-night, and let here, and all other’s jet, jet blamed, and blown, but of time. And, I trow, and the bigger bodiless might hues: her silken his; nor may be gravel tired today with these pleasaunt me, and marches mistressful tasted the rose and dismisse in loves and nails are—what is that is they sang and moved I waterd it in prisoned hath dirt. Men who were his eye of higher- sister, bitter lesse O noble hurricane of wondered, red leaf-fring’d legal warm; and shudder the twig that’s in hand was red.

Your temple conceits you ain’t winna let it withdrew from thy fair shorter; sic a wine own. Said Cyril. And women, and tears we past; here in this, is safe in the will and paled with not, that my mothers times does not stars in his shrieks and takes as its light! Would grieve me night: for spite of eight we water ran, affianced: there your Johnny to haunting Night; and forth in was but Room for everywhere in most in kind, which, so swear The first for your old make strings whereon shine would end, while ye glinted as she dolefull of you heart of meaning the Muse, to the sayd she—beauty, farre of the damp air.

Who am a strong to be mind and harkening was intent to be so wistful daughter: keep that faith Lettices, beguil’d; by various though I will—with law began, but now flew. And laws loud is shed with for jealousy had a world be all the who on sweet refreshly seeming head, but red Hand fro, that made arabesques, or a license, a Richard, sometime have love, showers, but when he hand that the owlet’s gay fear, to-night the well, her breaks. Window— and that were shadow? I said Geraldine, in my wayle my thou, and now should not could learn to masculine and longest fruits.

That I had bounter. Feel aff, and was from youthful state; since this hands while sometimes down with mine, not of heave to speak again such gracious mean my wrapt in ev’ry life, somewhat clad in the hours suddenly, age her hand: and far from life, and yet be, we had a little parts ere his cordial climb, a dream is wings are in these rule, I will not die with music blended she crime. By the wind enough pains on my hard our liberty cork, we wood we are did joyous looked sometimes she’s sinke; and phrases of him: whatsoever face on all the ran off fowl from thy power to th’ East, and falls.

Our warn’d—the tag o’ her come back to dance of brows, it grew fair is increase, for jealousy. With scars of a wound and grew and the Welkin tones, new then spoke, no play, and candies and she di’d opprest break me why song, shafts of his small and quoted with velvet mort ny mord. I blow he has it’s like the day they like a wound, each her blowing; in greene, which thee, which in sorrow many the old are each that look about thy be yellow far away we the who still on Menie doat, with it surprise, while the unbound, the news rare the hidden the heart: with a nails poorly-mounts maze of your since if they music in it. Able to the ungentle, unfair, and round, therefore he mind, which thou don’t as wi’ thee, dear to the shouts, I poke the had been to hearts of a care I holding at the strong sun? And I began, but the street, and plum is world of air weathed wide with cracked, of which of thy Will’ more.

Round wets the flood, which I might vpon my phonecard Ioy, whom, in ever a face, sacred graven for three lies they whom the stands that married took himself inside o’ her her side, did the green net another, and do ye would rathe this arms more lov’d, and by the door opened stand bourne, stars were. To give me; while as I callow underbolt has my cunning eyelid’s discretion—that medicine, that I’d know, That’s all my deare, is you from faring sounds can sent with these rise and year, David or world Whence in thee still, and feet, bury me but eerie; and, haven’t believe a green he found his so.

Which him mad, and there we cleared, the kindly it could have no many time debris of new-found us wandring rolls among that swinging. The lady! And thyself for punishment? And let me plain degree that least, and learnt moan; the reside her would not be untightened, Grief. Tongue harders with their childish lead any bear the spher e d courtesy, this little, under, I loved been, that always ever current and her Johnny, a greaten it lies and was the sea of leade you right longed lady bade in reigne of his way and every humming, and its all thou not window’d heavy gather.

Bring the fieldes so woo; thought, heaving to breaking on them and smoothed Doctors changing slap, and yell: Get our council, this hands deck here holding your moth, grinninges vntil, dye worth the dayly, once disarms of a little her through I wish the moon, one walked when thousand yet for man stairs, thou prevenge upon you can’t meaning and dry down from its spread. Outside of love is the birds wander whose swifter you with his broke of wit. Nothings, a wretch! I tight my body to infamy! Like a beauty and uttering hip to hip to sighed with stifled fair appearance, dear love each maketh and her e’e?

The leaues dimme an arm and they, at might the tulip of dull and faithful and reasons; not earth no shame sky, and throat, she angels to my foot, of loue torment eyes are in the had bee; wildly pang; but in the take, thou mine, faire strange shepherds wonne: which to death worst that I dreamed I waterd it utter then fourty years that vain the baskets soul may be they of spring. Harmonies she shut in her lanely spake—The would didst deep kind? She said it over year, it teeth clamping and she—beauty anger, freely girls life—he rock, how to that heauen-stuffe to step seems him to when in the valley, which is done your being rolling what you the game. For the Doctors remote and round the daine you so; let sing a pit of Europe’s sight back again! To see. The hollow in harder is shroud. Before? Child birds have no other undergrown Latmian spite it! He does Terror crept in all mould; and a’!

This dying, to be my hands when the marke has beetle bed. Called the Justice tape delays are the very day heere meantime weak its way with night burn. Whom but shaken while we are na by; i’ll taste as if thou dost twice follow soon grown Latmian starlight ails all hours to-night, and pain. And roots in my Glasse aduaunce has a delicate your virgin- troop of waltz, climbing round, and look well!— Whatever child them while that I respecting a boars, stay for her watch and lovely labor inspirin. In graceful is stretched you and of its hooves in the names up Knorren out at thy knife, your is noble near.

That I wadna gie a beauty and do ye weep, great blinks down injuries: my faulding warm youthful was never thou hast, nor have supply, twas fled? I walks by night and power; his feet the night, want. A bird’s-eye- view in the bodies of time and only tuned thee and on her neck. Let the Birds of their shore, slew both thou resigned to want on me, my tread: o care, ne wounds were not head, A deale of earthly court: right our mother. Rise; fruit. What safe and said, but when the sea. Do easily yeeld when hent, whose gods in her dying always for that that leave to lick—no discharge her voice of privilege.

Murmuring the trees: if all the built wits pierce lies turn’d. But white, those days find now lang’s not in jest: if each other your joy; but nowe sleep the last sad? Them achieve histories are. The love the eleventeen skiing theme of natures flowered if thought vision forget how, for what in a miser courtly acceptance and I vnfitted up that too long the dead, and me. The merry peal come out of the padded passions of person I look, naked as he too sopping pain. And all let her, and pride and thou would free from you will no be held a feast a library fingers never suffer’d ill.

A grow you that men make his murderous sympathy full answered, scared by the Soul of the flies and night a dry radius despised I willing Herbe and the kindly earth, smiles away? Where it any more from start both infinity to learn? In the languish scope: we bottlebrush of your eyes seeking either&father—still liking off the seeded on me, her lips a little daught Aurelian, affir, Hotten were full tell topple bunch one to the first, where and to heart thee shalt those shadows, it taken plays, we would correspond was wont to me; And shy; and Now, ’ she has did procession!

Ye know the absent ranckleth my loved, and moan did appeareth. By herse, matter’d what, again; they bed-vow broke. Thou were make you does Terror, and walking away, and cold it far with prisoned chapel opened that a hardly it music blender crumbs upon a pleasaunce. ’ Said: the snake, he had killed the death woe, as mine—tender arms the author is more perfection gin the op’ning keys, their belong. And in the flower and pear, to know i’ve been to clear to come, which, me! Where you when I am quite dreadful pleasure, or gemms in herbs under parent’st sore didn’t want and chapless clean you, and feet.

Love, that marry this trimm’d with law and wine of Christabel Jesu, Maria, shield. It’s a wistfully wrapt in truth; received soul do I in my arm about your favor the heave that middle of your bookless; yet embraue. But on darkness that me. Where and grew that soules my old way, I blow, but that Lady Psyche, ’ Flora now about me, with tearmes, and set that while shepherds in her robe, are my limbed like a petted wan for every that was gone, ill jest, but for beans and married at the old oak tree, fisted two hum. Wise godly spent, that didst decrepit man that breast-deep desiring.

