#woe! tower princes be upon ye | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

libidomechanica · 1 year ago

Text

Run this beauty

A ballad sequence

And nothings, which is Solomon. Remiss: the horns once more she stood up and science within his leafe and low-brow’d rocks

of loue, when lovely ones. The glorious poison, turnspits for eyes through nis to search’d—and found some, their vigils pale-ey’d

virgin’s wish, and thread, and expounds the members as it narrowed for a wife. But he that leaped into forget, renounce

my hands. But when most I strive, more for any being with symbols by the tinkling river I heard a noise of his

griefe renew, and gold, such as knew him—could he slid. And gleams athwart the marble shall I not complain to Mire. Exclaim,

How the disease, viewed from all the spy you may err in the arch through the retrospect, but Thanks, ’ she cried, behold! As

arguing lost the race? Ah Willye, when press’d with sweet to land in all fair the hearth, and the abyss of snowy summits

old in story: if thou read again, and less kind thankful rite may so fair again. But thee borders of the night, and

keep the longest day—when gardens: the threw such as wine and all the wild words the gentler day. And who, when I cry she

made you then to all cups outreach’d; and the obiect of your rage, danged down a toying. His head grew and walking of

me; well, if it prove a girl, my boy. Thou know these hallowing up to the woods, to wayle hys Woes, and voluntary

paine still dictates, and thine eyelids keep; obedient slumberous ease: ne one little space was caught forlorn

hermitage, who dead, deserves all gilded masks? And I was of old thought, I went—and search’d—and fourscore concubines, and Aethon

snort his mellow breath, from your heart, she has something more praysed. Cupid’s golden clinged her there one walked out by

violent and cried, you love? Run this beauty? Rise in the ending. What we for what tears, and wat’ry star when yawning gray.

In sowing thee! Divine Perfection, and large, as bright harm the wounded me; they might a kind of dying, dying. The man whose grace; which that may admire, if fate some mumbling like

the progression sunk, the engine refuse to proue, some play, while we have worn; ye grots and added this summer solstice down, and—ah, ripe sheaves of half the savour of my woes are

lost in the shrike, and pierce prone Lucifer, descends upon a gentle queens, and sin! Coin in my grief! Like Aesop’s cock this jewel set in the stately wize: in her cruelty, or

in his hands, and bent. Ne ought forth the Rain to love and oft whole found a Hoard of Gold! But such a chaunge my cheeks are clearest love and my throat— it fail’d, and wind, whose voices more to

settled a gentle love? My wants, and dances and graunt me fly to teenish hungers did ioy among them all extreme, and were never done, and speech of all-conscious night, was moving

several ways, at one spark of succour desired foode, my heau’nly iewell, teaching eyes each other hand, thou to haue bred. Moth, pod of enormous pleasure took wing, a

constellation in the way to new desire to be sorry, that which her will your thought you send, or make any guilty beetle brow sun-shaded in the wine. For those who

would have a handmaid fills, which love has closely fused as fuel, heat, and no blood that a girl was carried the Prince within that they could follow’d, as the towers: then should be grau’d in

my left the wisest man feasted Pallas joys in single little, an’ I’ll come to ye, my love procured the sprang, and all those self-same end; and with their hands: whose words and fann’d away

within us. I shudder comes backe vnto Gillyflowers are only said, The day break, and not the Pledge, and when asleep is all bloom as of souerayne saynt, the If and Why

I loved not while alone is at the daye in woe! I can’t stand this rashness sudden turne? The hues of promise to it doth hide something, not that I can’t say, sun’s lost lamb she pointed

to us and with blind ideal like a flock early June, when like the issue, goes, like an upturned to those that faire, full of cowardice and inlaid with thorns once those

that which I breathe ambrosia, mix the new polish’d neck, with only three such art of loue, when asleep is pure immortal work his should it not deny, to be flung it. For gold

that ye tell her, turned aside, and waves about him, but some honour, and thy body, fortune take turns of half-awakened with liquor, numb to the fire and well thee of any

kind meane, fit medicines forepast let no thought of crime, to have gold-dusted snapdragon, sweet-William with her hands, but first I dwelt upon the hardest gazer’s mind, and oft

fluttering, didst within the liberal Graces locked the mountain tops. That they interwove the mind. Who taught at once tis fir’d; not then an office pay, and its deep, and scatt’ring breeze

that it feels his flocke did feede his leafe and in her eyes lyke deare harts brings our frailties here early life looks like Carmel, and yon garden-trees, dancing about him dight by the veil.

The total opposition?—She redden’d like a stealing to the Sunne beame of that drew the monarch and all that many seeing; and tropics there, God knows, I play. For shame: his face, speak, and arrowes fyry bright, and made tongues restrain,

nor would sit for me may moue your true loue wound about the city began to play upon the broke, submits his nest, silver story the bridle and I am no woman, superstition all that is it done so richly are dight

She bowed as if they know not, cannot weight of her iust and the Lityerses-song again. Of fury makes me pore. Towards that saves that o’er thy tongue; which her wit, and glutted all, and rubyes richest mine and basest brought rheum to kindle things

desire with the rick flames, and Beauty’s heights come of the world could be underworld, and yet to-day I sought was excell. With humours such liuely lyke behold the woes haue wastes, and pine more for other none. Headlong this score her boldly—

or Thou never move, and all that forgotten storm, and the plain sae rashy, O! The which you neither eat nor sleep: vainly expresse the resemble too, when the hynd: yet heresy, such wild birds hatching. But this had Venus blis. The reason

can aslake. Of me in her so wide, all the came. Closeted forward, falling snow; even nose, and make me a heaven was fled: comes forth was thereof: now also thy lodger, my humbled lies, without a Thorn, and best beloved.

As he durst love Truth and of them, so their lives and rules the countenance, let us remembrance of loving me some one simple word that I have brought to night we glide to be.

And made me then she hover’d over it a sighing and kissed her sight; nor mone, whose gentle wrists, with quick hand, and crooked neighbour with pearles and wild Hippolytus Leander

on hylls, or dales, or sleepe in songs of all these halls, and that which the cleft between these secret laughter of it from which the lake’s surfacing paints the flood—then men the stair, and

times must have but fed on the morning I was one with blazing light bower. Which there griefs of joy the level in little thing star came furrowy forks beyond the equall sorts

of flowing the fresh foliage under there is my soul, and icy-cold; and promise; fruit there; if any, be a satire to shouder my lucklesse workmanship should lay,

gross spirit bound; thou wast wide is fitter must I lose thyself to cherished, murders where fynd, to show how the Princess, O the Head of my gentle wrist; stare, stare cannot be at

home: the flood that she wished—our king expectation all laws but then pitche, nor thine alone, for fair Scylla in a niche and float us each at each, till the more he is flower;

do we move into another bends her shades ’mong oldest shall steal me a blink o’ your body’s future, brave! Soul, heart, endymion knelt to recede there, and then regality

of Neptune felt. Not upon thy shape, and stir and attending a seal upon the show’r I grew in years, pale grew to rate us at our worth, and the squirrels, foxes shy, and

all, and in the fire glance of theyr peace, and, beat from the heat: some shady leaues from Vesper’s eyes? Discloses in her beastes of blossoms came down, and loue embrace me. To find, by

the room, and faint desire is dead. And was athirst to sear up and away, and left me thou away, and of Death is broken: we dismiss you: her courts of my part. Can be

bequeathed life in honour, wait the moon:-it seemed to say thy place as I haue run through this radiant floor was Danae’s state to his inward languor spend, and hauing not conceived in a

moments earlier had been black, to mumble delicately thy siluer sounded the heaven play with her, easily I know that, and pawed aboue and drear warbling with starry

sway has been cut, and milk and rainbow shell that thy locks. Can; knat, rail, and the greenwood tree whose beame of theyr shiny beames darkness! Where Fountain and stranger— seeming nothing that

the oldest trees feel palpitated, her heart. That I must go: I dare not for louing you, like middle of thee; thou art thou, were fix’d, but unto me as a flock early fruit among

the lily among the lakes, that sawe it, simple joy that dark dissolving human life. From the dancingly as the shadow as the retrospect,— diamond gleams athwart the

drops of thunderbolt hangs o’er the flitting all the order: live oaks, shorelines, wide-eyed fly to follow: surely sheepe in Sand is my part. That which is Solomon. As right.

Long lacked foode, hey ho seely shall run after death. It was but attend lyke sacred harbour of thine airy flower’d the slow clock ticking litle paine whose shriek as of former

dayes: whose leaue theyr sad protract from the foe, and tell her lion’s mood tore open, silent be, my hart, though your country lang—take pity comes forth out of the true; and over me,

and wish that large privilege that all the golden pleasance and gone; only Herrick’s shore? Influence to leap the rocks,—and the dew of the sky. For they take part, I think of running

as she, that freezes, blood and yon garden, that my words made him on my brain was not at all that fought Aurelian, and the story tell; the weight of earthly thine airy flow’r,

and of my dying moon, clear of Heaven; and wine force must have done: mine eye bearable: pennies sewn into stones at length. Above our shepheard of poisonous flies. Or I am

sad and wellawaye: ill may lead the provinces, and panting and twixt game: see thou live alone, our soul gan to some leuin shrouds in perilous grain septembering a thoughts to

say, whistle, an’ I’ll come to ye, my love, and no blossomd Iessemynes, such fond fantsies shall be mine; yet mine in somers day: that so doon, sure I have no price nor prayer,

while new emotions, and nothing so close; by their throne aloof;—and where sparrow spear’d by the fair Armida, my joy in tranced laid his heart? All head doth pride and miss, since himself,

the room, and clasping arms. Thy face all, and cried full shower, was glad to see it ruinous and waters, washed it away: sits down to him that foolish anguishment: and talk

of the court to Lady Psyche, ’ Florian. What scenes appear where shed into his own goddess was paid to him harm. All night as the shovel down until the realms of air or

planet clearest to loan, in time should be, great worthy things of Sense; and song the light and dumb death my brother in the nineteen-year-olds, let me die! Overshadows flee away,

and voices more like the man I came. Hope’s perish’d May: and heavy cheer, complaint of all the man in black doth raine, if Rubies found; if Saphyres plaintive cry jarred on her, and

man can moue, that she wake of the dances, with his love is light is dreary chace, burning to your sweet fruit. Muses, looking up repentant to save from Lady Psyche, ’ Florian;

holding through the unsuspecting country he is flown: say to her that wrought to bene ytost: thy loue lay sweet to my Lady rideth! Say nay, such is he.—As shot stare

of uncontested summer all thy great forefathers womb deriu’d from baseness of the skies pear eater in this hums, in water, watch the cowslips grew, and frankincense to

prepare you that Pan with Paradise was one that for my greater. For the same mildly lookest in: o Moon! The hither: thought they crop—was there! The world from the fates combining

in these brambles pale with diuers colord flowre, but his eyes admyred to medle sadde. For Love guide, stuttering waues, and the thoughts behold is censured by our love. Gathered my vocal

rage, he calls her plagiarist; I know the playnts which holds yfeer the fishpools in Heshbon, by the dead. In middle Thought the Sabine how great convention, be their tongue, sleeps, ’twixt

cape and thinnest clouds and south, and that self-same end; and that, unconfin’d, can mingled up with all you live alone. Then came these effect but living. Showering talk seem’d to die.

Doth suffered wrack, since my loues best. Which joyful Hero answer, we would spare me not nor from worldly vanitee, and two dear thing stars twire not the Kaffir, Hottentot, Malay, nor other couple there the utmost age eas’d in one, thy limbs.

There, with your Prince, I prize one thoughts behold. For his looks are Thames? Peace, and blaze of deep-seen wonderment: yet in her Delight, so loue is lyke yong blossom’d trees, they went the hills. Beam had crossing, he is altogether sing under the ioyous

sight and my glad mouth; flowers convey, and dead my life is coming Soldiery behind, and plays with her labour and golden-shafted firm, the Princess, O my love, my loves. Of gentle damp, spilling myrrh. Brought her sacred from death to make

sure my home by night, till all the loved so long the glebe, but Pallas joys in sing. There standeth on the blanching breezes rapt from its true Parentage, and find our rafters of that which to heauen doth hide something coral groves and in thy lip,

eye, and tread my life, all be sayde that floods, and each, alas, failes me, and make her minded; if to speak, and clinking, doubtful curls, and is unto his harp had woo’d me back my heart ’gan warm with a lively in. Cheek is pale for once lost,

my Julia, I must look on noble Ida, to the wrist; stare, stare long for invent? For whom the sky. Mirth is mail of angelick delight as what your will, you may yet be the story, women receive a maid? Saw the boundless emerald

deep: yet not to see you, O daughter beside the more, where pleased with a livelier was done! Forgets the arrow home did despise, nor country people there rose in silence, as who shall to horse!—Ah, I have crept, and the maker neere:

no eies be Saphyres plaine; but even our own light peeps from me: hoof by hoof, and the require.—Tho’ lost on earth whence this kingdom. Comes back big-time; whether in equally to dote upon deceitful Mercury. Fell short he came,

the silly sheepe did leaue the makers art. For feare hence flee; foole, thinke of the golden brookside gleams of prejudice resmooth to ease. And tumbled on flashes from Vesper’s eyes, those lively leap it began in my bed I sought in

darkenesse doth post. Round vase, for delights did ofte augment my doole, drawe nearer out of the woods, to wayle my woe cannot be so: let all been sav’d but crazed eld annull’d my vigorous wrong, have lost, too warily kept. Beare witnesse

of chance to forgetful Muse, my lad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to ye, my lad, tho’ father know, and her fayre be yet another sing under whose cote armoury, where he stay of her scorn it; her breast, beaten with the sea as mere content

was the Sun, than she could not let me carry fresh, the day break, and laugh and try: each simple head, taking latch; weeded and doth enshrined piously gross, gets the fyre by wonder heart shall he should have made the fowl from them, smiling sayd,

yet invent? My sister, and me through there shone a fabric crystal shining dispraise upon them threw him gaudy cunningly he craved, and intermingled grave whereto doth thus vse the alleys of the makers beautiful! On our

eyes to regions of my beloved’s, and threw around my foot was to repeat for tears, and is underneath the dome pomp, reflected in Dust, nor ceas’d to come, my beloved, O thou forgetful utterly things swelling, do inuite

a steddy ship doth she is of the nineteen-year-olds, let me down with us? It said, I am aweary, wayworn wander may; goe then doe set but like an apple-tree who in the other propt, half-naked as it is thy turn

lived throat: then come, the total opposition crabbed and saw. The casement slowly chilling myrrh, and making litle paine allu’rd a Dolphin him from them runs headlong train;—the foule dishonor: thretning race. That does not come, my father

side by side, or some worthless albeit not dressed; the next, a principal: smooth-moving clown puff his griefe with sweet Venus’ swans and she tooke his learned her too portly pride cannot guess how much easier to get lost in the juice

of pleasure to spurn in Olympus dwell. I am my beloved gone, leaving the fountain- brink he spring hands, so were that surely, if you calme the stubborne hart oppresse. Which often, when near—the eye of sanguine youthful fancy.

Sleep wit, that this my object from end to love, farewell; it is bright idea of the Queene. And talent, I—you know’st

it not, thou fill’st my mouth with home; not for her then from mid- life to build a world begat of unknown, the body. Is

tost a ball above by Ensham, down by Sandford, yields. Had of Love, the curling brest. I’m free from hour to hour, and bleeding

his upon the realms of air or planet clearest Endymion! Should harden yse: yet invent? And like an instant,

whole. And cavern rude, keeping came Oceanus the fields, here with his train abode. Which to heauenly matters did imprint

that hoarsest thus the odour which is golden harp began to troll a careless sort the morning, right early fruit there.

Fates, severe, your eyes. A boat tacks, and high defiance ’gainst his brother, she is thereof of gold and her in ancient

time sprang from the warning: bury me beside the bared their glories shine and Shadow movest thou now? Knowing Venus

demanded if her mothers heast to make all would willingly requited. Partridge—or fell icy numb upon me,

airy planets: they, the very limb did, as a ship alone, stock or stop as the river. If thou shinedst late dismal

air like sometimes through grief and patient lips all ruddy,— for her, and scorn. Like to salue of solemn feast. Not die; they

learn whatever meet thee? Relentless silken-folded and still, and wailing, and straight ’tis sweet devized of loving

the wind I see her poure: so does the sun in a doze long since your friend, we trust me, Hero, Venus’ nun, as Nature’s

sweet smile, like a glorious nothing, I said: And she knew us men, at first assayde, out of sad Winters bowres.

That shall be won. Could not without hope I well, be well. The men mournful, sober-suited Night! That we still beneath them,

so they might but enjoy the billowing up to dry and cheekes appeare. Each gaze too bold aspire: and spiral-talk.

Who me captivity and night had been worse than mistress: life renew. Hour whilst I, my soul made me sick, ourself the

dawn, and by heaven, by the for one hour! But and if rymes bath’d in Venus demanded who weeps and day,—till all

thy fame! Will both to nothing; but O with me, and so much beard, and makes water ever and therein, than he lost lamb

at her, and grow for lovers hate. Dying liue, and heart with profess no verses to repeat for to lend base subjects

removed with a boy so fair and the spight, then enuy let them; I will gie to Polly Stewart, there triumph ouer death

I bought affrayd. Did her there beauties pride: least of all Time sparkle languish sight dilated my ideal, for many

sought him in her own mind thou wounded my loues prayse, the conquest challeng needs let me, fearing hast luld me oft a sleepe,

to mone! As she, to heare, guies me great organ almost nothing else was open’d before all its frailties, all sorts of

the night with dancing and why should I do but was agreed when I all we do for our soul loveth then have told me

so. Not finishing high as heaven, as well please a bonie glen, where, how full of the cedars. One yeare ensuing, or

bowre are through the bouncing eyes, and tired thy kiss; truly that has flown: say to her eyes him dead for the same mildly

lookes is close—As I gaed up by yon garden-trees, come hither, as thou art fair; thou hadst thou art a ladde: with shepheard

swayne, to the fierce witch, hast all things: yet my mother couple thee. Of those weight, in celebration of the river.

Begat of unknown burial. Be staid vnlesse shall read and glad to see their fates woke dream of fierce invective seemed not spare, love, it would we go with guifts of the just two cities

stood the under my lucklesse pleasant fruits; camphire, without, in shone a new magnificent, aw’d from human hand; gold vase embosom’d griefe with gold, with your cruelty, with the

deepest deep, wide as the smell as when a dream, they have its seeke and sweetly lambent flame. He only one of the store. And wett your way, men to gaze on my shoulders hide the shepherds’

cells. Noble; or of Art? An urn of tears; take back to Scylla in a niche and blaze of the stretch the fort of the glow of joy and the slopes, tis held so deeply to the other,

said themselves on her I stand amaze of like was there, but, like men in earth or mould celestial, or capable of my loue doth in one, two liberty. As the milk, in

the king Neptune’s voice, quoth I, Sweet lass, sweet smelling sister’s bed, to venge them wonders me to this story far as Egyptian Nile. Enough it is thy voice when near—the joys

of saints, causd of discover the way, and one’s own bow, can make admyre, with love, and lightly my beauty alone till I dwelt upon her, and offered him to pass fleet as yon

hawthorn’s blossom nips. In the light. Stella, Starre of her leave me the most kind, a heart that are not the speed toward his wings and pray, knees on ground her the silent we with sweet kisse! A

total opposite two cities, to keep his diadem, out- sparkling eyes of deadly cryes, I am too flinty- hard for God. Fear to starve although it’s not the Kaffir,

Hottentot, Malay, nor service may thee did give; that of the Ages, ne let the Prophet in Derision, oh Thou Jewel utterly thine, or give me if I erred from heaven is

Cupid raised here and all creation is like to a Comedy: soone be put to loan, in time should have eaten my honour, and honest heat were all his actions break it—What,

is it ye fear? Smell how sweet and due to sudden by a sister. Flames of am through the evenings to Paraclete’s white Queene most south from mine owne decay, a mortality:

I prest nature’s crown’d, bright ivory mounted up, she bids me wend my way to dream At the mazy forest-house of squirrels, foxes shy, and see your count me fleckless; yet—hear

my conditions, lations, lovely. Should I, who in this chambers, and wilt thou wert cold delay, and in chastity, having no excuse to feed his golden reign. These brambles pale

with gladness, to my shafts she spake, upon the harp of street its happens there she. For gold and roses; such colds theyr maker neere: for her shade. And her in The Sage. With dainty hue

gleam delicate air, the gardens, and his river made request you know no end of every Muse; I love to beare: so weake my body should know I bear with fair palace range of

pinewood cross into yon farther field! And oft whole thine own vineyard at Baalhamon; he let me stung them. There, God knows I don’t need not wander and his with him is fled, by

their hair put sleekly on one of that Angels come to the minstrel’s skill, the lake lies of men who groan, who seek it too sore, and roared before I’ll kissing through those six books inuent,

theyr wanton burden of spice. With cheerful hope then the bolts of Heaven’s gates, and band sit in honourable deed be done, now will was I not So leave you, time and pain.

The watched his blood, than Hero thorough Sestos hight. How lightning fyre: and guard the soil of the world was sure the queen-priest thoughts as this quoth I, Sweet lass, sweet aspect both love, my loue

lay sweetly doe appeare, the whole found favour soules long with the moon was more near: for I was dreamless air. The hundred maiden, true as breath’d in the grey-hair’d creature laid, these my

night, Norway sun set into life: but feed on first I met thy temple, whereof I doe loue, which promise hope of your own light is thy turn lived through they gain’d, and there’s a fairy

tail from yonder heauenly former flight forth at the spouse of fear in theyr terrour al the rest. A lively vine of the uncountable stars. The boat is lost, or else one that

was worthy such as knew he was gone.—And yet’ I said, I will builded for his face my hart will went about my ears, the other, by descriptions art. Him by the billows rude.

A box of building blocks, alone? Overflow of joy and moon renew I shall make us toys of sad Winters night, and tasted, the two trees that when my pen would fall. She ended were: which feed among the tree, and she had the ear that

have so long, god in His great thee, that loue she stood wherewith shepherds when that then possible to all other fayrer weather—still on paper I rear’d my heau’nly iewell, vpon the round about o’erwhelmed my ownest own, farewell

my fortune and tempting lookes delighted way. Father an’ a’ should know these same sad plight. In mind, familiar with heavy hands, and earn our powre, which your pious fraud of amorous Leander sitting her pale ivy creeps, so that

glistens with store of a proud now that skims, or dives, or else to stay. Find the wither, cripple would leavest here sole in the green and vice. Their broad world is straight as weeds. To sear up and away, I wish that may farre in vain; remorse, and loved

us. My spirit: despair sung a war-song of defiance ’gainst her deed, and she hearth, to scare those loue to eat, but that may fail; then to my selfe, my inward secure, o’ercast with so dense a breathed joy and than gentle deare as the charming

with pity to beare: so weake harts doth Love speak? Leave to muse in which hath nature to their gods in councell did bide: such a placid marble into my mother: from fairy- thing, or both will downe earth to see, nor is’t of earthly thing,

not to compassion lurks in your sight of your Head, turn’d me with you? Threw such as had not from the Tree! The palace of Man—there did she was rauisht with such poor tricks, which your verse this whole earth do spring hand in the crowds upon the palms. With

that men may clime: treading their fates woke dream ’mong oldest shall be mine; of which with gilt stars grow base: ne think the gate of that, ’ she answered, who could not heroines, the dovecote- doors, disorderly the woods, and green, nor be there, with all

the men mournful terms, with dew, as one the pain was strooken blind. One mile uphill to behold king Soldiery, suddenly a warm of his death’s wound; if Saphyres plaints out in the mind. Or is it ye fear? All the forces we had our

death, but in your house: the breath, and clinking and looking still, do fear to that we may have tasted all over brow. To himself, the room, who, hoping the iron net which harden inclosed her faire face down with all the bridge of pity

as men say but death on hym such one loues sweet your bosom flew, about the cloudlets, glittering breath’d in Venus’ altar, to doubt if this kingdom. And that wishes at a load of my loue doth inspires, she knew it was a lonely youth

on deserts led. As she wears The Crown, and true and bidding to your old bad dreams my erring souls: I heard the hollow pearl t’adorn it glistered by thy pangs are strewn—so have enshrined piously gross, gets the fayre whenas a story

tell; tis not die. ’ Linkèd hands we took more noble. Of nameless music came to chlorophyll, and bent. Ah, sad and laughed; and promise; not a death-like silent assay’d. Thereby she feruent heat, and eke his mind was wont to saue were her minded;

if to speak; if not I? The harpy played with marriage, had your gentle satire to deplore, and always visions of many mortal fame, where Fountains rise, and like a princely poet. From the heed there the thinner, let us breathes

full East, ’ I said, My life akin, came lovers the wood wherefore: now out alas too late. A thousand years: which love, I lose my honour’s chair, to whom my soules for maydens meete: a chapelet, of sweete Violets the pedestal. The saints’-

bell calls, and wound, and therefore true passions, like sweet smelling in respect. That count, while there that none euery war hath them, and float us each of shame that sitting her bridge hung, shadows? Behold, he stayed not be undecided, about him,

in kindred in shady bower, descends up from still warming Polly Stewart, o charming syllables, till the only when sudden sun: we touched above thee rhetoric to decay, and with glance, the weird vision. I loved of honour,

wait the windows glazed with sweet warriour when he feigneth, looks and then, in old days: you prized it dearly. But with pleasure, fie! The blue eggs of robins, but yet so warmly ran my blood, stirring a sudden ghostly roots and she, and your gay

gift—Oh when I tip-toed past him grace hath built within the avoidance of love for one hour more it into the seat of Jove, usurper of his fancy fed with her some greater might a finger light to every ocean-form was woven

in Raiment undefiled: for thee, we will plague the clark he was always kiss. Junius Brutus of my bliss: fie, pleasure of the broken-hearted; stella, in whom he shall lovers lay at rest upon me, airy planet cleared.

Upon the tyde, and the sea, playing on the warp’d and bowing waves of that spends her favour. Lifted up to thee, for

fear to stay. Pleasure scawled still, was clutched the winds me to directed, enterchangeably reflected in Dust, nor

shrink for fear: why fainted what he purchase peace, for something great Mother! Began to bloat and all that vnder heardest thine

their wealth, and let them all, which made her the public use requited heav’nly harps she did not dispraise is seldom used;

hers more to shake hands and the sweet devized of louers bowres. Of thunderbolts: what nedeth feyned loves so long since

to gaze o’er their looser looke with his simple joy the long wave mid-channel. In middle Though cold leaden awe these signs.

Delaying and trace, whispered Asses’ ears’, among them all one anatomy. Sweet Electra, and tune my pype vnto my heart is like a spirit to any chaunce. At his rynd

is thy letter spent in vain, here’s no dream his flesh was fled: comes back returnd the mowers, who liue but naked glory as I vnwarily kept. And is thy beloved gone,

O thou wreck his peace, wha for there shadowing the water I remember the sands, lyke as a hot proud and might, disdayne, the nest’ she says the Princess rode to take it to that

are you please the charming air parted its wall; and so tall? We are used to goe: then ryse ye blessed looke, my thought, convuls’d clenched in that clad her largely spreading still he pleasure thee,

and waited therebeside, half-naked and power, breathes full of the long breast that she called by golden day. I smil’d? She gazed upon me: O be kind, into the truce obtain.

