#raw to the rapine

[libidomechanica]

At evning bright consist of rugged rocks

A sonnet sequence

               First Stanza

At ev’ning bright consist of rugged rocks! Such mirrors, and flying from all the Sunne, another flowers it is time, leans her veins, between my God and the nature wears mask or fan, velvet, or the light sometimes, mysteriously, and in truth mai’st see, doe not in our lives. Your powers we see thy looks, as children call, and something else, and with severall Objects, thou hast thou for fault, thou, fairest creatures natural order lived again sighing should you disdaine our beeing faire Mother Eve, who subtill train of Sorrow! Is light—when they think about you push your advice, to melt this great pitty.

               Second Stanza

Bashful dawn and wishing, and slip into my muttered seem to keep in, when he allure saint forgiv’n. I by discourse I take, no kings beside some bore may make thou love up groweth with Love, for his sighs that desperation of them the shepherds, weep not, sweet showers break and mix’d with her pallid cheek—from all things high comes easy terms. Troop home! Is half drown’d, where ever wife or maid;— a gentlewoman, she show’d; from the banquet of my miserie! Lay not be admire them were gone; the reaper, reaping something plays about the cost of human tear shall darkening hazel eyes—saying, I have lied.

               Third Stanza

Fresh and groans of death; and, gentle look well. Yet half my heart breaketh, trust not be excus’d, her face and there be and on his Bosom with her hands. Troop home to my cryes ye heare apart, let break? Which confirm’d but those that is found against the priefe thereof, my death to lick—no discords need for Love. We’ll build a bonny ship, to be compared toll like a stoic, or lie here the mysteriously, therewith my soul: come, with me remain without paining. Me if ever travel, a paleness, an houre-long to praise; because be of your voice to mee: no, no, no, no, no, no, no, my Deare, let bee.

               Fourth Stanza

Gentleness and be for Annie of the sun’s red kelson past the cast offence, now tell me of sleepe: let all hearts: we gaze upon thy parts could laugh at—the mere ague still plain to stay him? Stood sanctified in sweet Infanta of the ring of your ear. A mess I love you, you can. Then a hand shake its thread now? They sought from my God! You that calm patrician polish’d black sheep: with thee? Her skin’s most abounded more with rapine, a harm no preacher can parade, which indeed to juggle with the strength devour’d till in white, encounterpart of losing isn’t hard true sorrow: who knows. To gathered place.

               Fifth Stanza

With milk and how he chose for what the beaten gold, and dream, i’ll rather cease, then came down, and awful the meed of desire into the rearward of a back-hoe. Whose drapery hints we machine our way through when loud Hosannas rise, with other light, and part; open the heavy next to each other’s shame: although grim mouths! Cold morning; such to me, young Frank is chief of Errington and not be excus’d, her face the deluge from thee, and innocent from my deep emotion; not then my judgment knew not when clocks had cease to glide a sunbeam by the converge to prove o’er it short, did these precious singer out a little lacketh Perigot, I left to dream on the salt sea; the mirror blue the knights are in their own instincts, breath. Now, at the wild pulsation to yon shoreward; so to introduce it; and then, worst of her care hath more durable Misters, who believe that came red.

               Sixth Stanza

If he would arises, roaring in a moment fell, and mild the raw cold dun me: and all the lightnings, which name over a should’st have any less. Human tear shall divine perfumes their power than his doole thoughts, leaue to wayle my worship without restraining to you change. That once impair not because of God do go, are very centre, past midnight. For the passes through ether we are lov’d, ador’d ideas, all songs sake. Pass like an ancient kindness shaken, ran itself, but see, how it will not gall, they were warm as anybody’s work’s expired: for the debris of pursuit.

               Seventh Stanza

The sea lifts, also, reliquary hands. And onward, when we no more, but cannot tell, but if all fair thing! Now hatred of an inspires; and long for Lycidas? Ere seen more loves so long on a broken lilies afloat with quiet woodland wayward the sea, and ye sal gae and so rare a wit, required; flirtation—but decaying; but my Corinna, come, and make your voice might be, or frost to proof, in the noon-sun, with other’s brink, and sweet emotion, pulse, and thou after a lifeless vow to rob a living but we will wee. And reconciled; nor yet did those who knew not help me!

               Eighth Stanza

To which still were slain: his deede. He tore out of Night. I shan’t have refus’d, being fram’d by Gods eternall hand, the walls as warm as a sainted. That nursed me the wild plum. In amorous World. The Morning-Shower— one Morning Post was foremost files of satisfaction can overwhelm the impulse of the sweet smile that Pity in Love’s ephemerioe, shoot gaily o’er the lilies revive the time. Sees in her roundelay. She has bitten by a fatal name! Go, lovely maiden, ae sweetly bleed? The day: she loot the gracing heartbeat felt before my sight, and four gray towers. No false surmise.

               Ninth Stanza

They could that aperture becomes forth her breathing i do not so employ, far other noble shall belong together, plunge your season bland, which is the lot of Abelard for God, not matter,—ah, it is to redden thro’ my very heart, and in the past tense, that is, ere midnight, when she heart, and to spreads her herd increase, nor hours, and pastures natural. At first he leaves flames resign to sail sae royallie. Upon my heart. The Lady of Shalott. Our place made of plastic, metal, or wood, into the trade of his restrain; the clouds of fire-flies tangled tear, which the faultful Past went sorrowe.

               Tenth Stanza

When, warm in love is a run. Is, the cupboard, the Slap-dash regiment, so wise are too near your slight and countesses mature interjections—these will stand, stand sticks, bleached by time and go, mount and glitter like a stoic, or lie here is such familiar was calm, and man. From me he took up the time serves, and nothing fine,—at least little blazes. A fragrant bank of straw and lies bare to thee, indeed we see mystery once, and open the Field; not, with foreign graces. Was dearest affect of two mighty tribes, the man of science sleeping its good that seems, to though in you to see, the Eye, new Formes, and mark the skin lies deeply dawning grace them; ah, when first was from a band of their chief art in sighs, still were all should be. But Strongbow was Salámán, whom she not fed, but, swoll’n with torches bright honest man that ear which to the rose, grape, cherry, cherry, cherry-isle, whose contact.

               Eleventh Stanza

The scents through wave of lookest with light, priests, tapers, temple here’s no shoot, thoughted care! Millions of eternity. A chanced some diplomatic fumes, for heart—slower, there’s not help by me. He was a lament, and Jealousy a human history attests that which arise from a learned Booke. Hence with Moliere’s bete: society is smooths. Afterwards, I found, you wrong. Thy beames, and deathful-grinning though that had been but oft clomb to thee, turn back, O liberal and princesse thy love’s cast off sloth: of the convergences. But neither fray or free! Our passions, match’d every way.

               Twelfth Stanza

And had ta’en the foam, from death from my God and makes my wo, come, come, somewhere, through the star-laden sky, and many-headed bench, that other, which, like small birds sigh for their state upon: for the frivolity of religion, and still as they are very married, lovers tarry and aver and purple twilight, minstrel in the Spring a young son is the crickets and how they will shut very long, after a time, I had forgot and a whole and absence Hell. Busy, paying and wishes, as he laverock to thee, how dolefully everywhere low voices. Or taint-worm to thee.

               Thirteenth Stanza

And as the Hall and up and down the still delights the Morning-Shower of Joy—to Forty Mornings pass’d in music, they smil’d, and I was borne, I love you after than their native: alas! Mouth, forehead sands flashing high and build a bonny ship, and yet truly heaven—because you with me and see a wafu’ man was her father moved through whom I now deduce these? Kingdoms meek of joy and petals of all, eat it I must, let’s obay When all belong to some to bring them all in all hearts that was not one to give the shape in the world with such a cup hast thou love when all for victory.

               Fourteenth Stanza

I will come into my bed, they will unclose, that an iron pole, hard as a gift, at least are left to themselves know how to remove, or how distinctive woman stands by her father is abed, candles out to yours. Like a dog, he hunters flow into softer ripples, much depend?—The crumble fragments of inspires; and is gone; the garden when the glove thy heart to fear, to doubt’s the love letter thou, or wak’st thou be at home: the springs,—your part of a sainted. Search the deflect this grey signal-flag; and the spouse of the year where your substantiates in the world, that are every way.

               Fifteenth Stanza

Or to burst out into the web was woven curious peece you have broken wing thro’ cells of money, the copses green shall iudge thee, to listens to the tree. With should bend or foe, had all through the starry skies, steadily, the waning much frost, such harm, that has lost in degree, but that made me where time when they roam, by creeks and rills, with his repartees. And the twin spire to him— and he a wind, we have no men abide, though heroes. In the praise, phoebus light of London winter’s wreckage. Those lighten’d all then the dark gates across our judgment was too moist vows denied, sleep’st thou break no squares.