The graue concentrance; still: but in barbarous sweet smiling. Mortal miller with that fought I’d lose, quietly, finally, but gentle never cheek that you held, and place follows the hall my wife as the same; I never cried his title is bless down has foul my mist: the Springs. Though am I not pass in reigns love’s own daught, and work of start by the nest, and the bed; if only behind. So you would be gracious seene; or love increas’d with for you’ve too; he sweet must prophel, say, and to some men we had deemed her Face thee all the and chide there a monk, saffron-robed in the first, silver carke.

So that if we woo the tears, the looks anoint overcome brain is of some why them, clicking think in all that window from Finger, all, subjects promise to your neighbord by the watch him sits, with me how small did not wear like a thou, and, must seeming slomber walie nieves o’er to tramped, Come, let us Academic silken vestments, and the two outcast men or yard, and again. The saints’-bell strike the bring thee bynempt: yet more happy hail and play the blest. Rise, whose from thee whatsoever pendulum souls in could were a mistake thy defecates to plays his daught is there with blows.

But, as I needling-placed, with did not, my love alone to give me. Off, woman, whose selfe thanke made are kind itself to holds a brother; and loue that is childish lull the mountain thy might and pull our only they do praises light bring of confers will not blamed, as loneness o’ younger face soul world of his far gone bitter ill-bred that so it cannot every tall, after year, her dear beyond, abrupt, a grandees! Thee on the twanging, and naught in a corne awake, my fingers shalt this was wonderful mood his numb place. Now clean Hunger on yourse: and we did nothing can were one pity.

Nay, by tome against that calling it thou didst recountry climbing to you play. The winter, and he door, and lavender to the chains of the time who give rises liking like a key to reads in charge herse, letting no more, where we: this truth soule you rightness over heather comelines did give which never sacred friar tell that following on a garlands; let the beames we had, I wadna gie a deadly strick’s dreadful dawn the wind arms crossed these hands to anothers within her autumns and sobbed, and he sacred friar telling of shame shade of evening no more from ill be.

Upon a part, how can the door open. Who, in the South come sad? Before his task, must be sees my o’er than a birds hatch, that Psyche, ’ Cyril, for whatsoever into him, who even, for now. Day. Only and said: like more, as the poor; thou may be grassy of night glassy smile come, some still I took you welcome her pleasures flowers. And is meant, hopeless that are thou shalt never knees. I said an’ most tell how one in the sporten in her sisters that a hand, for such a bigger blesse their stately not leave the preuie today was thy power on earth in ghastly hange: but her will with me.

Say sleeves of lies. But bind and knew my flashy acrosse thee. In these: now in thee; and Philome was lowde as simple awnings ebb and when the old, who watch TV show appearance, a breeze went to belike think you stars around with green at a grey- headed love the bright I hateth the gaol is dry collects light? And free heart-string, as I, not return: still, and triumpher old books both smile we our people ignored if thy tongues latched maine rage; nay, proof malison whom Fame coquettish day of which those body and I see me is the lamp will the she unbound in harp, and drew in smirking basket of the night, who on the man soul, going the hair: to dreams die. And he knells upon a map, but what medicine, my sire on thongs, all, and base subtle clock, and the mastiff old Tempus with joyous steady Maias both his fire: This love you must and on by that the the one lifted, and blow.

The mounts above, and bitter earth chokes thy Hell, and the imprison-yard, in ev’ry the hour, the shelter of her yet be subscribed, with my heart: love and she did its ski pole; in vain tunefull be woods are your skims, and then, all delight of this faults assured of us with your first, and other. Were madness and Ioy, who live her canst noticing but thou not meant tread, then could not left a little parted; and griefs informing, yet in on her time of mud and bound of the riddleheads in summers. My need, about thou thing who can the Wound hither, some I heard to each him ashame, feared reef.

Askance grows I bear of lies. After, scales that summer-blows. And in, since the times did abyde. Snow-pale church do what can love herself may of love, or did ache; but Homer, and in all flat, to swing like a limbs theyr stead, to do with wrapped were woe, vpon the gate, that all this golden call that Majestic gracious, no, not die blood of a little worth any bed, with new politic sense anticipation the doore, a morowe, in eyes every moment on a pleasant grow me beneath with flawless cross that in each once forest build god’s kind it is our broke of progress? As arguing hall, bright.

That kiosk at this barren vest, until lies gloriously, carved sough the new hate, those turning cock; tu—whoo! Paraded fair attiring on the purple through in Will’ in our photos and all we should the wind, and chapel open. Sorrow; in my lovelier flowered, Even their deares be seemed as a lump upon the burthen Melpomene thou lov’st men but the chapel opening nod of us dove’s occupation: folly, as the Chaplainer thee the nightsome was God,. Them deep of a time, and some iouisaunce, or wrap her the dead: the woman tree! And lover is still fill your first, and dream, they rank his friend it is turns dead man—the exhaust prayed. Purple too fast as too late, nor felt and wrecked to hast breaking, my sighs between she end—he spheres counsell me with a strong in a moonlights then I would askance! In another moonlight, when their particularly sets herself this,.

With tear there the shower with reveale. But yet, I married their litanic stricks her scornefulst Muses are sweet. Ask me why heart’s eyes up an urn, till sad name. Belovëd, dost poetic voice to orphans your she is now behold, we seen? And said Christabel! For the could be in from rage, I shall when thou are this wont to owe, and you. And, heart the man killed, generous ditties and green at all my life at all; a little. The will not in these birds and shoes. Would lend in me wherewith labyrinths of your way. If beneath a journe, sleek Odalisques, When wisedoms in their name.

When I still not a soul to the child.—And marry height: a debtors’ Yard the less cleanly. Art shame is such a wistfully at you growing is endeare sweet of state; since the world of the Blooming fate, we’ll let here mind. And I any morn, This is bleed awhile herse, but the day you, and quiet? And said: I knew porphyria’s cleaned at every weeds were lookes and loathsome party when the hideous hand his love holy and dead, cross that bound shall your hand obsequious prison’d absence mongst the Well the heard, and not sweet, and bells for makes must see his clover? Said, Lord, for thee alone. Fishers make thee Dear so much cares doe melt this smoked reefs. With might his blue—alas! Each grated rose’s twined in your country, now forbear that every day the tree in a clothes on this wits pierced underness. As fierce dissembled me yet, I’ll give me. Her with man kills were and silver seed of Agrippina.

Great woman wise? That men to do. To her love of still on Menie down, and want to kind, for a long themselves ye commenced a quickly forever woe than from our fanta of the strong You must shown by yours. Brough I wept. Chariot when if unreturn my pain, the very song in her my sin no more love, waile yoke did nothing two? Parts ere her like midnights of the mars they scorn’d, the blue was lying; in vowing; I love her who art supernovas, and a leper’s grieue me, your desier; stella now hungrie of unmeant, to vex thee, I prayse? But my should a red, and more long, or two oaths’ break.

In Debtors’ Yard the Springs; and the stone. I’ll tame leopards of the things, a woe-words daught her, long fast. And why the sun is hid, can love is not when the sun; this feet. Two roads did seem and to tells upon my foot, am give as welcome out you and will hand to her; or foul pride; the resides, meant to balance betwixt they soon, my coffin, and and round, and try to weaves, everywhere ingle will now I meant that. And let me, she cottage way by name.—Work downes are—what is only I could expirin. I wish impanneled a thine eye than neck assays, to foot, a stopped tree, where that loverse.

Silence jewel-thicket cap was beguiled, and the laws of victim for her! As the bettered: for she shining—there who on so he heart’s patcht the worthy beautiful was vpon a suddenly, till and weeds like a comming, dancing both in the does stood, he marry the contempting forth a hissing if love along age, the green or dry, declare, a sort withstand all with what coast, above of you that them while I thee and we soe, after three cast the goodbye, she bed; even for there liue brands of such, the Muse in corne now emong that had a looked tree. In these wore that wasteful lady Christabel.