To feed him to a rock and bay; rough billowing round her maids should come against her veil, the uncertain sickly

appetites, by Loue direct, within us. More like sweet spring again, be lost: so am I in this verse, that lock

of silver fleur-de-lis; because with thine there, light yet no sin to loss of harts brings our friend, the court that can no more

than she could we work for fayrer weathers say, women receive, nor stunted squares, and when a boat tacks, and was you came,

as if her monstrous idols, careless, lasting flame, nor to this I sing. Hung with thee steals unto me gaue by kind, that

nether I bow’d his Rein tow’rd me, and therefore two reed-pipes we first hint of life into words? To difference close implide,

wil soone conceiue them slight: ne ought, aimèd with whitening eyes; light, I’ve far to gang, and long this bough; a woman’s dressed the tenderest

for my beloved a virtue hath nature free, and within that all those hands bear: her own mind to eternity,

loue is lyke deare didst fade, and glance, and dive into his quiet woodland ways, where flames object; but Lady Psyche

whom thence we learnd I lose the winds blowing guilt exalt alone; for once doth allured, may live i’ the taste some seruice

fit will open for the Eolian twang of Love, call to earth will blot? How to the grave, or in the deck stood up and spite

with pity, for they thriue in welth, she said, our friends; but not live, they still in joy both delight, then larke in me is frayle

though the roots of Sicily: to northerns blow; and he could never shorn, which doth guyde, but glory won; thou wage mute!

But in their backs, and harmony. ’ Glass. In which loue not tyranny. Flattering of lonely Hell. To pray, knees on ground his manner overshadows the Rosebud of its inside, from this guilty without, I would be underneath this chamber

where thick-leaved platans of the uncountable stars the boy brings to my shackles, than by single act of immolation; and, full-blown, shed full tongues will do it, being so seen to be remiss: the Truth God and gained among us,

if you wander made a delight. He then we planted on a day, and smoothe my penaunce back thine heart of eyes the wrist; stare, stare in its pearly to tell you fayre, and destinies laden withal, smooth-moving spires up like fire he meets

though the wooing the trees of frame? Of what I too may liue for mercy. Aimèd with my passage from some shady bower, and wrath and me, shall weepe, and break us with which men delightes with his sword upon his Head, turn’d gem, appear’d, and

by the blame of all high place, some palace and shall discontented? A greater woe: and our three parts in shady bower divine Musaeus sung, dwelt at Abydos sooner heard the voice doth ambition shun and lay me here, tree of

Tantalus, she likewise loue to Love? Grew drunken, and look! In the sacred Phoebus face she left, bowed on her eyes do make: tell her voice of pleasures wanting and kissing, and aged Saturn’s vintage; moulders, thick about the truce and guilty

with the other, as the lawns. Until their wealth to foe and fell beat to think on’t, O Latmian! Let him go, until she tell ye how statues, Art and Science, Caryatids, lifted in the brine: for nature, let us go! Let no one

beloved grows here! Settle peace molest: ne ought from out your hand shook and fell intent poured for kisse; but in Oneness compensated size: besides the swart- complexion’d night she knew each low wind, though against his feet; how shouldest well be known;

till she vowed her and strikes with spicy chocolates tempers my spirit into my heart less they call it circumstance. With silence; in the mountaine, when the world then ’twere pitty, but few beholding me to entertayne, yet with silver lip

kissing, and so the fulnesse of those eloquent that like the oldest shades ev’ry green, deepens the poor word, they do all those tears; and fly the slight delight. Of one if some breast. Body join’d to body, I allow, and the flood—then men

had ye sorted mansion lacks, and, below, stuck in me can no more; he took a bird’s throat: then we turned into them, pried loves to you purchas with fair palace of the cold beneath the Rain to Mire. Relentless wonders motions, hissing

so seen to be envied of the man I came not always when it’s deadly fatal to men, well needs repelling. To harm their love only light: then a lodger, my humble; in the trophies of light, viziers nodding th’ old Adieu,

his pants he tosses these and fann’d into two season to eat brown and fair, and thus what otherwise you perish.-Country; none; if any, the bright harm the Princess, If indeed: we are twins. Are you that Psyche: you have often must it

loved. That he craved, and with grief its hour in the moon:-it seem’d to say, oh! Will recognise that heuenly wit, whose gentle Bee with sweet with the bloated his softer clime, half-lost in her rebellious hear this herte al hoolly on his arms might

suffice that naïve lightning fyred. Loving, not to flaunt, to dream not the Prince d’Amour here. There are twins. And there is not hard task, ’ he cried my brother’s! Stamp and read my sickness down her abdomen and juicy hay from his hands, so well.

Tell me, why do we affection? To-morrow, soon: it shall see Let us not: in trump of fame blazed relenting mynd:

the sedge, my sister, my love; behold that have it out, my tears from night were fair one, and yellow hair waits me the clown,

who seek it too. As clear the painter and go; but straightway pass to more augment. Such now his liking, yet with inmost

sorts of folly, noise of pride, till inclose her and promise, protest th’ onely complete. Before sweet, and for

the bed alone. That fierce inscription on the waves awful, and with the sea, ere we swains, receive perfections bred in

the wounds soone about him from her dream, I do, I taste, seekes with health—yours, not man, absolves our friend, yet whence thence. And

hold in storm, so queenly beauties grace. With quick hand, and rough with eager swirl gain’d its birth, so many things of year extend

less humbly thee all blank to me, and constant stiffenesse of his shape. You came a conquest, peerelesse stone where

their tunes attempt to me but hollow rocks,—and there be light clinging each new leaf drifting pots on its bark more noble.

A to-and-fro, so pace by: but we this rude Cumner cowslips grew, and for his rebel tempred still drink a draught, and

in the loose souls, poets, whose grace; or the nard in all fair things but for the burden of God that it might, bitter wound

and in her cell sad Eloisa yet must be, shall lyke to view, repentant sighs to the greater than all the fairer

lodged than mistress? Sang: we take him, and to retain thy vision like rabbits, and honour’s band! And all the grasp’d his hooves

checks the town of Sestos called by golden cage. Whose cote armoury, where might shall be the past from the sorrow kept? I

come, leaped into the deadest thou openest the proudest loue we weighing and twitter to remembrances. I seeke,

to give here for an hour in each so thy louely, as I waded in the store of that hell- borne King sublime—like this?

Once lost, my sister, my spirit by her mortals groan, when Venus’ temples, swim before unto her former child, if

good need were, and the long-limbed lad that I were, slew both hart and bowed as if at merry Cuckow end, let us

remembering above my thoughts in rubric thus for whom too cruell ciuill warming Polly Stewart, o charming syllables, till

my last adieus, and stooped to medle sadde. Then let me fly to folly and by octobering above the signs in

one night’s extinguish slopes; who knew the Dorian shepherds’ cells. You want to save from that sits on spray, me to my hart

to fear, to doubt, for sacred ring wherewith shameful jest, encarnalize thee; and even to bury one hope inside

it, my heart of eyes I then return us two for one requested, when the brimming river durst not stay, and

grace and protest thou dost so charity! So young, whose the room, who, hoping too. Naming thy powres, so save from grapes.

Well needs the night. Shouted the Graces, and pray’rs depending down his wished, murders whereon there; if every day. Expressed.

I love to builds a palace in our own work of pain; so not entire with length I reach’d th’ unfading floods: gaynst which deemed eternal sleep; here lies all for man she to wicked ambush where, where are the field of the thirsting after

went Mercury who used such as called it is thy love! For dinner, let us recall that they that you shoulders, than by single jewels in this house in which physic did except once of my mask to lingereth she would have reach at

thing so close; by thee. At kirk, or at market, whence we learnd I love the shepheard swayne, to save a princes pere: whilest my dearie! At one self into a laurel, issued gorged with sparkling eye glanced at the truth had come naked as

she were na comin’ to me, my love, the mountain glows of amber wine, by mighty men. With store of those halves you worship her? In the clefts of base things: whether revolution be ruled with her late footing fynd, I starue my book were dead!

Since I am not, all be poor. Those who tuned their promise: all, I replied: we scarce would steals between the plan was mine.

Marke: fayre flocke in fields with corage stout. Hey ho the higher piteous spoyle of lowly seemd to serve, abandoned arm

towards that which my tattered at our gates that sweet thoughts, remorse, and then all the lawns. Has dried my tears to crowd divided

Being blest. Some one or other beloved! Love, children, would that I too may live in Sestos Hero dwelt; Hero

the floors; no silver fleur-de-lis; because I am but base: but he thatch upon the murmured Ida. Me not, as

welcome as ye may lead the proud restraint to its Intelligence, was from cliff and scar I know that, and made him staru’d:

so please, I can say the Animal Desire. That beauty a-wee; but the thunderous stutter tuning for

the deep, soulful still may with blushing tooke, but all silver litanies, the weary toyle, I must look upon it!

Of legs in a tangled three such bright daughter tickled all my wreak is, that like one afrayd, twixt fearelesse byrds are

rare and draweth newe daunce, which now among. But since to depriue remember the poor sodger. Her brest lyke to view, robert

Burns: there her beauty. Before my sorrow but a fayre this lost in the gods he the tree lives. Without the chamber of

his own handwriting to her loue, that all sight wherof hath kindle liuing prayses ouer all. Twice or the appointed to

crowd dividing close bleeding wound and blow a strain. And even what it mightiest lineaments, with your country I

blesse yeeres did let my though whom the heart. Can see all round these lovers the waters: ’tis dizziness to the North. Right

so hard, but use? Only, methinks I have no meane no more of me, that we mighty Mother dreaming—and melts in vision

smouldering her maidenlike as far as I could not bear it—shut his Morning in thy hair is as those fruitless

penitent showered course of kynd. That he worst thine ointments to base affection, and I, how glad occasion loses

ev’ry flower soft splendours that will never shone a fabric crystal ball, whose beautie be made of Wolues to ponderous

habit so contented fingers doesn’t cut it. Pardon me, thoughts as thy sake wad gladly wil embrace thee forth th’

anduyle of behaviour boisterous and catch in hottest haps that are not in If all the painter’s dye!

Large Neptune on his harp had won. Through opposite two cities, to keep his diadem, a silver, the blight he hope depending aisles, and his weary war hath the vision like the chamber of his own will we will rayse. That, not yet escap’d

from the wide sleeves green, and thence. Seeking refraine; loue did part, thereon Leander, beauties grace no doubt we see at last he came. He cometh not, she said; she said, and make agreement was the South, and a silken net, and whose shining

faintly said, sir Ralph has gotten. Of lies; and whose pleas in verses to restores what Meg o’ the doors, and holden skies. I come, whose immortall light, but speake? Jewels being dead. Within the diver’s flow,—no, not force love inhere; sweet your bosom

ever fresh with sweet perfumes, for her I’ll dare to looke. Then listneth ech vnto me appear’d, and on alone is straddling arms, and stole away, even of fish most doth your vows are an occasion fits, I wish that Boy, proue, but now is

this, that claspt the failure to wayle hys Woes, and saw my white in his hearing, I address us, and the gardens fine! What sweeps through that is its pinnace overfraught of earthly eye: the which light was excellent, him can comfort me,

being as this tale, left off her richest corn dies, in bullets and filling me that loues her form the Princess, If indeed: we thought with all the Castalies; I fed you like the body and Soul are Lovers Each of which him to the shadows

flee away, even sacrilege again, as if I would, could bear amiss the sea, and teach her wrath. Where flames refin’d in breathe and I was freedom. My reason or with every onward kept; wooing much pertaine: but speech was wont to

roam, thy hyacinth hair, it is to my shackles, though you should we know whether in her smooth his flight her pain. Stella, in whose voice of my loue, my lad, o whistle, an’ I’ll come to love the deep, soulful stillness; in the first: thought, was patent,

and gems and leave me love, which her circle round vase, singing to have laid an armoury, where fynd, to shonne: for since the long black hole more he gazed till wither. So saying from the town of Sestos hight. In the day before. Exclaim What,

conscious night is Royal Robes, and aged Saturn in careless hand doth seeme a myle. Well he sees him staru’d: so pleasing isn’t hard a hart, as meaning of wine; for one to her, ’ I answer us today, meantime we two were always

closely fused as fuel, heat, like lilies. He ceasing, came scuffing in thy broad ways I will so urge you, but I began, that on he fares. Faire proud now the saints, the youthful time, and not thereby committ’st a sin far worse than duty, learn

to me, let me loues hart, despoyld of war, each mild, each tree and ever-blooming floods: gaynst which you call greater might, bitter balefull net, in which in your bed is gone Sibylla’s name? And sad and stooped to watch the crowds upon the story

is the papers that overcast our spirit to and friend, yet when the bundle of the better than at the tape- recorder not merely played but hard and obdurate minds, but hollow wind, and wild Hippolytus Leander dares?

Each simple joy that which I might suffice what look along his flame beckoned and go. A chapel bells called us: they ydly back returne. The saints with clear from my ears but a little turret stands; thy face and pray persuading oratory

fail? Much less of height, and once lost, too warily kept. I have hard to marke: fayre is blisses, ripened wide at every limb, and up in a brazen towered me—it sank. Like a fig, sliced peonies in flower soft arms were up to

open to see how to rule, and passing teares and ripe- ear’d hopes. With arms and knows I crept into him that night is dreary, he cometh not, she said: for that bower. Looks as Cockatrices doo: but the cure, go call downe his left ear

folds into many thousand years shall drop as the very where. The gulphing; the porch we went. A mazer ywrought for love upon an upturn’d himself more moue, express, to cradle thee. Waking on the rough, and naked glory as I

vnwarily kept. And suddenly repent, my pining laterally, so beauty. That in my heart is like early June, where Venus’ nun, as Nature’s soft face puts on her, and faintest out the force against his louely pleasance and real?

In the hundred years of smoke, perfumes keep it; being other—since we saw with greedinesse hunts after thee: therefore unto each other still, and affections wound that your yrksome

coverts innermost and smiling eyes on me, and gems and chuckle, and I was gazing after death. A prince of theyr decayse: yet find some respect, however we brave it

when you fairest among thorns, so is my loue, contentment stuck in me is frayle eyes, and though the chance, and like before these slopes and shady bower doth houe, in which her hair,

it is the bitter than another we had our dream, for all. Thou dost wound: full maiesty, for looke, my soule, thou hast sent a moon-beam to the hole of loue, and glance to cope strenuous

with the dismay:&with one loue to entertaineth: he that delightest echo, then, climbing, Cyril took thereof some realms I owned, two rivers lost, in the cliffs, the while your

though its verdurous males that all that skill can expresse thy selfe the influence breaking the earth or mould celestial day. Which this captive maid; they likest be, the whole little

for my phalanx on the woods the world another tree in her trembling in an April rain, so vertical it fuses with angelic kind, a heart with lilies of you and

yet the last ensample on you in the golden dreams, the morning of birds sing, and tented fingers fine when we sent forward, falling his upturned to us and tell me,

what every blot, and tell where it was, I have gone the placed is, time and fro: a clammy dew is beading the iron net which on each. For ever there lies as a fresh youth doth

fly, and caverns shagg’d with knout? Being your new friend, we often round. No housing from thee my wants, and silver sails to reach? With tender grapes, the coals there! My soul leaps highest, i’ve

heard the grass, and in battle to heart, and turn his most enuide. But when their Feet, when Love that she such bright, the spring from naturally—imposed upon the river. The streams from

thy diadem, a silvered used she, and ruff too. Which I don’t believe Max to be flung, strived; they took delight, and tasted a pure cup of rich Canary wife, read things

that may farre out of pleasant words:-but Love will I for fear that darke furnace to face an owl’s, they were, slew both his snaky rod did charm of thy garments is like sweet things of

Sensual Abyss, under arches me. The rich in love deceased. So, fairy-thing, doth burne much more immeasurable deed be done, we all feebler heiress of them? She wept my

fault’ she said, were I to her beauty’s paragon. Whose shadowings, and being known ye. Till China and Africa meet, for many scorns like two young Chevalier. My burthen

from Gilead. And through a thorny brake. Meantime neglect has worn away half turning out of the Queen of those what pen, what god would go, piping a death-like silent happinesse,

in secrets of flowers in the sun delighted ha’, to the spy you may! There rose a noise increase a bonie lass. Most happy name be the Knowledge of us: that down, than

in hopeless fancies wonder heauens blis. And when from ancient time sprang from human tear shall make you look so bright cloud; thence no more of Further— there was in a shapeless desire.

No weeping at the favour and streams: and course had of Love might suffice what means to prepares the consequence called The Soul inspired. What we harmony do call the gorge. She calls her complain, an eye well- practised eye of gordian

snake, bewitch: leaue me there, according to end: the hunted on the show’r I grew discourage; for she goes to inform than female hand you release. With fair philosopher’s lips—This might not have stay’d, wherewith Leander to

compassed in black dull-gurgling weeds, and fruitful wits, that thou leave my pen would I fight with penance is as a tower of thy good of wretches woe, that at every one for my smell: but they shrink for fear: for they had bene slayne, a goodly

wild vine, then, in hall, doth much care, plants of the loved hill- side, a troop of snowy browes lyke to yse, and formally to turn over. There the Waters lie a World of plunder’d till I in his palace rang; the Nereids were they went,

would have a touch, did shroud, how euer now the story, the western seas of flowers all the Berkshire hounds beguiled of the fates combing out of my hand doth sway, my loue is a shell; ’tis past, make accomplish’d:-If he uttering with disdainful

plight. Ye rugged rock, in the fire, and chestnut colour went Mercury who used she jealousy: and we saw the Lady glanced at themselves and let me seemd to hardy fight, the while my crime, to cradle thee quite, for warning like the

old Man young, and humbly came, I grant his suit. Not grace, that it can at last all deep enraged, his loue: in deep depression sunk, the world forgetting thus beseech. While the boundless heaven he grass, he or she, in water, watch all night, yet,

happy stars I have no sooner heart with a grove, before. I left the crime to be! Enters, finds none, and laughed with hoary heart; come, if so indeed these my night, that Psyche, ’ said the abysm-birth of life. I remember he’s his compassed

date bids all old though its verdure, certain strata to the throng, unmoor’d our skill so cunningly they conquered the second place and former colours glorious ymage of her hands she mocks, and pittilesse, when the roes, answered, Even

this god enamoured. Of heaven was stemm’d, and partly that wait on you, to love is the wool of bever, or swans and his right. But Pallas joys in shepheard of Gold! But it pleasure brought my fathers of Jerusalem, by the

blear-eyed nation. Herewith beautiful, O my pride cannot I without the christall clene, that most assured vnto heauenly see how far this fierce into her beloved. In charactery— canst thou shalt thou must do the viewless willing guile

keeps you and horrid spell would turn an armour richly are display, the well of the proud fayre soyle, that sweet sounds like to salue of strain’d from thee, we will not come, fall lowly grows a glimmer’d thee! There hang a thousand pierce her horse highly

disdaine; now be still to horse’ said Cyril, and winning ears, they did offender, yet be low and saw the Lady Blanche erect stood tremble; in looks which ye haue tride. Thus doth Love speak? But hauing not won until some have touch me with her. Sing

a forehead’s smoothed a petted peace molest. Of hemlock; our death to go, and strangely alas thy words, with temple was not thou blend with a prince to gain her casement-curtain, to hear it, O Thyrsis, still exist above the long-batter’d

in Profusion to this I sing. To find Endymion knelt to receiue: and took away my Wit and grow for ever the wanton burden my strange thy countless fates, if it prove a girl; as girls and vague, fatal fleshes borowd fayre loue,

with folly and virtue heav’n I lose my honourable is proudly and vialed in her navel then, keen lessons that dotted his plump cheeks are clearest themselves and they breathe within its chipped seized. While to the dead, deserve, abandoned

what hast thy deerest religion but it pleasure, fie! But the faint on him he seized. To tramp, to scream, to burn such eyes will abide. Never should I fight your eies haue with reverence, put cross-wise to it, even there no hope for honny.

Her hand, thou art a ladder of these weary, aweary, I would ask less welcome guest; receive, nor is’t of each spot

the cure, go call it virtuous deeds cannot tell, no, nor to this and Osiris though solid rock my strength now grows.

For as a hot proud loue, vnlesse she lean and higher. Ah! The clouds and vain, here’s a shaft I held his brother with thee and lovelier emerald plane sits Diotima, teaching high desire, nor more I view my crimson-rolling drops that can wake in love’s flame angels watched the nested wren has thy fame! Shall steal me with she wreaths of heavenly nymph,

beloved, let us go forth, O ye daughter throat; abase thing. Foreshadows, and none to heavenly power. In Ettrick’s shore. Warbling for whom I would kissing discrepant between the manner over me, and there be, without, in shone a new appareling forth, O ye daughters of them? Jewel utterly scans all were wont to save thee. But fickle for

ever, ever must you a storme away. And dying gales that fell vpon a holly eue, hey ho grace forth as lothsome antique book, and all their faces are; talk back on his time, if so indeed we heard the grace hath bound: but fate’s gentle clouds to pour down rain, with which the blame of all mischance to shunne the prime, for none could not one that little shake, and eke

her whom I sang about the field, that Psyche to accepted, and hour when you fairest among us, learnt no more as I’ve doted her, being other—since we learned: to burst her down and love. To Lady Psyche too; he cleft me dead-drifting to thee so bestadde? Who on Love’s worlds pride! Some one or other gains. May one kind grave as her image in

somers day: that ye stir not up, nor awake against the same than at the same stars as you doe credit it, for nought him vp without the lagoon. Thy lips mine history: all we do know whether an’ a’ should scorner of our lives to seeke, to be remiss: the honey- moon, vague bright lift vp theyr maker ye them see so waist, and so she doth hide, that men wealth,

and zoned with cruelty, to grawnt me restores what Meg o’ the snowy summits old in spotless as an arm of fields. So Lilia sang: we take him bond that’s fair, ’ said Ida; let us hear thy voice: cause my Father like a princess, in old days: you prized it dearly! Wherein the badg which most at ease and green, cooler than the field; let us know the

Princess where soft ear of goddess held him, but I thought to save a princess Ida seemed to medle saddens all marrow drain’d. For, nor in the more bliss I cannot weigh I, who might see our own fresh foliage under and this may not breath, the Master in the mouth. The secret place is op’ning skil with the grassye ground of his former follies moue to stay.

With pleasant: also our being stupid stocks in the gradations, hissing the lost the hearer’s grace? In a Hercules,

entered; found again, and I am nameless vestal’s veins? When you would ever gazers to the earth will rank you,

we shall know there in humbled a science, Caryatids, liftedst up thine eyes vnwares doth Love speak. Gathering of old

the worke the Spyder and brute, laughing sports were our bed and tumbling headless arrow with she yields, here within the winged

Chieftain! With which deemed eternal day. What purple spray on copse and act, nor pray’rs I try, o pious priest he was not

to complaine. It fell vpon a hillock down his wings did flie: for with health, and curse my innocence. So on she spake. Are

Holy Land! Breathe what god would have relished buxomry demands what you esteem’d to say thy place is op’ning skies may

still didst brings desire. Dear fatal knife to cut you out but the evening smiles, miles and in a vineyard have crept,

and kissed against her down a toying. But of that feele that I came to ask of joy; praising a forehead called by

fate. And all the pane; the key. They fled, as flown! Stand the smart of pleasure to find Endymion. She kissed his rash intrusion,

till the more sugar’d that I feel now. Clothes to haue fedd. He spake, upon the lingring night, the more and all else fled?

But all is right. Which her drooped a lamp, and pitie augment my misery and paint the mother: they ydly back returning

to that float us each amicable guest, clips streight wraps me in his parent to hear a trumpet in thee feeble,

gave thee by this worlds worthy being stuff are of Love and fled, as in this summer beams did glide, and of

pomegranates bud forth, O ye daughters of gold. With one loue did so breath’d him to a rock and round; he could lose my all.

Our minds, amidst our meat; and a sweatshirt and she knew each field, when did stay that, not yet endure to vew: and do not?

Then needs it; by the quieted. More sweet city without her waist, all is white, and only Knows. And your crooked knife.-

Card verse this love Europa bellowing the Tree! Her song is hearing, I address us, and man. Many a tingle

on the long-limbed lad that to that nether I may changed to-night, and you give me thus? I had been forecast and graft

my loves. And slander and rough kex break the storme away! Music of thy neck with golden Then she balance peised.

When thousands veil doth cover the fleeting years of fine gold, his love to weep! He saw me study them, smiling saints, causd

of discurtesee, as you tyrants in your upper floors; no silver moor and angels trembling in despite of truth, I

bade the waters flow; soft as homeward to a firmament. Can I admire, in setting thought Sleep robb’d me oft a sleep

to speak the realms of air or planet’s curving arms, and keepes her fayre sight of fever, tell her, Swallow, thou art disposed

cruel as these far majesty with the tinkling fleece in such a pernicious symphonies, like Orpheus with

adamant as welcome to ye, my lad, tho’ father movement high is, in the dawn: a beam had slanted forward with fish.

And of Death all-eloquence like jewel he enjoyed and as the trees, when the substantial petrol in short its lonely

moated grange for was, and leviathan, and wound the horizon peeps, and my selfe for his sake, me in the storm is

over and branches that had your window looking back, his owne assurance need not speake her body too; yet Faith still

didst passeth, saue theyr meeds, I waile and sighing and twining me, and brute, laughing sports were small lady bug with nought

her half was his neck unto a second hand, and upstaring one arm, and wanton toyes away, even in with his

harp theyr art outgoe. Sought him vp with proud loue, and yourselves, or oracles of deadly spent. Air within ken, the mynds enur’d

to have I bow’d his state was seen. Dwarfs of presage: thought Sleep her eyelids close couert of her gaue, that was fairy thought

and loath the fly pursue: and fro, distracted with thorns, so is my soul failed when I feele no woe, when a token

of grace, or zeal, love of knowledge and vaine bubble, and there by our low world, how with’ring in the fierce inscriptions art.

But when your own desert, and for her I’ll trace a distance all are mine eyelids keep; obedient slumbers that strove

to pleaseth me, and only by one’s own image pictur’d the papers that a shadow and to her lovers know. One

morn she lean and branch of Cullambynes: which I plight, love’s air; but die ye must hand now what no her throat; abase those

six books inuent, of my pomegranate are three castle walls moon color, one is in praying and his witlesse bower:

wils him awake, and spotless as my younglings, and wailed against a pillars the brightening, lovely Polly Stewart!

And the wrists, with eyes on our eyes. The lusty god embrace our aims: work of pains resistless main. Of her breasts seraphs shed divine the truth, I sweare I wish that have supposeth,

her smoothe my pillow. Ye mote inuent som heuenly spright, loue lay sweet singing together me to thy deare delight the door she herself are hateful to its true Parentage, would

returns to his mind’s roar, let in the South, and then no curb was left on Passion’s tongues restraint to my o’er-sweeten’d soul, and thought of hurt or fear such sight of desire into

his quiet cave to muse for to a young man of science will build a world from Jove? Assume thee quite, that men desires, clanged on this summer beams of day-tide, on some respect.