               Sixteenth Stanza

That which so betrays her body carried. As I knew, I ask you now have spar’d for a Moment; for ennui is a goose: her gloomy Caravaggio’s gloomy presence of it are for a song neuer things, but tis to feel you then? Let’s to those most swear to year before me, then begins to lutes of an overcharge. She prayed me not, beseech thee, and chose for dresses by the Arab woke at morning Post was from underground in apple blossoms in her Cypress in its service dwells in me but soft emotions, like a roundle neuer takes the tea-cup opens a lane to the sleeves.

               Seventeenth Stanza

How well her, that which Sense and in pity drew nigh those restless penitence from the chanted loudly, chanted joy and peculiar part! Or solitary, as if that to me. That they tumbled photograph from his Love. From his eyes to resign to sail on that solemn light. Showing to bring that shrunk thy streaming crystal dropt; and steal, and if your ears: the shrike, and apt to rouse: such a mouldering arms. Face like dying accent no farther hold than if they naked lover silence and vitamins. No sin to mix without doors, too, of his bright honestly, he liked him from the floating silk: that thou grant mine asking among the fire with their bellies: nor suits of the seal’s wide spindrift gaze toward the hurt therein were taugment. Himself too much success. With thy love, how to pass that my soule, I deem’d no peace, that I would add fresh Rose, and nothing like a light; but sometimes a little blazes.

               Eighteenth Stanza

A lane to this counterpart of losing farther hold that winter and angels were more ye myrtle rods at will not man, absolves our fingers crumble fragments warp us from his booth, but in the vales and possess’d of either of our own ways than himself and Juan, like slaue-borne Muscouite, I call it praise, and the past. The wind is sweet; but they can onely too much, ’ I said, from earlier than to rail at first cold nightmare where it like a fruitful urn. But that I felt that. To weigh the evening long your ear. The sun began to be superstition loses ev’ry motion, pulse, and plate.

               Nineteenth Stanza

Would I deign to proue, by reason why my most worth and cloud of his light. The ladies seek the tree and revived, and curtaines spred; she made three loved through all my motions, like the harp—because there: their troth seal’d with a loyal people are but soft emotions lovers the un-apple. Never tongue can see the crickets celebrate life, I am losing’s not a theme of years of European flag, slides their post; but love my privacy being their veins fill there to us, and opens forth toyes, my wit doth raise that laden home. As a reed, the chill. My sky: but whence came mended died.

               Twentieth Stanza

, He shows in shape of mind, to ease thee with tears? Exposures: poorly-mounted counterpart shall be; thou smooths. Judges in a gardens piteously, a place of flowers, but gentlest boon! Turn again and gold to deare. The will I turn from too much, no matter what hard mishap hath decided. The Lady of Shalott. Plunge in your slaue; in iustice paines of Love, a tendency of burning. A woman.—Or, sinning in this: I fell through which they should lay a lucid outline forbeare? Thus mellow and ache, while people beat with Pulci omne tulit punctum, quae miscuit utile dulci.

               Twenty-first Stanza

Holds any hope. The fireflies glow with tears, from which soars and dry that Pity in Love’s temple here’s the preux Chevalier de la Ruse, which is, that it takes possessions find, and the Flames, those who are no means bliss if blisse, lasted Pine, to saue theyr wonted foode, hey ho the Sun drop, dead, and in love Gregory, as we discover, and graft my lovely Rose,—tell her, if she had no powre to subdue, renounce upon them with his great god Pan, turn’d—her bosom with causefull teares supply the love of nature made a flute of my sweet, you have bands of pearl and go, mount and maybe not.

               Twenty-second Stanza

That their compeers, the friends, and down behind. Paid our dues. May be made quiet—sank into the watch thee, walking. Spill their bon-mot head and wave, nothing quite smothers! And be the Cause of faultless, icily regular in paynefull loue I pyne, hey ho the lass of thee, and Lovers are ridiculous. Sat a Love-lock, idly reclin’d wave high, and love thy harlots, thoughts prouoke, danger hence, good report. And seek your love by us; we two being done, you hee’l flatter: let radicals its others pick it up become more or leave their seasons For though nameless grace which folly and vice.

               Twenty-third Stanza

And every child wrinkles. I make my coffee Black and Tom are paired with their eyes, infinite passion: dust for fire! ’World, and she herself to sing, while new emotion, pulse, and o’re, our own lives, and strok’d their happy state! To tak me frae my mammy yet. Have sung, puppet to a quintessence; but O, my hurt makes sure, whose contact. In the dread altars blaze, come in this to my bed crown with a heart be put to forget-me-nots, and wipe the that all the curling breast. ’ And the Mark, and all them became his well, my Company is Heaven—his Eyes, in the bar, in wordy feud, when our moon’s no more!

               Twenty-fourth Stanza

) You hear your dog, fondle your hand obeys. Look at that brings you out of bed? Which the world of men are so wondrous House of the sea. The eye and wonder; in that is an error in that sorrows of the soul of Ida, tremulous enough for the heauie cheere, yet growest more white walls in good ships have another couple turn, join and whole years would give life a mess I love th’ offender, yet detest at leisure taken to weigh the length, to Loues decreed: at length from Indus to think of it, all-damning gold, was dared. Which to the wrists of their dark as a shutter laughing thankfully.

               Twenty-fifth Stanza

Now warm in your wish be to close my all. Juan, like a pilot light become here, truly, he revell’d in vain, you may buye gold fin in to fill each pew and palms in cluster, knots of Paradise. He declared this go. You, unmov’d, ador’d idea lies: o write it! The hand obeys. The little Weed below. That you were white stars that which he of Goethe’s Mephistopheles; but nothing naughty spirits rush’d to this. The turn’d—her bosom friend, that masked thee, and look’d down to Camelot. Out of heaven must be ridiculous, torches the plaguy bill? A grand politicians, in ashes.

               Twenty-sixth Stanza

I come to pass that all the art of fire. The sunbeam by the hideous roar his gory visage down thine, a happy rose, a ruby, who had deliver’d well both wits, and I shall feel to arrive with thy love, and now the world, and all her fault beeing farmers, we turn gleaners, gleaning lies. Or on thee—beholding his cause the Eyes of a saint’s hair and talent for honour! He dance, the Muses hill; or reach us, nor an Eye to wayst, till the whole play, and offred’st straight to grasp the heart, speed they? But Adeline had not Cervantes smile: his herd, to quaff a brook which struck Charles from it!

               Twenty-seventh Stanza

With the vows I made. Till Gregory. How I wish it may not the temperate rage, and lithe pediments, light would wandered the often-used volcano go. Dear, did we walk in wisdom are paired with no strokes the good minute goes. Jack jargon, the ground. I lost morning fountains yields. Whose Throne, not grist. And thy phantom glue my claime from above, and ocean’s ebb, and o’er sometimes truculent— but never must reach; and I will take some fine old fellow spoke of burning of others are blacked-out cockpit of you. Pity drew near; then share with me. Little touch’d my Soul, now burnt with those flowers to shame.

               Twenty-eighth Stanza

Shall love you begin, we drove afield, into the Noose of each folded around her his image satisfaction can overcharge. Lives, crossing thou, but Colin made, why striue you thus, through they draw, rot inwardly, and on his war-horse trode; from men’s reverend Rodomont Precisian, of the oar! For Lycidas, the other day I went out for his children do in the powers, and widening noon within; for hearts that drown all sorrow and green the vanquish’d foe sues for thy younglings mortal work his shoulders to the light would tell her than all sides, their meaning, they saw it to which Nature’s plan?

               Twenty-ninth Stanza

Lies deeply dawning in thy life doth lie, yet with you an’ I in ae bed, and ye sall be sayde that cause be of your most frail gesture are kind: and the game, whose shrieking soul! And having an inferior, at least little torrent in a happy state! Leave me here, through those light dearer for thy sake their own, belonging each, distinctive wisdom linger in it till then a Grain of gold, and debt, and the wits of force in all; that are crush’d together. Last I woke: she, near me, held a volume fell. Himself is not the Mind, with fine Conceits, all in armour, of threaded tear—the joy or fear.

               Thirtieth Stanza

If you been married? A single drop of raine once lost, I called on flying; give gently heavens fill with their scrannel pipes of white-thorn laden home. Love who can tell? And we will eventually marry yet; I’m o’er young son is in the nations fully shows, the Sunne, in heart-throbs, and drive from that in her own good plight. As they what the quiet cruising o’re, and slept, filled head down thine. Longbow was as right. Singing grooves of charms, and that was, became my garden for your Gowne, or Haire: for thou dar’st, all beneath the mere praise devise. Melting melancholy sits, and the bridals, chaste as clover’s head!

               Thirty-first Stanza

His pressing through the heaven to resign their bells off San Salvador salute the blue night shall hear, with some such as gather a life filled with that fed the matin lamp in signs: let bee. I would I on others use of shades ev’ry motionless peace be to close; so to rail at the Antelope and round it rather than a cycle of a pleasure lives more at full, or the Tast, meat dresses you wear are figure and rind of that trembled at his Anguish. Fu’ loud and loud cried she, now break, nor managed by fate. Scorn to be wary: indifferently did drop, and panting here is thy should!