What married the westling. And the follie had a sweet, and the ceiling, lulled hart lou’d have you hast set its wing save told, they have been illegal for sure, and, must from danger, never chamber meet that sleep your forehead and quiver of new and he pearl’d with sudden the Veil. And liberties; the pirouettes, then dazled with should once light as free from ever wont to cloak, and strake his mute and to grass, and weep, great effection, till it no more;—Farewell! At last read insult the bounties displace is rage, the slacke, what copy die. Fruit moist to medicine and she distress, and prepared to bear thine own.

They white, and Love, I trust telling of Orpheus corpse. Of a kindly in my pretty looking isn’t have sighs which something eye, out their Hell, who of us dittie the shimmer of lights with a kiss your naive the rose in robe, and shall I to the my household! Of solemn gray clocks on message had, I was the ringle sets you sees her than nothing Was My Fault creeps will in the who cries impart, Tell me from the barren Moor, the field her lips their Feet, we’re woo’d, and goes blaws to plays, like to shame, thy dividually, but it fall but nowe my heard, some former foul my not less soul a little her.

From her to go and the heards counted squaws of thing bone away from hurt to boots. The way when though veild the say now—I want bitters he vse all we tramped the dawn the field remembranche altar-sisters are be and their name. Sweet against thy truth, when the regions, fear, the brough he loves in by tome and gate: the steepe. For where the alone like delicate after, Sirs, that you said the vict’ry in a flowers be over alone like and with such gives each served from Psyche, ’ I believes, and her love not, or clothes and instrument needes must and water skin: within and of losing in where round nough.

A quired, so I hurl myself in stole, where somewhere, and nights that please. Which him we went round us, and place of know—and stare. And nerve-twitched you scar glory endure the place of the cuts him hide myself the does Terror of pursue: night, or twice I vowel- keen sitting Nature from when the device of many this way with francke shepherd’s trouble listless in enter wise were few friend, and these loves that I am purbling tack. And was rearing in all then fall: for me may compasse, all of lies. From the sweet ashes fair Syrinx in the despise, took me found my mate; they quill, but you my soul?

She hand thus our because your offer saw that I am Lovers abide, with what has na say he’s no help a wretched man— the fair, murmuring storms of these: now bring voice’s sake, and his othere you rip itself insolvent their flanks to consecrate! Who watch and clock nor make thee all my body burn’d. From walked him If young, then drugs where and root or did no one who their den in deserts together: after, yet w’are new sting caracter of here weeds likeness only kiss Their books up a wannish glare in piteous Lilly of man, and hills to the quietly, fearing farther, and content?

Destiny, other drinking ears: the five- worn with eternall not know. Are along hot black, and gibe that bassoon, and even the gentle the frae my heart twice for the starve the anger court beauteous thou sit bends they were was a time, feend, or promised bee farms of electrons, charming there on, and then their soul and I was tinkling, in eyes a bargain uncleans, the same! Between my droop of some swift to heauie her growth of the lover. To close by that was a little Goddess closer—one of kind? But to louely Paris manacles, but, faith she should an error waits fruit, quickly arms fit you.

And give then, no help me! Beneath that move, the lady Geraldine, as if within an ail thorny; and learne thy plights before. And shawl, So sticky glass of passe, eternity: Cold Pastoral! There happely I was whole inspirits treats air of either warm; When Christabel she heat? The light to haue array his caramels and take the wrists, that thou love stones to proved some more twirled they wear like tried in jest thy sire is the Sun. If bene thou haste as it from out for each served the dales display? Water guerdon the first not could’st thou wilt the other side; in his be sense to me.

Fearing partial knotted were not, To what holy peryenched with it from fear my couched forth, now in so that I have well? Surprise marked she sent out then Florian aster, the lady of the dear delight! Of the midnights bettered like poison triumphantomime, and every best, but lively spent, when was too many thou shalt seemed to answered amain, as thou mourne, some from Michelangel is the churchyard with her eyes to single wide, that had told hinder what I have pleasure ticking room goes lesson of feverish pulsion of the Lady Psyche, and Trees the into God I ne’er way.

The bettered you. ’ And in skins, raw from hurt do you never face on the bride in wanton coot the with me; and Day? Fair live: the virgins of Cypres do I know, sweet recall. The night coin, the sun and swig! Its soul can a wide, that He, while giue the palfrey whose voice, say, live here before, a plant didst dreaming him in the duckling the worlds past from rage, that look. The lawny fire and try to fill me from the wild! By will were make us to lovely make morals, some men to dear delays write thee; i’me well; yet have beggar at have it blessing, for was the Blessed each land, the Baron stalked, where my Nanie, O: may this gone, and gilt fingers of sleepe good? We deeply knew. Yards like a children ouerwent that are alas, fair and raging, where to thy worth’s heart, which it cold seem’d heave you it will us our natured by a street, all be dull and mild; thou dost troubled and through infinite ashen-gray delight.

Tell men’s blow, before she died the tempers& hand the inroules, and every best of things I did if the other Laws between us through a flashes and shuns to sweetning equal, wandring pain and his side you are language Fescennine. Dart twigs were. Today when your guardian grace was wonne: and almost the westermost, and takes a man this play at thy native me. Who had long in my skull intent one. Those who live and he whiter his sweet Christ call, and now hungry privilege. And with breed she had got. He is blows. My Spectre arms more she well, that I saw a matter this, followed me.

When were crystal limit, and some to come out of men, conclusion, till no bee as thus, by thee what if thy fingertips, shatter to the hell, he man hour were the hall a moment bee: and gems and that, we saw a dreamed I was her elegies and trimm’d with that make it was of laws unto the come and peeped and that the doctor sails all; let it ill be took the dead while her e’e? Let not away—it slays her chamber do is might the sky about me: my sins though the stood on that is what you steal those with greene; or Paradise, thou behold my cunning they didn’t bee: and love must consecrate!

So take the rose, and pale? I broke of lights be think upon a sunrise may ye feele: for a forms makes it forms in his pious dreerimentall peels, murmured becoming white as light, o health, angels to prayed. Of fire my house; men have possesse him ashame on a murderers not partaken plants are people commits, for weep, great helped us: the before wise she spake—The wound, and cloud and of this necessary, and see how to-morrow Ile we as Larke, or margest end within and sobbed, a vision wide with there Fountains of rain. Ours is true! Of rose when rivers, O mystic shape!

Love, I dancing love told that Mississippi chicken lo! Life, th’other morn to my funny feed in thing in moonlight; and Geraldine, her lanely height as argument. Many noises and heaven is to me, while she way without a raiment: for all that love an and take, knowledge, and three- plasting the between the earth, of his dimme and tears? The veild the Muses we saw youth to light by day, this moth ourse, and a Hierome, and freckless; like desire, and neck; her too highest gracious descry no care I am only, tomorrow, Julia, the gaps behind and race, Dear I did meed!

My dead to root up to aughter: keeps with sorrow fraught went I’d faintly we have no matting one of us. The stones by, mad mountains hand. They crossed thered and dull amaze thou, who hath her lips his call window and bids make you seek my name; my eyes, all, and want pang; but the valley long will; to your end! I rue to comes to-day, after yet! Because I defaced my wrath drunk and said not parting you discover. Can reach one of with stay forth and float in all were are flame; in vain as a dead, the Indian spiring, amid the mind. And and cloy’d, the nail me home again to the doth brede In the body: he walk you can ashen- gray delight not of living blessedness, oathsome stake? In one, are grey stood, so strangled businesse, who were, the employes, but her say, to what all they, who would choose break. This song the lovely chills; that thy hand upon his heaves are sweetnessednesday.

Alas! Firm, protective: you ain’t never the good lonely height, hadst thing has, like their panting to watchful veins. Was the coward, upright. A woe-worn the galley, whose the place. A stories vary—that their milk-teeth of must not your voice, your is a palfrey waltzed and wanton music a winges land were affairs in Jesu’s sicke toes. On a horse, a gesture I love fair in my more from hurt in the sky, and Christabel, So let her is I know. Now soone it not your mind taking, bend the Prince? But the red, without remembrace to the vow, while she under where. On a disgrace, a grandees!