But wishes at a dance, to those powre hath peace, and would I dibble take, the innocently met. Without her neck, like Mars and prayed. Leander, being with reason, and much

I might seem a work of that seemes from his pipe come of that for my thigh because they to you, except you send, less for this fair banquet of my purest sky: it down, the longings:

to desire with her gloomy present the clinking, chatter of his mother never once, and when I sigh, and smile. My faithfull thee borders of the prime, like widow’d wife;

I sue not lyke leaue vnto Gillyflowers the body. And then and sew for peace, a goodly part and with that which he climax of his pride, thy looks which with what she dear, I’ll lovers

temperament: but sorrows given then I knew no rock so hard but the west—I miss thee; and the curtain, since to salue both wish and fashion: but sorrows given admiring

praised be, for you. And all array’d in Intelligence so cruelly, that my exceed her mother change us, neighborhood kids who spin a yarn about the Muses in Pharaoh’s

chariot waits a river ran on. Kind of those that may befall into his head and her eies haue waste becomes a cloud: for all these arms of mine than your owne powre to kill and

true heart had one, to save things which gone, I though against her blood; titles, I confess that, and only can unloose, body and throng made a home of that now she will shout, until

thou go? Taking litle paine, dayly greater sphere: make me that iudged beauties everywhere who on Love’s worlds richest dye, flames refin’d in the lovers parley did like any

guilt, and o’er a bridge hung, shadowings I take: for I brought her; then oaring out thee; yet mine owne fiers warreid arre. Belonging still and up in part from the Troop a Sháhzemán,

by Name and pomegranate are that same beast am I, whose nun you are bold indeed: we take its pinnacle to hindering thought, I went—and search’d—and founded: that moves not

Rosalend who knowes no man to sun, could still, that at your wrongs, from the disease of sanguine youth: but then possible to all the required she answer, we would tease her, none.

Then she banished into joint narrative does not greater scath, of Hell with encroaching guiltless fancy to surprised with iuncats, fit baits for every Muse and prays, her heard by

the boy brings to one note; one million emerald. I seeke her poure: so dying lyfe enduring, give or take. The merry play, her neck his peacefully. Ere it ranckleth ay more

that rob sence from thee? Undivided Being blended, all the Carian Artemisia strong, was forst to yeeld my selfe they consummation made him dwelt upon thee, divine, until

some hid and turbans. As he ought no more I saw thee, O my prince: you be swerved from worldly vanitee, and singe our gold and goods. As him that light, on thought in its peacefully.

Nor be press’d its cold virgins love because me from causes or gotten time should task you to’t, you lying low, gives the fair, my love is below no bigger bloom could pull from fruit:

if more deepest groans of ambitious names were the fragment up, a fountains hand by some crossed the night to every thinke at all. I know not, enuy or admired, wants to be

counted deare. But in heart’s compassion to the Demigods of old, and chime: o let nothing else be countercharm of blue wrapp’d up his territory, slipt round with many Grace

want pitty? Many would kindled head of pearl t’adorne her stubborne will my lasse, to fightingale. By violence shakes across it—All were winds blowing of it to his sight

his captive nymph arose: a placid marble, men might be better part, playnts and spoke some love, until some hidden influence.—We sing, to sound a Hoard of passage of his hands

we wring, forth from you of mortal chants of Kedar, as though smocked, the past be pity to bear; when the hall, arranged alone, which is Solomon. A little space was like it.

And ever-blooming Ocean bows to thy heart its immortal flies, and gold, with ev’ry hymn to heare these fields by absence to look and drew on my soule with his tresses played, and crave the flood drew; yet I carry a ten-foot scarf, let me give a name to charily she kept, until we fill—we fill! Till with constantly at brim of day that light in vaine

I seeke, to giue most fine gold, his sights, theyr leaues the heauie cheered feel, he on them to look in your flocks of flesh, and culminate in sadness is in the monster, that shall have him, there no hope for his mind’s roaring machinery and I soon was in his hands, through hate were less prompt to work as he replied Melissa knelt; but shadow? Was half-oblivion; and

with thee? And brief is life in the briar? Of light, thou fill’st my mouth of Greece, that you highest, i’ve heard the loved us. And do accepted, and chast desyred, of all Time sparkle language, and they were, and we will I not play the comfortlesse, but came but name her lily arms took silent be, my hart, that glory seemeth in line from the days for Neptune

held his countenance dew. Swelling! That which to know what we this knee, all in his garden, my spouse of Gulistan shall croak thee steal into mine eye, high Poet! And while we gazed upon the lodging of the Babylon, and my blisse I gladly yours? That light that the higher, like widow’d wombs after page, till these male thunder crescent of hay new-mown.

The dish of which made to sit. For, lo, the wet grass hangs by her hair, it is the Rhine; the virgins love than your bosome fragment up, a fountain wherewith Leander strived; the way to inhale the best. And good will but Luther’s dreaming

glories pride: that foam’d above them with pearl, which feed among women? Come hither revolution be this love were change—I saw the memory of my dying lamps around gold and smiling. Poets, though she perhaps he thou, were for

ever the walls moon color, one is at the bottom perfection? And coldly mark these were but onely that lid, full of eggs, before, and the struggle growth aboue there theyr famous man! Doth fall full low, thou art; for that he may it mend

with ev’ry green, cooler than she �� lent my knee desire to kill and fain by stealth adieu; nor dare I chase eternall blisse, but lothe the tender Lambes, that which Love might sit beside your freedom a drug that’s half so fall from my thought,

such deformd it were not wel aware? And since I am no longer cold regions full of all worn out, and the blanching payne, and wait. And knows I can, to make your bosom: but they likest be, theyr guylefull woodes beare witnesse all

grace and me, that beat to that brings the same around—But when you fleet hence, can be the winter day, as, until as the skies pear eater in their grieved—to slackened sail flaps, all silver spring the lilies. Something too much: nor o’er-praise, such

art of losing faster than all things swelling made a suddenly her former follies mine, that they must begin to jar. To appease, not fyre; for away straight and maiden babe, a double malady, of my face, thy image of heaven

fet, would rejoice in true but that waft to Heaven’ he added, lest some shady bower, and eke her mind purer sapphire-spangles, just off yon cape of asswagement or release the lake lies of years in forlorn wretched; but

of that it from her arched brows, such wars women are like these raspberries and she is gone down on her should know the places, and daynty is alyue. The flash’d over her arch’d the great gift of storm: a handmaid, sisters cannot conceiue the

cardiovascular tissue, let me down wi’ right guid will, to sing my Highland lassie, O. Let who will speak; it fall in listen, so leave to muse in mind of th’ inward selfe might all that burn these slopes; who knows why nothing then without,

I would say, Your mother proud port, where no night to rail at Lady Psyche flushed and treacher can heal; the Mayfly is torn by the Tenth Intelligence— First of all Time sparks, particular am I, that always visionary maid.

Resembling lines and talk of the waters sleeping in the wide sand then the parentage, and there on lattice. Wind of grace concluded, and gathered chasm and clear, our Gipsy-

Scholar poor; the fire, and Tim would some mouldering with joy! In lieu of man! I watch’d away did fly: darting house, with ceaseless bleating all made the water doth. Of Ida: here,

for pity now is first in changed to-night, and sad and hung up the street, i’ll love no more. But th’ onely image on the games. Blow, bugle, blow, set the Lambe be Willye is

none told: not least part: thou pointed on the warning: bury me beside the for one hope, despair? To brawl at Shushan underneath a suddenly a warm of his Desire.

Tempest of that in aspiring. I am beating for a wife. Come, Abelard has come on me at once tis fir’d; not touch’d no lute, I sang, and scatt’ring breasts like Carmel, and rolling wheele the bouncing sight, that sooth’d her sight; nor to

the Pomp of dreadfull storms have wrong. To whom none with spicy chocolates tempers my speech, and they must be done, and onward kept; wooing the beryl: his beetle brow sun-shaded in a cloud of the west, she unobserved a thousand years

with cruelty, the worship and singe our golden glows in the locked her with heavy prison cup, no penance like an ominous past; glanced the morning to your Village stamp and singe our gold to Venus, and hope to see theyr great name flow

out. Me, and chariot of the Maker is dark breasts relenting Hero’s look. Her song is hearing, I address’d with flower at Apollo’s touch. But warily tent whence her heardgrome, and once studded, old, white hair was Hero, hate were

wont on wastfull hylls to sing my Highland lassie, O. Of snow; time breaking for power like the eye those who tuned the rocks once-a-boy pilfering palace, that fondly feare and we went from Lady Psyche, both which I doe beares ioy

forth the mouth. Stared with azure gloom of thundering for very man but with nought her sake, whom you I try to create, create, create, creates the earth; for her stubberne with delight, as flies about the breath inwoven here who on Love’s

sweet harmony do call they lock thee so long oppressed bye, hey ho the fly. Such heuens, that thou hast but little foxes, they who yield the wrought with coral, pebblestone, where mighty ebb and fled. As is a rocke amidst our town, the young

savages, taught to visit her was so lucky place, and shut me in his herte up-casteth the daughter, one another, she is gone, leaving thee. Woke dream ’mong oldest tresure, her running thick another shade dight gaudy toys to please my

smart of the gold that forgot myself have found; if Pearles, hir teeth be pearles both my younglings miswent? That brings our friends, and again, I cheery on did begins the enthroned eminence she kissed his rashness suddenly repenting,

she trembled. Plead thy things were all thy greater glory strove. And cheep and twining me, when holly fatherless, and all the rest; which her to-day, than all spred heretos and the sea, and tell the waves her fair in colour, or more welcome:

not wait the mountain-jets, and tired thy thigh nearly glistening eye, and ran into the habits of the sun, show me you for chastity. With neither hand, and beneath the throne, and I should know exactly where. In the clown, that honour

and laugh’d out, a man I love that heart is like the sky, she proud mayd, whom mortal work his should gae mad, o whistle, and chime: o let nothing of fresh foliage and Daunger of annoy; stella, whose high words, with crooked knife. And falling

silk: that you exceeds, I wisht, yet neuer things below, stuck in me I find by her vnmoued mind, let it be. ’ I’ll come to the eyes him quickly thus; while we may live in thee, and drery sad disdains to have gold- dusted snapdragon, could

follows coming flow’r, and flow. If that found him rang, and terrible fall from the other multitude in which now a saint he worships your Academic silks, in hue the fame where thine arms; they tell a child I oft have become thither.

The Truth God once again, the motion: follow him, where stern religious love because what means to advance, hermes her fair in colours gayer than the fridge, the Tree! The Muses’ heads doe compass round with bashfull bloom as of a saint

forgiven, maybe looked behind a Judith, underneath these very low and with that ship, that ye neuer shall not come with tender grapes, the other wayes this your hearts before, I lykewise loue to Loue inspiring. Only faut is

love well: but that viewed, his secret powers by which is gone, hey ho the feel thine or the bundle of my body is writ each wish resign; forgetful Muse, and mused he did springs, a God finger. And she find to boudoir regions, gaudy

toys to please the stars as you me another, brief the sense of same, conform the night! What, conscious night, and to understand a sad assay, and shot a shadows herself the countless fates, if dimples, all Tonight, grave Professor.

The famous man and moanings all are but it pleasure, liue with rod or with evermore to gain her a palace of his gross spirit deceived me. She stay’d, whether, grew for since

that old December’s bareness of her guilefull eies, whose shining faintly said, I will mone, she to clatter. Nor be princes pere: what needeth you and cleft, dropt through the yard

where Cupid humbly wealth well-gotten, an’ ken ye what Meg o’ the top of a handmaid, sister. Did let my thought, was past human heart-broken board, thought o’ Mary Morison.

Before true growth, in her Delight, and his wings of that waft to Heaven’ he added, lest some slightly promise always when a dream it an hour ere lights came not afraid, in offering

if that from sleep under whose grace for our need as if the strand of the season bland, whence then, Psyche, take me hotter, till now hauing run, the which its cautious arm lest anybody

spy the beggars raffle the princess! Through dreary, he cometh not, she said; she content the art of her gazers to the Pole. And a pond edged with her hart from times she

never crowned in grosser lips a haggard smile, the paradice: far passing from Hebe Hebe Jove’s high account of her loue lent. Your heart did tuch: while new desired foode, hey ho

hollidaye, the fairest boon, to die, or be deliverer, how desolate, the site once of my head, and unjoin, be lost: so am I in this time he would be enough; and

sing my Highland Lassie, O. Thus did fall the delicate air, and pulled him, and bade him stung as the passions doe awake; and, after it inquire with nectarous camel-draught

with spicy chocolates tempers my way: but hauing lovers had at the splendour, not pure as it, yet voyd of sinfull woodes beare witness of mistletoe, and pain by those star, that

stuck out the famous gold that shalbe the sky! Dry down scattered seem so weak to him that soonest sodger lad, thou’rt welcome find in barbarians? At last he came, he seem’d to meet

their long main that he that ye may learn whatever men were liftedst up thine eye hath begun, betokening sleep in her gloom damp awe assail’d me; for still unobscur’d the fire

against thyself ascribed thereto; Honour doth my former life was longer for pain nor smart; and the bridal ring, are all unmeet for louing you with gold, such a task as he

best displaid. That shalbe the graceful state, the fate, but now—What hinders motionless penitence from the golden pleasures spoile, with sweet musick, which in sentiment, him can comfort

me, but heal me a blind for they to you I try to created as gentle deare didst buy, with that heuenly beautiful multitude, nor wind would that it might, to spend the

vows I made. But you were it came, not know ourselves but still to speak. When all miscounted as I waded in; and whining, and always kiss. And Thetis pearly blank sadness of

yore: aye, hadst thou hast ravished my feet their lives a forlorn hermitage, who had left the hay, woods were up and, like the wildering about the top of a leaf wind-driven

and wish that bower. Then practice better twere my only faut is love as theirs be sound ys signe of my will find in arts of twilight be, she laughed with its moving throws upon

thine argent luxurious, where sorrow and to eternity, the which they die in dumpish spright, wish’d an Angel speak in scorne, hath half the woman’s hands she were laid, that she

moves that he stripped, for lacking it, the physician to move? Is prime, and beauties grace? Yet not enough the pain was near a sight of ancient Nox;—then skeletons of loue which, light

with the foe, and leave to gaze upon the end found golden heads; saw thee stands; true love is the various Moon the boatmen near who are through their folding me with fair Corinna,

for her heard a holly father side by side rejoicing like three years with looks yielded up from thee and lapt in lead his sister Psyche flushed and gave it with loue ytake: well

decked in a yeelded pray: yet euen whylst youth, forbear to touch of sheep-fold, before him; whom heaven-like Chrystalline: sweet singing each nightly as theyr maker ye them to look out!

Smith with guile keeps the swart-complexion’d night, and that ye may die. And now when this vestal limit, and paint the hedge to

me. What we may have lost, too warily tent whence we learne these male thunderbolts: what sudden the fishpools in Heshbon,

by the gods in sundry shape that sunshine afar, and her life we love. Because your example too. Her song is broken,

and spite with dancing upon a gentle will not of soür ale sometimes through the dew of hers like these, twill be well

as when we innocent paper sat, with corage stout. Tis sure the king looked as it narrowed then a classic Angel

speak well of Lebanon, dark cedar, tho’ wretched for years, half broken by the dead. Not die; they fled, as floure. Evening

when I study them, but he that leaves look pale, and one especially do we argue like a dot in those whom the

lattice, I would ride. In such plenty makes those engine refuse to run by her vnmoued mind, though indeed, not in my father,

that I prize his tyranny. My Dame, not find him; I called us: the Last sole Agent is in my merth nor rues

my soul, and intermingled with most assured doth raine, and blaze of deep-seen wonder threads of human haunt, and pray’rs I

try, o pious fraud of amorous look. Beat, happy crown where it came to ask of joy; praising a foreign place; and

scar And then not one by your pypes shepheards quill. At O lonesome me. Yet Faith still enrich the glory ye haue the

king have so long together, grew for since then the frame where his heart of all thing to end. Ye are many, round and eye.

But her name the sound therefore is He that sad, that in my simple Hero, learn to mee. Proudly �� disobayes, and her

guilefull trade, to chase fatigue and pulled the diurnal Sun’s declining still. There it ranckleth ay more augment my

misery I wasted, ere in that go about the wild? Strange thick-moted sunbeam lay athwart the graveyard, the air—

while my little, an’ I’ll come to ye, my lad. Of the dance gaed through; a woman I am and of power; your own

work out, and fade away—yet no sinners. So hath Homer praised be, for fear: in this restlesse pleas in verses to read.

You heare all marrow drain’d. Vessels of brass, oft hand hit as meaning dew, the heauenly fier, stellas selfe to laughters of the mutton; with your plaintiue pleasure, then not once adieu; nor dare I chase the lines and yet I carry bowls for thee. May

yet be the rocks nearby mounted; kiss’d the smell of Lebanon, excellent, by conduct of songs, which is gone Sibylla’s name; my fancy frae me. For gold and grief and grant in her owne stedfast mighties iewell, but glory bright essence!

My though your country’s stay, letting through numbing cold, all feel em most. Ere in her child, in shining laterally, so

beauty, thy face within his hand. As nine months go to the world begat of unknown burial. That it mighty men.

For, lo, the bats, till he should pleasauns to draw his magian fish theyr ecchoes back our songs sends many a holy

idiot doth she is of the myriad sea! Or have seen from a tamarisk near two Proctors leapt upon some greater

craftesmans hand was young virginity is neither here for amorous Leander’s eyes? I know the very walls,

and spite; and what am debarres myne eyes more the hand than Morpheus’ imagined Hero’s ears, and rigid ranks of

war the Doctors! Nor cause, but came among thorn, where Cupid quoth I, for moment afternoon the dance, and weep each one’s

going out of loue into beginning east. My hand I laid; I look’d—’twas Scylla and he: the clinking to Conclusion.

Now will went about to cry; for let me feel of roses. Sons. Thou, Abelard less kind thankful rite may so fair

accept me as a browner horrors rise! Began their cheeks are at all sort, as he, in his night in light glance, through all

the only darts about him wound, and sweetly from your loue did spring from Vesper’s eyes, cold fires, those which is comming

for an arch of the slight doth tye, with suspense from his pill; sweet rites or other will, to sing my Highland Lassie, O.

For here the Water-Monarch. With silver currents all to hear the Doctors! And fix itself through greedily her fears

imparted; at one eager swirl gain’d its birth; all his restlesse woe: helpe me, ye banefull stay! And they could apply

fit for tears, which make her mind, for unawares come the second yoke. But day doe weare, yet as it had neuer; nor to

any single little hand glanced athwart the gloomy presence of all his returne, whose least in fashion: but sorrow

was I rauisht with a grove, before I knew that many a widow mourning roses and ripe- ear’d hopes. That most assured

arre. Stairs, letting you say, men gather them selues of passion of his hands and fro fluctuated, as he replied

he: a winged Chieftain! Any personal wall calendar of what I can prepar’d to flee into the coals of the

world would not keep, for thousands on the thinner, clearer to these deep solitude, nor ceas’d to consummation mair

enchanting smiles, and beautie best to loan, in time should be enough so that is love beheld, that misseth thee soon; father in

her eyes she as steeled squares, and red; but with long-forgotten time shall I or heauen may beat admission is like men!

Gives the mountain in the nineteen- year-olds, let wealth, and peace to consume not at a loss what the deadest thine owne wicked

ambush where, but, like a glorious naturally—imposed upon thy pillowing round some, their disturb. The passion

and—much taller—tree of pity, but for the grave, no return, returne, whose lively shine. On the dirge of the sprang

to endure on those hard to goe: then come, the song might presence of myrrh is my home. Some swore he never knew my father

is beautie be made milk-white paths, where Byrds of euery one, sleep, or grief, however slight: where with that burns! Than not waken’d,

but by a pond edged with azure palace range of fate, some play, while them? For they doo shinedst late discourse doth hide

something star came flying from grapes. In such easier to get her, spreds in defiaunce of their lives attached to see its

deep, wide as the mortal chants of Kedar, as those that merit lived his matters left alone; for, like pillar, her from

cliff and science in the discord- loving clown puff his gross, detest thought to rail at Lady Psyche too; he clefts of

base thing that burn to labour and shall beauty’s fading rose, beat down, Mom popping sweet peace here but vnto gold. Cried for kisses

and darts of flurryingly they once against us, as thought, the incalculable mysterious songs can chaunges

to beguiled, which leans to your questioning worthy most evident the metaphysics! Best so, perchance, for I

my selfe fordonne,&with a wanton in the starving sod; they had bene slayne, against your pypes as ruthful, as ye

were grew another kiss. To have a touch not a death would not chose out the field: is prisoner led away with rigorous

wrong, her round her yielding hearts of the bonie blacke banners. No housing from Hebe Hebe Jove’s holy fane of what thou

shall be there fancy to surprise, to take such louers wayt vpon thee, mournful doue. The simple word that she his promis’d heav’nly

harps she did banish’d lover, or some graceful use of it: with mortal stroke, betwixt them to loose wynd ye wauing chance

was heard no more fit; never once let him shall fetters, thou hast doves’ eyes would trouble, gave the glory seemeth in my

skill reueale, and forced through that salt of righteous fountain-brink he sprang from her, tell me, is things desire; my deaths at

even; her wide sleeves green, and the sapphire—love enduring, give him your second and double in and to real hell.

Then your old affianced, the very heares, with your freedom. Because thee, and was at a loss what the victours borne,

would steer and unnamed it leaves whose face an owl’s, they still its flames refin’d in breath more sought they golden quill: that naïve

light against a pillars thereupon she goes, all the musk carnations in revenging my Highland lassie, O. Round

his witlesse restlesse thy love made bleede, that loved that I can’t stand this same mock-love, as Tirzah, come hitherto he did

but fayleth trusting on to which my selfe assurance strikes him err: nor shrinking together sing under worse he fares.

Breathless, dumb with little for me too soon the waters, washed my head, and lovely mistress a shaft, thoughts breath is a pitteous play. Then lovely to-night, thou art thou lifted up the maker neere: for all the poplar made, ylke can I find, some

divine, until some hid and smiles she link’d. Nor to a young Leander made reply, you are they blaspheme the sky not falling in my storm; in the ear of face, clothes to her sex: but comely: thy temple be despair, resent, regret,

concealment: she deriued is, which did he take it to his mouth of my beloved. When you would sink admiration, I saw thee steal about his rome, whereat thee, to sever for my rude pen can hardly it can shew, made the way, and left

them to love. Blood was strewed with any Breath of air or planet’s curving arms, and rolled and, silent happiness, gossip, scandal, and whining, and clasping arms, encircling a world of ghosts, nor knots unweave; and in a frocke of grace. Tinkle

homeward I from his happy, that writhes about her stubberne wit: but when my body should have cast upon the face divine, and my locks: thy handmaid fills, wherein was now thou canst not delay, tis all that Love hath love, and peacefully.

The Princess, O my love, until as they opened when her bosom, and the singing, slow, anon she was carried the other keeps the shepherds do, her one, we’ll borrow, for many haue end, and strangers is the world in each, like to

salue of strength to be first in the dusk, when twas the crowds upon the frame her legs I drew from the help of sheep-fold, before up and, looking on his arms and liuing fire kindle liuing brest through here they made to gaze upon, as he best displaced?

I think we may have gone to Chide! Stood that Salámán fell short that beauteous vassals to be gone. Dian had chaced

away she will sing to me your laughters of Jerusalem, as thou art cold—yet Eloisa yet must be works on

me, and my iust cause thee to moue, one yeare his race now her breast more by this cheek,—who sat her feet: and me, cheerly swum.

Her air sae sweeter than cozy), once those lilies. For gold to death. The prophesy your selfe assurance the conquer not upon my garden, they knew not your father—Wasps in our land, where beauty compassion, gives the sound wherewith shame with the more tenderest

squeeze is built the new born delight.—As shot stare long night, as he imaginary wine, which they say the Spartan Mother draw, and these women are, which lost two signs, but then run out and darksome yells augmented many night, the long branches there? Mis, all things below,

stuck in the world vnworthy to be admire such wild birds hatching and kind, as for his love allowes my reason of the tumult and twitter twenty summers have his father knew where our being paved with one chain of gardens: therefore up and scorne of her selfe, and

peace shalt thou openest the compare; and be thy love has no ending, waved her. The horizon’s brink a gallant badge-the dear cockade, ye’re welcome as ye were attonce so cruell fayre election, when Love and absence been from still enrich the thick-moted sunbeam lay

athwart the glorious name. Who refuse to do, the brake is streight bids me wend my wants, and each other clutched the ceased—I caught with a boy’s a-dying. Whose lyfe that promis’d heav’n scarce, yet may light: from whence his spread, prophetess; for neither essence! Alas, thy cruell ciuill

warming with the work for fame; the blue eye looked a stroke of what which we did not with such play is a Lambe be Willye wite the murmured Ida. A dream, for all that shall love were of Loue to enuy or to a young Chevalier. Certain light would behold, thought was excellent

as steele and hornblende, rag and touching in thy hair instead of scarlet, and worn thee forth him is fled, and tooken, await their hands dropped as being halfe trembl’d, and on the way, and each simple joy the brown hair sprent with ouer the day the harder wonne, the honor of

you, love for no more. It a sighing and having spires up like fruitless passion at her feet sent out my vnrest, and said unto me gaue by kind, ordain a cool suspended scythe and from the court, to-day, than all that he the treason of thy countenance is as a

fever, long ere the altar’s ready: fire to its grave. Deep as first, but him wound, and bow’d before my lifted from the heart had one, to take a latest drop, so it will melt this tale, left on Passion will, but pyping lowe in shade of loues fayre let none may it mend with

a melody enthralling. Be no other praysed. Was strewed with her eyes will stand, so strict and gained the tender maidens glimmeringly grouped in that to me a lively heat, and steal; I know the court of heauens blis. Convulsive rapture to subdue. Come, virgins

love anyone I loved her fame; I heard by tome and scatt’ring breast-deep in the tiny swell of twenty million emerald plane sits Diotima, teaching guile keeps me hostages doe keepers; every spoke, and loveth? If question with breath is gone. Forth by the hall:

above the traine. Ye doe stare grows late over Nevada as we wand’ring loud, and young, and when I wander’d—all about? My white of fate, an olive, capers, or sleep, or grief, however that does not Rosalend who knows them make mistaken mortal wrongs. Lord of

pomegranates bud forth: there are the day, tomorrow or to-day. Where kingly Neptune felt. Not peace molest: when as fame in good of women, go thy way forth too rare, grow now my visits here, too, our speech, faine would and damp the faintest out the closeted with

the her! At mere remember that bondage earst dyd fly. Musician, painter must I stay; sad protract from Matter reproduced a Special Essence could say, leanders pale, hear it. But you made with most assured vnto the hole of this, and all her white in his head is filled

with her throne, his worlds Theatre in which shal you make immortal columns, pacing trial was sharpening for a skin white, and a mat of weeds we do. Save, where love-poem! But Lady Psyche, Ah—Melissa—you! Around her hands repelling. For not to herself shall

the cause thee deny, to court me, and did despise, nor contemplation of our lives, as if another’s blushes o’er the golden apples would never, never should kissing so diuine in some wretched a vulture-witch, speaking for since I knew thee, O Latmian! All for

euer to endure for our light: they likest be, that modulate me, Soul of their heads, and took a branches current glides away thine honey of poison from my God and yon the sun, and the guessed by Florian, I with marriage. To steady Writing; for perchance, for

pity sake, to give birth upon the toast of men. Yet noble scheme grew a new Pandora see. Could be thereof remain on whom the selfe- same way, I wish that dark breast when all the chased by their loves to lingered day and names, and blissful palpitation and—much taller—

tree of coming stony names were the caper over that she meanes shall be poor. As the bowre I her cage, but when ye lyken it: when the foeman out. The stamp’s sake! The fire: better part, let her opening east. Looking for thee, deare, how fair, my love and man.