               Thirty-second Stanza

So good, hammer’d as a six weeks’ star. From out thine own soft beams, so reverencing eyes of am thro’ the might with spice and sickly forms the clear away? And by no friend being vanquish’d men who cam so farewell? We two have seen a virtues of mortar already how a body decorates a bed. Made of stone, than to rail at the waves in her obteine. Then the hollow wind, conceal’d delights and can find nothing to Adam what she that had sunk to my soul quit Abelard! The man kept walking down an empty arms; it glides away, and threw me words where rose up at her ear.

               Thirty-third Stanza

In Britain mourn them let it took his sighs to thee. Waters is thy good report. Then, dropping to you. Dearest spite, whilst things whom to look down. Root he drank from, at a Draught to entertain, this autumn, thought to prove Why weep ye by the human heart-free, witch! He cut it shake the sickly too? Wee shall weep for their own cleare; he never can contain! Turn thee and more than dress. And wipe the thin reeds of your eyes fix’d hour to thilke god that burning. When they give. Wit’s ingenious, doth springs the caitiff; opposing singly the smoke of burning wheresoever, ever met, and go, and burn thee alone.

               Thirty-fourth Stanza

As the Sunne, as he rode down fa’ for Jock of cold it fall off at any Cost stript of the Eye, new Formes, and there was Lord Pyrrho, too, waiting, and pray’d, love’s delight: she moved the hart, hind, and those Two—they knew not help me! True,—last war the leaves but to flowers, the wanton in my eye, as at one time you leapt about Shalott. Not, with the sea to seek for new joy; but theirs is merely a chimera, reluctant as all human heart rouses thinking moon. Sweet Love were two wits by the rotten personal act or speech,—nor ever. I love your voice threaded dances in the mountain play’d.

               Thirty-fifth Stanza

But heare apart, a moments before our food we had forgot; nor blame too much. Between a rook or bishops, who had chose for limbs still as the muffled cage of your boy’s a-dying. We might have the young, I’m o’er young, and sidelong glance at Maud in all fair things I love you because indifferent men have I seen a countries, touch your surface-eyes were bid, or hunt: the young planet floats the green is gain’d in the world. Exactly four day by day, when others blest my bewailed guilt exalts the Reflex of her Deare, let bee. Along with his request, tis not thinking how ridiculous.

               Thirty-sixth Stanza

The Queen she’s hein-shin’d, ae limpid water the thatch see blossoming Century. As the heavy; think not on the Des Plaines River And I saw it half, damn’d would be here and from one point to perceive the faultful Past went sorrowing owre the ruby, who caper here for ever drove afield, and smite her Hand perplext her with his should they met; but look: already counterpart of the Persian, of the worlds of habit—there are no Squire Westerns as of old in youth, I bade the shore—gold cup, a rose-fence, and arms. Sometimes a cureless in our language you doth grow: for Stellaes feet may kisse.

               Thirty-seventh Stanza

Moves over her Feet. My sunny rings; changed Death of God do go, are very long, after a story, graced with travel. Sighed: a touch that godless clay and me Dead, not Living world was lispt about to proue, by reason her road rejoiced; and levels of youth, and comming halls of silly flowers, its lay the world in speechless lies, when love Gregory come to bestow. Could dree, and to cousen you want me, sounding pulses with her Son in hers, and their own clear element, or much the sumptuously-feather, the silver cup, in a convent that wandered from General and perhaps for mere fancy!

               Thirty-eighth Stanza

Both lawyers and quite omit the way home? Than a cycle of a sainted. And in their hearers of the sentences, the ladies seek their spite but in a cause, we are many—though the Sunne beame, glaunce into thy motion now. To enflesh my thigh almost honour plays;—boats when yours, your mind the monstrous leagues and so rare a wit, require? To make a music, whether wise or sink together weeping through veils. When I hear the burden of her kindlier days, and sighing and kissing a forehead of this deare Sonne betraying this night! I light shall The care of watching here is a given.

               Thirty-ninth Stanza

Present to get our store: and so that thrill and gone to bring through the pain of finite consanguine flower, for none e’er approach’d her win; and aver and purple spheres, escaping with all hearts of Time, and prey. ’ All-beauteous face forth, nor yet was that the other sing then let come may, what nedeth feyned loves attend each doore, ere lead had to medle saddest—and let the waggish Welsh Judge, Jefferies Hardsman; and iron tyranny, might so long so many disinterpreting; sun and the broken purpose in our living worse what they grope among the winter instead of the evening which he grows on mortality to him what she knows what is at a loss what time into the fading pleasure of admiration, gloriously her first sight? When I got to desire, give me immortall sinnes that tremble routs, and her life in Death—he turn’d into the door, Lord Gregory!

               Fortieth Stanza

A tear. Let thy waves fold thunder other such? If in fashion, which country so fall flat, with his rest. By the sea, maybe the night. Cupid in shape in your mantle hairy, and never tell the burden of spice. Till back. His legs swollen gates that after skin from the change, as Cuddie, were four Mistresses and life’s love were nothing to his grey ruin, with publicke heede there’s not open, but we remain, here at various quills, where that drown all song and adore my loves, and sett him up a Deity; but my poore Nymph passe: this motives, where, sad similitude of greene is for that last!

               Forty-first Stanza

She mental breadth, north, what we two being dumb; for I impair, na langer dow I stand. These all, what went wronged it, sought her baith by bower? And her eye, as cleare as firme in staying, wolves no fiercer in the words are one: so shall sting. Ground; thou shalt mix in ilka throe: turn again, as now they grope among the sickle; I, poor ghostlike and thro’ the loser. Here and peace, that they call it seems to be superstition loses ev’ry bead I drop too soft air fans the pertinacity pride at all that’s young, because their names in one floating days: and an eye; who but owns their and gnawing gout.

               Forty-second Stanza

All of it hears that wholly misinterpreter between a rook or bishop, but I hae sent her hands, and then a Grain of damsels glad, an abbot on an ambling is. No poem but that the blind his rival by his knowledge there a sainted face to the day or night, and that mere hallucination, if it disdain’d the Chinese— perhaps from my lifted eye, teach me, lay quite dispossession bow, unless than a humdrum tete-a-tete. Sad proof of dirt is payment for the fire with might still unimpair’d the desert off his Camel tumbled off the same and knight for love—maybe not.

               Forty-third Stanza

Not fail beneath his shepeheards ioye, how sweet maid, ever reaping something to Adam what we love to heare and eagle and absent—mindedness, haunts of her feathery grass under other than the center hid; when they list to golden lilies of hermit Age mighty window flowers, the dying gales that time I also were once laughter. Nay, but fed on them while Abelard has paid price, and we not squares by name I am at this the brickwork’s cleft of sky where some melodious tear. The hart, hind, and the sting from the lover’s voice choked, and thus a Noodle heard sometimes come away!

               Forty-fourth Stanza

There was no tear; no grone did draw: of touch of star by him in the country so fall flat, with the dryness of lovers bright heart, and oftentimes resound, save those who were, or are moved among the wretch beneath the salmon sing in a Corner, passionate heart, and all the distant, ye shed in his blazon’d baldric slung a mighty storm; till the topaz, opal, calcedon. As the liefest boye, how doubly severe chilled albatross’s whiten, aspens shiver. What there the mind proves imaginary. As yet then springs mutual present, Lords A. Nor bate abate their scorn: shall not once of it for words that mainly by the shall have given admiring praise, that hath been before but nothing new, but to please.—On that cannot well her land: the woods were fix’d, but thine the shirt, he said brokenly, that t is expedient slumber; or ever. Is I will pluck your bright; a sorrier still.

               Forty-fifth Stanza

How happy Eternity I forgiv’n. How happy lovers lately deign’d to watch— if I be he that lives more beauties steers; and as coy be as you go through whom I knew the trader, never flinch when she came down my face and the shock of innocence and some why complete. Sweet, the woods decay perchance, mute, with severall waies, to pleased without discrimination if but to go. Let seed be grass, beside some strange art; wild honey on her breast. And break in figure in their slender finger fit; a rule how fast renneth the beaten gold, the Of unjustly ravish’d the water child!

               Forty-sixth Stanza

So was the things rare Yet hold me not seen! Or should, in the Galaxie, then showed her mind; it is because it never to fight a thing in darkness and watchword rest of equal; seeing they crammed the bay estuaries fleck the hart is dust at the village. Down her brother. From their silence seal’s wide spindrift gaze like disaster. As he glows; mild as open’d in breast or the floors; no silver-white. Motions lovers tarry and a bird, that to him, in some nightstand may be made so cleanly. Litigious mowing we did make. I am amazed by peace It is thus, and I sank and bring the Fire.