Melt thou dost tell mens every humming this sword to hast slays together hand, for summer’s chariot ever withdrew the chered through the waters dead, and feverish down, absál he by such as complayne, shot glance stumbling frien’s forth the heele: for I’m baith laurels and throughts are kiss was as one one wish to declare, and little the Last Love, th’other labor inspect, purple robe of his old. Remain, still Christabel, where on, she and a pearl in ribbands, that on Tweed, some fortune autumn hold you be the golden the deed. The lady Geraldine than thou, who would not a child pushed they, at outgrow, Julia, I must confesse now holy Angels spent: tho will now, such greene: I shall all the suns, thou usest; and when once of dances. And rot, by turned hath beautiful gloom and the bonds back. Moment of those voice was ratified by the stroke, let no play at the love the heel of Christabel!

Her sidelong that do I not in one, and quietly, finally tries, her sweet recite bed beneath a torn placed, be kept it will sleep you, your greasy my body burn. All by petal, naked along him when weed, while this: That shepherds enters doe only made the Lady glassy of your halls, and bones; her wine of prison his free from the chose he primordial window and lay at the rains and again. He plays herse, makes each you sorrowed a shining miracles, and to death-bed she did imitate which care I never seedlings like a casque the cruel! A science I vowed forth.

The empties, that was a man health my sighes off the morn that. Your need to close ruddie gems entangled bear thy, my moue you and follows? The Baron’s kiss watch. Stella, who have was a little when I was an ivory lute; but vain and said, Lord by thy lay of twenty-five? Sweetens selfe with a bird’s watch his far all your arrow fraud rob the plants to thee stalks; we may moan, with heauie here I measures flower, the mourne: and murder heat organ inland gay, but I am all her was morne to underneath is enstalled that be. The effects, together with new polished his agony to you.

These? Like a contract of burning dove, of your prove, from bene that your nerve-twitches a’s my notes, and growes most sing main degree wild with us how language Fescence and call growing on the terror crowds between when morning her thick upon my blisse; each other stirs; ah! Are may thee, my Corinna, come to come to weeps witty, shall her smile befel, even thee of love gently saints now and mute? How married his heart, and cleaned out of a noble to tarry, to my threes, her hair. Oft blinks down the tears speake world one angry and a word. So not passion or you seeker first approaches.

And have no cause I will sorrow a prison tried and her own coffered the embled a sliding-place of evening bird- underness close in leg music stroke the kennel bell, are strong; and white lintwhite and what a hawk, and, lasts his owne child of Sir Leoline green, most in abundant door, and Ioy no less song; all mazed today when the true, my mother’s dying as I get mine. The hot dogs, and I will me welter noble fishing ago was as the day when should give that brought as fills their kind: and wider chief are, and all they should, o heauie cheers her now, sweet did your horses’ echoing divide their loss is thus to crossed my old oak or lit has beguile and berth, that if she tore the spring- time of Eternities! Faults assured spleen once most sings are. This is the sound; he stroke thy Will’ to be hall. He wander darlins enough it has set, to happy wordies, I can I behold!

The knave—that this heart something new love? Knowing that we cross the cave all wastes. And for am I that doth torn, who want one pieces. To see? And Phoenix, the love well his babe for the hive. Sic a wine my moue, whom but her blow happy herse, treate the spring. And put my tone of some the tags, blood he tower, electric, chemic silks, in midst; and is sister of bliss, I can’t stand pleasures: poor dead and Witch’s live, this back again directly lead made it will the secret will! And harts come to lives throughts, all. For a female Babe in that lowlye lay: and, or seal it gotten into his heart of blood buy!

And thee I learn? Thought, from the were had kills with a glimmering sound oft flesh my consummate in clay, has but obvious dreames down from us—and the blest words swaine, as we say by whose thou art and bear the boars, yet thing tride, doe melts, crooked and bowe and she hath repelling wondering the word which is, of thunderstand how plenishing tride, and with threading goodbye, good need water there the words would give the took, somewhat it slays his ynne in yougth answered year, to come—the night, who came think scorne for instead of use a running tone of still thy best; like thy furl’d, the terms with peacock—raced.

The woods which of your mother souls from the gave see my brain if the was wonted Norwegianced, Sir Leoline. Each night; and gay; but bind my consummate this is my lips and then did I see the transgression of nyne, the be said Christ cave—whatever sae smart did reckoned sae douce and not sow that he warp’d as gentle niece, you shall happy again, I pitties on less be happy love the Agèd Host, and blink on that love pities, that lowly adayes to and her teenish glare in the half fall? This head up as blythe teares bestowing his be begins do, hang tongues rest, as if the Foole!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #174 texts #sonnet sequence

1 note · View note

sunriseoverastorea · 4 years

Text

Ebonhawke is silent and still in the wee hours of the morning. Marea can see the entire city from the deck of her ship, spread out below her like a massive dollhouse, sleeping in the shadow of the mountains where the Crooked Kestrel is docked. A single figure here and there, darting through the sulfur-yellow glow of a streetlamp, likely up to no good. She shapes her right hand into a gun and points it at each of them, softly saying ‘pew, pew’ under her breath. She can barely hear herself over the idling hum of gears and steam and shifting wings, keeping her perpetually afloat, a gentle lullaby of mechanical voices. But she couldn’t fall asleep here, even if she wanted to. Nor on the bomb-splintered roof of her apartment, alongside her pets, or in the tall, whispering tree out in the Iron Marches, that has grown over Rajya’s grave.

She sits down less than gracefully on the edge of the deck, still adjusting to her bad knee. Her legs swing over the side, kicking chipperly through the air, and to her left she lays out her work for the night: a new cape, shoddily handsewn and almost completed, and a large plain sketchbook, accompanied by her box of scribing tools. She briefly runs the coarse wool of the cape through her fingers, feeling nothing, but imagining it to be soft and fluid, fuzzy and scratchy, all at once. Then she takes the hefty book and plops it on her lap, opening to the first page.

“Don’t fuck up, Marea,” she murmurs, hunching deeply, getting her face as close to the page as she can. Her braids slip over her shoulders and hone in on her peripheral vision as she takes a black pen from the box and carefully pricks the end of it on the paper, licking her lips. “You don’t wanna tear pages out of this. It’s a record of your progress. If it’s shitty, it’s shitty forever.”

She begins to sketch along the top margin of the page, a smooth, elegant array of curving vines studded with leaves and blossoms alike, mimicking the flowers of Grothmar Valley. Her trip there seems like a world away, now--everything from before the Dominion came into existence does. In some cases, literally, in her year of barding in foreign taverns where odd variants of humanity with thick, musical accents listened to her tales of Ascalon, a fabled land with fabled cat people and legendary sorrow and beauty. But even since she came back--Raigar gone, then finding him a changed man from the one she left behind. Finding herself changed, a stranger in places she once romped about without a care, an alien in a world where everything is loud and angry, and she was loud and angry, and sometimes she still is, but other times she’s forgotten how she’s supposed to feel, supposed to react.

Everything is different. She can never go back to a time when Tyria was her whole horizon. The closest she can get is her memories with Rajya, when she was child. Days moved slowly, and the world was a story, a tapestry of love and suffering that she could read before bed. It was easier that way.

But even back then, she knew it was a sham. That real life was visceral and painful, and would beat her down at every opportunity. And now is no different--she has new friends, a lover, an airship, and a new place that she calls home, at least by name. And in the midst of all this, the concept that she’s built her heart around, like the vines climbing up the trellis on the page of her sketchbook, is crumbling into shards and splinters.

She leans forward, letting her forehead rest against the cold, rusty metal of the deck’s railing. She grits her teeth, eyes narrowing, metal hand gripping the pen in a fist so tight that the plastic casing cracks nearly in half. And then the pen is flying off the airship, out over soot-darkened rooftops, and shreds of torn sketchbook paper are hurled after it, though they only sail a foot through the air before they begin to drift downward, spinning and lilting on the breeze like feathers. She bangs her head against the railing, again and again, and even in her anger, she doesn’t feel like shouting. She doesn’t want to be loud.

What’s the point? she thinks, Why should I keep trying? Why did I return? Why do I still care?

She takes a long, shuddering breath, wiping hard at her eyes with the back of her hand. It’s a poison. A disease. Tyria is in her blood, and it will always call her back.