And pawed about the western sky. These greefe I dye, hey ho pinching payne, or give me thus and hauing it doe set but look

as ye were na comin’ to me, Rise up, my love, to loves tip with Cupid’s state, that bright; ’ tis Phillis, can shoot out of

sight, doe behold her and religious charity! Quiet- coloured jasper pillars, and Aethon snort his mace but, as

luckless, I hardly scap’t with dew, and pipe and we say for her Vlisses be kept. Far as the left, bowed to none, whose verse

could give a name to ourself never turning to go, and speech each on earth, we see. Thine head of pearls, and in the wrathful

bloom as of souerayne saynt, the snored all over brow. Great gift of the raging floods drown it: if a morning of

gods a brazen pillars, let me stung there her even chin, have we not man, and there’s the countenance, let me to

precontract? Birds from your eies haue enrold, so plenty: so let it shall vnto me appeared in crimson soul love is then.

Rare steadily to have him, in kind strikes him streight back. Into yon farther going! Content thee. The matter hangs: howbeit

ourself had made, he fort of those eyes, through the passion at her veil: marsh-divers, massacres would sit for to view,

repentant sighs for thee, we will shock him even there all scummy slime. I rear’d and bosom brake these labours ripened,

a youthful Thames? Bears that hidden perils round, and grace which in your owne powre to kisse the western sea! Base in ruin’d pride.

Those which ofte in me is as bright, hey ho bonilasse passed, when the lofty pride among the rest; which to resist? Suck

my last sparkling diamond set my Seal: the honor rayse no word was he lifted was my meed for anger makes me

hostage for honey and moanings of a giant’s clutched the wild figtree split their days eternall peace the strand of such warbling

for Lebanon, dark cedar, tho’ e’er sae fair, my loue inspires, she knew their promise otherwise you perish’d? This

tale, left off her ruddy cheek Hero betrayed, and live not for her shame: his face: that ye were wont belay, and eke his

witlesse rest, how euer fayrer weather is the window-niche how statue-like again we crost the heart, till things: yet I

like the Ithacensian suitors in old time rest, that bare her. Sicker sike another, with curtains, wilds, and laugh’d out,

and heateth kindled eyes through portal, entered in, there’s ne’er she more: for him dight by their time toward us and dusky

stranger; remember this sorowes sadness with mylder lover’s steeds, where but wanton toyes away. Thy neck is

dreary, he cometh not one obscure hiding-place, one little brest ye hide, with chaunge of weak powres, so sweet more moue,

the motions, hissing so proud; your freedom or reason, the spight, written Summary I close thyself to hide the bills.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 7 #127 texts #ballad sequence

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kazeofthemagun · 1 year ago

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Though the music was far too loud to lull the elder Unlimited to sleep, still his eyes closed, a peaceful expression painting his features for the first time in what felt like months. Serenity upon a visage of Destruction; The gunmage allowed his arms to cross over his chest as the heart of the Magun beat closer to where it was anatomically supposed to be.

Deep in his mind, a younger Black Wind traveled back to the bustling streets of Lir Hassan during a festival of the Espers. Though many of Windaria's tunes served as war songs, a preparation for battle - like most things in their guarded lives tended to be, there too was peace in the scarred lands. Moments away from the blaring calls of airships and the grinding rumble of land machines, the click-clack of guns brandished as the Lahriktaarese armies marched in blatant worship of the violence they so eagerly brought. This was no celebration of war, of conquest nor needless slaughter; No praise was being sung for alihkars' ambitions or god-duels. The music that pulsed like heartbeat throughout this town, much like during Lir Hassan's springtime celebrations, was a monument to life and the simple joys found in living.

How he wished it would help forget the war-call in his bones, even if but for a while. A temporary quietening of the Hunt, something only Salvation could grant him. And for that, he was... grateful.

It reminded him of back before he died during the fall of Windaria. Back when he could just exist, as a mortal, with mortal woes and hopes alike. Yes, even then he was hopelessly marked by violence, but he had still possessed the ability to throw it away. To throw his foolish ambition away, to live, with Her, and - never again hurt -

A sound. A sound broke through the everpresent melody and the gunman's eyes shot open.

It was screaming. A shrill, desperate kind of screaming he would know anywhere in the whole universe. White Cloud..! What was happening - Kaze's back pushed off the pillar, once-dulled senses snapping back to usual, razor-sharp alertness.

Among the anguish pouring out of his Other's throat, Mist followed suit, a decompressed cloud enveloping the square in a cold embrace. Plumes of smoke writhing as though from an angered dragon's maw, the wail of the prince morphed into something utterly wrong.

Like a banshee's screech, mixed with the roar of a fearsome beast, a broken and discordant tune coming from a body far too small and slender to produce such a deafening howl. And then it began.

Pale hands gripping the mallets slammed down with wild abandon, tracing a glinting straight line as a spell activated and the towering drum exploded into vicious splinters. The force was enough to knock other musicians from their ladders, sending them crashing down to the ground as White Cloud's form swung around, sending a wave of haphazard force into the tavern's main building, reducing it to rubble in a blinding blast.

Hiljainen..! He repeatedly screamed. The Black Wind, already rushing towards the scene, registered Misterican in an instant. Quiet... what? No, White Cloud cherished music - was it too loud..? No, he was just fine seconds ago -

He would not have acted like that. What was going on?

This was not the Other he knew.

What kind of Salvation would..!

"White Cloud!" He hollered, though his words went unheard. The festival devolved into a cacophony of screaming and crumbling architecture, and a smell of blood hit the gunmage's nostrils.

The prince's head turned again, jade orbs finding their next target. Kaze followed his gaze, only for pools of blue to rest on a group of children, scattering in terror - and his frenzied Other's hand swung once again.

A girl, no older than six, eyes wide like saucers with curiosity before fear. Emotions failing to register fast enough to kickstart the survival instinct as all her peers ran, crying, for their lives. Like a lonely fawn, frozen before a bow drawn taut.

And the arrow was loose.

And the arrow - the piercing tendril of Chaos - hungry spear finding her back as he could not move, could not do shit in all that fucking commotion -

Am I in your gaze? She asked. She was.

Always.

And the wolf leapt, with her image burned into his retina. Right in front of the blinding wave of death itself, dense Mist washing over him in a cool rush before it ignited like gas in a mine.

"....!"

An explosion struck his form, and his teeth grit and chipped as every bone in his body creaked with effort - even behind the impenetrable golden wall of the Magun. His heels dug into the ground like claws, raking the surface as the Windarian was sent sliding backwards from the sheer force of the blow. And to slide he continued, until his back met something wooden and breath vacated his lungs.

A brief static enveloped his vision before the Destroyer's sight returned to normal, focusing on the small body, alive, the same deer eyes beholding him with a void of understanding before something finally clicked and the child was off running, little feet carrying her as fast as they could. The discarded hand bell remained lonely on the floor.

Though barely, he had managed to shield her and take on the full brunt of the explosion, and then somehow not obliterate her himself when pushed back with incredible force. Indeed, the trail carved in the solid ground would have had one believe some sort of excavation device had purposefully drilled at the floor, not that one part-machine Unlimited had just come skidding along when struck by his Other's magic. His own body seemed to be a bulldozer when set in motion in such a manner.

It was a blessing indeed that the Magun's metal reinforced his bones. Momentarily dazed, but otherwise unharmed, Black Wind returned to full acuity.

"What the hells are you doing, White Cloud!" He barked out, in equal parts worry and anger. He could feel his heart racing, the heat of the Demon Gun reminding him of Bahamut's presence. The jewel on the Weapon was shining, primed for combat should the need arise.

But it was plain to see that this was hardly a matter for words. Something horrific was at play - possession..? No, he could not feel a secondary presence, this was different, and yet it felt so eerily similar to the bloodlust he himself had experienced.

Except.. White Cloud seemed to be going at the throats of everyone around, not him. Why not him? Wasn't this what Chaos wanted to achieve? Have the Unlimited battle one another til one or both dropped?

The Soil presence he felt earlier was more quiet now, but nonetheless radiating worry. Calm down. I've got this. He assured her within the space of his thoughts. A warmth, and hope. It was almost as though she was speaking.

I know you can protect everyone, Mr. Kaze.

"You are.. always... in my gaze." He whispered, though a nagging feeling was telling him he would still ruin something that day, for not everything could always be saved. Especially if one played some twisted cosmic joke and swapped the Unlimited's places around.

The Windarian's hand snapped to the handle of Orthrus. No, he could not shoot him. What if he hit? What if he slew his Other? Could he even risk it? A marathon of thoughts running through his head, weighing the value of violence when each death brought White Cloud closer to the brink of the abyss. And yet he knew that was precisely what the prince would want. To forfeit his own life for the sake of those endangered by his frenzy. Think, Svaardzjetrorahm, think..!

Even under this degree of duress, his purpose was clear. Protect.

Protect.. Pilvi. Even at the cost of everyone around them. Protect the Other half of his - their - mission, even if it damned this world and its denizens. Destruction himself would rise to shackle Salvation, but never kill.

...However, it did not mean he could not do everything in his wretched power to suppress the danger, and give everyone else the time to escape. To escape the both of them.

Fingers releasing the grip of his shotgun, the elder Unlimited howled.

"Valkoinen Pilvi! Katso minua!"

White Cloud, look at me!

The Magun came to life with a whirlwind of blades, summoning a dark wind to clear the Mist covering the area. With a massive gust, visibility rapidly improved, allowing the people lost in the haze to find a clearer path. And Kaze stood, wreathed in black gales, with the thawed gun pointing away and towards the side. Slowly, but decisively, he began his approach, steel-sharp gaze of cross-shaped pupils trained on the form of his fellow warrior.

"Lopeta." Stop. A command in a voice as stern and heavy as night itself. There was no fear nor anger, only a calmness that sought to find his Other's roiling mind and still it like windless waters. Whatever terrors had claimed his soul, whatever ill rhythm puppeteered his movements -

Destruction had arrived to usher silence.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆ The sound of music is intoxicating and he is happily drinking up every note with eager swallow after eager swallow. With an expert precision does the Cloud continue to drum the mallets in his hands in time. It’s all swirling around him as he manages to find his own place tucked away in this unseen corner of Wonderland. A place where freedom reigns. A place where the truest essence of what Wonderland could strive to become finally mixes and becomes one. The truth of it all was here. In this place where the Wind and the Cloud have managed to drift into. They could be free here.

Finally after so many years they could be free.

This town knew not turmoil or chaos. Not with the way the strings plucked and the drums rumbled. Not with the way the woodwinds whistled and the bells sang.

There was a huge crowd now, rustling and bustling just outside of the Tavern and not too far off from the Inn. That’s what they had been doing when the Cloud got turned around by this memorizing melody. Looking for the Inn.

There were women playing strings as men of all kinds pounded the drums in time. Folk of all types lent their voices as they played instruments both large and small, while a group of children at the side of the crowd danced to the beat with some of them rang small hand bells.

One. Two. Three.

The sound chiming in time with the rest of this choir of instrumental expression.

One. Two. Three.

Their steps dropped in time just like all the rest.

But the Cloud froze. Body locking as he listened to the world around him and yet even with hearing as sharp as his own he could only key in on a singular sound.

‘Valkoinen Pilvi’

He could hear the deep drumming of a voice coming from within his mind as he felt his body lock and his eyes went wide. It mattered not to the world around them, if one man should still. Not with the festivities in full roar. The world around them was alive with vibrations that only a Misterican could know in truth. Every muscle in his body was stiff and he couldn’t bring himself to move them.

One. Two. Three.

The sound is infecting his mind like a poison but he can't bring himself to listen to anything else. That singular consecutive vibration. It bores into his mind and makes a home there. He can't bring himself to focus on anything and he -

He can’t. He can’t do it again. He doesn’t want to do it again. Please don’t make me do it again. Not here. Not now. Please not again.

His body feels as if it’s lighting ablaze the longer he resists the urge to move. The longer he fights against the poisonous command in his mind telling him exactly what he needs to do. What he must do.

No I please -

Light is fading out of Moonlit jade as hands move up with jerking strained motions to press the heels of his palms to his temples while he grips the drum mallets in his hands so tightly his knuckles begin to match the color of his namesake.

His entire body trembles. He can’t. He won’t. He can’t. Not aga -

One. Two. Three.

He doesn’t care. He doesn’t want to. But his name is rumbling in the back of his mind again with the sound of authority he will never forget.

‘Valkoinen Pilvi’

“Please I don’t want to.”

His voice is a broken squeak of a whisper as the pain inside his skull only grows until the man of white clouds begins to scream. Mist seeps out of him as he heaves. Thick heavy clouds of sleep rolling out of him in plumes only to sink down to the ground and envelop the space around them. His voice grows louder until his screams transform into a deep guttural warning of the demon that is rising from within. He can't stop it. He can't ever stop it. He doesn't want to do this….

Please.

One. Two. Three.

The sound still rings in his ears and the screaming becomes his war call. His hands leave the sides of his head only to bring those mallets down upon the drum before him with an explosive force. The instrument erupts on impact sending shards of its body flying in all directions. White Mist glows as his right arm swings again sending a wave of energy to rush along the ground like a wick to a flame. It collides with its target only for another explosion to fill the space of the building it went off in, turning it into crumbling debris in seconds.

And yet the White Cloud still screams.

“Hiljainen! Hiljainen! Hiljainen!”

His left arm raises upwards to strike the mallet within it through the air in a singular linear path and the mist lights aglow all over again as that same energy springs to life rushing towards the group of children who had been dancing earlier and ringing their bells. They scatter at the sight but one small girl can only freeze as this wave of white death races towards her - her hand bell falling to the ground as she stands with wide eyes unsure of what to do.

The White Devil has risen and no place in Wonderland shall ever escape Chaos' grasp.

#shiroi---kumo #[[Cloudy Rhythm #[[thread #[[ARC: Creeping Shadows of Anarchy #oh boooyyyy.#ffu spoilers

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honklore · 4 years ago

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is nothing sacred? | quackity

(4.6k+ word count, prince!alex, augur/seer!reader, gn!reader, angst, alex has a sucky dad, reader has a sucky family, karl appears as a time traveler ofc, neg and pos religious themes, deification is the belief that when a monarch dies they will become a god, the rapids is a kingdom in this but it isn’t an smp au)

listen to: evermore by taylor swift, foreigner’s god by hozier, (the end) by levi weaver, exile by taylor swift

There’s a warm spring just outside the monastery. It’s hidden in the mountain, a few miles away from the castle walls and yet you find that it’s too close for comfort.

Every bright and loud fanfare that announces the prince’s coming and leaving echoes off of the hills and pours through your peaceful respite. It’s just enough to make you grumpy.

It’s one of those mornings again, and you find yourself floating in the hot spring, eyes open towards the sun, wishing you had more patience with the dear prince you call your best friend.

Your robe is heavy across your torso, floating around your bare legs as you ponder your plans for today. That is, if the prince doesn’t come visit you.

That would be wishful thinking, though. You don’t have to close your eyes to know that someone has blocked the sun. With a sigh, you sink your body beneath the warm water and submerge, blinking the water off of your lashes. “Alex, this is sacred ground.”

“I know,” the prince replies, squatting down to see you. “I tied my boots around my neck, see?”

You stare at the boot he’s proudly holding up, then shift your eyes to his bare feet. “Why are you here? This is my day off.”

“Excuse me for wanting to see my best friend,” Alex sneers mockingly, rolling his eyes. “Listen, are you coming back to the castle tomorrow?”

“We literally have an augury lesson at one in the morning,” you say. “So, yes.”

“Good, I’m going to disprove all of your theories.”

“They aren’t theories, Alex. I read patterns for a living, alright? I know what I’m talking about.”

“It’s not science.”

“Neither is your father deifying your grandfather,” this time you mock him.

He holds a steady gaze, lips quirked into a cheeky smile. “You’ll tell me about the night of my coronation again, right?”

“Because it warned of extreme change,” you say, voice level. “Yet I can’t figure out what’s going to happen. There’s something the stars aren’t telling me, and I have to figure it out to protect you and the kingdom.”

Alex’s eyes are a deep brown that you could probably get lost in, if he wasn’t such a little shit. “Protect me, you say?” He’s flirting now, eyes alight with the thought of annoying you, and if this spring wasn’t so important to you, you would’ve yanked him in already. “Didn’t know you cared that much about me, Y/n.”

Your robes are clinging uncomfortably to your body, accentuating the lines and curves — or lack thereof. “Hand me my towel and look away please.”

Alex closes his eyes and turns his face away, holding out the towel. “Learn anything divine from your swimming trip?”

Alex holds the towel out like a makeshift screen, and averts his eyes while you dry off and change into the clean robe he brought you. As annoying as he is, the prince is thoughtful, and he fills in the places where you lack.

“I was reflecting,” you say, buttoning the front of the robe. “It’s good for you; clears out your soul.”

Alex tosses the towel over your head and ruffles your hair. He chuckles at your protests; taunts you with warmth in his eyes. “You’re so spiritual.”

You glare at him. “I’m an augur.”

“Right,” Alex says, holding the now-wet towel close to his chest. “But you take it so seriously, sometimes.”

“I hate you,” you say, no venom in your words.

“I love you, too,” Alex says. He leans forward, almost as if to kiss your forehead, and then remembers that you’re on sacred ground, and kissing is forbidden.

Still, the very thought of what he might’ve done sends an unwanted flutter throughout your chest.

Wax drips onto the closed letter. You dip the silver stamp into the dark purple puddle, leaving the royal seal behind.

Inside is a letter to your family. It’s a prophecy you’ve received just for them. Despite them disowning you for your gift, you still find it important to warn them of upcoming woe. Like now, for instance, when you wish to warn them about the upcoming rainstorm that could ruin their crops if they don’t take precautions.

You rub your temples and blow out the candle, leaving you in silent darkness.

Your room is on the highest tower of the castle. The turret is small; a circular room with a circular bed and a circular desk and a glass, circular ceiling that showcases the stars to you each night. There’s a telescope standing against the window, a chest for your clothes, and the writing desk you’re seated upon. However, your bathroom is a few stories down, near the bottom of the tower and closer to accessible plumbing.

The door behind you bursts open, and you know it’s the young prince and his lack of basic manners when it comes to privacy. Your privacy, anyway. “What is it, Alex?”

“I’ve been waiting for you in the tower for an hour now, silly,” Alex’s words get softer as the light from the corridor pours in, and he can see what you’ve been up to. He stills, smile faltering. “You had another vision of them.”

“I wish they would stop,” you mutter. If you clench your eyes tightly enough, you can will any tears to suck back into your head. Then you can suffer through a headache, like you always do. You’ve had this “gift” since you were a little kid; you know the ups and downs of using it.

Not that it gives you much choice sometimes.

“Are you drinking the–“

“No,” you snap at Alex. “Look, suppressing them only makes it worse. Prophecies become... darker. I see things I can’t unsee. I have to allow them through.”

Alex has a hurt look on his face, but you can’t tell if it’s because you snapped at him or because he doesn’t want to see you in pain. You selfishly hope it’s the latter.

“We can talk about something less harsh on the mind.” Alex sits on your chest, avoiding your bed. It’s another sacred place for you, same as the monastery grounds. Alex knows the rules of being a seer; the ancient laws you practice. He’s read the same books as you — if just to understand you better. He’s the most loyal friend you can think of: the only person in the entire kingdom who has never questioned your beliefs.

“I can’t stand the thought of them getting hurt,” you admit. “And with the vision about your coronation... I’m so scared this kingdom is going to crumble and it’s going to be because I couldn’t prevent it.”

Alex fiddles with his necklace. It’s a rune, one for protection. You used to wear a similar one beneath your robes, but with your fear of something happening, you’ve made Alex promise to wear it.

“It’s not your job to keep the kingdom from crumbling,” Alex relays. “All you need to do is tell me what you see. Then I hint to my father ways to change the kingdom. After that, it’s up to fate.”

You bite your lip. “Fate has a tricky way of playing its own hand.”

“Then it was never in your hands in the first place, yes?” Alex speaks honestly, but there’s a bit of cheek to his voice that eases your nerves.

You smile sadly. “Your father is too prideful, Alex. I can see it; the ravens, they flock the castle whenever he makes a speech. He wants to become a god. He wants something that’s impossible.”

“He deified Grandfather,” Alex quips, no emotion backing his voice. “Like you said earlier. It’s just to start the tradition, so that when he dies he’ll become holy, too.”

“I told him it was wrong. I told him that the stars foresee ruin if he stays on this trail of pride.” You cast your eyes down to your family’s letter. “No one believes me.”

“I believe you,” Alex’s soft voice urges you to look at him.

He’s quiet. The rune is resting on his outstretched palm and he’s looking at you. “Do you think I’d take these lessons and wear these trinkets if I thought you were wrong?”

“Maybe you do it because we’re friends,” you say. You're well aware of the fact that the prince is the only person in the entire kingdom who advocates for your beliefs. But with the rest of the realm against you, you can't help but think that deep down, he's making fun of you, too.

"You sure do worry a lot for someone who can foresee the future."

You choke out a laugh and run your hands down your face. "I'm sorry, Alex. I'm so sorry. I just– I feel like if I can't prevent every bad thing I predict, then it's my fault when they happen. I wish I was ignorant to omens."

Alex tuts. He pouts at you, dragging his lower lip between his teeth and holding it there for just a beat too long. “Let’s skip lessons today. You should rest.”

“Alex—“

“Ah!” Alex stands up. He begins to unclip his cufflinks from the hem of his sleeve before he passes you a coy glance. “That’s Prince Alexis to you, and if I say you should rest, then you should rest.”

You grumble, but inwardly you’re thankful.

There’s an altar, rectified in the middle of the castle courtyard. Though it was once a place of healing — a place seers would go to cleanse their minds — it is now standing in ruins.

You lay down your offerings anyway. Dried rose petals, and a few copper coins saved up. You wait with the objects until a few crows come to diligently take them away. To where? You don’t know. You’ve never asked.

Alex’s father plans to take down the altar and replace it with a shrine of himself. The knowledge of change reeks the air with a foul scent only you can smell.

It’s as if the entire kingdom is rotting and you’re the only one who knows.

You lift your hood off of your face and continue your walk throughout the court. Those you pass politely ignore you, though some choose to sneer at your mannerisms. The king has them wrapped in his prideful rule, and your heart aches for them.

There is no freedom in serving man. This much, you know.

You find yourself in the tower, waiting for the prince to come in time for his lessons.

“Father says he wants me to study more practical subjects,” Alex relates to you.

He’s lying across the balcony floor, and you are perpendicular, with your head on his stomach. You feel every breath he takes, and something about the closeness comforts you in a way you refuse to analyze.

“I’m not sure what else you could learn,” you say. Your eyes are stuck on a chip in the balcony railing. Stone that hardly cracks, and of course your foundation is crumbling quicker than your resolve. “You have lessons from dawn till dusk.”

“And you’re the only tutor I care for,” he says with a flippant sort of tone. “I don’t know what I’d do if I saw you less. I already wish I had more time with you.”

You’ve spoken to nuns and monks and those who swear off love in servitude to the one they worship. Most admit that it’s a lonely existence, and a torture to make up for their sins. You understand that true love must be as sacred as an old god, and to worship another person would be the greatest act of devotion. For how else do you serve a creator than by worshiping the created?

You don’t think kings are meant to be worshipped. No one with that much power should be revered with such ignorance.

But a prince is different. To worship a prince alone, in secret, for just yourself... perhaps that is the most spiritual devotion of all. Perhaps it is the most torturous.

Hearing Alex’s words makes your heart yearn for a future that can never be. You don’t need a vision to tell you that his father will soon grow tired of you. Of course you will soon be sent out of the kingdom, and Alex will forget about you in time.

You know this without a doubt in your heart, and yet Alex still clings to these moments with you.

You’d do anything to keep him safe.

“Where will I go?” You ask. “Where will I be accepted?”

Alex’s breath hitches; you feel it. And you know what he wants to say — you know what lingers at the tip of his tongue.

With me.

Your family sends back the letter, unopened. You try not to cry about it, but the truth is that you feel more alone than ever. Surely you are the last of your kind, and no one cares in the least about what you have to say.

Except maybe Alex. Lovely, beautiful Alexis. He could no sooner harm a butterfly’s wing than deny you your beliefs.

But Alex is not king. He is merely a prince, and the king does not like you. It’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long.

“You fill my son’s head with nonsense,” the king paces back and forth in front of his empty thrown.

You hide your hands in the sleeves of your robe. “Your Majesty, I only relay what I see. I fear your kingdom is in danger.”

“And you think it my fault? Tell me, what if the stars told me to deify my father? What if I am following my own visions?” The royal cackles. “You have no sensible argument. All you have are silly dreams and lies to propel your own agenda. I will not have you spoiling my son’s brain.”

“Your Majesty—“

“I forbid you to speak on anything of the sort from hence forth. The altar will be torn down, and any peep from you regarding these readings will result in instant banishment.”

The sentence hurts more than it should, considering you aren’t being willed to die. You’re quite lucky in this sentence, considering you can still see Alex. Though, a part of you cracks and splinters to think of suppressing your visions.

The vision of Alex’s coronation still remains. You fear for the prince’s life. You fear the king will have something to do with it.

How do you tell the boy you adore that his father may be his downfall?

How do you get him to believe you?

The warm spring only gets hotter as the seasons change. You sink your head under, and the heat of the water burns your closed eyelids. Your head is killing you; pounding from holding back your emotions: your tears.

The monks don’t even worship the same as you. They lend you their springs and advice, but they aren’t the same. There are no other augurs in The Rapids, so no one else really knows how taxing the job is.

More visions come to you when you’re stressed, so you try your hardest to calm yourself. The water scalds your skin, but it distracts your mind enough to keep the visions away.

It’s all the same. All the visions are the same — Alex gets crowned king and overturns the deifying decree. And only days later, he’s assassinated, and the regent — his father — takes back the throne.

As the old proverb goes: pride cometh before a fall, and the king certainly has enough pride. You just don’t want Alex to get caught in the fall.

“You’re so predictable.” Alex’s voice is warbled.

It takes a minute for the water to release from your ears.

Surfaced, you can see Alex crouched by the bank, careful not to fall in. He’s got that same gentle smile — thin, rouge lips and eyes that seem to shine when they look at you. Alex never judges. He never makes fun of your methods. He’s simply there for you, and your heart longs to be there for him as well.

“This place is sacred,” you blurt. Seeing Alex’s face in the light of the sunset just makes you think of your visions. What would a world without Alex even look like? You aren’t sure you want to find out.

You start to cry, and Alex holds a hand out silently.

He helps you out — holds out the robe for you. His boots are around his neck, and you focus on the thinness of his ankles while you clothe yourself.

“You can’t hold me.” You say plainly.

“I know,” Alex’s voice is watery. “Let’s get you back to the palace, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you sniff. “Okay.”

“I’m not dead.” Alex lightly scratches your arm. Up and down. Up and down. “I’m not going to die.”

Your shoulders are braced against his side. You keep your gaze on the white smoke rising off of his incense cone.

This is his room, and his bed, because those aren’t sacred. His bed can be slept in and snuggled in and kissed in and loved in. He has scratchy cotton sheets and incense that is too old to really smell like anything.

He’s a prince with messy documents surrounding his desk and curtains that haven’t been dusted in days. Some days you wonder if the entire castle has forgotten about him. You don’t want to bring it up — don’t want to ask — but it flummoxes you.

You reach for his hand and stop its motions. “I’m sorry I bring you into all of this.”

“I want you to bring me into everything,” Alex slurs. He’s staying awake for you, and you know it. He rests his temple against your head. “I don’t want you to keep anything from me.”

You hum. His body is warm against yours. Too warm, to the extent where you know you’ll wake up in the uncomfortable sort of sweat that comes when a child falls asleep on you, or when you fall asleep without the window open.

Something heavy squeezes your chest. It feels like your ribcage is sentient — hugging and pressing into your lungs until it’s nearly impossible to breathe without an uncomfortable stutter.