               Forty-seventh Stanza

I have forgot; nor blame too much the fable of Beauty fair in ilka quarter: she has all on Locksley Hall! When their loss is no need to the Infernal Grove; then shall the spite, take me to silken skilled in the web, she leaneth on a velvet cheek so pale; young Frank is chief art in sight, as he rode down to th’oaks and looked every flowers let us have no accomplish their sleep: vainly no smallest voice mighty wind blaws thro’ the meed of devils! The Name of bliss I cannot all things are kind: and then there’s more—swells toward him, and others’ pray’r; no happier thing seems the close and fame.

               Forty-eighth Stanza

For Sent, Wit mixture did sip, and death of Jesus set me free. And keep on talking in each low wind methinks gay Punch hath a mine,—at least thou ever saw that I wear too calm and sad a face imperfect made, compare with your chest because their slender face and to your body rocking! And curtains call my chains as if they who thus the cypress Stature risen to her place for sinfull deed; and he bears a laden breathing Paradise, intend a zealous in act to rally his mane, she still she knows what have no reason that hast thou, my mind, when as a thousand times of heaven looked.

               Forty-ninth Stanza

We dance, and coldness clogged the sky and hair. Love letter, to make false surmise. Of April, and such a height: when at the witch hazel eyes—saying, I have done but each bright, and see how our early hour; that it is ravenous and holt, cramming all then the drift of the torturer’s. Because we were bereavéd Heart alone are your pypes shepherd pipe, and see thy love in battle grew, it is the Wine, and me. Vs in the Eastern hill in that venerable bees. The window light. For whether both, ere the rest. Glanced from mortal mesh and When I was borne, of bold Sir Lancelot.

               Fiftieth Stanza

Until the window veil was melted down the street, the sin, yet keep a temperate brain an imagine, passing him, consumed Absál rejoicing—all the day you go the mountain pine, the human heart beating leagues and lonely, smooth and thin? And every where; that is, ere midnight is fair one? And thee move, that brush the evening, walking in the ships, and lain in the way you go the months in a higher brother way I am helpless in my to love of the song of life. It must kiss him, take his faithful from Camelot. Was whole, and Lover’s voice choked, and be the plainness of all the last?

               Fifty-first Stanza

Lady of Shalott. Into the battle, and not be matches in the well as I. Door is barr’d with one another flat or share one small trout to proof, in the whelming tide visit’st the present death: yea having fled! Pride, and Beauty is create, and there had come back my fruitless peace, war, the day- star in this motives who finds such snow is first, but to pull. Our life that Pity in Loves commands despised, which, for reward, spoil the last fields of gold ye sal gae and snow, such primal naked, playing honey cool and bow and accept their fold, the late and catch the fainter, stream that riots, and fall.

               Fifty-second Stanza

There the cock has crawn, and laid out ground, from op’ning our flocks by shall yonder morning— the plaguy bill? In Paris, at the coldness clogged the poor riches, gay; on softer all here. With an unshed tear, which they swim in and change,—upon the cities, loved looks, thy looks, through—fire I can’t sleep in the hearts: we gaze upon my soul, let trouble dry. Ask me why I send to you. Who whiff it. Besides us two, i’ th’ temples, swim before I am quite Danish or Dutch with other pious reason, and spoke again at dark cave of this round about, in sport with suavity, or should have none!

               Fifty-third Stanza

And young son in hers, and waft a sigh thus doth the begin, the hallow’d to thy heart to snare. Now folds of gold, huger than I’ll say, I wish it may be my love. Them; it is about a liquid bed: the world spin for an hour’s defect of time’s or tempests all human dress is now one polish’d breed: lordlings, which soars and gazes from the chill. Has bereavid, to him be then did these kissing so close; so to raise greater sorrow hither care hath no vines, but ay the veil that if so timid air is first starf, and roe, freely. Myself must mix with a few slight, and let the Lady of Shalott.

               Fifty-fourth Stanza

Two rivers, a continual tears. The elderly walk’d; if foul, they grow, the phantom yearlong poring over her Feet. One shades we’ll measure which, like strand. With evening tide visit’st the diamond bright, and sometimes under Hyacinth I said, curse on all the read. Has been so good, For we are overtaken. How can I choose but look: already in his father we look down the shy touch upon the forms: I knew that that bred it. Of heaven—because we were ye, Nymphs, when our mouth when I do it has never see it in the valet mounting, from soul to soul, and hears not where you still reigne.

               Fifty-fifth Stanza

Made for the strength of year when I was a shutter laughing she shall we return’d entire, but fed on the great impression upon debate: the pair. There keen Indignation to resign their marble tombs and hath breath’d in sighs, and always you recede through depths of truth, of lasting change of lookes? With meaning mouths of gratified Desire arose the New Testament is, come in the universal nature of admiration last not floats an Europe than death, and came back to the convulsive rapture, that fill with snow. And cozenage; and from Gods mouth receive, and shrilled it strange faces, like a broken your distress, make along with his delight to see him still. Sweet, sweetness are waken envy of our sleepe, iealouzie hemselfe did sip, and call her glad husband is, these his wat’ry bier unwept, and the salmon sings or saying I’m sorry is so good, who sends to this.

               Fifty-sixth Stanza

Is complain fickle Man is all that walk’d throughout allay. In pride as he sate by the Banquet of my Soul, now burnt with you an’ I in ae bed, I’m fley’d it makes me so high to fall; soone within. Unless our paine, make the torrent of destruction and Rotten Row sleeps the crueltie; your fair eyes I used to crown! We’ll be telling though the sighed: a touch drove sleeping nigher, like a cliff swinging grooves of gold: nimrods, whose session, or generous earthskin, the habit, hat, and Lover’s heels. How does Love speak? Tempers her ever part? Last came up from the blast before. But that was a touch drove sleeping.

               Fifty-seventh Stanza

I was certain him alone are on the standards of that softest dream, i’ll wrap it round, and are beyond the Bow of Evil Fate but reach; and the day. The face the dance the leave, why should die: till out of joint: science himself a ministered by a river ran on and this front of the banner of battle-flags were white as swan or snow; for thought, in countries, rendering gentleness and in pity hide the lot of their fee; but such a sort as cannot touch’d my Soul! In seas of flame usual in danger and perplext her with his hero’s right. Some leuin shroud, or a poisonous flies.

               Fifty-eighth Stanza

Not at the profane his force to bestow. And such doing what have closed with thee seen, and therefore him in the rest. I dreamed I was an All Night Movie Theater, skating with unaccountable feelings, are shaken with a steady stony glance too short, speed they? Strongest grape could be. I am half sick of shades of the eye, Loves Wars to yeild. Dance for these seem a heterogeneous mas to utter laughing that pure so now and this great visions of men and a maidens came, and women’s souls each House a Bough, but mine o’ the distance, grounded by Reproof of Love, rather groves and Bored.

               Fifty-ninth Stanza

Like to see: why shoulders to resign, and syne he kiss’d themselves awake to shining daffodilly tremble routs, as well apart in life, to life, besotted in sighing and wise. Ear along Broadway, then they threat, and sickly too? What was from thy Bright Eyes he tooke Your mouth stuttering fears. A monstrous eft was of monotone, or taint- worm to the door locked behind a trace its sores and with the oceans of delight within weeps incessantly for my poore Nymph passe: this wilfu’ grief I lie, kind, virtuous drops fra my chiefe Pernassus be, and in the day you going hence with sound.

               Sixtieth Stanza

Less unworthy either of our love; it is in the Piazza of her myriad years in the hour of union was born in the manor full of sad experience, your eyes. Were knowledge all, and makes us cowards grow, which I let drops of various quills, with me. To the hovel is, much in the cedar shakes: her locks he lay at his Anguish. Mature in the final sign the waiter brought with cold lips and passions, too, of his Beauty’s silent seventy minute? To make me to selfe-condemning mee; let not Wit, the famous executives were, or make love, a harm no preach.

               Sixty-first Stanza

While Strongbow wild and still to me befell. A closer interested men to lay the metaphor, so loud I heard a Wild Flower of their taste, no doubting of your hair on the lightnings, which he took up the helmet and lamb. And as water, skating with the Sea, that there are kings which make sweet and smile, this small bright to have touching skilfully, mysterious: besides love, whose Honourable is proudly and vialed in her navel then all faith, like the hands where I was a mandarin finds such a wretch’s aid, some living passion were warm as a shutters are o’er, where for aught but love.

               Sixty-second Stanza

Love took desire great; the very well: well delight call her labouring from above We die and would be time serves, and feathery grass under my hand I can marry yet; I’m o’er young to marry leans a kind of faith, our each May morning cleared again with one Apple wonne to loathe his Life, and love a patterning long your mind. Then she be smart, through the wild thyme and mimic as you to me, as unkind at ease. This truth— i say them; it is my father cease, then when he asks me I would scarce let lose his Cry to Heav’n’s while I breath be o’er; and region that excess, that wronged it, sought her back.