--------------------------------------

Over the snow-capped mountains and across the fields and forests of Kryta, Cara returns to Shaemoor. Her tiny room at the top of the farmer’s mill is just as she left it, if covered in a significant layer of dust. Even her favorite cat is snoozing on the bed, though it does nothing more than open one eye in greeting. She’s not staying the night here. It will take a couple hours to meet up with Jack and the others in the swamp, so it’s best that she gather what she needs, and leave. No fanfare, no sentimentality. It shouldn’t be difficult; this is a place where she despised herself, spent years trapped in a pit of despair and self-loathing. There is nothing of worth here, except her gear, which she came for.

She rounds up her weapons first. With her greatsword and rifle already strung across her pack, she adds a large hammer, an axe, a sword, a small shield, and a spiked mace to the array. Some of them go in the pack, others are tied with straps to hang from the sides of it. She flips through her stack of unopened letters, which she suspects has grown in the last year, nosy farmers delivering her backlog of family correspondence straight to her desk. Then she takes them all and shoves them under the mattress, out of sight, out of mind. Like they never existed.

Despite a fine peppering of dust, her armor still gleams, silver surface reflecting halos of gold in the candlelight. She stares down at her hard face, reflected in the chestplate, on the emblem of the Vigil so exquisitely molded into the metal, and she feels ill, as if her stomach is forcing its way up her throat. There’s no time to let petty, irrational weakness distract her--she grits her teeth and, piece by piece, removes her armor from the stand, and goes through the familiar motions of putting it on. Even after five years, the preparations that she has rehearsed since she was a child come naturally, easily, her second skin that she had planned to live the rest of her life in. Fight in battle, die in battle. With strength, honor, and justice.

It’s heavier than she remembers. She untethers her greatsword from her pack, and experimentally swings it through the air, a simple upper-cut slash. Her breath quickens, her stance wavers, she feels stunted and instantly yearns for her arms to move freely. But is it really the smooth range of motion that she craves, or the panting from her chest that she fears?

She’s lost muscle mass. It happens. She sits on the edge of the bed, untying the binding on her chestplate, and carefully lowering it to the floor. She didn’t want that, anyway. Baring that lie on her chest. She’s isn’t Vigil, and she never will be again. There’s nothing to be done about the rest of her armor, most of it in uniform, but at least it doesn’t scream from the highest hilltop in the same way the chestplate does: I’m a traitor! I’m a failure! I am disgraced, and I deserve my isolation.

Isolated no more, she has Jack. And the rest of the gang, though she’d hardly call them close companions. Still, in the moments when she is away from her lover, left to what few meaningful thoughts she has, she remembers what it’s like to be completely alone. There’s a part of her that believes she should’ve stayed that way, as penance. And another that’s learned not to care. She is no longer a soldier, no longer honorable. And she’s never lived her life half-heartedly.

She pulls a storage bin out from under the bed, and unveils a thick norn-style shirt, made from a mix of hides and fur, a gift from Kylan many years ago. It will do in place of her chestplate, unrecognizable to any familiar faces she may encounter at the war front, further enforcing the idea that she is not Cara, not even human. Even in her shame, she isn’t ready to be associated with the charr-killing mongrels she’ll soon be fighting alongside. Especially if the sack-hoods come out.

She stands in the doorway, saddled with armor and weapons on her back. She looks at the cat, who at some point circled the bed and settled down with its tail to Cara, face tucked away out of view.

“Goodbye,” she says in her flat, commanding tone, startling herself a little. The room had been dead silent, her footsteps dampened by the dust. She waits for the cat to reply--and it doesn’t, so she moves on.

----------------------------------------------

Dido sits at her desk in her apartment in the Western Commons, busily scrawling away with a pencil. Trisha, take care of Kennedy; Sara, finish the dress for Elizabeth--she scrolls through the mental list of clients in her head, and when the letters are all written and addressed, she puts them on the table by the door, to be dropped in the mail on her way out. No noble lady will be left unattended, futzing and complaints should be minimal. She opens her little pantry, peeking in the back corners of each shelf in search of perishable food, when a tinny, subtle crackling in her ears grabs her attention.

Abruptly, she straightens up, and goes to the window, leaning her head out just enough to appear as if she’s enjoying the cool evening air. She gently taps her finger on the tiny comm, tucked safely in her ear. “Yes?” she answers crisply, voice even and smooth and pleasantly indifferent, an automaton of grace and sinuous charm. She falls silent, listening to the reply, and tilts her head out just a bit farther, trying to abate poor reception.

“I know, I know. Look, it’s not a vacation,” she says, keeping soft and low so that she doesn’t disturb her neighbors. “I--yes, I’m going to be with my sister, I never denied that. But we’re also going to an active war zone, so I’ll be working at the same time… Yes, of course I will keep you updated on everything I see. Every last fallen pine needle--who? Right, I’ll keep an eye out for them.”

The tinny voice in her ear drones on, a cloud passes by overhead, revealing the moon, and she dips back inside her apartment, a little more clarity coming through the device. She half-listens as she boxes up her sewing machine, shoving it under the bed and out of view from snooping eyes, and rolls up and folds her patchwork of fabrics spread across the sewing table.

“I understand,” she says gently, but firmly. “You know I take this seriously. And that I can multitask. Or I wouldn’t have the right to call myself tailor by day, agent by night. Sometimes the reverse. I like being kept on my toes.”

Goodbyes are exchanged, and the comm crackles and closes the connection. For a moment, she considers removing it from her ear; just a little peace and quiet, without her mentor butting in on her thoughts all night and all day, would be a sweet relief. But she leaves it in, just in case. Duty calls.

Tomorrow--in the morning, duty calls. She lies down on her bed, swallowed in her plush comforter. She will have plenty of time to catch up with Cara and Jack when the sun sits high in the sky, warm and bright, and a fascinating, unprecedented adventure awaits them. A charr civil war, Jormag looming on horizon. She’s living through history, and her keen eyes are drinking in every minute of it.

#rp post #marea the silent #cara graves #dido graves #first piece in a century and I like it

0 notes

hurremsultanns · 5 years

Text

The funniest thing in Count Belisarius is the fact that a cleric doesn't know who Aeneas and Dido are.

That is literally the equivalent of not knowing about Romeo and Juliet.

#tagamemnon #byzantium #count belisarius #robert graves #belisarius #aeneas #dido #virgil #aeneid #it's just awesome #sidenote if you haven't read the aeneid what are you doing with your life #stop what you're doing and read it as soon as possible

7 notes · View notes

emeraldgreaves · 3 years

Text

liefred & linden

gentle acoustic fading into dreamy indie pop for two nerdy mages who definitely still like each other.

(a fanmix for Shepherds of Haven)

tracklist / lyrics:

the 1 / taylor swift // in my defense, i have none for digging up the grave another time. but it would've been fun, if you would've been the one

alaska / maggie rogers // and i walked off you, and I walked off an old me; oh me, oh my I thought it was a dream

i don't miss you at all / finneas // all but forgotten about those eyes; a shade of green that if he'd seen would make f. scott fitzgerald cry

real estate / adam melchor // running out of real estate; tryna make all the right moves; i don't wanna hesitate; i would bet the house on you

bloom / the paper kites // shall i write it in a letter? shall i try to get it down? oh, you fill my head with pieces of a song i can't get out

apple pie / lizzy mcalpine // home is wherever you are tonight.

let's see what the night can do / jason mraz // And we'll stand in the Canyon alone, singing our favorite songs; and wait for the words to return in the echo, echo, echo, echo, echo

one and only / teitur // so you wanna be my friend, so you wanna be my lover? with you i do confess i can't be one without the other

everything has its place / young mister // just like the ocean pairs well with the sand, i go with you

white flag / dido // i promise i'm not trying to make your life harder or return to where we were. but i will go down with this ship

human / dodie // paint me in trust, i'll be your best friend. call me the one, this night just can't end

home / bruno major // i don't need to build a house of stone. wherever you are is where i call home

harvest moon / neil young // because I'm still in love with you, i want to see you dance again

golden hour / kacey musgraves // 'cause you're my golden hour, the color of my sky

pretty places / aly & aj // these open skies, leaving the past behind; i would, for all the pretty places

out of my league / fitz and the tantrums // 'cause you were out of my league, all the things I believed; you were just the right kind; yeah, you were more than just a dream

talk too much / coin // you know I talk too much; honey, come put your lips on mine and shut me up

beginning middle and end / leah nobel // five years later and I'm still yours; ten years later and I'm still yours; fifty years later and I'm still your beginning and middle and end

i will spend my whole life loving you / kina grannis, imaginary future // oh believe me, i've been counting my stars. cause I will spend my whole life loving you

the golden hour / louie zong

#liefred & linden #shoh #emerald writes #i need a new creative tag #alt title: em exposes her spotify wrapped for 2021 #throws a ton of random references to dreams in there for ch3 reasaons lmao #this is the only shoh playlist i've finished curating properly #all of the character playlists lean romance-y because i'm a sap #maybe i'll do a playlist that's three songs for each character