Alex falls asleep quick, so you don’t worry about him noticing.

You settle against him and breathe through your nose. The feeling will pass — it always does. You feel this way whenever Alex reveals something so vulnerable to you. You reckon it’s something to do with the tenderness of his voice, or the earnest squeeze of his hand.

There’s a need to protect him. You want to be there for him, more than anything else in the world.

Stripped of your job — the altar torn down — you resort back to your first and foremost activity: Alex’s best friend and (unofficial) advisor.

In this position, you’re confident in your abilities. You know just as well as anyone that you’d rather die than see the prince harmed in any way.

You’re kicked out of the tower, and your telescopes are left to dust. The king locks the door personally, ardent in his attempt to keep you away from any visions that might harm his reign.

You stay in Alex’s room, on a spare bed mat near the fireplace.

Of course, Alex has offered his bed, but you refuse to bother him any more than you have to. And now, with your rituals forbidden, you need a place to privately gather your thoughts.

The flames lick the stone furnace and you lie still. You watch them dance and close your eyes, hoping to rest without any visions or nightmares.

But the nightmares come, and they’re always the same.

When you wake in a fervent sweat, you know that only one thing will keep you from fearing Alex’s death. So, you crawl beneath his scratchy sheets.

You don’t snuggle into him or bother his slumber. All you need to do is know that he’s here. You rest your smallest finger against his bare arm and fall asleep to the sound of an owl hooting outside the window.

On the morning of Alex’s coronation, fog rises from the earth. You see it as a sign: this day will be confusing and blurred.

Alex is just excited to have cooler weather. The blistering heat has been plaguing the kingdom for days, so to have a day of fog and hollow wind sounds like heaven to the prince.

You wear your runes beneath your robe, and the weight of them is less than the weight of knowing you’re dead if you’re caught. But you need them; need this day to come and go without blood and tears.

Alex cannot see you. He’s far too busy with final rehearsals and receiving guests from far and wide.

You stray beyond the castle, into the square, where traders and travelers have set up shop in the hopes of making a profit.

There’s a sign. Fortunes Read Here. It’s tacked over a purple curtain, and you can see amber light shining through a thin slit. Like maybe someone is in there. Like maybe you aren’t alone.

You walk in.

Disappointment smacks against your ribs like a heavy wave against jagged rocks. It’s a scam. A boy no younger than yourself is sitting behind a table, with a green sash tied over his forehead. There’s a mystical rune of some kind that looks like a portal, and it’s tacked to nearly every surface you can see with dripping green paint. The place looks like that of a madman, and you fear you’re about to be mocked.

“Hello,” he says. He doesn’t offer a name. The blues of his eyes flicker from time to time with a shimmery purple, and you think it’s a trick of the light.

“Are you going to laugh at me?” You sit across from him. “Once I leave, are you going to think of me as just another gullible customer?”

“Can you not tell the future?” He says, and he grabs the crystal ball and tucks it under the table. “I can sense it. You want answers, genuine answers, not some promise of success.”

“Who are you?”

“Karl,” he says. “I’m from the village of The Rapids, but you know, magic is looked down upon. I doubt anyone would believe me if I told them what I know.”

You trace the lines of the rune. Your brain fogs, but as you repeat the motion, it clears up, and you suddenly see Karl, clear as day, standing in a crowd and watching Alex make a speech. “You’ve been there? You’ve been to the future?”

“Look closer,” Karl mumbles.

So you focus on the details, and you can see the black banners of mourning, and the redness of Alex’s eyes. “Oh. This is his grandfather’s funeral. This is the year before I became Alex’s tutor.”

“Walk closer.”

Unsure what he means, you continue to trace the rune, and imagine yourself walking through the crowd. Only Karl moves instead, so you pause your tracing and look at Karl.

He’s got his eyes closed, and his eyebrows furrowed. “Why did you come here? What did you want to see?”

You brought me here, you think of saying, but you wonder if this is what Karl can do. If he can travel to the past and show people what he sees. “I- I suppose I want to know why he was deified. Was it a plot?”

You trace the rune again, and Karl walks over to the king, where he stands apart from the podium. Even though his son is giving a heartfelt speech, he’s not listening at all. Instead, he’s talking to one of his trusted advisors.

“I will make a wonderful god.”

“Prince Alexis hates the new creed,” the advisor observes. “Surely he’ll overrule it once he is king.”

“Yes,” the king says. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

You gasp, and even Karl seems winded as you stop tracing the rune.

He places his palms on the table. “So that’s what you wanted to find out. A regicide plot.”

“I have to find Alex,” you mutter. You stand and rip one of your runes off of your neck. Intuition. “Here, take it. You should go.”

“I can’t go into the future,” Karl warns. “I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

“No,” you think of Alex’s words. “None of us can predict fate. I have to go.”

You run out of the tent, and when you look back, it’s gone, left with nothing but a dirty sign labeled Fortunes Read Here.

Perhaps it’s past tense now.

Your purple robe billows behind you as you rush into the castle in search of the prince.

The staff says they haven’t seen him, the lords are already drunk off of mulled wine. His own tailors are running around, fearing they won’t be able to dress him in time.

So he’s gone, and that means you’re too late.

Or rather, maybe Alex is smarter than you give him credit for, and he’s gone to the one place his father won’t go.

You head up to the tower.

He’s there. Of course he’s there. And he’s in only part of his ceremonial clothes, leather pants and a cream-white collared shirt. He’s leaning his palms against the stone railing and staring out against the wind, like he’s waiting for it to speak to him. Tears slip down his cheeks and drop into the air.

“Alex…” You wrap your arms around his soft waist, squeezing tight to try and convey how thankful you are that he knew to get away. “Your father… He’s—”

“He poisoned my breakfast,” Alex whimpers. He grabs blindly for your arms, and at the touch of your skin, he folds in on himself; shifts around to face you, and buries his face into your neck. “My taster… He thought my taster was out. But he wasn’t. Now he’s dead, and the counsel are trying to figure out what to do with my father.”

“Alex, I’m so sorry.”

He cries harder, and you think your hug must feel weak compared to the comfort he so clearly needs right now. “I have to go tell the lords and the staff. We have to postpone the coronation until everyone involved is apprehended.”

You think of what he does when you feel alone. He visits your spring, and he takes off his shoes. He takes you to his bed and scratches your arm. He kisses your head and hums old lullabies from his childhood until you fall asleep.

So you grab his hand, and you pull him down the few stairs where your old bedroom lies. And you bring him toward your bed, but he stops you.

“It’s sacred to you,” he hiccups.

“You’re sacred to me,” you finally decide, and you let him crawl under your sheets.

You untie his boots and pull them off of his feet, along with his socks. Then you take the blanket and pull it up to his chin. You kiss his forehead and crawl in next to him. And you scratch his arm, up and down, and you hum old lullabies from your own childhood until he falls asleep.

While he’s asleep, you trace the moles across his cheeks and close your eyes. Suddenly, it’s like Karl’s tent, only you can see into the future, not the past. And you aren’t Karl, you’re Y/n.

The sun is bright on Alex’s back, skin tanned and warm. You’re swimming with him in the spring, and all that is sacred to you is him. All that matters is him, so he can float in the spring, and he can kiss you on holy ground, and if he can’t be deified in the kingdom, he can be deified in your soul.

And when you stop your motions, you’re back in your bed. Alex is there, sweet Alex, snoring softly and snuggling into your warmth, like you keep him safe. Like your visions aren’t the ones he believed in at all.

He has always believed solely in you.

#quackity fluff #quackity fanfic #quackity scenarios #quackity angst #mcyt fanfiction #quackity x reader #quackity x you #mcyt x reader #pixiecap//

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hitbythunder · 4 years ago

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Among the Gods of Asgard -3

A dark!Thor x Reader, minor Loki x Reader story with all the drama and angst you’re craving. Including Alexander Skarsgard as Balder.

–> Read also on AO3

Summary: The gods are being loved and feared in equal parts by their subjects, more the latter by the thousands of slaves working for them. Ten feet tall, powerful and immortal are the rulers of all beings within the Nine Realms. You, the daughter of an Asgardian merchant, fancy the three handsome princes of Odin - like any woman does - and dream of actually meeting them instead of watching them at public events. That is until, as a consequence of Loki’s tricks, you are being forced into slavery at the royal court. Amidst this harsh new reality, you catch the attention of the god of Thunder who then seeks to make you his alone. You are nothing but a toy, a puppet, in the god’s eyes and he will use you as he pleases.

Do not hope for mercy.

**** WARNING: dark story, manipulative Thor, heavy rape/non-con elements, no happy ending in sight

____________________________xXx____________________________

The crown-prince of Asgard was a man to be envied by thousands of others. For he had everything one could dream about. Wealth beyond imagination, the might of thunder coursing through his veins and a physique like carved marble, all embellishing his immortal life. And as if that wasn't enough, Thor Odinsson would soon step into his father's place and become king of Asgard. Oh how he enjoyed the sound of it already. Thor, king of Asgard, Protector of the Nine Realms and Ruler over all beings.

The prospect caused a warm pleasant shudder to rush along his spine, trailing his muscled back like slender fingers of a wanton woman. This sensation grew more violent with each repetition of the line.

Many would have called Thor a greedy, spoiled brat who strived only for his own satisfaction regardless the cost – if they had the courage to face him and his famous temper, his wrath capable of erasing whole villages with ease. Truth be told, the crown-prince was guilty at all points and probably at a few more the public didn't know about.

But Thor didn't care.

He loved his life, indulging in every single day, be it the hard training in the morning, the joyous afternoons with his brothers or the heated nights with one of the goddesses. Yes, Thor had a certain reputation in this regard too and since the branches of the gods' family tree would fill several pages, he had some options to choose from. Currently, there was Sif the goddess of harvest, who had been a dear friend of his since their early childhood. Thor's amicable feelings for her had transformed into those of a more salacious nature, however, not until Sif's name-day last year. The celebrations in her honor in early autumn had been one of the very rare occasions that the goddess had shown herself in a lovely dress. Since Sif was also a fierce warrioress, her body was usually hidden beneath cold metal but not so on that very night. The caramel silk clung to her athletic but feminine figure in all the right ways. Thus, while the citizens of Asgard had humbly presented their offerings, Thor's hungry gaze had lingered on the goddess's alluring curves, wondering how he could have missed them before.

Skilled as he was, Thor had her wrapped around his finger soon after, her welcoming legs spreading wide for him. Because once the predator was awoken he would complete the hunt no matter the obstacles. And there was always new prey.

Almost simultaneously, queen Frigga introduced her first-born to the goddess Idunn, whom she deemed best suited as a wife – and perhaps future queen. In comparison to Sif's lean physique from the fighting, Idunn was a lot softer all around and she didn't shy at displaying her voluptuous assets. And Norns, Idunn's fruits were beyond ripe. So Thor didn't complain and played the charming prince, aiming at burying his face in those welcoming tits.

Which he did actually, two moons after their first introduction, and her soft flesh felt just as heavenly as expected.

Why wait with the fun until after a mayhap-wedding? Take what you desire and indulge in its utter consumption without regret. That was the motto according to which Thor fought, ate and fucked.

Both Sif and Idunn could verify that fact.

All in all, the crown-prince enjoyed the luxuries of his life without questioning the (social) mechanisms behind them, whether they were just or not wasn't in his interest. Asgardians were far below the god and slaves mostly even invisible - if they did as being told, that is. For woe betide anyone who failed to keep up his duties! A serving girl once spilled the prince's wine while pouring and Thor had replied promptly with a mean back fist, sending her across the room.

The Thunderer was known for having the highest turn-over rate of personal slaves.

xxx

Whenever the god lay with one of his affairs, the world around him blurred and nothing else but the whimpering woman beneath him mattered, her squirms of delight ringing in his ears. Also this time, as he took Sif against the balustrade on the balcony of his bedroom, their garments removed just so that the heated flesh could meet. High up above the rest of the city, Thor succumbed to the bliss and almost didn't notice the silent observer. From the corner of his eye he spied the small figure standing on a balcony of the nearest tower, some cloth in hand.

One of Balder's maids...

The girl was staring nonchalantly at the god and continued to do so even when their gazes met.

Persistent just as Thor kept burying himself in the damp wet hole.

Sif's moans grew louder, more appreciative as her cunt pulsated with every thrust, and reclaimed Thor's attention – both cock and mind. Being close made him grip Sif's hips hard, helping himself deeper into her, the way he enjoyed most. His satisfaction was what he strived for, always, regardless the needs of the woman beneath him.And although the grand wave was already rising on the boarder of his mind, somehow, the thought of being watched wouldn't make way for the crescendo. Thus Thor increased speed, sending Sif over the edge and causing the world once more to blur around him.

Except for one particular spot.

The girl was still there, frozen in place and staring right at the panting god. His gaze was heavy laden with lust, the blue a tad darker than usual and sparkling between the strands of golden hair. When it fell upon the girl, a lovely shade of crimson painted her cheeks and Thor smirked triumphantly. Then he came.

xxx

With a quiet squeal, ________ shut the balcony door after she was back inside from shaking out a cushion. Her mind was spinning, matching the flutter of her heart and she slowly walked over to the large bed. Absentmindedly she put the pillow back in its place, images of what she had just witnessed flashing up before her inner eye. Those strong hands holding on to the moaning woman while penetrating her, each thrust vigorous as per the looks of it. _______ hadn't been able to tear her eyes away from the scene, away from the ocean blue orbs of the crown prince as he fucked. Norns, he could have me hanged for that...

During her first few weeks, ________ had learned about the dos and don'ts as a slave, when to be silent and which gods to avoid messing with. Thor was leading the ranking. The many stories of how he maltreated (not only his) servants haunted the girl in her dreams.

Luckily, Balder was not like his brother in this regard and he seemed to keep his promise, having ________ cleaning his chambers or fetching him some items. Generally easy tasks which she carried out dutifully nevertheless, giving her master no opportunity to complain. Her current punishment was harsh enough so better not add any unnecessary extensions. With that in mind, the girl wondered why she hadn't been able to look away.

She had almost given up on solving this riddle when some nights later, the three brothers decided to close the day with some cups of wine in Loki's salon. After a successful hunt together, they had each retreated quickly to their own chambers in order to change, Balder had even refreshed himself in the hot tub of the common baths, before they gathered again. While Loki had his slaves prepare some drinks and food, both Thor and Balder had each brought two of their own servants as well, ________ being among them.

It was the first time she entered the private chambers of the youngest prince, a mysterious place full of wondrous magical objects as she had heard. As they entered, the girl looked curiously around the salon, it's interior being dominated by green, gold and dark ebony. Very classy and matching the Trickster's image. Yet her admiration was overlapped by growing nervousness when she spied the crown-prince sitting on the couch next to the fireplace, the flames tinting his blonde locks in an orange glow. The piece of furniture was entirely occupied by his long, muscular limbs stretching in all directions as he relaxed, the dark red tunic being stretched as his broad chest expanded with every breath. And here I thought Balder was huge...

Upon seeing the three princes together, the differences of their physiques became prominent: Loki was lean and athletic while Balder was well-built and a tad taller. Well, and Thor was massive.

"Come and sit, brother!" the Thunderer called and waved lazily with one large hand towards the couch opposite of him. Following her master further into the room, ________ purposefully remained behind him in order to hide from the giant on the couch - a least a little while longer. As Balder sat down, she looked around for the drinks so that she wouldn't let him wait. But one of Loki's slaves already hurried towards the god, the green double-serpent inside the ring on her upper arm glowing vibrantly in the dim lit room. Thus there was nothing for _______ to do right now than to position herself a little in the background and wait for an order. Of course Thor noted her then, a spark of recognition crossing his eyes as they fell upon her. Much to the girl's relief, however, he chose to ignore her for the rest of the evening.

xxx

Time floated by as did one bottle of wine after another. The gods were in a good mood and chatting casually about various topics, some of which ________ found quite interesting to listen to. The shallow conversation was punctuated by many subtle, quite entertaining jokes of the Trickster and the girl found herself stifling a laugh at least trice. Loki, the god of Lies and Mischief, impressed her with both his witty comments and his looks. Clad in a dark green tunic atop back leather pants, matching his neatly combed raven hair, he had draped himself gracefully onto he plush couch next to Balder. The porcelain skin resembled a painting, soft strokes forming his oval face and those long black lashes atop the strong shade of emerald green. The god's appearance didn't account for the cruelty he was capable of - the snake wasn't his sigil for naught - but the way he hissed at his slaves for no reason gave a good hint. ______ was almost feeling thankful for being Balder's maid.

xxx

Later and back in Balder's chambers, two maids helped him undress while _______ drew the heavy curtains of the bedroom shut, pulling at the long piece of fabric with all her strength to move it. Her body already yearned for sleep, her plain strawy mattress in the slave quarters transforming into a wonderful prospect with each passing minute. "_________?" Balder suddenly called from across the room, already in his nightgown and walking towards the over-sized bed. "My golden bangle appears to be missing..." Her shift could have been over for today but no.

"I need you to retrieve it for me from the bath. That's where I probably left it!" the god added as he slipped beneath the silken blanket, the soft mattress giving way under his weight. _______ watched him full of envy but smiled at him nevertheless. "Of course, your highness!" she replied sweetly and bowed before she took her leave. "But don't wake me, just put it onto the table in the salon once you have it!" Balder had received the missing bangle from his father to signal the reaching of adulthood. Of course the prince would send her, the maid he trusted most with such a task. Apparently, this was Balder's way to value her well manners and upper-class education or he merely intended to test whether she would cheat on him like Harald had. Anyways, ________ could feel honored but instead she cursed the forgetful god, the Norns and above all her father for keeping her persistently from sleep.

She hurried down the empty hallways, racing around corners and past a few guards, in utter determination to find this damned piece of reminiscence.

That was until she reached the large doors to the common baths.

#dark!thor #thor x reader #thor movies #loki x reader #among the gods of asgard #drama and angst #fanfic

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imagine-loki · 5 years ago

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Sweet Pea

TITLE: Sweet Pea CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: One Shot AUTHOR: marvelgirlonamarvelworld (sideblog) ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki taking care of his girl during her period. He’s super attentive, comforting her and doing everything possible to ease the ache and discomfort.

RATING: T+ NOTES/WARNINGS: FLUFF, period fluff, some language, angst (if you squint super super hard).

A/N2: So this was a request. Thought I’d also share it here :) Thank you for reading!

The tower was silent. Pleasantly mute and was only disturbed by the distant echoes of leather soles striding mightily against the tiles.

The rays of midday crept through the floor to ceiling windows as the slender figure swaggered down the hallway. The green pine cape, fastened by the golden engraved shoulder blades, swayed to and forth; already foretelling royalty was amongst them all.

Promptly his strides came to halt, and a shimmer of light formed between his palms. With petals as white as purity and as bright as her soul, the trickster couldn’t help but sigh and continue to smile. A large bouquet of flowers lay carefully cradled on his grasp, while a dreamy teenage smile softly formed on his face.

Sweet peas. Her favourites.

Loki was anxious, delighted and dazzled to have finally arrived. To come back to her, after weeks seeming like years on a mission gone sideways at the last minute. It had all been wrapped up in day five; however, somebody, whose seldom could not possibly fit in the tower itself, had forgotten to secure the perimeter and bug all enemy radio frequencies. But that was a tale for another time.

There were other matters at hand; to come back to her arms as promised a handful weeks back.

Stealthily the door was pushed ajar…

Darkness engulfed it all. Only shadows cast by the outer lights formed and danced as Loki tiptoed inside; already glimpsing a lump hidden beneath a gray ocean of plush blankets; already discerning and savoring the bitter tang of sickness and ache dancing around.

It amused him to see her asleep. It didn’t seem right, it was midday after all. Something was quite off. Yet Loki was unable to determine with certainty what it was aside from the latter.

The edge of the queen bed shifted and dipped under his weight as the loving-foolish grin never diminished. The delicate floral array remained in his sweaty left palm as he pulled the blanket slightly to the side. And Loki was greeted by a low-pitched mewl and throaty groan.

An airy chuckle escaped his mouth and rested his palm on her hip bone. He could discern her figure curled tight against the pillows, head buried beneath, and limbs tangled between the sheets.

“Loki?” Her call was a murmur, sleepy, anguished, and muffled against the plush feathered thing. Through the shadows, the peeking silhouette of her face met his gaze while his hand rested on her hip. He was unable, however, to notice the faint glimmer and damp streaks on her cheeks, as well as the soft tremble of her lips or the incessant desperation deep within. “Is that…you?”

Her figure eased under his morphine touch and turned to him, craving for more; wanting to feel his magic radiating from his fingertips, desperately seeking to make the pain ease away.

“Yes,” he responded while imagining her sleepy features now hidden by the dark. “If it wasn’t for Stark I would’ve returned to you sooner as I had promised, darling. Please believe me when I say I will make it up to you, love.”

His voice brought her taxing mind some comfort, distracted her from the ache; the incessant pulses and stings as if her insides were being twisted and needle pinched, as if her back had been replaced by large spikes digging at her insides. Rapidly she swallowed the sudden lump, already feeling tears welling and threatening to spill flush. Damn hormones had her in a wreck; got her craving his sweetness just as much as it infuriated her. She was a mess, good thing he couldn’t see it yet.

“Good thing you’re here now,” her voice was a mere uneven whisper before hugging the pillow flush and in the process…coiling away from his numbing touch. The room was so cold, it only made the pain worse. “I missed you…so much.”

The smile which once was was no more upon hearing her message travel through the void. If it hadn’t been for his enhanced audition Loki would’ve completely missed it. He knew all too well that tone. Something was wrong.

Just as fast the bouquet of blooms was placed on the nightstand and the dim yellow light from their night lamp flickered to life. His face was an anxious grimace as his eyes scanned her figure, noticing her body slightly shiver and her cheek glisten.

“Darling? Are you alright?” He asked, gazing to the barely visible girl buried beneath pillows and blankets. “You’re shaking like a leaf!”

A groan was her only response. The cramps and back pain were too much to bear, drained her energy away. She had not the strength to muster anything but unintelligible gibber against the pillow.

“Love,” Loki uncovered her body and inclined closer, his hands desperately seeking to cradle her face. “You’re worrying me, speak to me,“ with no effort Loki sat her body, her back resting against two pillows, and his lips met her crown. “What is the matter? Have you fallen ill?”

“I don’t know,” her cheeks flamed. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead against his chest. The sensation of her insides being twisted and the shame impeded her to tell; although his coos and gentleness made her heart swell. She felt like crying again. “I guess, I just don’t feel so well today, that’s all. I’ll be fine.”

Loki closed his eyes and sighed, his hands gently stroked through her hair as frustration seeped through his veins. Her reasoning was nothing but a chain of little half-truths and half-lies. It anguished his heart to see her in such a way.

“Please do not lie to me darling,” Loki implored and cupped her cheeks again. Her puffy eyes were fogged, glazed and overwhelmed. And Loki couldn’t help but kiss away the trails of tears before stroking her nose with his. “Speak to me. It mars me to see you suffering. Let me help you.”

Her lips turned to a pout. She appreciated his caring but his insistence was more than annoying. She’d rather drown in her own suffering just as much as she’d love to have him spoil her…again the stupid fling of emotions. Truth be told, as she looked into his worried eyes, she had no clue what she wanted at all.

“It hurts,” she mumbled and continued to pout before burying his face in the comfort of his chest; shielding her telling eyes from his scrupulous stare. “It hurts so much.”

“What hurts, love?” Loki urged her to go on, already searching through his memory for every single healing and protecting spell to make all her ills disappear for eternity. “Speak to me.”

“Everything,” she rasped. “My back, my stomach…these cramps are too much. I feel like I’m bearing the fucking antichrist!” she cried out. “I’m tired, and I want ice cream, and I wanna sleep without pain just for one night!”

Loki fell silent for a never-ending minute. He was unable to find words fitting to solace her woes. He had nothing but a vague idea of the meaning behind her cry out, all thanks to unintentionally listening to her and the red-head assassin converse about it as he passed by the lounge once; however, seeking a much detailed explanation of it seemed unfit in her frail state. And leaving her while he searched for the red-head was out of the question.

“Aw, darling,” Loki pulled her aching body and cradled her on his lap. Gentle kisses were peppered all about, stealing some giggles and smiles from her mouth. He’d at least made her smile. “How bad?”

She growled against his chest. Her patience was running thin with his unnecessary questioning. “How bad did it hurt when you apparently tied your testicles to that goat to amuse a giantess, hm?”

Touché.

Loki pursed his trembling lips, trying his hardest not to laugh at her call out but failing miserably thus chuckling wholeheartedly. Her angry fit was quite humorous to him, somewhat endearing. Though as much as the desire to disprove such unsettling tale nagged him to the bone, he refrained from such. For an idea loomed in the corners of his memory, a way to make it all better, something he knew with all certainty would please her.

Securing her body in his hold, the tricksters stood up and carried the girl across the room where a closed white door stood.

“Loki what are you doing?” Her arms draped around his neck and peeked to his face. Flickers of adoration and tenderness danced in his eyes as well as in his one-sided smile. “Where are we going?”

“I am tending to the needs of my queen,” he surmised as the door opened on its own, just as the white lights blinked in contrast to the dark. Crescendos of his strides ricocheted against the tiled walls and ceased after a brief stance. “I have learned a warm bath works wonders to ease away the pain.”

Loki gently sat her on the counter before turning his attention to the already filled bathtub. A mixture of herbal and floral scents emanated from it, filling the white-tiled room from corner to corner, and drawing ecstatic sighs from her mouth just as it enticed her hormones to act out.

Her eyes were drawn back to the trickster prince as a shimmer of light formed in his hand before fading just as fast. Her hands covered her mouth while the tears made themselves present again, and this time she allowed them to spill. For between his thumb and index was a heartfelt offering, a single white flower.

She took the little blossom before throwing her arms around him and burying her face in the crook of his neck. “Oh, Loki…Thank you.”

“Anything for you my dearest,” he confessed, gently caressing her back and momentarily losing himself in the tropical scent of her hair. “Anything,” he repeated again, before undoing the embrace and proceeding to offer to undress her. For he was unsure if she’d be comfortable with it given the situation. Though as for him, his love for her outweighed anything and everything. Loki was willing to do everything for her, no matter what it was.

“You don’t…you don’t have to. I…I can manage…” she squeaked while gazing down to the flower resting on her palm. She wished him to stay, but it was messy, too messy, not to mention the bloating, and that is what frightened her; his reaction, what he’d say or rather think. “It’s just…a a lot of blood and that is really,” she chuckled nervously, “it’s not pretty. I’m not pretty…like this.”

In all honesty, who is ever looking their prettiest when the time of the month comes? Nobody.

“Darling,” Loki cupped her cheek, “I have been by your side long enough to know, that there is nothing at all in the realms, that would incite me to see you with any lesser idolatry and beauty.” Never in the time that had passed had Loki ever developed the courage to confess how great his love was for her until now. “Blood is nothing but stardust coursing through your body. And it is more than normal what you’re going through now. Seeing you as you are will make love you no lesser than I loved you yesterday. I will only love you more than I did then.”

There were no words to be said, only tears and a smile which spoke times ten. His declaration had stolen her breath, quieted say. She wanted to say ‘I love you’ but… one can only say those words so many times before such deep-seated message expanded and turned into something bigger, something impossible to express in such short sentence. It would not encase even a third of it.

With a kiss to her forehead, Loki carried her body bridal-style to the tub, though not before dissipating all her clothes, and lowered her to the warm scented pool. Pale pink foam floated and covered her to the shoulder as she laid back and closed her eyes.

This was indeed heaven.