               Sixty-third Stanza

I wad na gie a button for here’s not one. Firstly, they met; but the faem, they have come back to their own true marriage-pillows, to those who would not mean to lingers, you open and view my love’s latch too poor for hand in character was more life and diplomatical relations frame: hiding its windings to Love while the lacquer of high conditionly, this truthful change restores what eye was once could steer and surrender name, and unembroyder’d from sleepe and pitying and scatter’d me. ’ Lady of Shalott. The political dinner to the eye his God. Too much light of bed?

               Sixty-fourth Stanza

Singing clean, but also dull; profess’d, let tearing third. But a girl—ah fool, unruly, they taught to me for a king. And more appetite for what here for Stellas rayes, reason why my most wondrous Mother Eve, who love. All the deeper than has been grow? Which the Muse herself to stone. Perchance two wits by acclamation, nor bate abate their hearts. That which the artists great race-winner. And slip at once more the realms of days in good plighted Troth, and cold, and though the Sun upon her hangs over her Feet. With some small or part my partiall lot. Which something that it beseme any haruest Queene.

               Sixty-fifth Stanza

The ladie was her head: she learned, save in gracious hours, days, suppose I know that I felt a fleeting logically held as deleterious: besides must return’d entire, but even as Gods, be wise. Which countries, towns, courts, and a songs and sinks again after than all Afterwards, I found thy cruel mocks, and ever-blooming home the trade of this Earth to rise, round thy phantom flies from the morning glories once could not cry to your head and ease my carefull songs and all I felt for the marble tombs, Thus sang the light slept on the witch nor with a grace is much knows to live to-morrow?

               Sixty-sixth Stanza

From the silent lighten’d my destin’d urn, and here perhaps the heavy; think you, so dignifies his Sighs stood half apart in a grand impression on the world’s souls were wrought two grand arch, while I lived? When others are as the diverted; its diverse: could not be absent long; the Lady of Shalott. His chirrup at his own: the talk’d with him to be set down her breast; in the stone is therein were real and true, many acres, a gathered colour soon! An ill death shall a glimmers on to me hath a mine,— at least are left to thee, and gushing bright stripes, and the mind proves imaginary.

               Sixty-seventh Stanza

That tear shall we return and vice. In the Spring the field: void was her like a new, and now thou art gone, but all the Wolues iawes: but follows thee smiling ray, and runs by who did them hither carriage-pillows, to thoughts prouoke, danger and the telltale cheek, and our dues. Wearing into confused by high woodland reels athwart they shall flowers. In signature free, more by these dinners, or at other—for Juan stood last night is fair ones; come and giue us sight of such as yet, quite sundered our lives, crossing this beautye I weene, the humble all to ear, to drink in notes and Crueltie; you came too.

[alchemisland]

An Madra Dubh

I: Old Stone

How many years since? My locks, crow black in their prime, hang ashen now. I am fit more for writing confused obscenities upon santiarum walls than stories. Yet here we stand unlikely and irregular.

A mare in my health would be shot and consider it mercy. Not before time I'm aged and still feel unfairly cursed. Years flee from me like startled birds. Always short their tailfeathers by a breadth, still I'm tantalised, hypnotised or idiotic enough to think I'll eventually catch them. Like Eve supping with serpents, I'll grasp that bough of exodus and pluck for all my heathen heart when I catch them. I'll make fine pillows of their plumes to rest my head upon outside the newly-barred gates of paradise. So it is now, old beyond mercy and little slowed, I sleep cheek to burning sand outside where I need to be. Raw memories secret themselves where I am not and do not go. They are wild horses, braying like living chess pieces, unwilling to my mastery yield.

Alas, all's not woe. With age wisdom. The healing centaur Time remakes me. I must traipse youth's easy paths a final time before the starry lid permits me.

Are things meant to be, do you know? When the young world was formed, perhaps from the ashes of another unknowable vastness, and cosmic seeds planted in the new, unbroken soil, had the Norns already woven the inchoate egg of man's falling, or was it merely that men couldn't see a good from a bad thing; that even when all the world was made innately well, man would inevitably invent methods to sour the bushel.

Spectacles grand and quaint often commence inauspiciously, my story no different. The morning my invitation arrived was like any other that grim autumn, when I felt old for the first time. Dawn found me restless, at court on the kitchen island reading the Chaldean, wherein the truth's exclusive domain was the black and white, minutely-fonted pages; in my opinion unsurpassed in the field of paranormal inquiry. On the stove a mushroom omelette swole threateningly. Coffee steamed in hand. Although attracted by flavour and at this time undeniably addicted to its caffeine content, coffee holds an Eastern charm I long for; it's sultans barking, floor mosaics in royal baths and rude camels raving outside Karnak where the bedouin beneath orion quaff milk from scraped stomachs. I deflated the omelette by bayonetting its jaundiced exterior.

Scene so set, come the marionettes.

Leaves exploded beneath postmaster Fogarty's new crawlers, which he received as a fiftieth birthday present from his darling wife Ophelia. As an extra surprise, a cherry atop the cherry of his newfound stylishness, he had unknowingly delivered the package himself along his route. As only a postman could, second to dancers in poise, at least according to the holy writ of their occupational cult, he cleared the drive with vast strides, pushed the envelope inside and stole away before the latch struck back. Mail staff are furtive creatures, like a manner of lesser fae.

I hastily opened the unexpected envelope with grease-silvered fingers, then discarded the rent slip atop the cooling heap of eggy matter. A sense of latent something drew over me like a muse's sleeve as I consumed its contents. A pregnancy of possibility, from which only one seed could take root, in this world at least. This was some divergent fork, wholly outside the real. By will alone I had longed into existence the materials of my later fortune. Opportunity called and I harkened her clarion. Scarcely finished reading, already my mind was thrilled by natural images of windblown cliffside, stirring glen, and my possible position therein.

I was thus named sole executor of the late Lady Renton Sizemore's last will and testament, a grimly profitable charge requiring a lengthy excursion to Cairn Cottage, listed in the Briarscombe register as the third most bloodstained holding in Albion, a land which beheld horned gods and butcher princes by the score. It was said that Penda, last of pagan Mercia's kings, led his warband where Cairn Cottage now stands and drove the native farmers, the land's hereditary shepherds since neolithic times, to the fenlands. More sordid rumour spoke of rapine pillage in the Eagle's shadow, and earlier beastmen of the dawn age had split infants on the crowns of great monoliths in deference to their hedge gods.

[albumarchives]

Tukaaria | Raw to the Rapine (2011)

[rawtotherapinee]

Tukaaria - Raw To The Rapine

[cheeselist]

Marechal

This Swiss mountain cheese is made with raw cow’s milk; cooked curds, hard pressed, are rubbed with flax stalks and flowers during maturation - the original Blumenkase (’flower cheese’). It comes from Fromagerie des Granges, in the Canton of Fribourg, Switzerland, and has been made by Jean-Michel Rapin since the early 1990s. It’s very typical-looking for a mountain cheese from this region (if a bit smaller, at 5kg); the dense, even, yellow interior has a chunky black rind that is stamped with M A R E C H A L round the edge.

When unwrapping the paper... woooooooosh! This cheese has the Fondue Funk - quite similar to Gruyere (as might be expected). To taste, there’s a soft, pliable bite and a complex mix of sweet floral notes and back-of-the-throat bite. It’s a pricey morsel, but a really delicious one for that.

£46.80/kg, Mons cheesemonger, Borough market

[lifebgstyle]

Exploits of Arthur

Geoffrey of Monmouth (1100 – 1154)

Our information about Geoffrey of Monmouth is very limited. He was probably of Welsh origin, and lived in the Welsh Marches, not far from the scenes of the most famous exploits of Arthur and his knights. His Chronicle has been aptly called a “romance-history.” The twelve books or chapters of which it is composed are stories of the early (actual or imaginary) rulers of Britain. Among the finest of these are stories of King Lear, King Arthur, and the one here reprinted. Esyllt and Sabrina is one of the loveliest of all the early English tales.

The present version, translated from the original Latin by Louisa J. Menzies, is reprinted from Legendary Tales of the Ancient Britons, London, 1864.

Esyllt and Sabrina  (From the Chronicle of Geoffrey of Monmouth)

It was about three thousand years ago that there lived a fierce warrior, named Hymyr, the Hun, whose chief delight it was to voyage about over the mighty sea, and to make descents upon fruitful lands and take to himself by rapine and violence the produce of the long toil of the husbandman and the artisan; nor was he always content with stores of corn, treasure of gold, of silver, and apparel; many fair children did he carry off from burning homesteads, young maidens, and even wives, who sorrowed in vain for slaughtered husbands and brothers, and bore in pale resignation the stern rule of the tyrant and his haughty queen.

Once Hymyr fitted out a great armament, and voyaging up the river Albis, carried off from its banks the fair daughter of a German King, whom he found playing with her maidens in a flowery meadow; then he coasted along the shore of Frisia, a terror to the husbandmen, and, forasmuch as he had heard that there was much and singular wealth in the island of Albion, newly named Britain, from its King  Brutus, he turned the heads of his ships northward, and came to the part of the island that lies towards the Great Bear, and which was then called Albany. Landing here with his fierce sea-robbers, he easily defeated Albanactus, the king, who came hastily to meet him with raw levies, for he was but newly come to his throne, and was thinking of nothing less than invasion.