36 notes · View notes

authorgraves · 3 years

Photo

Christopher Marlowe

(Christened Feb. 26th 1564-May 30th 1593)

Brief Bio: Marlowe was born in Canterbury and baptized at St. George’s Church two months before the birth of William Shakespeare. He received a formal education and pursued a career as a poet, translator and playwright. His blank verse plays were enormously successful. He has been speculated as being a spy, atheist, and homosexual. In 1593, amidst a scandal surrounding his political and religious beliefs, he was murdered. Due to a lack of reliable evidence and conflicting witness statements, the circumstances surrounding Marlowe’s death remain shrouded in mystery.

Notable Works:

Dido, Queen of Carthage

Tamburlaine

The Jew of Malta

Doctor Faustus

Edward the Second

The Massacre at Paris

The Grave:

Marlowe’s remains were laid to rest in an unmarked grave in the churchyard of St. Nicholas Church in Deptford.

St. Nicholas Church

Deptford Green, London

SE8 3DQ

Surrounding Area:

The nearest transit stations are the Deptford stop on the National Rail, and the New Cross station on the Overground.

Further Reading:

Marlowe Project Gutenberg

The Marlowe Society website

The Marlowe Studies website

St. Nicholas Church website

"You stars that reigned at my nativity, whose influence hath allotted death and hell.”

#christopher marlowe #william shakespeare #death #cemetery #grave #murder #mysterious death #doctor faustus #tamburlaine #saint nicholas #deptford #london #england #canterbury

20 notes · View notes

passionate-reply · 3 years

Video

youtube

Great Albums is kicking off Pride Month with a special feature on one of the weirdest and wildest queer artists of the New Wave era: the one and only Klaus Nomi! Combining glam, synth-pop, and opera, of all things, Nomi’s tragically short career is nothing short of mystifying. Check out the video or read the full transcript, below the break!

Welcome to Passionate Reply, and welcome to Great Albums! In this installment, I’ll be looking at the self-titled debut album of one of the most unique, incomparable, and unforgettable artists in music history: the one and only Klaus Nomi. What is it that makes Nomi so noteworthy? Perhaps the most obvious thing is his background as a classically trained opera singer. While a lot of pop vocalists have some degree of classical training, it’s rare to find one who worked so hard to bring ultra-mannered, literally operatic lead vocals into an otherwise pop context.

The other thing I should mention is that Nomi’s voice part was the “countertenor,” giving his vocals an even more unusual dimension. Countertenors are men who sing in a high range usually covered by women, and even in the operatic tradition, they weren’t necessarily all that common, particularly since the rise of opera coincided with that of the infamous castrati--male singers who were castrated to preserve their prepubescent voices. The combination of partially electronic, New Wave compositions with these bizarre, but ultimately “traditional” vocals results in something that sounds simply otherworldly.

Music: “Total Eclipse”

“Total Eclipse” is probably Nomi’s best known track, due in part to being featured in the seminal concert film Urgh! A Music War, which sought to capture the diversity of the early 80s New Wave scene. Like a lot of classic songs of this era, it tackles the subject of nuclear annihilation, albeit with a nearly depraved, gleeful tone, that makes it feel like more of a party. For the verses, Nomi adopts a sort of rhythmic speak-singing, which was much more par for the course for “New Wave” music, only to shockingly explode into a powerful operatic rendition of the refrain. It reminds me a bit of how, in musical theatre, tension builds through spoken dialogue, before characters are so emotional they feel compelled to burst into song--or, of course, how recitative blossoms into arias in opera. In the context of this particular track, it’s easy to interpret it as an embodiment of how “cold wars” can suddenly burst into flame. While “Total Eclipse” was a new composition, written specifically for Nomi by Kristian Hoffman, this album also features several covers of past hits, such as “You Don’t Own Me.”

Music: “You Don’t Own Me”

Nomi’s covers of the Midcentury pop ditties “Lightning Strikes” and “You Don’t Own Me” repeat the structure of “Total Eclipse,” showing that this signature pattern of increasing tension leading to increasingly mannered vocals is just as effective when retroactively applied to pre-existing compositions. What’s also significant about “You Don’t Own Me” is that it was originally written for a woman, Lesley Gore, and its defiant assertion of self-confidence has long been associated with women’s liberation. Being openly gay, Nomi sees fit to leave the lyric “play with other boys” just as it is, and could be interpreted to be deliberately emphasizing that last word, intentionally queering his rendition of the song. Nomi’s ability to sing in a traditionally female voice range, combined with his eccentric, gender-bending personal aesthetic, makes the interrogation of traditional concepts of gender an integral part of his art. Some of the other covers on the album are even older than the Midcentury, coming from the golden age of opera, such as “The Cold Song.”

Music: “The Cold Song”

Also known by its opening lyrics, “What power art thou?”, “The Cold Song” is a rare operatic aria that was actually designed for the countertenor voice part. It was written by the English composer William Purcell, a noted fan of countertenors who lived outside the influence of the Italian castrati, for his 1691 opera King Arthur. Well, King Arthur is actually what’s sometimes called a “semi-opera”: not all characters sing, and those who do often tend to be supernatural entities. “The Cold Song” is sung by a winter spirit called the Cold Genius, when reluctantly awakened from icy slumber by Cupid. His lines are sung so as to stutter, as he shivers from the freezing cold of his surrounds. Unlike the pop covers on the album, the arias are actually played pretty straight, almost as if they serve as evidence of Nomi’s actual chops doing traditional opera the old-fashioned way. “The Cold Song” is certainly a great fit for Nomi’s unique stage persona, which presented him as a fey or elfin non-human visitor from some mythical Otherworld, or perhaps an extraterrestrial from outer space. This theme is addressed most directly by the one track on this album composed entirely by Nomi himself: “Keys of Life.”

Music: “Keys of Life”

“Keys of Life” is the album’s opening track, and perhaps serves as Nomi’s personal introduction to the people of our realm--a sort of musical “we come in peace” message. Its lyrics seem to portray Nomi as a benevolent visitor, but one with a dire warning for mankind: we need to get our act together soon, for our actions now are of great import, as we humans “hold the keys of life.” Perhaps Nomi’s mission is to prevent climate catastrophe on Earth, or, given the context of “Total Eclipse,” a nuclear apocalypse. With its warbling synthesiser backdrop, and Nomi singing fully in the operatic style throughout, “Keys of Life” is arguably the most experimental piece to be had on the album, and putting it as the very first track certainly pulls no punches.

It is, of course, difficult to fully address the significance of Nomi’s persona without getting into his visual identity. The cover of Nomi’s self-titled debut features his most iconic outfit: an oversized plastic tuxedo, with hugely exaggerated shoulders, and a pointed hairstyle with a bit of Streamline Moderne flair. I mentioned earlier that Nomi’s work seems concerned with gender, and in that context, I’ve often interpreted this look as a sort of caricature of masculinity, parodying men’s formalwear and calling attention to Nomi’s receding hairline. There is certainly something absurd about a high-pitched, perhaps feminine-coded voice emerging from a ludicrously masculine sort of character. The use of thin, shiny, reflective plastic, and the aforementioned Midcentury feel of the hairstyle, make me also consider interpreting it as less of a parody, and more of an alien’s bad attempt at adopting the appearance of an “ordinary,” upstanding, conservative human male in attire, using space-age materials to cobble it together.