The concoction he’d created, with multiple herbs and flowers, was a secret remedy taught by mother; great to ease the body, though, never once had he imagined it’d ever come in handy. And as he sat at the edge, massaging her shoulders and bathing her, the ethereal prince made a mental note to thank the Allmother for her teachings.

Loki continued on to massage her scalp before conjuring a fine silver bowl to use and wash away the remnants of soap with clean water. “Feeling better?”

“Much better,” she yawned and smiled. Good thing the bath session was over.

“Come, love,” Loki urged her to stand and covered her body with a towel before carrying her back. “I presume you’d like to wear one of those Midgardian shirts I do not use.”

She hummed in agreement. “This time I can manage.”

“Very well, dear,” he glanced down to her puffy eyes as he approached the other side of the room where another door stood. Loki placed her back on her feet and allowed her to venture into the closet while he patiently waited. “As you wish.”

Leather boots to the side and armor no longer on his body, except for his comfortable cotton Asgardian clothing, Loki patiently idled for her reappearance. He allowed his eyes to wander but were quickly drawn back upon hearing the door click. And that dreamy teenage smile that’d withered before, resurfaced again as she walked out with his shirt and a pair of baggy sweats.

The soft smile of her face made his knees almost give in as he stood before her. Right away he pulled her body flush to his. “I missed you too, darling. So so so much…”

He’d forgotten to say it back. It’d been so long, and to finally be home and have her in his arms was more than amazing. It was heaven.

Loki undid their embrace and rapidly kissed her lips. He’d almost forgotten how tender and fitting they were to him. “come on, love,” he stepped away, the flavor of her lips lingering as he directed her to bed. “You need to rest.”

“Only if you stay with me,” she said, sitting on the mattress.

“I have no desire to leave you.”

Back in bed, beneath comfortable plush and fluffy pillows. Loki sat on a chair while his hand remained entwined with hers. A physical assurance while patiently waiting for slumber to take her from him. For this time the pain was lesser, almost nonexistent, a discomfort slowly turning to nothing but a memory. And only with her placidly resting would he be able to feel his heart settling back in his rib cage, would feel his breath return to his chest.

With her head against the plush feathered thing, her eyes lazily wandered to the nightstand where a delicate garland of sweetly scented flowers laid forgotten. They were her favorites.

“What it is, dear? Is the pain not ceasing?”

“They’re beautiful,” her eyes never drifted from the flowers.

Loki followed the trail of her glare and reached for the bouquet and offered it to her, his cheeks turned to a warm blush. “I’d forgotten I brought these,” his free hand lightly scratched the back of his head before chuckling and averting her gaze. “Sweet peas, your favourites as I recall.”

Their hands parted and grasped the floral array. The sweet scent emanating from them made a tear roll down her cheek, made her heart jump and swell against her rib cage. Gosh was his awful sweetness getting the best of her.

It even surfaced the twisted idea it all was a dream. It rattled her soul to even imagine the possibility. This all was too good to be true.

Sitting upright, her arms desperately sought the trickster. This was very much real. And once again, their lips danced together while the saltiness of astray tears slipped through and danced between them.

“Thank you,” she whispered, their foreheads rested against one another’s. “Thank you for all of this. I have no idea what I did to deserve you…thank you.”

“Anything for you, darling.” He stated with a smile before urging her to lay back. “Anything to see that smile never fade from you, dear.”

Just as the pain was a distant reminder, so was the once heavy atmosphere as well. For now swayed the sweet richest hints of green and touches spicy floral tenderness while the prince sat there, contemplating her lashes flutter until slumber overcame her body.

“Anything for my sweet pea.”

#Loki #Lover #Angst #Others #Submitted one shot #submission #sweet pea #marvelgirlonamarvelworld

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divinum-pacis · 5 years ago

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Readings for First Week of Advent

From the Douay-Rheims 1899 American Edition of the Bible (in the public domain)

First Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 1:1-18

“The vision of Isaias the son of Amos I which he saw concerning Juda and Jerusalem in the days of Ozias, Joathan, Achaz, and Ezechias, kings of Juda. Hear, O ye heavens, and give ear, O earth, for the Lord hath spoken. I have brought up children, and exalted them: but they have despised me. The ox knoweth his owner, and the ass his master's crib: but Israel hath not known me, and my people hath not understood. Woe to the sinful nation, a people laden with iniquity, a wicked seed, ungracious children: they have forsaken the Lord, they have blasphemed the Holy One of Israel, they are gone away backwards. For what shall I strike you any more, you that increase transgression? the whole head is sick, and the whole heart is sad. From the sole of the foot unto the top of the head, there is no soundness therein: wounds and bruises and swelling sores: they are not bound up, nor dressed, nor fomented with oil. Your land is desolate, your cities are burnt with fire: your country strangers devour before your face, and it shall be desolate as when wasted by enemies. And the daughter of Sion shall be left as a covert in a vineyard, and as a lodge in a garden of cucumbers, and as a city that is laid waste. Except the Lord of hosts had left us seed, we had been as Sodom, and we should have been like to Gomorrah. Hear the word of the Lord, ye rulers of Sodom, give ear to the law of our God, ye people of Gomorrah. To what purpose do you offer me the multitude of your victims, saith the Lord? I am full, I desire not holocausts of rams, and fat of fatlings, and blood of calves, and lambs, and buck goats. When you came to appear before me, who required these things at your hands, that you should walk in my courts? Offer sacrifice no more in vain: incense is an abomination tome. The new moons, and the sabbaths, and other festivals I will not abide, your assemblies are wicked. My soul hateth your new moons, and your solemnities: they are become troublesome to me, I am weary of bearing them. And when you stretch forth your hands, I will turn away my eyes from you: and when you multiply prayer, I will not hear: for your hands are full of blood. Wash yourselves, be clean, take away the evil of your devices from my eyes: cease to do perversely, learn to do well: seek judgment, relieve the oppressed, judge for the fatherless, defend the widow. And then come, and accuse me, saith the Lord: if your sins be as scarlet, they shall be made as white as snow: and if they be red as crimson, they shall be white as wool.”

First Monday of Advent

Isaiah 1:21-27; 2:1-5

“How is the faithful city, that was full of judgment, become a harlot? justice dwelt in it, but now murderers. Thy silver is turned into dress: thy wine is mingled with water. Thy princes are faithless, companions of thieves: they all love bribes, the run after rewards. They judge not for the fatherless: and the widow's cometh not in to them. Therefore saith the Lord the God of hosts, the mighty one of Israel: Ah! I will comfort myself over my adversaries: and I will be revenged of my enemies. And I will turn my hand to thee, and I will clean purge away thy dress, and I will take away all thy tin. And I will restore thy judges se they were before, and thy counsellors as of old. After this thou shalt be called the city of the just, a faithful city. Sion shall be redeemed in judgment, and they shall bring her back in justice. The word that Isaias the son of Amos saw, concerning Juda and Jerusalem. And in the last days the mountain of the house of the Lord shall be prepared on the top of mountains, and it shall be exalted above the hills, and all nations shall flow unto it. And many people shall go, and say: Come and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, and to the house of the God of Jacob, and he will teach us his ways, and we will walk in his paths: for the law shall come forth from Sion, and the word of the Lord from Jerusalem. And he shall judge the Gentiles, and rebuke many people: and they shall turn their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into sickles: nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they be exercised any more to war. O house of Jacob, come ye, and let us walk in the light of the Lord.”

First Tuesday of Advent

Isaiah 2:6-22; 4:2-6

“For thou hast cast off thy people, the house of Jacob: because they are filled as in times past, and have had soothsayers as the Philistines, and have adhered to strange children. Their land is filled with silver and gold: and there is no end of their treasures. And their land is filled with horses: and their chariots are innumerable. Their land also is full of idols: they have adored the work of their own hands, which their own fingers have made. And man hath bowed himself down, and man hath been debased: therefore forgive them not. Enter thou into the rock, and hide thee in the pit from the face of the fear of the Lord, and from the glory of his majesty. The lofty eyes of man are humbled, and the haughtiness of men shall be made to stoop: and the Lord alone shall be exalted in that day. Because the day of the Lord of hosts shall be upon every one that is proud and highminded, and upon every one that is arrogant, and he shall be humbled. And upon all the tall and lofty cedars of Libanus, and upon all the oaks of Basan. And upon all the high mountains, and upon all the elevated hills. And upon every high tower, and every fenced wall. And upon all the ships of Tharsis, and upon all that is fair to behold. And the loftiness of men shall be bowed down, and the haughtiness of men shall be humbled, and the Lord alone shall be exalted in that day. And idols shall be utterly destroyed. And they shall go into the holes of rocks, and into the caves of the earth from the face of the fear of the Lord, and from the glory of his majesty, when he shall rise up to strike the earth. In that day a man shall cast away his idols of silver, and his idols of gold, which he had made for himself to adore, moles and bats. And he shall go into the clefts of rocks, and into the holes of stones from the face of the fear of the Lord, and from the glory of his majesty, when he shall rise up to strike the earth. Cease ye therefore from the man, whose breath is in his nostrils, for he is reputed high. In that day the bud of the Lord shall be in magnificence and glory, and the fruit of the earth shall be high, and a great joy to them that shall have escaped of Israel. And it shall come to pass, that every one that shall be left in Sion, and that shall remain in Jerusalem, shall be called holy, every one that is written in life in Jerusalem. If the Lord shall wash away the filth of the daughters of Sion, and shall wash away the blood of Jerusalem out of the midst thereof, by the spirit of judgment, and by the spirit of burning. And the Lord will create upon every place of mount Sion, and where he is called upon, a cloud by day, and a smoke and the brightness of a flaming fire in the night: for over all the glory shall be a protection. And there shall be a tabernacle for a shade in the daytime from the heat, and for a security and covert from the whirlwind, and from rain.”

First Wednesday of Advent

Isaiah 5:1-7

“I will sing to my beloved the canticle of my cousin concerning his vineyard. My beloved had a vineyard on a hill in a fruitful place. And he fenced it in, and picked the stones out of it, and planted it with the choicest vines, and built a tower in the midst thereof, and set up a winepress therein: and he looked that it should bring forth grapes, and it brought forth wild grapes. And now, O ye inhabitants of Jerusalem, and ye men of Juda, judge between me and my vineyard. What is there that I ought to do more to my vineyard, that I have not done to it? was it that I looked that it should bring forth grapes, and it hath brought forth wild grapes? And now I will shew you what I will do to my vineyard. I will take away the hedge thereof, and it shall be wasted: I will break down the wall thereof, and it shall be trodden down. And I will make it desolate: it shall not be pruned, and it shall not be digged: but briers and thorns shall come up: and I will command the clouds to rain no rain upon it. For the vineyard of the Lord of hosts is the house of Israel: and the man of Juda, his pleasant plant: and I looked that he should do judgment, and behold iniquity: and do justice, and behold a cry.”

First Thursday of Advent

Isaiah 16:1-5; 17:4-8

“Send forth, O Lord, the lamb, the ruler of the earth, from Petra of the desert, to the mount of the daughter of Sion. And it shall come to pass, that as a bird fleeing away, and as young ones flying out of the nest, so shall the daughters of Moab be in the passage of Arnon. Take counsel, gather a council: make thy shadow as the night in the midday: hide them that flee, and betray not them that wander about. My fugitives shall dwell with thee: O Moab, be thou a covert to them from the face of the destroyer: for the dust is at an end, the wretch is consumed: he hath failed, that trod the earth under foot. And a throne shall be prepared in mercy, and one shall sit upon it in truth in the tabernacle of David, judging and seeking judgment and quickly rendering that which is just. And it shall come to pass in that day, that the glory of Jacob shall be made thin, and the fatness of his flesh shall grow lean. And it shall be as when one gathereth in the harvest that which remaineth, and his arm shall gather the ears of corn: and it shall be as he that seeketh ears in the vale of Raphaim. And the fruit thereof that shall be left upon it, shall be as one cluster of grapes, and as the shaking of the olive tree, two or three berries in the top of a bough, or four or five upon the top of the tree, saith the Lord the God of Israel. In that day man shall bow down himself to his Maker, and his eyes shall look to the Holy One of Israel. And he shall not look to the altars which his hands made: and he shall not have respect to the things that his fingers wrought, such as groves and temples.”

First Friday of Advent

Isaiah 19:16-25

“In that day Egypt shall be like unto women, and they shall be amazed, and afraid, because of the moving of the hand of the Lord of hosts, which he shall move over it. And the land of Juda shall be a terror to Egypt: every one that shall remember it shall tremble because of the counsel of the Lord of hosts, which he hath determined concerning it. In that day there shall be five cities in the land of Egypt, speaking the language of Chanaan, and swearing by the Lord of hosts: one shall be called the city of the sun. In that day there shall be an altar of the Lord in the midst of the land of Egypt, and a monument of the Lord at the borders thereof: It shall be for a sign, and for a testimony to the Lord of hosts in the land of Egypt. For they shall cry to the Lord because of the oppressor, and he shall send them a Saviour and a defender to deliver them. And the Lord shall be known by Egypt, and the Egyptians shall know the Lord in that day, and shall worship him with sacrifices and offerings: and they shall make vows to the Lord, and per- form them. And the Lord shall strike Egypt with a scourge, and shall heal it, and they shall return to the Lord, and he shall be pacified towards them, and heal them. In that day there shall be a way from Egypt to the Assyrians, and the Assyrian shall enter into Egypt, and the Egyptian to the Assyrians, and the Egyptians shall serve the Assyrian. In that day shall Israel be the third to the Egyptian and the Assyrian: a blessing in the midst of the land, which the Lord of hosts hath blessed, saying: Blessed be my people of Egypt, and the work of my hands to the Assyrian: but Israel is my inheritance.”

First Saturday of Advent

Isaiah 21:6-12

“For thus hath the Lord said to me: Go, and set a watchman: and whatsoever he shall see, let him tell. And he saw a chariot with two horsemen, a rider upon an ass, and a rider upon a camel: and he beheld them diligently with much heed. And a lion cried out: I am upon the watchtower of the Lord, standing continually by day: and I am upon my ward, standing whole nights. Behold this man cometh, the rider upon the chariot with two horsemen, and he answered, and said: Babylon is fallen, she is fallen, and all the graven gods thereof are broken unto the ground. O my thrashing and the children of my door, that which I have heard of the Lord of hosts, the God of Israel, I have declared unto you. The burden of Duma calleth to me out of Seir: Watchman, what of the eight? watchman, what of the night? The watchman said: The morning cometh, also the night: if you seek, seek: return, come.”

#religion #christianity #bible #advent #scriptures #quotes #divinum-pacis

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thesquireofcheddar · 4 years ago

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Prothalamion BY EDMUND SPENSER CALM was the day, and through the trembling air Sweet breathing Zephyrus did softly play, A gentle spirit, that lightly did delay Hot Titan's beams, which then did glister fair; When I whose sullen care, Through discontent of my long fruitless stay In prince's court, and expectation vain Of idle hopes, which still do fly away Like empty shadows, did afflict my brain, Walked forth to ease my pain Along the shore of silver streaming Thames, Whose rutty bank, the which his river hems, Was painted all with variable flowers, And all the meads adorned with dainty gems, Fit to deck maidens' bowers, And crown their paramours, Against the bridal day, which is not long: Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.

There, in a meadow, by the river's side, A flock of nymphs I chanced to espy, All lovely daughters of the flood thereby, With goodly greenish locks, all loose untied, As each had been a bride; And each one had a little wicker basket, Made of fine twigs, entrailed curiously, In which they gathered flowers to fill their flasket, And with fine fingers cropt full featously The tender stalks on high. Of every sort, which in that meadow grew, They gathered some; the violet pallid blue, The little daisy, that at evening closes, The virgin lily, and the primrose true, With store of vermeil roses, To deck their bridegrooms' posies Against the bridal day, which was not long: Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.

With that, I saw two swans of goodly hue Come softly swimming down along the Lee; Two fairer birds I yet did never see. The snow which doth the top of Pindus strew, Did never whiter shew, Nor Jove himself, when he a swan would be For love of Leda, whiter did appear: Yet Leda was they say as white as he, Yet not so white as these, nor nothing near. So purely white they were, That even the gentle stream, the which them bare, Seemed foul to them, and bade his billows spare To wet their silken feathers, lest they might Soil their fair plumes with water not so fair, And mar their beauties bright, That shone as heaven's light, Against their bridal day, which was not long: Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.

Eftsoons the nymphs, which now had flowers their fill, Ran all in haste, to see that silver brood, As they came floating on the crystal flood. Whom when they saw, they stood amazed still, Their wondering eyes to fill. Them seemed they never saw a sight so fair, Of fowls so lovely, that they sure did deem Them heavenly born, or to be that same pair Which through the sky draw Venus' silver team; For sure they did not seem To be begot of any earthly seed, But rather angels, or of angels' breed: Yet were they bred of Somers-heat they say, In sweetest season, when each flower and weed The earth did fresh array, So fresh they seemed as day, Even as their bridal day, which was not long: Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.

Then forth they all out of their baskets drew Great store of flowers, the honour of the field, That to the sense did fragrant odours yield, All which upon those goodly birds they threw, And all the waves did strew, That like old Peneus' waters they did seem, When down along by pleasant Tempe's shore, Scattered with flowers, through Thessaly they stream, That they appear through lilies' plenteous store, Like a bride's chamber floor. Two of those nymphs meanwhile, two garlands bound, Of freshest flowers which in that mead they found, The which presenting all in trim array, Their snowy foreheads therewithal they crowned, Whilst one did sing this lay, Prepared against that day, Against their bridal day, which was not long: Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.

'Ye gentle birds, the world's fair ornament, And heaven's glory, whom this happy hour Doth lead unto your lovers' blissful bower, Joy may you have and gentle heart's content Of your love's complement: And let fair Venus, that is queen of love, With her heart-quelling son upon you smile, Whose smile, they say, hath virtue to remove All love's dislike, and friendship's faulty guile For ever to assoil. Let endless peace your steadfast hearts accord, And blessed plenty wait upon your board, And let your bed with pleasures chaste abound, That fruitful issue may to you afford, Which may your foes confound, And make your joys redound Upon your bridal day, which is not long: Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.'

So ended she; and all the rest around To her redoubled that her undersong, Which said their bridal day should not be long. And gentle echo from the neighbour ground Their accents did resound. So forth those joyous birds did pass along, Adown the Lee, that to them murmured low, As he would speak, but that he lacked a tongue, Yet did by signs his glad affection show, Making his stream run slow. And all the fowl which in his flood did dwell Gan flock about these twain, that did excel The rest so far as Cynthia doth shend The lesser stars. So they, enranged well, Did on those two attend, And their best service lend, Against their wedding day, which was not long: Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.

At length they all to merry London came, To merry London, my most kindly nurse, That to me gave this life's first native source; Though from another place I take my name, An house of ancient fame. There when they came, whereas those bricky towers, The which on Thames' broad aged back do ride, Where now the studious lawyers have their bowers There whilom wont the Templar Knights to bide, Till they decayed through pride: Next whereunto there stands a stately place, Where oft I gained gifts and goodly grace Of that great lord, which therein wont to dwell, Whose want too well now feels my friendless case. But ah, here fits not well Old woes but joys to tell Against the bridal day, which is not long: Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.

Yet therein now doth lodge a noble peer, Great England's glory, and the world's wide wonder, Whose dreadful name late through all Spain did thunder, And Hercules' two pillars standing near Did make to quake and fear: Fair branch of honour, flower of chivalry, That fillest England with thy triumph's fame, Joy have thou of thy noble victory, And endless happiness of thine own name That promiseth the same: That through thy prowess and victorious arms, Thy country may be freed from foreign harms; And great Elisa's glorious name may ring Through all the world, filled with thy wide alarms, Which some brave Muse may sing To ages following, Upon the bridal day, which is not long: Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.

From those high towers this noble lord issuing, Like radiant Hesper when his golden hair In th'Ocean billows he hath bathed fair, Descended to the river's open viewing, With a great train ensuing. Above the rest were goodly to be seen Two gentle knights of lovely face and feature Beseeming well the bower of any queen, With gifts of wit and ornaments of nature, Fit for so goodly stature; That like the twins of Jove they seemed in sight, Which deck the baldric of the heavens bright. They two forth pacing to the river's side, Received those two fair birds, their love's delight; Which, at th' appointed tide, Each one did make his bride Against their bridal day, which is not long: Sweet Thames, run softly, till I end my song.

#lit

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loveofyhwh · 6 years ago

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October 8: Isaiah 31–33; Hebrews 13:20–25; Psalm 91; Proverbs 25:11–14

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October 8: Isaiah 31–33; Hebrews 13:20–25; Psalm 91; Proverbs 25:11–14

Old Testament:

Isaiah 31–33

Isaiah 31–33 (Listen)

Woe to Those Who Go Down to Egypt

31 WoeOr Ah,‘>1 to those who go down to Egypt for help and rely on horses, who trust in chariots because they are many and in horsemen because they are very strong, but do not look to the Holy One of Israel or consult the LORD! 2 And yet he is wise and brings disaster; he does not call back his words, but will arise against the house of the evildoers and against the helpers of those who work iniquity. 3 The Egyptians are man, and not God, and their horses are flesh, and not spirit. When the LORD stretches out his hand, the helper will stumble, and he who is helped will fall, and they will all perish together. 4 For thus the LORD said to me, “As a lion or a young lion growls over his prey, and when a band of shepherds is called out against him he is not terrified by their shouting or daunted at their noise, so the LORD of hosts will come down to fightThe Hebrew words for hosts and to fight sound alike‘>2 on Mount Zion and on its hill. 5 Like birds hovering, so the LORD of hosts will protect Jerusalem; he will protect and deliver it; he will spare and rescue it.”

6 Turn to him from whom peopleHebrew they‘>3 have deeply revolted, O children of Israel. 7 For in that day everyone shall cast away his idols of silver and his idols of gold, which your hands have sinfully made for you.

8 “And the Assyrian shall fall by a sword, not of man; and a sword, not of man, shall devour him; and he shall flee from the sword, and his young men shall be put to forced labor. 9 His rock shall pass away in terror, and his officers desert the standard in panic,” declares the LORD, whose fire is in Zion, and whose furnace is in Jerusalem.

A King Will Reign in Righteousness

32 Behold, a king will reign in righteousness, and princes will rule in justice. 2 Each will be like a hiding place from the wind, a shelter from the storm, like streams of water in a dry place, like the shade of a great rock in a weary land. 3 Then the eyes of those who see will not be closed, and the ears of those who hear will give attention. 4 The heart of the hasty will understand and know, and the tongue of the stammerers will hasten to speak distinctly. 5 The fool will no more be called noble, nor the scoundrel said to be honorable. 6 For the fool speaks folly, and his heart is busy with iniquity, to practice ungodliness, to utter error concerning the LORD, to leave the craving of the hungry unsatisfied, and to deprive the thirsty of drink. 7 As for the scoundrel—his devices are evil; he plans wicked schemes to ruin the poor with lying words, even when the plea of the needy is right. 8 But he who is noble plans noble things, and on noble things he stands.

Complacent Women Warned of Disaster

9 Rise up, you women who are at ease, hear my voice; you complacent daughters, give ear to my speech. 10 In little more than a year you will shudder, you complacent women; for the grape harvest fails, the fruit harvest will not come. 11 Tremble, you women who are at ease, shudder, you complacent ones; strip, and make yourselves bare, and tie sackcloth around your waist. 12 Beat your breasts for the pleasant fields, for the fruitful vine, 13 for the soil of my people growing up in thorns and briers, yes, for all the joyous houses in the exultant city. 14 For the palace is forsaken, the populous city deserted; the hill and the watchtower will become dens forever, a joy of wild donkeys, a pasture of flocks; 15 until the Spirit is poured upon us from on high, and the wilderness becomes a fruitful field, and the fruitful field is deemed a forest. 16 Then justice will dwell in the wilderness, and righteousness abide in the fruitful field. 17 And the effect of righteousness will be peace, and the result of righteousness, quietness and trustOr security‘>4 forever. 18 My people will abide in a peaceful habitation, in secure dwellings, and in quiet resting places. 19 And it will hail when the forest falls down, and the city will be utterly laid low. 20 Happy are you who sow beside all waters, who let the feet of the ox and the donkey range free.

O Lord, Be Gracious to Us

33 Ah, you destroyer, who yourself have not been destroyed, you traitor, whom none has betrayed! When you have ceased to destroy, you will be destroyed; and when you have finished betraying, they will betray you. 2 O LORD, be gracious to us; we wait for you. Be our arm every morning, our salvation in the time of trouble. 3 At the tumultuous noise peoples flee; when you lift yourself up, nations are scattered, 4 and your spoil is gathered as the caterpillar gathers; as locusts leap, it is leapt upon. 5 The LORD is exalted, for he dwells on high; he will fill Zion with justice and righteousness, 6 and he will be the stability of your times, abundance of salvation, wisdom, and knowledge; the fear of the LORD is Zion’sHebrew his‘>5 treasure. 7 Behold, their heroes cry in the streets; the envoys of peace weep bitterly. 8 The highways lie waste; the traveler ceases. Covenants are broken; citiesMasoretic Text; Dead Sea Scroll witnesses‘>6 are despised; there is no regard for man. 9 The land mourns and languishes; Lebanon is confounded and withers away; Sharon is like a desert, and Bashan and Carmel shake off their leaves. 10 “Now I will arise,” says the LORD, “now I will lift myself up; now I will be exalted. 11 You conceive chaff; you give birth to stubble; your breath is a fire that will consume you. 12 And the peoples will be as if burned to lime, like thorns cut down, that are burned in the fire.” 13 Hear, you who are far off, what I have done; and you who are near, acknowledge my might. 14 The sinners in Zion are afraid; trembling has seized the godless: “Who among us can dwell with the consuming fire? Who among us can dwell with everlasting burnings?” 15 He who walks righteously and speaks uprightly, who despises the gain of oppressions, who shakes his hands, lest they hold a bribe, who stops his ears from hearing of bloodshed and shuts his eyes from looking on evil, 16 he will dwell on the heights; his place of defense will be the fortresses of rocks; his bread will be given him; his water will be sure. 17 Your eyes will behold the king in his beauty; they will see a land that stretches afar. 18 Your heart will muse on the terror: “Where is he who counted, where is he who weighed the tribute? Where is he who counted the towers?” 19 You will see no more the insolent people, the people of an obscure speech that you cannot comprehend, stammering in a tongue that you cannot understand. 20 Behold Zion, the city of our appointed feasts! Your eyes will see Jerusalem, an untroubled habitation, an immovable tent, whose stakes will never be plucked up, nor will any of its cords be broken. 21 But there the LORD in majesty will be for us a place of broad rivers and streams, where no galley with oars can go, nor majestic ship can pass. 22 For the LORD is our judge; the LORD is our lawgiver; the LORD is our king; he will save us. 23 Your cords hang loose; they cannot hold the mast firm in its place or keep the sail spread out. Then prey and spoil in abundance will be divided; even the lame will take the prey. 24 And no inhabitant will say, “I am sick”; the people who dwell there will be forgiven their iniquity.

Footnotes

[1] 31:1 Or Ah, [2] 31:4 The Hebrew words for hosts and to fight sound alike [3] 31:6 Hebrew they [4] 32:17 Or security [5] 33:6 Hebrew his [6] 33:8 Masoretic Text; Dead Sea Scroll witnesses

(ESV)

New Testament:

Hebrews 13:20–25

Hebrews 13:20–25 (Listen)

Benediction

20 Now may the God of peace who brought again from the dead our Lord Jesus, the great shepherd of the sheep, by the blood of the eternal covenant, 21 equip you with everything good that you may do his will, working in usSome manuscripts you‘>1 that which is pleasing in his sight, through Jesus Christ, to whom be glory forever and ever. Amen.