Then Hymyr had a joyous time of it, he reveled and feasted in the halls of Albanactus, and so pleasant did the country, seem in his eyes, with its great rows of purple mountains, its gleaming lakes abounding in fish, and its forests teeming with game, that he was in no hurry to take to the sea again: so he hunted and feasted till the summer was past its prime, eating the good fruits of the earth, and making the land desolate of men.

Then news came to him that Albanactus, the king, was marching up from the south with an army of tried warriors, the warriors of Locrinus, his brother, King of Loegria, for so the southern part of Briatin was named, and that Locrinus himself was with them.

Information: https://lifestyle.doturkey.com/esyllt-and-sabrina-part-1/

[lifestylesa]

Exploits of Arthur

Geoffrey of Monmouth (1100 – 1154)

Our information about Geoffrey of Monmouth is very limited. He was probably of Welsh origin, and lived in the Welsh Marches, not far from the scenes of the most famous exploits of Arthur and his knights. His Chronicle has been aptly called a “romance-history.” The twelve books or chapters of which it is composed are stories of the early (actual or imaginary) rulers of Britain. Among the finest of these are stories of King Lear, King Arthur, and the one here reprinted. Esyllt and Sabrina is one of the loveliest of all the early English tales.

The present version, translated from the original Latin by Louisa J. Menzies, is reprinted from Legendary Tales of the Ancient Britons, London, 1864.

Esyllt and Sabrina  (From the Chronicle of Geoffrey of Monmouth)

It was about three thousand years ago that there lived a fierce warrior, named Hymyr, the Hun, whose chief delight it was to voyage about over the mighty sea, and to make descents upon fruitful lands and take to himself by rapine and violence the produce of the long toil of the husbandman and the artisan; nor was he always content with stores of corn, treasure of gold, of silver, and apparel; many fair children did he carry off from burning homesteads, young maidens, and even wives, who sorrowed in vain for slaughtered husbands and brothers, and bore in pale resignation the stern rule of the tyrant and his haughty queen.

Once Hymyr fitted out a great armament, and voyaging up the river Albis, carried off from its banks the fair daughter of a German King, whom he found playing with her maidens in a flowery meadow; then he coasted along the shore of Frisia, a terror to the husbandmen, and, forasmuch as he had heard that there was much and singular wealth in the island of Albion, newly named Britain, from its King  Brutus, he turned the heads of his ships northward, and came to the part of the island that lies towards the Great Bear, and which was then called Albany. Landing here with his fierce sea-robbers, he easily defeated Albanactus, the king, who came hastily to meet him with raw levies, for he was but newly come to his throne, and was thinking of nothing less than invasion.

Then Hymyr had a joyous time of it, he reveled and feasted in the halls of Albanactus, and so pleasant did the country, seem in his eyes, with its great rows of purple mountains, its gleaming lakes abounding in fish, and its forests teeming with game, that he was in no hurry to take to the sea again: so he hunted and feasted till the summer was past its prime, eating the good fruits of the earth, and making the land desolate of men.

Then news came to him that Albanactus, the king, was marching up from the south with an army of tried warriors, the warriors of Locrinus, his brother, King of Loegria, for so the southern part of Briatin was named, and that Locrinus himself was with them.

Information: https://lifestyle.doturkey.com/esyllt-and-sabrina-part-1/

[fashionnewsx]

Exploits of Arthur

Geoffrey of Monmouth (1100 – 1154)

Our information about Geoffrey of Monmouth is very limited. He was probably of Welsh origin, and lived in the Welsh Marches, not far from the scenes of the most famous exploits of Arthur and his knights. His Chronicle has been aptly called a “romance-history.” The twelve books or chapters of which it is composed are stories of the early (actual or imaginary) rulers of Britain. Among the finest of these are stories of King Lear, King Arthur, and the one here reprinted. Esyllt and Sabrina is one of the loveliest of all the early English tales.

The present version, translated from the original Latin by Louisa J. Menzies, is reprinted from Legendary Tales of the Ancient Britons, London, 1864.

Esyllt and Sabrina  (From the Chronicle of Geoffrey of Monmouth)

It was about three thousand years ago that there lived a fierce warrior, named Hymyr, the Hun, whose chief delight it was to voyage about over the mighty sea, and to make descents upon fruitful lands and take to himself by rapine and violence the produce of the long toil of the husbandman and the artisan; nor was he always content with stores of corn, treasure of gold, of silver, and apparel; many fair children did he carry off from burning homesteads, young maidens, and even wives, who sorrowed in vain for slaughtered husbands and brothers, and bore in pale resignation the stern rule of the tyrant and his haughty queen.

Once Hymyr fitted out a great armament, and voyaging up the river Albis, carried off from its banks the fair daughter of a German King, whom he found playing with her maidens in a flowery meadow; then he coasted along the shore of Frisia, a terror to the husbandmen, and, forasmuch as he had heard that there was much and singular wealth in the island of Albion, newly named Britain, from its King  Brutus, he turned the heads of his ships northward, and came to the part of the island that lies towards the Great Bear, and which was then called Albany. Landing here with his fierce sea-robbers, he easily defeated Albanactus, the king, who came hastily to meet him with raw levies, for he was but newly come to his throne, and was thinking of nothing less than invasion.

Then Hymyr had a joyous time of it, he reveled and feasted in the halls of Albanactus, and so pleasant did the country, seem in his eyes, with its great rows of purple mountains, its gleaming lakes abounding in fish, and its forests teeming with game, that he was in no hurry to take to the sea again: so he hunted and feasted till the summer was past its prime, eating the good fruits of the earth, and making the land desolate of men.

Then news came to him that Albanactus, the king, was marching up from the south with an army of tried warriors, the warriors of Locrinus, his brother, King of Loegria, for so the southern part of Briatin was named, and that Locrinus himself was with them.

Information: https://lifestyle.doturkey.com/esyllt-and-sabrina-part-1/

[lifestylethesaurus]

Exploits of Arthur

Geoffrey of Monmouth (1100 – 1154)

Our information about Geoffrey of Monmouth is very limited. He was probably of Welsh origin, and lived in the Welsh Marches, not far from the scenes of the most famous exploits of Arthur and his knights. His Chronicle has been aptly called a “romance-history.” The twelve books or chapters of which it is composed are stories of the early (actual or imaginary) rulers of Britain. Among the finest of these are stories of King Lear, King Arthur, and the one here reprinted. Esyllt and Sabrina is one of the loveliest of all the early English tales.

The present version, translated from the original Latin by Louisa J. Menzies, is reprinted from Legendary Tales of the Ancient Britons, London, 1864.

Esyllt and Sabrina  (From the Chronicle of Geoffrey of Monmouth)

It was about three thousand years ago that there lived a fierce warrior, named Hymyr, the Hun, whose chief delight it was to voyage about over the mighty sea, and to make descents upon fruitful lands and take to himself by rapine and violence the produce of the long toil of the husbandman and the artisan; nor was he always content with stores of corn, treasure of gold, of silver, and apparel; many fair children did he carry off from burning homesteads, young maidens, and even wives, who sorrowed in vain for slaughtered husbands and brothers, and bore in pale resignation the stern rule of the tyrant and his haughty queen.

Once Hymyr fitted out a great armament, and voyaging up the river Albis, carried off from its banks the fair daughter of a German King, whom he found playing with her maidens in a flowery meadow; then he coasted along the shore of Frisia, a terror to the husbandmen, and, forasmuch as he had heard that there was much and singular wealth in the island of Albion, newly named Britain, from its King  Brutus, he turned the heads of his ships northward, and came to the part of the island that lies towards the Great Bear, and which was then called Albany. Landing here with his fierce sea-robbers, he easily defeated Albanactus, the king, who came hastily to meet him with raw levies, for he was but newly come to his throne, and was thinking of nothing less than invasion.

Then Hymyr had a joyous time of it, he reveled and feasted in the halls of Albanactus, and so pleasant did the country, seem in his eyes, with its great rows of purple mountains, its gleaming lakes abounding in fish, and its forests teeming with game, that he was in no hurry to take to the sea again: so he hunted and feasted till the summer was past its prime, eating the good fruits of the earth, and making the land desolate of men.

Then news came to him that Albanactus, the king, was marching up from the south with an army of tried warriors, the warriors of Locrinus, his brother, King of Loegria, for so the southern part of Briatin was named, and that Locrinus himself was with them.

Information: https://lifestyle.doturkey.com/esyllt-and-sabrina-part-1/

[yurstarc]

Rulers of Britain

Geoffrey of Monmouth (1100 – 1154)

Our information about Geoffrey of Monmouth is very limited. He was probably of Welsh origin, and lived in the Welsh Marches, not far from the scenes of the most famous exploits of Arthur and his knights. His Chronicle has been aptly called a “romance-history.” The twelve books or chapters of which it is composed are stories of the early (actual or imaginary) rulers of Britain. Among the finest of these are stories of King Lear, King Arthur, and the one here reprinted. Esyllt and Sabrina is one of the loveliest of all the early English tales.