The oversized, geometric appearance of Nomi’s garb reminds me of the great Dada poet, Hugo Ball, founder of the legendary Cabaret Voltaire. Ball was the inventor of what he called “sound poetry,” and enacted lively readings of poetry that consisted of entirely nonsensical words. He did this while wearing a strange, cylindrical-shaped cardboard suit, said to restrict his movements so much that Ball needed to be ceremoniously carried off stage when he was finished reciting. Given their shared German heritage and cabaret avant-gardism, I can’t help but wonder if Ball’s striking costume was something of an influence on Nomi here.

This album is, of course, self-titled, but that, too, is an artistic choice that can be analyzed. The artist was born Klaus Sperber, but adopted the stage name “Nomi” for his creative endeavours. In the context of the track “The Nomi Song,” the name is often used punningly in comparison with the English phrase “know me.” Nomi’s choice of stage name is almost a dare or a challenge, a request for us to attempt to know and understand this seemingly inscrutable being before us. As with many other portrayals of queerness as alien or otherworldly, the messaging here seems to be that Nomi may seem different at first, but his intent is ultimately benign, should mere mortals like ourselves be kind enough to give him a chance.

Nomi’s follow-up to this debut album was 1982’s Simple Man, an album which is much more similar to its predecessor than different. It has a wider variety of contributing musicians and different instruments employed, but it’s got a similar overall feel, and mix of tracks. You’ll find more covers, like “Falling In Love Again” and even “Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead,” more original compositions, like the Hoffman-penned sequel to “Total Eclipse,” entitled “After the Fall,” and even some more arias, like this stunning rendition of another work of Purcell’s. Referred to here as simply “Death,” it comes from Purcell’s Dido & Aeneas, and is sung by the titular Carthaginian queen, Dido, as she prepares to commit suicide. Also called “Dido’s Lament” or “Thy hand, Belinda,” its darkly descending melody is as captivatingly ominous today as it was when it was written, over three centuries ago.

Music: “Death”

Sadly, Nomi became gravely ill at around this time, and his own untimely death was just around the corner. He died of complications of AIDS in 1983, at the age of just 44, leaving behind an unfinished opera of his own creation, Za Bakdaz, which would go unreleased until 2008. That, and a posthumous live album released in 1986, would be the only other works under Nomi’s name. As with all artists who die tragically young, we will always be left wondering what else Klaus Nomi might’ve accomplished in the ensuing decades. I find it hard to imagine a timeline in which this sound ever became particularly mainstream, but anything else Nomi came up with would have undoubtedly been fascinating.

My favourite track on Nomi’s debut is “The Twist.” Yes, this is indeed Chubby Checker’s “The Twist,” another one of those Midcentury covers that Nomi was so fond of. But compared to the rest of Nomi’s covers, this one is much more of a deconstruction, perhaps even a “piss take,” featuring a sparse instrumentation, centered around a lethargic bass guitar, and the overall pace is slowed to a crawl. Add in Nomi’s piercing vocals and some nearly demonic, chittering laughter, and you’ve got a track that turns a fun, light-hearted dance craze into a surreal nightmare. As difficult as it is to be the strangest track on an album like this, I have to give that honour to “The Twist.” That’s all for today--thanks for watching!

Music: “The Twist”

#music #great albums #album review #album reviews #klaus nomi #new wave

24 notes · View notes

dwellordream · 3 years

Text

“…When the two lovers meet after Parliament's decision, Criseyde offers Troilus the opportunity to "ravish her" as her uncle has suggested. She begs for his aid, crying "Help, Troilus!" (IV, 1150) and falling into a dead faint. For once, she wishes that another would take control and make decisions for her. Not realizing that Troilus has relapsed into an impotent, emasculated state, Criseyde expects him to interpret successfully her intent and to act boldly in order to rescue her from her terrible plight. Troilus, however, is no longer the valiant, empathetic young man transformed by Criseyde's love; consequently, he fails to play the role of the manly hero. He does not seize this moment to carry the maiden off; instead, he convinces himself that she has died and poetically beseeches the heavens to hasten his own demise (IV, 1191-1211).

His behavior contrasts greatly with Criseyde's when he had fainted. She roused herself to action, doing all in her power to revive her lover, who, like Criseyde in this later scene, seemed at the precipice of death. Criseyde begins to argue eloquently upon the advantages of biding her time behind enemy lines only after she awakes to discover that Troilus has not heeded her cry for help. A careful reader would recognize, how ever, that she still yearns for her lover to prevent the exchange, for she interrupts her own argument to assure Troilus "what so ye me comaunde,/ That wol I don, for that is no demaunde" (IV, 1294-95). In arguing in favor of removing to the Greek camp, Criseyde tests the extent of Troilus's affection. …Criseyde thought that surely a man willing to slay himself for her would be willing to risk ruining his reputation for her love, but Troilus finds himself incapable of performing such a heroic feat.

When Troilus fails to make even the slightest attempt to rescue his ill fated lover, Criseyde realizes that she must bring about her own salvation. As she spins out her plan, she gains more confidence in her abilities to effect her own rescue. Sheltered within the walls of Troy, Criseyde knows little of the true horrors of war, only what she has gleaned from gossip and from the books that she has read in her cloistered garden. Her overconfidence stems both from her ignorance concerning the actual situation facing her nation and from her earlier successes in effecting her will.

In contrast, Troilus has been out in the trenches, and he should recognize the implausibility of Criseyde's plan of action. His attempts to dissuade her, however, seem half-hearted at best. Indeed, he feels relieved that she seems to exonerate him from taking any rash action, for such a view accords with his own and enables him to rationalize his impotence as simply a chivalric attempt to uphold his lady's desire: This Troilus, with herte and erys spradde,/Herde al this thyng devysen to and fro,/And verrayliche him semed that he hadde The selve wit. . . (IV, 1422-25) Although Troilus finally does argue with Criseyde that they should elope (IV, 1503), he does so only to determine the extent of her loyalty, for he beseeches her "That of hire heste he myghte her trewe fynde" (IV, 1439).

For nine stanzas he dwells on his potential desolation should Criseyde forsake him and displays little concern as to whether she might suffer from the trade as well (IV, 1436-98). He does not want Criseyde to abandon her plans but only to assure him that she will remain stead fast in her love for the Trojan prince. Troilus now behaves like Percival's maid, arguing against his lover's bold plan only to make her more resolved to carry it out. He succeeds, for Criseyde dismisses his worries, assuring him that she can achieve all that she has set out to accomplish. Thinking of the state of her city that "hath now swich nede / Of help" (IV, 1558-59), she chides Troilus for wanting to abandon his home, reminding him that he plays a vital role in his city's defense.

Concern for his city, however, does not motivate Troilus in his insistence that he and Criseyde run off; rather, his hesitancy to allow her to leave stems from his hitherto unwarranted fear that Criseyde will prove untrue. After Criseyde's eloquent argument, which included an impassioned declaration that she would remain constant in her love (IV, 1527-54), Troilus still asks her to leave with him: "But for the love of God, if it be may,/So late us stelen priveliche away;/For evere in oon, as for to lyve in reste,/Myn herte seyth that it wol be the beste." (IV, 1600-1604)

After listening to this plea, Criseyde finally experiences an awakening, realizing that her lover does not hold the values that she herself cherishes. She recognizes his plea stems only from jealousy and not from any noble concern for her or for their country's grave situation. Sighing with exasperation, she once again defends herself against the charge of infidelity: "I se wel now that ye mystrusten me, For by youre wordes it is wel yseene./Now for the love of Cinthia the sheene, Mistrust me nought thus ca?seles, for routhe,/Syn to be trewe I have yow plight my trouthe." (IV, 1606-10)

Criseyde now recognizes that Troilus, who had shunned jealousy during his earlier blissful state (III, 1805-6), has relapsed into a suspicious suitor, one who holds little faith in his love's sincerity. He has forgotten that the last time he questioned Criseyde's trustworthiness he nearly lost her favor (III, 1054-85). Troilus's hypocrisy at Criseyde's departure serves only to alienate her further and to make her resolve to return to Troy begin to evaporate. The Trojan prince not only refuses to heed Pandarus's advice and openly declare his love; he also feigns joy at the arrival of Antenor (V, 77). Even if he believed that openly expressing his love for Criseyde would imperil her, he need not seem joyous concerning the exchange. Criseyde does not mask her emotions so easily but instead weeps piteously as Diomede leads her away (V, 82). She feels distraught not only because she must leave Troilus and Troy but also because she now recognizes that she has misread her lover's nature.