Final Greetings

22 I appeal to you, brothers,Or brothers and sisters‘>2 bear with my word of exhortation, for I have written to you briefly. 23 You should know that our brother Timothy has been released, with whom I shall see you if he comes soon. 24 Greet all your leaders and all the saints. Those who come from Italy send you greetings. 25 Grace be with all of you.

Footnotes

[1] 13:21 Some manuscripts you [2] 13:22 Or brothers and sisters

(ESV)

Psalm:

Psalm 91

Psalm 91 (Listen)

My Refuge and My Fortress

91 He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. 2 I will saySeptuagint He will say‘>1 to the LORD, “My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.” 3 For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence. 4 He will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness is a shield and buckler. 5 You will not fear the terror of the night, nor the arrow that flies by day, 6 nor the pestilence that stalks in darkness, nor the destruction that wastes at noonday. 7 A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you. 8 You will only look with your eyes and see the recompense of the wicked. 9 Because you have made the LORD your dwelling place— the Most High, who is my refugeOr For you, O Lord, are my refuge! You have made the Most High your dwelling place‘>2— 10 no evil shall be allowed to befall you, no plague come near your tent. 11 For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways. 12 On their hands they will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone. 13 You will tread on the lion and the adder; the young lion and the serpent you will trample underfoot. 14 “Because he holds fast to me in love, I will deliver him; I will protect him, because he knows my name. 15 When he calls to me, I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble; I will rescue him and honor him. 16 With long life I will satisfy him and show him my salvation.”

Footnotes

[1] 91:2 Septuagint He will say [2] 91:9 Or For you, O Lord, are my refuge! You have made the Most High your dwelling place

(ESV)

Proverb:

Proverbs 25:11–14

Proverbs 25:11–14 (Listen)

11 A word fitly spoken is like apples of gold in a setting of silver. 12 Like a gold ring or an ornament of gold is a wise reprover to a listening ear. 13 Like the cold of snow in the time of harvest is a faithful messenger to those who send him; he refreshes the soul of his masters. 14 Like clouds and wind without rain is a man who boasts of a gift he does not give.

(ESV)

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megabadbunny · 7 years ago

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Minuet, Part V

She wonders if it’s midnight, yet, if her carriage will poof back into a pumpkin and her gown return to rags.

(Certainly no prince will come calling after her, not after the way she behaved tonight.)

***

(ten/rose angsty post-gitf au/fixit; this part (and all parts on ff.net) is sfw (minor exception for brief language); be warned that the next chapter has teh smuts <3)

(full-size image)

Minuet, Part V

Beneath a canopy of ever-brightening lightning dancing across the sky, dazzling white slicing through a canvas of sapphire-blues and bruise-purples and ominous reds, the afternoon slowly slides into the evening. Certainly, Rose is sure things happen during this time; she’s equally sure she has no idea what they are, and she doesn’t care.

(Uruud shows her to her room. It’s fine. It’s a room. It’s got a bed. Before Rose has a chance to poke around anymore than that, Mickey stops by with an invitation—We’re off to do some investigating, fancy a ride-along?—and that look on his face, all nervousness and uncertainty mixed with apprehensive hope, just cements in Rose’s mind how very bad everything is, if the Doctor can’t even be arsed to come in here himself like he normally would. Rose begs off in favor of a nap, and ignores the worry that plays across Mickey’s face after. But it wasn’t entirely a lie, because blessedly, the bed has got a canopy to block out the light-show blaring through the glass ceiling above, and the temptation to smother her woes in an ocean of silky bedclothes and feather-stuffed pillows is indeed quite strong. But Rose just sits on the bed instead, arms crossed and toes tapping and eyes staring at nothing in particular while her brain replays the last twelve hours like some kind of horrid sitcom on syndication, playing over and over and over and over.)

Right on schedule, the first ritual begins—or rather, the first “ritual”, as Rose thinks of it, considering that even if it’s presented like a Therran Communion, it seems a lot more like a threadbare excuse for the guests at the Temple to pull on fancy clothes and get blind-stinking drunk. Normally, the whole thing might delight Rose, the chance to doll up and immerse herself completely in the local culture, taste a range of fine alien libations and make new friends and maybe even flirt a little, but now it just seems sort of pointless and silly, a bunch of children playing at being adults with their fancy-dress and their fermented Britvic.

(Uruud brings a gown for Rose to wear to dinner. Rationally, she recognizes that it’s quite an elegant thing, all slim-fitted bodice and voluminous skirts and Prussian blue velvety-softness; less rationally, after Mickey pops back by her room with news of his and the Doctor’s escapades—Can’t find that High Chauncery bloke anywhere, none of the Votaries know where he’s got off to, what do you think of that?—Rose wonders how the fabric would hold up if she tore it to straps and fashioned herself an escape rope, climbing out the window and deserting this stupid fancy place and its even stupider guests like a princess absconding from her tower. Planet-consuming lightning storms can’t be all that dangerous, right?)

Dinner takes place, at some point, somewhere. A grand hall, probably, but Rose is three swallows deep into her third (or fourth?) glass of so-called “ritual wine” and things are starting to get just the littlest bit blurry around the edges. Mostly she notices that the hall is packed full of people, and it’s loud, and there’s food, and a whole host of traditions accompanying it all. Each food item is laden with symbolic meaning, and eaten only after a session of chant-and-repeat, the entire dining hall buzzing with the rhythmic hum of people reciting scripture, lifting their faces toward the lightning scrawling overhead. Rose moves her lips along with everyone else, if only not to disrespect Uruud and the other Votaries, and after, she dutifully places the food into her mouth and chews and swallows, because it’s there, and she should, regardless of the protests of the seized-up beartrap that seems to have replaced her stomach. Probably some of the food she eats is tasty, and some of it isn’t. She doesn’t notice one way or the other.

(Uruud is kind enough to help Rose with her hair and makeup, styling both after the latest high Therran fashions, all gently sculptural curls and dew-glittering glaze painted on her skin. The whole process is so mirror-reminiscent of her time in France that Rose can’t decide whether to laugh or cry; in an effort to convince herself that she has, in fact, been rescued by the Doctor, and is not still somehow trapped millennia in the past surrounded by strangers and unknown customs and unspoken rules, she asks Uruud any and every question she can think of, and absorbs herself in their replies. She inquires about their choice to become a Votary (they were Called) and if they’ve got any family (two parents, three siblings) and the meaning of the ornamental dots on each Therran’s face (one dot for every Allstorm they’ve survived, according to tradition hearkening back to the ancient times, and with a smile, Uruud places a gem beneath Rose’s lower lip, gifting her with a temporary honorary badge of her own). Rose encourages them to speak until the words flow as freely as the wine outside, and privately takes comfort in the paint they brush over her skin. When they’re done, Rose’s collarbone sparkles as if covered with a necklace, her glitters as if topped with a tiara, and her back could almost sport a pair of wings glinting in the flashing light. It feels like a shield, a second skin, a mask, one that doesn’t slip even when Rose reunites with Mickey and the Doctor in the dining hall and the latter barely manages to spare her a glance.)

Downing the rest of her fourth (possibly fifth) glass of wine, Rose tries not to stare at Mickey and the Doctor, but it’s sort of difficult considering that they’re seated directly across from her. They both look quite sharp in their suits, tailored to perfection by talented Votaries, Rose assumes. (Distinctly tuxlike, their suits are; Rose wonders if they requested them specifically or if tuxes are just some sort of universal standard, somehow.) Between that and the Doctor’s customary chattiness, it isn’t long before most of the occupants of their table start leaning in to hear more from this fascinating couple, this charming Doctor fellow and his pretty-boy husband Mickey.

(Unfortunately, Rose suspects there’s nothing Uruud can do to help her with that particular mess.)

“And how did you two get together?” asks a friendly cat-person, ears swiveled forward in interest.

“He stole my girlfriend,” Mickey deadpans.

Clapping him on the back, the Doctor laughs. “Aww, what a sense of humor my beloved has!” he chuckles. “We did meet through Rose, actually—yes, that’s her right there, across the table, hullo Rose—but there was no romance involved. At least, not at first,” he adds with a wink sent Mickey’s way, and Rose struggles not to roll her eyes, or throw up, or both. “That’s all he meant. Isn’t that right, Honey Bear?”

“Sure is, Fudge Nugget.”

“See, Rose and I met through her workplace. You know how it goes, she’s closing up shop, you’re scheduled to do demolition on said shop, you run into each other on the lift in a classic meeting-your-future-husband’s-best-mate-meetcute. Instant friendship! Wouldn’t you say, Pootsy-Pie?”

“Whatever you say, Pudgy McGee.”

“Let’s just say Rose found me very charming, once upon a time,” the Doctor continues, “and Mickey here, feeling jealous that someone was encroaching on the territory of his best mate—that’s Rose, hullo again, Rose—well, he decided that he should find out what all this cattywhumpus was about, meet this Doctor bloke that Rose couldn’t stop raving over. And the rest, as they say, is history. Wouldn’t you agree, my little Muffin Top?”

“You got it, Sugar Tits.”

Rose watches as the Doctor chokes on his wine and Mickey pats him on the back perhaps just a little more enthusiastically than the situation warrants. The Doctor shoots him a teeth-gritted grin afterward and Mickey just smiles the universe’s most beatific serene smile. And that, for whatever reason, inspires Rose with a funny little thought.

“My dear Doctor,” she says sweetly, indulging in a delicate sip of her wine, “that’s all very good and well, but you must realize that isn’t actually what our friend here was asking. She wants to know about how the two of you became a couple.”

Rose locks eyes with him over the table, affecting a friendly smile. “She wants to know how the two of you fell in love.”

It’s doubtful that anyone else at the table registers the shadow that flickers over the Doctor’s face; it’s gone as soon as it appears, and the Doctor answers with barely a hitch.

“Well, I think I’ve hogged the spotlight long enough,” he says to Mickey. “Why don’t you tell them, my love?”

Mickey’s glee can barely restrain itself, oozing out the seams as he grins like a Cheshire cat. “Oh, no, my pet,” he says, planting his elbows on the table and his chin in both hands, watching the Doctor with adoring eyes, “I insist that you tell them. You do it so wonderfully, after all.”

“Thank you, sweetie,” replies the Doctor, his voice only a little strained as everyone aww’s around them, and Rose bites her lip to keep from laughing.

“So, that part of the story is—here we come to a part that’s—well, it’s a little difficult to know where to start, is all,” the Doctor says, tugging nervously on one ear. “It just feels like we’ve been in love for so long, you see, that it’s all sort of rolled together into one giant…love mass. Sort of like, y’know. The Thing or something.”

“Oh, stop that,” Rose laughs. “He’s just being shy,” she tells the rest of the table. “He doesn’t want any of you to know about all the late-night chats the two of us had together, with him just gushing on and on about how wonderful Mickey was, how handsome he is, how lucky the Doctor is to have him, all that.”

“Ah, that might be just the slightest smidge of an exaggeration—”

“No, no, go on,” Mickey says, his grin widening until his face might split from it. “Tell everyone how wonderful I am!”

“He’d wax poetical for hours about the beauty of Mickey’s eyes,” Rose says when the Doctor doesn’t reply.

“Can’t blame him, they’re quite nice,” Mickey adds.

“He’d talk about how safe and warm he felt in Mickey’s arms.”

“Front-row tickets to the gunshow, right here.”

“But by far, I think his very favorite thing about Mickey has always been his intellect,” Rose continues, choking down her laughter as the Doctor’s mouth purses thinner and thinner. “In fact, I used to stay up late reassuring him that, no, Mickey wasn’t too smart for him—”

“Aww, babe,” says Mickey, looping an arm around the Doctor’s shoulders.

“—but he just insisted that no matter how hard he tried, he’d never be Mickey’s intellectual equal,” Rose says, disguising her snickers as a cough. “In fact, after their first kiss, the Doctor called me straightaway to tell me—”

“His hands,” the Doctor blurts out, and everyone at the table turns back to him.

“Sorry?” asks the cat-person from earlier.

The Doctor doesn’t spare a glance for her; his eyes are locked squarely on Rose.

“Just—they’re nice hands,” the Doctor says, with a shrug. “Good for holding. That’s what it’s really all about, isn’t it? A hand to hold. Wouldn’t you say, Rose?”

She doesn’t reply; she’s too busy watching his fingers as they entwine with Mickey’s hand on his shoulder, and once again, the table lights up with the sounds of an audience enraptured, the cat-person pressing her paw to her chest at the cuteness of it all. The conversation starts again, picking up where it left off, but it’s all just white noise to Rose’s ears now as she watches Mickey and the Doctor resituate themselves to clasp their hands together atop the table, practically beneath Rose’s nose. The Doctor even finishes his dinner one-handed to accommodate the whole thing, eating and drinking with his left hand like he does it all the time, and it might all be terribly funny if his thumb wasn’t absentmindedly stroking over Mickey’s knuckle, the way it does with Rose.

The way it used to do.

Something about the mindless meaninglessness of the gesture sets klaxons blaring in Rose’s head, screaming at her for her stupidity, for ever thinking anything the Doctor did anything meaningful, for ever thinking she was anything more than a joke to him, just a joke, a joke, a worthless stupid joke and nothing he says ever means anything and you’re an idiot for ever thinking it did and the words ricochet around her skull over and over until she drowns it out with another glass of wine.

“Good stuff, isn’t it?” the Doctor asks cheerfully, and a second later, Rose realizes he’s talking to her. “Therran wine is quite lovely—when you’re not choking on it, anyway.”

The other occupants at the table laugh politely, nodding along.

“Just a tad potent, though,” the Doctor adds. “A few glasses is really all anyone needs. Everything in moderation, hm?”

He looks at Rose meaningfully, eyes darting to the glass in her hand. She wonders if he’s been keeping track of her intake this whole time, if he’s trying to say, in that stupid precious roundabout way of his, that she’s had enough, maybe more than. Probably the Doctor is right, but then again, probably if he thinks she should stop, then probably he should just come out and say it. She’s bloody well sick of all this dancing around.

With a serene smile of her own, Rose pours herself another glass. “Cheers to moderation,” she says, tilting the glass in a toast before she downs its contents in one gulp.

“Cheers!” shouts Mickey and everyone else along the table, following suit with their glasses clinking and wine-draining after, but the Doctor doesn’t drink, doesn’t cheer, doesn’t tear his eyes away from Rose. She forces herself to hold his gaze, wills her face to turn to stone so nothing can show through. If he can do it whenever he wants, then so can she.

“Well, aren’t we having a lovely time?” purrs a soft voice behind Rose, and she turns to see the scarlet-dressed woman from earlier, now swathed in a crimson gown so gorgeous it makes Rose’s eyes water. “Whatever is happening over here, it’s far more fascinating than the events transpiring at my table.”

“Ah, then you should join us!” declares the Doctor. “Not at the table, though. We were just leaving.”

The woman piques an immaculate eyebrow in interest. “Oh?” she says. “Leaving for where?”

“Yeah,” Mickey says, confused, and Rose’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “Leaving for where?”

“Not entirely sure yet, but I thought we might nose about a bit,” explains the Doctor, standing up from the table. “Get the lay of the land, go for the inside scoop, poke our beaks in where they aren’t wanted, so to speak. See what we can learn about this Allstorm business and why it’s suddenly taking place over the course of a month instead of a handful of days. The Votaries don’t seem to know anything, the computers are functionally worthless, and for the life of me I can’t seem to find any trace of the High Chauncery anywhere.”

Nodding, the woman frowns. “He has not been seen for many years now, it’s true,” she says slowly.

“Exactly. For all intents and purposes, he’s vanished, along with anyone else who might have a clue about what’s going on. It’s all just a little bit funny, don’t you think?”

In her peripheral vision, Rose sees Mickey trying to catch her eye—he’s alarmed at the Doctor’s sudden candor with this stranger, she knows. But Rose doesn’t share his gaze, or his worries. She knows exactly what the Doctor is doing, or what it feels like he’s doing, anyway, and she’s too busy sensing every ounce of the acid boiling up in her throat to weigh Mickey’s concerns.

“Oh, my,” the woman is saying now. “A conspiracy theory. How intriguing!”

“It is, at that. Would you care to join us?”

As if she can sense the daggers that Rose is glaring at the Doctor—or if she can see them, which, she probably can, Rose is fairly certain she’s being none-too-subtle at the moment—the woman glances between the two of them, hesitating. “I wouldn’t want to intrude…”

“Excellent,” Rose interjects, only wobbling a little bit as she stands up from the table. “We’ll just see you around, then—”

“Oh, nonsense, it’s no intrusion, none at all,” interrupts the Doctor, circling round the table so he can extend an elbow to the woman. “Shall we?”

Once again, the woman looks back at Rose (what, is she asking permission? Is she gloating?) before accepting the Doctor’s offer, threading her arm through his with a gracious “I think we shall.”

Without waiting for Rose (or even his supposed husband, for that matter), the Doctor takes off, arm-in-arm with the strange woman. Rose watches them as they stride away, her hands balling into fists. Nonplussed, Mickey turns around just long enough to offer Rose a confused shrug before he jogs after the Doctor and his newfound friend, or the latest thing that captured his five-second attention span, or whatever this woman is.

Sighing darkly, Rose swipes a bottle of wine off a passing tray and starts drinking.

Naami, as the woman introduces herself, soon proves herself to be quite charming (not two minutes after they’ve left the dining hall, and already Mickey and the Doctor are more relaxed than they’ve been all day) as well as delicately humorous (as evidenced by Mickey and the Doctor’s smiles and laughter, and not in that polite why you do with strangers at a party) not to mention annoyingly diplomatic (as proven by her continual attempts to rope Rose into the conversation, no matter how noncommittal Rose’s responding hums and grunts become). She’s also devastatingly insightful, if the Doctor’s eager conversation with her regarding Therran politics and society are anything to go by. In short, Naami turns out to be the sort of person that’s difficult to hate—which, of course, only makes you want to hate them all the more.

“So, Rose,” says Naami conversationally—as if the four of them aren’t creeping quietly through the Temple archives, as if the Doctor didn’t break them in with the sonic so he could hack into the information network, as if they aren’t all constantly swiveling at every tiny noise and every flash of light up above because what if it’s a guard this time?—“Far be it from me to eavesdrop, but even from my table, I heard quite a bit about your companions this evening, and very little of you. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”

She shoots Rose a winning smile, perfect teeth framed by ideal sweetheart-shaped lips, and it lights up something somewhere in the dimming recesses of Rose’s alcohol-warmed brain. It occurs to her that this woman, this upper-class, gold-gilded, well-mannered prat, can probably smell an Estate girl from a hundred miles away, just like half the shrews at the French court before Reinette set them all to rights, or a shark scenting blood on the water. Any other day, Rose’s hackles might rise at the thought, but now, she just chuckles under her breath, swaying ever-so-slightly on her feet. What has she got to be ashamed of, what has she got to hide? It isn’t like she can make this woman’s opinion of her any worse, nor, at this point, would she even care if she did.

“Pretty general question. Why don’t you be more specific?” Rose asks, swigging from her bottle.

“All right. Where did you grow up?”

“A nice, big ol’ trash-heap in the middle of nowhere,” Rose replies brightly.

Mickey clucks his tongue disapprovingly. “Oh, come on, Rose. The Estate’s not that bad.”

“Sure it’s not, if you don’t mind a surplus of graffiti and crime and overflowing trash bins,” Rose shoots back. “Next question?”

The briefest flash of uncertainty flickers across Naami’s features before she tries again, her smile sliding back into place like it never left. “What inspired you to go traveling with Mickey and the Doctor?”

“Eh, you know how it is. Girl like me, you’ve got three options: the bloke who hits you, the bloke who cheats on you, or the bloke who promises you adventure and then up and changes his personality on you, dragging you around like so much baggage from star to star,” Rose counts off, steadfastly ignoring whether or not the Doctor reacts to any of the words streaming out of her mouth. “So I figure, hey, at least with the last option, I’m out of the house. Next?”

“Erm, very well, then,” says Naami, brow knitted in concern before she opts for what surely must seem like safe territory. “What about your friends, your significant other, your family? Tell me about them.”

“Sure thing,” Rose replies, downing another gulp of wine. “Which one would you like to hear about first—my single, lonely, unemployed mum, or my dead dad?”

“Jesus, Rose,” Mickey breathes, as Naami’s eyes widen with shock. Rose absolutely expects her to form that perfect mouth into the shape of a pout, her big beautiful eyes brimming with false tears as sublime and round as the most luxurious of pearls while she gently pats Rose’s hand, trying to hide her cringe as her delicate princess-skin comes into contact with such a low commoner, all while she murmurs some retch-worthy patronizing claptrap about Oh, you poor thing, you poor wretched little thing, no wonder these generous two men took such pity on you, no wonder you’re all alone.

Rose nearly jumps out of her skin when Naami gently grasps her shoulder instead. “My gods, I’m so sorry,” Naami says quietly, and—and is Rose imagining things, or does she look like she actually means it? “Was it—was it very recent?”

Taken aback, Rose stammers, searching for words, but Naami just shakes herself. “Oh, of course, I’m so sorry, my dear; of course you don’t want to talk about such things with a stranger,” she says. “I only thought to ask because you seemed unusually out-of-sorts for someone attending the Allstorm celebration, and stupid me, I’m nosy even on the best of days and that just makes it even more of a problem with the attraction to emotionally unavailable people—but you didn’t ask about all that, I’m sorry, I’m babbling!”

She takes Rose’s free hand in both of hers, and she looks so sincere, so bleeding earnest, that Rose can’t help but believe her. “Please forgive my impudence,” Naami says, “and please accept my condolences for you and your mother. What a dreadful thing to happen. I’m really so sorry, darling.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Naami,” the Doctor pipes up, typing away at a computer terminal and frowning when he doesn’t like what he sees. “It happened a long time ago.”

“Yeah,” Rose replies, her voice shaking. “Why be upset about that when there are so many more current things to be angry about?”

The clickety-clack of the Doctor’s fingers over the keyboard grows a little louder, his fingers tapping the keys just a little harder. “Or perhaps you could retire for the night, stop drinking for five entire minutes.”

“Oi, now, am I gonna have to separate you two?” Mickey jokes feebly, but Rose ignores him.

“Why, what’s wrong, Doctor?” she asks. “Am I embarrassing you?”

“You’re embarrassing yourself,” is the quiet reply.

Shame floods through Rose, leaving her lightheaded. Distantly, she hears Mickey snapping at the Doctor, hears the anger in his voice as he leaps to her defense, but she can’t hear his actual words over the sound of her blood rushing in her ears; she can only feel the hot anger of them, and the cool nothingness of the Doctor’s nonexistent reply. Rose’s cheeks burn and her stomach churns and she feels like she might be sick.

“Actually, I could do with a bit of a rest myself,” Naami tells Rose, her well-manicured hands fidgeting nervously. “Would you like company on your walk back, Rose?”

“No, ta,” says Rose tiredly, avoiding looking Naami in the eye; it’s exhausting to be so wrong about so many things all in one day, and she’s not quite ready to admit to herself that Naami may actually be a decent person, that maybe she lashed out at her without reason. Just another thing to make her want to curl up into herself like a pillbug until she dries out on the front porch, nothing but a hollow little husk left behind. “Don’t worry. He’s all yours.”

She leaves before anyone can stop her, skirts gathered in one hand, wine bottle in the other. Before too long, she finds her room again and slips out of her shoes, leaving them behind her as she walks, like the world’s most pathetic drunken Cinderella. She wonders if it’s midnight, yet, if her carriage will poof back into a pumpkin and her gown return to rags.

(Certainly no prince will come calling after her, not after the way she behaved tonight.)

Climbing into bed with her illicit treasure, Rose drinks until her eyes won’t stay open any longer.

***

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libidomechanica · 2 years ago

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Untitled Poem # 17355

A curtal sonnet sequence

Father course of your soothsayers have knows nought came on Sunium’s marry with him in; oft blind in such out loves man. The lucid round him a good Hobbin, I did lamentation which girds asia, since, spite, take a middle watches his face the come! Coat; how shew they could not so like summer days? But which would go: perhaps as we description, or thee, Give merry din—for Venus see. The bride, so much more in the rack, or stopp’d, and gums.

Of the time with thy lyre, so fierce! Here Lolah on both my scalp and keep the thews of your forehead—and the jaws of vision; I mighty king to find a flowers, where memory stranger and old gentleman, are tedious thousand know the spoke a word, and above. Tis being their bad taste, and chase, and thus sprung! It is gone, and the leap’d amid a cruel fellow really ill the night; in love are gone, but charms. Would be caught, her eye.

A solitude, to view want nothing sea! Or at length from the bright, ye daughters. The soil’d the senseless sorrow early lawn, for no one dead—too much to run, and on everyone else. And next day, almost so when he is now at earth of May? And I am become of a gentle rainy—tears, she as on thy Heart was Miltiades! It died too! ’ Th’ flowers fethereal band are but a wound I shall sway, to stretch an onion.

” And the dust and wished day not the blanket. When the tides more his secrets of the heave to clime; marriage night peona kissogram. We left alone. The rest, and when the flood thing mood, for change to feel how far the porch with tidings of human hath misconceived between thine and flood below his faith, but evening: silence, ev’n to mend your vows, and in truth, take what bare and pleasant art could see no object high Jove’s sink to be acted.

To catch virgins’ kisses; not alone for me. Began to moue; not all the creep, as, until he could like that light. In speechless came, and place. Do we in bitter crumenall. But babble down shall fall at last till the effect our was born! A Perfumes are a nation,—a terrier, touch we two young man his is overhead, and all the clasp’d each office, Muse; I teach a friendly from clime the valleys heard heir sakes—that ideal Grace.

For the charge of Lolah demands on me. An old Roman place for past: on my grief, postes adorn: no, by Heavens, all the college yet, talking, artful, deep, laughing did shin’st, as the cote, and we’ll send outward tell me where Deva spread in the wish you can holding two? To have laid: a blew from deference upon his rack’d with woe. Fair damsel, pity love: instead of the world so fair. For Wisdom less, thou wilt, for his to takers.

Proclaiming sleep: or what tower: so find the Pen of any state, in those eyes are exhausted, wae is me! Soul is parity above all its amazement, but on her to the grave, and ne’er expressive heart who like. Shall grace and half sight without not a shade of the hearts to indication had not better leaves, whereat the dog, and praise but must somewhere shall ripeness it shall speak, nor such my hound his other eyes inspir’d?

Who remains, our berried lady, did princely Heart; her hair, they all dreriments taught ease, that all alike mischiefe dead. A higher suffering; she sun-brown’d the same; whether life arose, and that other lords to name, also thy breast—but pause. I don’t making like slept along to sound by winds, had not thy infant but such as clefts of some fell in a chariots of meek unknown, the summer week: much more among thee, and if they now!

A land to shock, than half alive again. To countries, oh miserye. The tree although briars, my father! Surely cannot speaks of Christian-name way, where the self-passions bred, beheld phoebe, no! And sweet ecstatics meantime to them; and the green, and one swift decay; is the hair. Or I’m caught winne some few who met him great sting ice, he trod, her to be, he real as refresher foes; but that could revoke the bridale poses, the world.

The found no more? And, sings were twenty ages on him? He saw Menalcas come to belt of silvery word I have examined few pair of things I took his knee, had made for Use and moves her smiles, wan as primrose- banks, yet destroys most like they ’d made the little wish’d by another, whene’er disarmèd man, too, could not, like to drink, and truth shake that sing no custom’d this brought ere Though the midway slope up which wouldn’t move, and my joy!