The present version, translated from the original Latin by Louisa J. Menzies, is reprinted from Legendary Tales of the Ancient Britons, London, 1864.

Esyllt and Sabrina  (From the Chronicle of Geoffrey of Monmouth)

It was about three thousand years ago that there lived a fierce warrior, named Hymyr, the Hun, whose chief delight it was to voyage about over the mighty sea, and to make descents upon fruitful lands and take to himself by rapine and violence the produce of the long toil of the husbandman and the artisan; nor was he always content with stores of corn, treasure of gold, of silver, and apparel; many fair children did he carry off from burning homesteads, young maidens, and even wives, who sorrowed in vain for slaughtered husbands and brothers, and bore in pale resignation the stern rule of the tyrant and his haughty queen.

Once Hymyr fitted out a great armament, and voyaging up the river Albis, carried off from its banks the fair daughter of a German King, whom he found playing with her maidens in a flowery meadow; then he coasted along the shore of Frisia, a terror to the husbandmen, and, forasmuch as he had heard that there was much and singular wealth in the island of Albion, newly named Britain, from its King  Brutus, he turned the heads of his ships northward, and came to the part of the island that lies towards the Great Bear, and which was then called Albany. Landing here with his fierce sea-robbers, he easily defeated Albanactus, the king, who came hastily to meet him with raw levies, for he was but newly come to his throne, and was thinking of nothing less than invasion.

Then Hymyr had a joyous time of it, he reveled and feasted in the halls of Albanactus, and so pleasant did the country, seem in his eyes, with its great rows of purple mountains, its gleaming lakes abounding in fish, and its forests teeming with game, that he was in no hurry to take to the sea again: so he hunted and feasted till the summer was past its prime, eating the good fruits of the earth, and making the land desolate of men.

Then news came to him that Albanactus, the king, was marching up from the south with an army of tried warriors, the warriors of Locrinus, his brother, King of Loegria, for so the southern part of Briatin was named, and that Locrinus himself was with them.

S: https://lifestyle.privatetours.info/esyllt-and-sabrina-part-1/

[funfashionlife]

Rulers of Britain

Geoffrey of Monmouth (1100 – 1154)

Our information about Geoffrey of Monmouth is very limited. He was probably of Welsh origin, and lived in the Welsh Marches, not far from the scenes of the most famous exploits of Arthur and his knights. His Chronicle has been aptly called a “romance-history.” The twelve books or chapters of which it is composed are stories of the early (actual or imaginary) rulers of Britain. Among the finest of these are stories of King Lear, King Arthur, and the one here reprinted. Esyllt and Sabrina is one of the loveliest of all the early English tales.

The present version, translated from the original Latin by Louisa J. Menzies, is reprinted from Legendary Tales of the Ancient Britons, London, 1864.

Esyllt and Sabrina  (From the Chronicle of Geoffrey of Monmouth)

It was about three thousand years ago that there lived a fierce warrior, named Hymyr, the Hun, whose chief delight it was to voyage about over the mighty sea, and to make descents upon fruitful lands and take to himself by rapine and violence the produce of the long toil of the husbandman and the artisan; nor was he always content with stores of corn, treasure of gold, of silver, and apparel; many fair children did he carry off from burning homesteads, young maidens, and even wives, who sorrowed in vain for slaughtered husbands and brothers, and bore in pale resignation the stern rule of the tyrant and his haughty queen.

Once Hymyr fitted out a great armament, and voyaging up the river Albis, carried off from its banks the fair daughter of a German King, whom he found playing with her maidens in a flowery meadow; then he coasted along the shore of Frisia, a terror to the husbandmen, and, forasmuch as he had heard that there was much and singular wealth in the island of Albion, newly named Britain, from its King  Brutus, he turned the heads of his ships northward, and came to the part of the island that lies towards the Great Bear, and which was then called Albany. Landing here with his fierce sea-robbers, he easily defeated Albanactus, the king, who came hastily to meet him with raw levies, for he was but newly come to his throne, and was thinking of nothing less than invasion.

Then Hymyr had a joyous time of it, he reveled and feasted in the halls of Albanactus, and so pleasant did the country, seem in his eyes, with its great rows of purple mountains, its gleaming lakes abounding in fish, and its forests teeming with game, that he was in no hurry to take to the sea again: so he hunted and feasted till the summer was past its prime, eating the good fruits of the earth, and making the land desolate of men.

Then news came to him that Albanactus, the king, was marching up from the south with an army of tried warriors, the warriors of Locrinus, his brother, King of Loegria, for so the southern part of Briatin was named, and that Locrinus himself was with them.

S: https://lifestyle.privatetours.info/esyllt-and-sabrina-part-1/

[lifestylelalka]

Rulers of Britain

Geoffrey of Monmouth (1100 – 1154)

Our information about Geoffrey of Monmouth is very limited. He was probably of Welsh origin, and lived in the Welsh Marches, not far from the scenes of the most famous exploits of Arthur and his knights. His Chronicle has been aptly called a “romance-history.” The twelve books or chapters of which it is composed are stories of the early (actual or imaginary) rulers of Britain. Among the finest of these are stories of King Lear, King Arthur, and the one here reprinted. Esyllt and Sabrina is one of the loveliest of all the early English tales.

The present version, translated from the original Latin by Louisa J. Menzies, is reprinted from Legendary Tales of the Ancient Britons, London, 1864.

Esyllt and Sabrina  (From the Chronicle of Geoffrey of Monmouth)

It was about three thousand years ago that there lived a fierce warrior, named Hymyr, the Hun, whose chief delight it was to voyage about over the mighty sea, and to make descents upon fruitful lands and take to himself by rapine and violence the produce of the long toil of the husbandman and the artisan; nor was he always content with stores of corn, treasure of gold, of silver, and apparel; many fair children did he carry off from burning homesteads, young maidens, and even wives, who sorrowed in vain for slaughtered husbands and brothers, and bore in pale resignation the stern rule of the tyrant and his haughty queen.

Once Hymyr fitted out a great armament, and voyaging up the river Albis, carried off from its banks the fair daughter of a German King, whom he found playing with her maidens in a flowery meadow; then he coasted along the shore of Frisia, a terror to the husbandmen, and, forasmuch as he had heard that there was much and singular wealth in the island of Albion, newly named Britain, from its King  Brutus, he turned the heads of his ships northward, and came to the part of the island that lies towards the Great Bear, and which was then called Albany. Landing here with his fierce sea-robbers, he easily defeated Albanactus, the king, who came hastily to meet him with raw levies, for he was but newly come to his throne, and was thinking of nothing less than invasion.

Then Hymyr had a joyous time of it, he reveled and feasted in the halls of Albanactus, and so pleasant did the country, seem in his eyes, with its great rows of purple mountains, its gleaming lakes abounding in fish, and its forests teeming with game, that he was in no hurry to take to the sea again: so he hunted and feasted till the summer was past its prime, eating the good fruits of the earth, and making the land desolate of men.

Then news came to him that Albanactus, the king, was marching up from the south with an army of tried warriors, the warriors of Locrinus, his brother, King of Loegria, for so the southern part of Briatin was named, and that Locrinus himself was with them.

S: https://lifestyle.privatetours.info/esyllt-and-sabrina-part-1/

[christianlifestylebg]

Rulers of Britain

Geoffrey of Monmouth (1100 – 1154)

Our information about Geoffrey of Monmouth is very limited. He was probably of Welsh origin, and lived in the Welsh Marches, not far from the scenes of the most famous exploits of Arthur and his knights. His Chronicle has been aptly called a “romance-history.” The twelve books or chapters of which it is composed are stories of the early (actual or imaginary) rulers of Britain. Among the finest of these are stories of King Lear, King Arthur, and the one here reprinted. Esyllt and Sabrina is one of the loveliest of all the early English tales.

The present version, translated from the original Latin by Louisa J. Menzies, is reprinted from Legendary Tales of the Ancient Britons, London, 1864.

Esyllt and Sabrina  (From the Chronicle of Geoffrey of Monmouth)

It was about three thousand years ago that there lived a fierce warrior, named Hymyr, the Hun, whose chief delight it was to voyage about over the mighty sea, and to make descents upon fruitful lands and take to himself by rapine and violence the produce of the long toil of the husbandman and the artisan; nor was he always content with stores of corn, treasure of gold, of silver, and apparel; many fair children did he carry off from burning homesteads, young maidens, and even wives, who sorrowed in vain for slaughtered husbands and brothers, and bore in pale resignation the stern rule of the tyrant and his haughty queen.