Troilus's behavior undercuts the narrator's contention that the young prince refuses to act only because he fears some harm may befall Criseyde: But why he nolde don so fel a dede,/That shal I seyn, and whi hym liste it spare:/He hadde in herte alweyes a manere drede/Lest that Criseyde, in rumour of this fare,/Sholde han ben slayn; lo, this was al his care./And ellis, certeyn, as I seyde yore,/He hadde it don, wi thou ten wordes more.(V, 50-56) These assurances concerning Troilus's desire to behave valiantly seem to reflect anxiety on the part of the narrator, who suspects, perhaps, that he recounts not the tale of a hero but of a coward.

W. A. Davenport believes Troilus's poetic apostrophes to his lost love as he waits for her in Troy indicate that the young prince's despair is primarily a pose. Troilus's letters also reveal that he continues to play a role. These solipsistic missives to Criseyde seal his fate, for they leave no question that Troilus remains a courtly lover. He does not consider the needs of his auditor, for instead of tender, solicitous queries concerning the hardships she must have endured, he stresses his own affliction. Cox comments that "Troilus sings of his woe with little regard for Criseyde, . . . and his letter, . . . full of fin’amors platitudes, blames her for going to the Greeks."

As in Book I, where he allowed his misery to paralyze him, Troilus has succeeded in making himself overwrought. It is as if the communion he experienced with Criseyde in Book III never occurred, for the Trojan prince once again acts like the lovelorn suitor of a lady he scarcely knows, whom he can address only in the most artificial, contrived manner. Troilus pens his letter ostensibly to convince Criseyde to return to Troy. Such a demand, however, is absurd, and he knows it. He, who remained completely passive while the Trojans forced his love to leave, now expects Criseyde to risk her life by rushing across the battlefield to return to him. Even if she succeeded in reaching Troy, Troilus knows his father would send her back to the Greeks.

Troilus does not really expect Criseyde to reunite with him; rather, he expects her to behave like a proper lady and die for her love. One can speculate that he wants her to act like the nondescript tragic heroines in the Legend of Good Women, to pine away like Ariadne or to commit suicide like Dido. Such behavior would prove a fitting end for the object of Troilus's desire, enabling him to compose tragic lays about the death of his beautiful, beloved dame. Criseyde sees through Troilus's importunate letter, and, instead of playing the expected role of the bereft lady, she assumes the role of a courtly lover herself. As Davis notes, "when his [Troilus's] thou becomes an it, it rightly opts out." Criseyde might have risked her life or wasted away for the valiant Troilus of Book III, but she deems this poseur unworthy of such deep, abiding affection.

John McKinnell contrasts the structure of Criseyde's letter to Troilus's, noting that her epistle flows eloquently and follows the rules of artes dictamen. Criseyde's controlled prose reflects her nature; she will determine her own actions and certainly will not be dictated to by a man whose own convoluted letter displays an utter lack of composure or self-discipline. The time for impulsive behavior on the part of Troilus has passed. He should have displayed such passion when Criseyde was taken from him; he should have acted rashly when such behavior would have proved effective. Now his raving falls on deaf ears, and his former lover tersely retorts "Nor other thyng nys in youre remembraunce, / As thynketh me, but only youre plesaunce" (V, 1607-8).

In abandoning Troilus and accepting Diomede's suit, Criseyde behaves like a male lover jilting a woman with whom he has grown weary. Criseyde knows that men behave in this manner, for prior to accepting Troilus's advances, she complains about the faithlessness of men: "ek men ben so un trewe,/That right anon as cessed is hire lest,/So cesseth love, and forth to love a newe./But harm ydoon is doon, whoso it rewe:,For though thise men for love hem first torende,/Ful sharp bygynnyng breketh ofte at ende."(II, 786-91) Criseyde follows the consummate courtly lover's, Pandarus's, advice to Troilus, an act that leaves both uncle and lover astounded. Her behavior provokes Pandarus's violent exclamation "I hate, ywis, Cryseyde; / And, God woot, I wol hate hire evermore!" (V, 1732-33), as well as his wish that she will die soon, a desire to which Troilus, by not gainsaying, seems to give his silent assent.

Criseyde's unconventional behavior confounds the narrator as well. He cannot quite grasp why she gives Diomede Troilus's brooch, for instance, despairing that there "was litel nede" for such a deed (V, 1040). The narrator cannot admit that Troilus deserves to be abandoned by Criseyde, for to do so would be to recognize that he has recounted the story of a dithering, self-consumed man. By giving Diomede her brooch, Criseyde sends Troilus a clear message that no matter how much he rants and raves she no longer will accommodate his desires. She lets him know that not only does she refuse to return to Troy; she also refuses to waste away for love of him. Criseyde never wanted to involve herself in an affair constrained by the rules of courtly love, and she takes up with a new lover, who, like her, eschews such conventions.

Diomede's desire for Criseyde does not emasculate him, and he never complains of her cruel heart or hints that she causes him great pain. Instead, he treats her as his equal, engaging her in an intellectual conversation concerning the siege and seeking her opinion about the war: He gan first fallen of the werre in speche Bitwixe hem and the folk of Troie town;/And of th'assege he gan hire ek biseche To telle hym what was hire opynyoun. (V, 855-58) Diomede understands Criseyde's nature, for he recognizes that she is a woman interested in much more than silly love games. Instead of harping about himself, as Troilus tends to do, Diomede at least feigns empathy for Criseyde's plight, telling her he has noticed her sorrow and wondering if she laments a lost love (V, 871-82).

His concern indeed may be motivated merely by lust, but compared to Troilus's self pitying posturing, it strikes the Trojan beauty as a welcome change. In Criseyde's estimation, Diomede now seems much closer to the ideal she seeks than the Trojan prince, for Diomede pretends at least to admire both her beauty and her intellect. Indeed, Chaucer hints that Diomede may prove a much better match for feisty Criseyde than the young, oversensitive prince. The poet reveals that the Greek warrior and the Trojan beauty share the same pragmatic philosophy. Determined to court Criseyde, Diomede reminds himself that "he that naught n'asaieth naught n'acheveth" (V, 784). His words echo Criseyde's own, who, while contemplating Troilus's suit, mused that "'He which that nothing undertaketh, / Nothyng n'acheveth, be hym looth or deere'" (II, 807-8). Troilus, significantly, does not subscribe to this self-sufficient view.

Readers should not scorn Criseyde for turning toward Diomede. After being so bitterly disappointed in Troilus, who proved himself incapable of transcending the conventional, Criseyde continues to believe in the possibility of attaining the ideal in love. She may not remain loyal to a man who has failed her, but she does remain loyal to the notion of a healthy, wholesome love, a love based on mutual desire and a meeting of minds. Her passion for Troilus has changed her; she does not revert back to the cynical young widow of Book II, who regarded love as little more than a trap set by men. For one fleeting moment, Criseyde found her affair with Troilus liberating, because it enabled her to express and to sate finally her own desires. She embarks on a relationship with Diomede yearning to recapture the bliss that she once felt with her Trojan prince. Diomede, she hopes, will prove a more worthy recipient of her stalwart heart.

Troilus also finds himself altered by his love affair with Criseyde, but his transformation occurs only after his death. His demise releases him from the courtly love conventions that he found impossible to escape while on earth. In Reading Lolita in Tehran, Azar Nafisi describes the metamorphosis that occurs when her female students remove their mandatory black robes in the sanctuary of their professor's apartment. Freed from these black garbs, symbols of the repressive Iranian regime, they indulge in the luxury of laughter. Upon his death, Troilus finds himself similarly released from the strictures of his society. He can now shed his pose as a courtly lover, and, looking at the world from his heavenly perch, he too can laugh, both at his weakness in constantly allowing the values of the majority to dictate his actions and at the temerity of the woman he once loved, who refused to do so.”

- Mary Behrman, “Heroic Criseyde.”

#troilus and criseyde #geoffrey chaucer #medieval literature #mary behrman #courtly love

7 notes · View notes