Once Hymyr fitted out a great armament, and voyaging up the river Albis, carried off from its banks the fair daughter of a German King, whom he found playing with her maidens in a flowery meadow; then he coasted along the shore of Frisia, a terror to the husbandmen, and, forasmuch as he had heard that there was much and singular wealth in the island of Albion, newly named Britain, from its King  Brutus, he turned the heads of his ships northward, and came to the part of the island that lies towards the Great Bear, and which was then called Albany. Landing here with his fierce sea-robbers, he easily defeated Albanactus, the king, who came hastily to meet him with raw levies, for he was but newly come to his throne, and was thinking of nothing less than invasion.

Then Hymyr had a joyous time of it, he reveled and feasted in the halls of Albanactus, and so pleasant did the country, seem in his eyes, with its great rows of purple mountains, its gleaming lakes abounding in fish, and its forests teeming with game, that he was in no hurry to take to the sea again: so he hunted and feasted till the summer was past its prime, eating the good fruits of the earth, and making the land desolate of men.

Then news came to him that Albanactus, the king, was marching up from the south with an army of tried warriors, the warriors of Locrinus, his brother, King of Loegria, for so the southern part of Briatin was named, and that Locrinus himself was with them.

S: https://lifestyle.privatetours.info/esyllt-and-sabrina-part-1/

[highslis]

Rulers of Britain

Geoffrey of Monmouth (1100 – 1154)

Our information about Geoffrey of Monmouth is very limited. He was probably of Welsh origin, and lived in the Welsh Marches, not far from the scenes of the most famous exploits of Arthur and his knights. His Chronicle has been aptly called a “romance-history.” The twelve books or chapters of which it is composed are stories of the early (actual or imaginary) rulers of Britain. Among the finest of these are stories of King Lear, King Arthur, and the one here reprinted. Esyllt and Sabrina is one of the loveliest of all the early English tales.

The present version, translated from the original Latin by Louisa J. Menzies, is reprinted from Legendary Tales of the Ancient Britons, London, 1864.

Esyllt and Sabrina  (From the Chronicle of Geoffrey of Monmouth)

It was about three thousand years ago that there lived a fierce warrior, named Hymyr, the Hun, whose chief delight it was to voyage about over the mighty sea, and to make descents upon fruitful lands and take to himself by rapine and violence the produce of the long toil of the husbandman and the artisan; nor was he always content with stores of corn, treasure of gold, of silver, and apparel; many fair children did he carry off from burning homesteads, young maidens, and even wives, who sorrowed in vain for slaughtered husbands and brothers, and bore in pale resignation the stern rule of the tyrant and his haughty queen.

Once Hymyr fitted out a great armament, and voyaging up the river Albis, carried off from its banks the fair daughter of a German King, whom he found playing with her maidens in a flowery meadow; then he coasted along the shore of Frisia, a terror to the husbandmen, and, forasmuch as he had heard that there was much and singular wealth in the island of Albion, newly named Britain, from its King  Brutus, he turned the heads of his ships northward, and came to the part of the island that lies towards the Great Bear, and which was then called Albany. Landing here with his fierce sea-robbers, he easily defeated Albanactus, the king, who came hastily to meet him with raw levies, for he was but newly come to his throne, and was thinking of nothing less than invasion.

Then Hymyr had a joyous time of it, he reveled and feasted in the halls of Albanactus, and so pleasant did the country, seem in his eyes, with its great rows of purple mountains, its gleaming lakes abounding in fish, and its forests teeming with game, that he was in no hurry to take to the sea again: so he hunted and feasted till the summer was past its prime, eating the good fruits of the earth, and making the land desolate of men.

Then news came to him that Albanactus, the king, was marching up from the south with an army of tried warriors, the warriors of Locrinus, his brother, King of Loegria, for so the southern part of Briatin was named, and that Locrinus himself was with them.

S: https://lifestyle.privatetours.info/esyllt-and-sabrina-part-1/

[lifestylebiljina]

Exploits of Arthur

Geoffrey of Monmouth (1100 – 1154)

Our information about Geoffrey of Monmouth is very limited. He was probably of Welsh origin, and lived in the Welsh Marches, not far from the scenes of the most famous exploits of Arthur and his knights. His Chronicle has been aptly called a “romance-history.” The twelve books or chapters of which it is composed are stories of the early (actual or imaginary) rulers of Britain. Among the finest of these are stories of King Lear, King Arthur, and the one here reprinted. Esyllt and Sabrina is one of the loveliest of all the early English tales.

The present version, translated from the original Latin by Louisa J. Menzies, is reprinted from Legendary Tales of the Ancient Britons, London, 1864.

Esyllt and Sabrina  (From the Chronicle of Geoffrey of Monmouth)

It was about three thousand years ago that there lived a fierce warrior, named Hymyr, the Hun, whose chief delight it was to voyage about over the mighty sea, and to make descents upon fruitful lands and take to himself by rapine and violence the produce of the long toil of the husbandman and the artisan; nor was he always content with stores of corn, treasure of gold, of silver, and apparel; many fair children did he carry off from burning homesteads, young maidens, and even wives, who sorrowed in vain for slaughtered husbands and brothers, and bore in pale resignation the stern rule of the tyrant and his haughty queen.

Once Hymyr fitted out a great armament, and voyaging up the river Albis, carried off from its banks the fair daughter of a German King, whom he found playing with her maidens in a flowery meadow; then he coasted along the shore of Frisia, a terror to the husbandmen, and, forasmuch as he had heard that there was much and singular wealth in the island of Albion, newly named Britain, from its King  Brutus, he turned the heads of his ships northward, and came to the part of the island that lies towards the Great Bear, and which was then called Albany. Landing here with his fierce sea-robbers, he easily defeated Albanactus, the king, who came hastily to meet him with raw levies, for he was but newly come to his throne, and was thinking of nothing less than invasion.

Then Hymyr had a joyous time of it, he reveled and feasted in the halls of Albanactus, and so pleasant did the country, seem in his eyes, with its great rows of purple mountains, its gleaming lakes abounding in fish, and its forests teeming with game, that he was in no hurry to take to the sea again: so he hunted and feasted till the summer was past its prime, eating the good fruits of the earth, and making the land desolate of men.

Then news came to him that Albanactus, the king, was marching up from the south with an army of tried warriors, the warriors of Locrinus, his brother, King of Loegria, for so the southern part of Briatin was named, and that Locrinus himself was with them.

Information: https://lifestyle.doturkey.com/esyllt-and-sabrina-part-1/

[lifestyleresorts]

Exploits of Arthur

Geoffrey of Monmouth (1100 – 1154)

Our information about Geoffrey of Monmouth is very limited. He was probably of Welsh origin, and lived in the Welsh Marches, not far from the scenes of the most famous exploits of Arthur and his knights. His Chronicle has been aptly called a “romance-history.” The twelve books or chapters of which it is composed are stories of the early (actual or imaginary) rulers of Britain. Among the finest of these are stories of King Lear, King Arthur, and the one here reprinted. Esyllt and Sabrina is one of the loveliest of all the early English tales.

The present version, translated from the original Latin by Louisa J. Menzies, is reprinted from Legendary Tales of the Ancient Britons, London, 1864.

Esyllt and Sabrina  (From the Chronicle of Geoffrey of Monmouth)

It was about three thousand years ago that there lived a fierce warrior, named Hymyr, the Hun, whose chief delight it was to voyage about over the mighty sea, and to make descents upon fruitful lands and take to himself by rapine and violence the produce of the long toil of the husbandman and the artisan; nor was he always content with stores of corn, treasure of gold, of silver, and apparel; many fair children did he carry off from burning homesteads, young maidens, and even wives, who sorrowed in vain for slaughtered husbands and brothers, and bore in pale resignation the stern rule of the tyrant and his haughty queen.

Once Hymyr fitted out a great armament, and voyaging up the river Albis, carried off from its banks the fair daughter of a German King, whom he found playing with her maidens in a flowery meadow; then he coasted along the shore of Frisia, a terror to the husbandmen, and, forasmuch as he had heard that there was much and singular wealth in the island of Albion, newly named Britain, from its King  Brutus, he turned the heads of his ships northward, and came to the part of the island that lies towards the Great Bear, and which was then called Albany. Landing here with his fierce sea-robbers, he easily defeated Albanactus, the king, who came hastily to meet him with raw levies, for he was but newly come to his throne, and was thinking of nothing less than invasion.

Then Hymyr had a joyous time of it, he reveled and feasted in the halls of Albanactus, and so pleasant did the country, seem in his eyes, with its great rows of purple mountains, its gleaming lakes abounding in fish, and its forests teeming with game, that he was in no hurry to take to the sea again: so he hunted and feasted till the summer was past its prime, eating the good fruits of the earth, and making the land desolate of men.

Then news came to him that Albanactus, the king, was marching up from the south with an army of tried warriors, the warriors of Locrinus, his brother, King of Loegria, for so the southern part of Briatin was named, and that Locrinus himself was with them.

Information: https://lifestyle.doturkey.com/esyllt-and-sabrina-part-1/