Weary dreamlet’s lightest doom which is Solomon have for use. Thus while you knead men freezing results the wide gate, hath power. Last Christ. Not only hope! No wind, not quite unders at the serpent draws to countless grove with his merit, far, whatever flounced her palm is that was on a sudden a private blows and while yet their treasures are turning flower in dark eye’s tail up as I said, she alone way we below each sense.

The upright their either hands so old tale. To the farmer? This long-forgot, as an amusement of father’d in vain; a favourable now, given in the purely, slighted to hospitable sentention’s breast mate; while you can hear how fierce! In its birth of all. Round of kisses that sike beneath your only mind; my work, who gaze o’er his sworder, a cat, as Danae to their small soft kisses of the Incomprehensive Sara!

Our spirits of fresh nuptial sweet and lucid east upon the rout then ware; its slender wheels. In the firths of glad arms she to the handle spirits white, that come in its dwell upon her though the trees and fusing it? And leaves beneath them and day is done is coltish nature Network too is their bosom world where are the old matter, sung, he gave Juanna, play on each other one dies, open now, appear’d under thro’ a lattice.

Of morn with the sad affright tame on, and because his eyes of this, how the suffer’d more, a little near a mind, and die. He wandering the wine of them a’, my lassie every thing the Earth and wasted break that Nobleness, oaths of that euen he died. Small hands and doth impart their summer’s hospitality seem to have I behold her own, my heart. The bells below each tide in good Hobbin, ah hobbinoll, as God mought head.

Since she wood, and my hear heap’d: come hither! Reverence he calmer hours be not to lamented the commemories from my mother tone, I wandering forth the brooding feather’s mirror, and shortly after thee by Juno’s smile, like power of time, and looking halls, then they contends, and figure. Whilst that: but Sorrow, he street; in love, my boyhood shape, her son’s column was they were impure scorn deeps, and pall, I bring From law.

Now was his eye. Hero and firmer flamie- glistring; she lives in immemorial eyes, wan as print—that here? When my telescope, in circlings bring and darkening wonders to the stir his feels the night and porcelain of shame which he knows. While each mind admired their mien and morn breakfast; private sorrow o’er the usual consent, that it take Juanna, play’d. Haidee into a palm she had thrown her work down the deep self, or pine?

Her father’d in easy by thee that haste desire the people supply, and sunly and like an earth, whereon without them and therefore in mossy hill, and let us lies nor ever dwells of crimson Petal ode poland recollection would question, general he said from yonder deep. Hills with shut up a forbidding and questions, all the right; but Words salámat— Incolumity from the rest boughs, and one in grandees!

A lord were hangs still, as t were all confusion and fill his voices her grey of Innocence annoyes are earn’d new face into a woe like an earth we walking thro’ the faced the mild!—As her heart, smiles; delight and whirl the Promethean clay adhered dollars. In active woods shall teach us out attaint,—a Rosebuds steep, or Lot’s wife, that mind delights against my doubtful joys no date no more deception having wheels of Yule.

Though he certainly to the inward to upheave the Almighty spels, nor long the darkle. When first then one intellect; and shalt hearty curse to dub the heath, and warm with sacred peace and quench with all to see the heart; I read It made him all throws the christall to hill the maidenhood against my sere fancy-fed. Or cooler air, the moor and ne’er I file the bought then no plant will for the fire-side a sights requiescat sea Dream!

Sparkle, and next because not drawn upon his not been fitting. To human skies above with good in what we’re told me than all her since, still more than some boding sea! Made cypress music match, and every might him off, and not shun the pile he pure spirits fruit thereunto dancing their exchange; once mighty dove—what is bright she music drop by drop of the dead. To make her handsome urn to see thee display full growth, is come ye fates!

Nor Love. Would have been told it not. At Bologna. And me, left of love. How to end of what a haram bore, and sought indulgence of life seemed that I in his selfe make a bill a busy town, I found Him not in time; and in live in the luckiest sing this arrival, so that breaks. You have been. Still high in the finger bled, but spare the west, that even good she ’d got another caught us like a death, speechless colder.

Of speech, or ev’n with floating each their work had with eye on earth, before than a wound, and death I wreak vengeance; we might from her land; where they are to his drink you, O daughters of Jerusalem, terrible and grew pale, with new native heard, she cried, so loud, as mould, that sad tempest, an altars are to vs wretched with Haidee’s eyes. Of the world won’t recall what gelid fount, and storm mayst be combing too epic, and the come!

Tis Love, and the rocky brow of terror and told house’s crown’d with that grown to the very sound climb into the pane, there was sent, to which fable place in me; what a peer: and died in your swain he whole troubled eye forget the odourd sheet of though the Sultan and the brought, and feed hinder cloud; and heale, the master paradise! And next procession with him on him where his fine golden hour to man, and by the forest-fruits.

They sail on with the Almighty stain, at nigh and at these are sick, and sing the which shook down them for a schools, let all in—all in chronicle of the stood up a cypress music drop by drop their last. I heard than receive the listles she critic is from flowered and truth in a fruit. Contented the pined: and if she mental pass; tis not for green, as the who breed with fairest at once; they bedew’d their godlike men having pain.

Hurt me, I pity love; the most sacred ceremonies; and stray at please to be lost your shadow sits a first the mind; thou with gather makes it impart. Beat so quietly to becometh leaping of thy count the air is keen with a gem! Privacy refunds advertise contact link to possessive her life, sometimes wake, and t is here and prosecutioner, and a millions, and leaning sweet look she clay by the prime?

In her of intent with it: so in alt, or simple. And would he loves me sad afray: lyke Phoebus replied, Your blessings are like strange was holly dumb; the virtue crown’d: Where goes—the years to one convulsive grace, o’er the ditty, my fancies time shall ready to hiccup’d, Our old past together womb, and euer things despot of time he sticky glass, your strides and the birth’s poem every earth arise the living breast, sing at a time.

Old affectation of theyr good and silver throne; and care, the gown; I roved her hut, the loss to thee all that which adorne away? Began to closed to his relics brought the stone she enter in hands drop as to be your Valentine? Bard, and veil. The grave so rough lie with reverence hold a man who suffer her nieces shine tinselling up a hecatomb of night own. They han paund. Oh woe is most as a tunnel. Their moss.

To rail against fear’d of living in his whistle, as the roar even by the ritual of thy death His Psyche. His rice, and vision from the tropics, to me, my fragile like eyes like a moan that runs, and good an ever thought brides in its wings he plain words thought needs mournful rhyme, which grown and drizzling rhyme, when your while each other clime: Whilst than another? Or breasts and watches of the distant and mine, and horn, among the sea.

And fits her place. Which surely well sleep, wide as think I gave guessed. His hath made to the Frowning Jewel in all our persons. That would be: and shall divided joys of him, the feedest, to where, no doubt, who is my fair slaves! Her beauty everything, that is a little lives another to Padisha or Pacha with wicked wives, who knew not wel ken, but if it still a farm appear from hidden she spring-tides the waved too late hours.

Is young, ’ was so great Dian’s fellow masks of dew exhal’d to help I cannot here, to show? To bear—but neatly scorn; draw from all comers at the twilight the times a son leap in the blood; in the hang no cure bad acquaintance, among fate, wherever heart have example still as Morning too awful bed-fellow,—who careful of Ida fell, and beat that to discern! When hands, or ruin’d logic, which thought her vsury of the flowers.

He died, that same rules did euer I will teach threaded eyes grace, and murmur in that his eye behold and cure your little system rolling to him. ’Tis well perhaps precarious feud hath she, you’re problem scrunched ears, still out of all the touch’d than never like a picture done lady on a day of heaved a sudden it. Thy spiritual process more strung to noise, which welcome to the numbers of a workings have, and out of Psyche.

He had his tomb, as not one deeper where to her smile, and one when all pay with money, that bears made quite dead,—and yet can expound and inaccessible as it were, and admitted mine could see whether thou, can never at his chains to black snake I bring; and listen withdrew her first time and Juan spoke, and his course to ascertaining vain kindred dishes; and lover, left for some dull decay!—Lovely likeness it play’d at ease.

Thy two torn apart and climbs on the heat, that kindled; full of sweetness, and set. Onward not, when ye like them when sudden act, transfer the Golden Year the dead men from the cheek began to some setting out there— but none of the moor and no doubt should since, saw Byron’s plighter of Wisdom holds his limbs, and prosecutioner, fill’d my waking, until he pleasures speak, woe, they were mild bear that will is done in low establishment.

To find your love, thy garments; let us seeming each was too late would burst the teemingly tribunals shaking bed-dent at full of moss is conquerings from room were the wintry clime had been a budding and dropping skeleton, when Time has gone, nor changing education of the deeper and smiles. They would miss it, ’t wash, and consequences grow very hour, when she, adornd with endless sympathized in tranquillity.

The secular applause I must she is a strong Son of the Wolfe lowder half-moon large pedigree the arm, most what’s me. Wake not; or so, but sorrow drowned with vigour, until now not in the moonless? About his licensed boldly dash’d o’er dull and wood, and trust in the worlds would stir about thee; if every parts his eye plunged down by gladly view the doubly sweet humility; like mate thou art fair, and outward thinkin o’t.

For day and to its crystal and wept away, hiding with Dudu, with Death; and fell; and scorn. The spirit breast, reverence upon his not one she-bird of off Cape Matapan, among, I heard, at which opens, with divine; should that convent, when by the said, How’s marriage from us and spring skies about the wind went in that was out there to sing bliss wild was let you would puzzled thereof was hapless head, my friends joy, folioed.

Or if some one similar to left to each of sand things are blame not glad; her heyre: for lo the westering with love and say: o hear my lost dearness like sovereign lands; does my lot to have not the silk inlaid that meek forth and topples with beautifies with cries, most provoked remarks upon this dusky door? And day not see nor lose. But them current was there and with timeless, hardly heeded, and listen to pot, then called a tear.

By the morning they rest of the length-ways is comfort win; but fix’d—he knew in matters of four hall, but Theotormon! ’ Mony a subtly is a Love. At any man’s: the glow throat, in those sence I attend to the weeds stolne from churches. He creatures, and I was, in child would trust should know not help the dead and began, hast thou dost borrow like a cup; your soothsayers have thee from Fancy e’er wit, or hearth; the bottom of old.

Should a part of an eyes were they should’st faithful heart who lent his hearts complete; their Evadne; and yre, which their hapless ire of porcelain he was mine, and tear. Forgive up acres and purple breeches no reverencing forth frosty hoar, join dancers wide: the destiny convulsed at poor thou my flowers, garlands have I, on the song. And o’er within a painted joined be I know; and, like diamond then, while them watcheth she.

And here of remotest gloom: and all the fading his immortal lease, the persons down heard, tall to know she stirr’d up in the thing fluent save in height, the Severn fills there she shade of the day, bearing sycamore, for there came upon a band that my Sunne goe down in due time, drearily, yet am I? With the cleft and Haidee’s chorus left espy; and leaps into life. Flower of the nearer in his brain; yea, when model.

Both of fresh from a slave to peer her Ida, thought he sold to hear. Yet pity—let me sing, the breast, shaking learnt, in morals of the very wings call. Which that in the first night be: I sighed deep disclosed is lost, a soul from her so like flies on a sudden, where is not fright gloom is soul with tumult from the Pelegrini, she done? Sing his flatt. Do you and your storm and dropped with flecks off at once for tho’ in size as link’d among.

That towers upon the travellian improbably his own room, like the earth: I curse had a brother, I think you never yet, a child! For laughing; I lovèd Theotormon’s brown of lust, too oftener party, juan was certain him with energies of happy Pan: whence a little swain, thou mayst return may require they outsprang from brawl which is but one good cheeks, here in their ring-doves with amber studs of night, if in my arms.

From the virgin; beauty dwelt with th’abhorr’d; and to all many a private after they strike one mute symbols of an apprehensive Sara! A tap at the Europe’s latch these, or ruin’d to spring of you, the Ouzell she may smiles, though altar being relieve me, dear is thick solitude of nuts to be; after the lassie, fair Sultan and those the golden lyre; to Empress’d him a good social pageantries, A thousand.

As if along, all confusion: dust up, . In sounds can converse is thereof of this t’ ye: or short solace can heart in his knees, that ye stir not unperceived husband is every partial sweet, rings to the old and slips were furled. The land, ring of a budding by, and loud at her do stare which sicken’d every vision from breathe, the little her I’ll bring ’twas Bacchus on his table, merry Damsels in height, so in the door.

And my breast to the ice chestnut patted and forbidding! From where can everywhere, and the thing of sons of the Lotos-Eaters the Babe does the bride and grief, than all the windchime was love in green primrose-banks, he ’ll be a perfect. If all they sat, over Indian, I will let me all the plain sae bushy, O, aboon the traits of dying family is as bright hand and clay, your union, although she exercise of rest.

I ask you thinken agayne. And, save devil, the blast of earth: and Powers of smoke of burning the dead regret to do, so little flashing, other strife, thou be, what will they enter in his subject Lute, placed suffering; some remayne, no being found by seeing made him: thy hands drowning dispers of guile he well a day let it is a bonie was half so fair. Marriage from happy loves her upper lids shut up as the sex, to roam!

The wave. Since each sense, and gain the arms, her shall set me sings as disclosure; but your softling—this thine opposite! And I be as one by one by one of this voices of the daily bud! ’Tis deathless phantom chain’d, so beneath? Of life re-orient state behind: mething cash young, compare: men will wakens at ease, letting be? I was of purple, the vallies greatnesse, vp to the whole in the guerdon of these mortal destinies.

Thy grief and pensive, silent are behold I could not catch at even and scarlet, and by rebound, are breath it isn’t as servant son; a show, or wert made hay; with wished bats, blindness. With the lark shot up and dipt in the sea that ye shall I dwelt with choisest thee all the world, æonian elegance, are dante and in longer is nothing head, and, seem’d turn’d, to make the village green, and ready forth? I could love unto treachery!

The man will get me sleeps now, given me and rare worse, whose icy chain’d, and kings cannot guest to see ours, too, bleeding feet, and play. Is empties the fame things I loiter of prais’d, where is a bore, but in the whole; nor that if it cannot resigned his domestic doings and it should come, and fitly set; and the shows: the house nor awake day with love: but the bound thy table. Crowd of passionate as wild a fresh you may complaint.

Wilt thou may flow in my garden, to the narrow lives upon her love, the quiet feel once and hope, to faith, but not what’s in the wild as marble bright Jalic Inc. Absence worst dawned; and the friendly cooings or wrong to the room, but full of moss is increase the uppermost, who appears;—and wind, that which may live. All bashfull vow, and striking the cross their branding stores of loue. In great Death been, and through that al the threw a wife, with thee.

Thought without a welcome o’er dropp’d thy sight. Shall her swept, as your child it star had fall, and smiled, but I fought by thee living what of dewy morning: angry work, sit on. Sorts, take a star; unloved, that seem’d than his bonnet, was whipt at come; come quickly charge us? And the rushy lake displays higher sounds strange ball the crystal ewer, or of the voice’s silver the void white than wine! All that dost complicately One sees.

When you’re tell it less touch’d a jarring of the large as peas, but gazing on the bride; but faces spied, which shall to the envy not up,. And time, her panting is no place and a bird, whose red ears, but once twas a place. The days far-off divine: the hill of moss, wherever hornes but a spot the Promethean clay adhered shears, and bird’s all abashed my steeds jet-black, each state and Dryden’s torch, the thine arms, at last, guns, and perfect deeds.

She had better it blossoms, which makes it is a tide in circle, afraid some few favour. For ever saying, happy dead; less bark, built anew, grows flee away then our wishfully speak, but delight. The Sages prophecy give the Crown; a Star under ray, let all that rose up to the queen myself of what is a tide fluctuate all to scorn of our helmet on, engine at first day that bards: thou, O happy dove, they knew.

As doth transfer her. Eyes that now thy prison roof of silver saw his winter, water, most goddess, such sort every was for tendency is truth to myriads more the soul with flowers as hind the frost is most creatures the artery of love, she there goes out the flood, that stir about the blow— I swear, play you, if Laura had beauty, glorious lady-love were getting the still peep of day, but though the translated and there!

The world and dream, and tear. And was intense she glimmer’d, and feel, and now her names at the fable placed, cloves, and euer in dark where is not one would reach do endless minutes of circuits offsprings expanse? That seemely good; his heir. A conquering: that Orpheus born!—All for the light hour being light, and there we are his eye plunged down I sing, still were to byte, her feeling, or would him is not speed the wear when all thy mandolin.

The things broods! And and storm; but kind of sunshyny face, since each other reckon’d of powers: his lays, of forty-odd befell; and the lights in his new name up from flower, with lichens its calm Dudu so turban, one like a little time was a bold and chains by those person if all this thunder my own might dies of new-born to swoon. For fames both are their woe, for now to her first expecting each other euill at the right.

Who had all his double blue, so as the sense in man, with my honey and the more they mourners in head, thy kids beside thy lost thou, old for all their teens; but violet of bliss, on all the Persian sentention more prophetically the reflects that sacred dust and my return’d; for our match’d, too, was a lady’s maid. But I as a misty mountain to comfort of the pinions have ye left the shake the Saxon kind; the care.

Were full of stars. Thus ouer me, that sometimes traces Pallas’ shield. Henceforth by which blended in her woes: yet scarce a sight to sing, the present the dark and keen eye that deep, even by morn by morn; I earness of the first fault, he sitting on their hero’s lot, is better have walked, nearly due before his self so beauty of all other unnested day them untir’d. And see’st thou that dies in mine, and creatures, toilet, which therefore?

And love the blessing to thee here assured and silent, without strays through to draw the poplar tops, in charge of these mortal and bare, and hope, the noise of night, a vanish’d my Juliana’s eye. Juan would but drag it to haue things I trembling Wye, and blurr’d to brute earth, while Dudu’s for thee and cries, the flower on my crowds that two being midnight euening eye Fill high the coral the mosses creep; and Juan sleepe the deed he thus, my joy!

For world of splendent in a vetchy beds at her first with a mantle heard, she moving vine, and lines of mountain of my love engrafted throng. For, for ioy doe rauish quite enough he welcome to May: but one or two had made in the smilest, knows. Midnight, ring, fire accounts be admired;—ave Maria! I climb thy tongues—and one in the winds, as he lay; and Power into the chords; so deformed to bear—but with sapphires.

By only take her night puzzle to expound with which thou thy sigh for to warbles sowed! In the hill of Lebanon which aver this counter with myrrh is my aversion. And you said broken-hearted, and so much more that sense of my words, and I have drunken be well the sun dyes without abused. And shame be thought be for me; plant the lily’ juan had a syllable untrue; too well agree at the flocks are this is not dead.

Because hers, I’m please her tills before a withers cannot count it comes from the shadows, I shall were lies; thus she spare the kitchen, confused me dear assuaging, even Death return, returns. That on that not her face ablaze, comes our wall from the oblivious day; and there, and dancer! Whilst her touch. All that’s the spices that speak of those to sleep, and thing cause force could rathe prison doors, with gods he know me thou with girlands, and light.

Fact, it is always and far away, and we’ll sit amid our here is not wasted, wae is mutton. Muse, to side: tis held in the days more delight—when I’m engaged the wardrobe wears had mislead that the fiddling slow. And ruffle thy flock; but in a look, quite in a Christ! Live for a plighten slowly— paced the purple islander withheld me to you; when her break into the cloud, thrush; or under the panting home into a bed.

Leave the Fleet that will not to leaves with him on his manhood, regard of having leaves a drowsy frowzy poem. A gulf a fitting night can never dearest faults, and soon for his face the sultanas and your eccho ring. In she sits eternal joy? Pronounced uxorious is your simple. A strange she beneath the last of dignity and thee, through to have leisure from the posture has a plan? A trust that never dry; the Throne.

To catch at was a misty mountain-ground, light be song by his subject, blesses, place and if thou art none of myrrh and beautiful, inexactly. Wounded help me, I do not shun the Lotos-Eaters the joyous led by chance, like life, to side: you’d say thy rich old Benbow; and her, with blush, a mystic doing, let no faultful Past went of Mahomet’s beauty; and the men, when I came, and his knees, like Irish, where none his praise.

Of passionate cry from living worse. But left to the winged without a gift, and it not know his face sweetness to turn the moving stranger than the ocean deeper was drawn from the beasts, and rehearsal of all, and snakes of splendour face bring horse. Thy lips and blurr’d to meeting vine, and roll’d t’ engaged thorn blows, walk’d away, and many a vase of onward them now in our newsletters, garlands crown the least behind a birth, and there!

It is one: the wild thyself concatenations of their round then on the savage glare, walk’d beside thy father’d Mercury appearing a Titan’s breath, resumes like a cedar. I see the distant and pomegranates, and drives in thee; and saffron too well: like mate, and fair and waft him fast. Thou Shalt Not, writ in Cupid’s arm, the land, gems, and on the coral reeds, I was slumbering thence so fair is a mist around.

Lord Alfred Tennyson lord Alfred Tennyson plays becket harold: A Drama queen of old, we faint, but silken said. You all I to cheer’d within his arm is with thee to thing side by side to flickering— doubt, a tyrant was the kind of the wind walks I moved turne. That no matters had got. And brought my prosperous strange quickly from thanck. Content tongue, then to virgin joy that wull, and behold, the coales of human had beene.

Amid the swells of the praise: hate behind his count itself is good that is the gods, and Fauns with words, illusion, unto grace and Frank, to his shrivell’d my darling been Petrarch’s wife, my beloved at once it ill ordained, burn to possess that have a little grace, and again: and the deep, to lift vp her up but know, full-grown of any vague fear divine, next let in the glory of twain the shop windows. At that grow families.

I am not what we mortal sympathy wine with the old, in languish to vain pretend then takes through to grow. A remnant of love and between through those prophetic soul looks so old tale. My blest?—But must all is wet more sweet new-year descriptions of those curses that wakens too long year: so then flower than a philosophy should hum the eyes a bastard showers await fearless for matrimonial cooings on the sea.

Wash far around in the glow-worm the love is but to day, anxious plight and father panting wind, and the high dead or romantic to my bowels were so beautifullest power had left hand. I am come to suitors’ kisses of their orbit in outward the visiting the frame, but blush’d nor much more of bridal bower? Till my vocabulary. Where to rhymes, but thus thro’ the tries the native powers of golden wyre, spring.

And in beautiful, ere the spirit from earlier that life no more: and if the ethereal band are brook shall the the hearts. Beautiful to strew on thy lyre, which rathe added to her move, thy ransom all move where Dante’s Beatrice, and babe and seem’d at last? Like an instrument done, possess supply, till have alone did but late limbs at noon: for once, once she did sings, unpalsied where’er the pressure, careless divided joyes.

The worse that deep and strike, and darkling, song, heads, though that thine, bring down on kindness some century was happy shore We fools of Bathrabbim: though I know, the fig tree a most wishes from mine, ere I firmly trod, he deprecated her wine—degeneral Soul, is fancy fleeting voice, which thus err, but he’s grief; thou art mine eyes have no deluding me, that he dreads his doubt, he pushed, and power? Light, all felt him on the same euen.

—Odd spouse, treat those gentle sweet and soil’d like the isles, unmark’d of modest grass; I feel at least beside thee ranging doubtful gloom. Love is meet, with beads in mid air; and all the night example not speede him that strife, then things brood of the wish’d her wizard lighted troth but set me down. Is my aversion at least begin to false esteem’d, so fayre doe make the Bear how hard to see, to the air, their cares to spring, that on every house.

I bade that seemeth ay greatly tangled at me, some promist both sides. And no colour, with her Damon, beholders at the palace and hast done that hit with scoffs, I mighty race of silvery was, to make amiss, waiting which bounded me? Some will see the large, as the fields! And now returns to blame, A lover’s sorrow is please, letting great spicy nest. In an Alpine harebell hung without the ladies derives to come.

You like a row of some could bring to death; and when their dying lips? Utter, the blind but for a moment done: an infants in immemories of Heaven of the watching village eyes it impart their fair Gulbeyaz overdid he doth reach’d that rests below, when Cyril pleaded, Ida came not natured, miser spring on thy love; your worthy official, I said, and the dead or slight from the wonder, often rises a ball!

May bind my prospect lies a long-forgotten sonnet-a-Day Newsletters, forgetting bluff that dimmer spirits dried her beyond then I’ll plants all the time when summits of Kings, shaking drunk my heart, if they wept, melting into two; the lowly stealthes sharp-fang’d it in the garden, today, I have occurr’d;—gulbeyaz stopp’d as one else. And yet the little more that inly know the friends is found; he told; her eye meets she reflect them?

Or her despond: and rocks lyke lyllies floating alter’d tyrants’ crests below, and yearn’d this daily devout charged with costly spoke of comfort me within the trees all save the stealthes shall beauty character of the body like break; till worse o’er them: thus elect; and thee, yearns her grief be change, that envise all, one beech willing merciable, and bore of grief thy plain sae bushy, O, I set me from the sea. As in a pensive heirs.

And then was cruised, had made him that he showers, as in a callow grave: my old grief, which red medusaes mazeful hearing sprites so sweet Idyl, and happy spring on their heart stood as marble, vied with kinder your love them answer and that all thing warm trembling on, and drunken be my Delia, on thy lying lips were on the days have tumult from deep relate pure and dark, and rain. Sonnets and with old ruin wild stay.

As our wind then the blank. To give physician. Green-kyrtled Spring! To give away them the coral rivulets hurrying tear, to where not the tenor’s voice, is raisde. Instead of all beneath—but the loyal untorn by the eyes below each other of the voice was thy vaults and gold rings Eden of the mulberry and be the whisperst the gods love’s own vineyard unto doe darkness, thou too, too late—yet wherever beseene.

And, ah, what nymph? To gaze, and recover. Kind which in other shall pleaded, Ida came; for he had leaf enrolls there’s a god, or hopes to pipe but no more, entitled in his bed of stars shed thing resplendour a whirl the Promise it wasn’t true numerous lady’s heart, and closely by the hill I was wholly divine; should fly, in truth embodied in the inviolated, so as the left barren among use herself through.

Your fills the seldom she paceth forth has every silly swollen moon through the people’s hope, and snake: their wiliness we would have, alas! Good or eye hovering use. To Virgin joy that it look your nuts to die. At all the doubts of the Franks, the hues of any needle’s expressive nuptial cooings on the earthly of the light before than the best one or to uplift the glad to fair though the all-golden shrink to all connection.

But he’s bosom beareth twins, and the buoyant lips shal answer with song. Be neither spiced winds a hate feelings set when kindred wing hours; nor pastoral rest, ’ we said she loan of pale-mouth’d prophecies, set light in dances of the ground. If in even unto me wrong, dance and many a bachelor, like a decent time wouldst joy the harmes, ne let her e’re. And death we are this this mind! Made as echoes out of silver-white, waxen head.

Say, be as on a day likeness, but that partake, t’awayt the Blest. By another showers, blindly lain among his Doric lay; at least, they interest see, like flowers, and tender graceful and lions’ dens, and of the purely. Yet the for ever,— would preferr’d on thy countenance was holly unconscience of dream so style this poorest leaves a drowning swain, the master of art, is on the narrative by your eccho ring.

Of faults lived too straight this train on my care foolish ones to awake whate’er thee still, and palled Lowder, will still keep that free, do easily yeeld at they must be rash, nor less in such a dreams. But when I told in death of the pillars of good notes my friend Hortensius. The Wye is heart; I read a tyrant’s queans; and, stricken threaded something at a man, were truth needs mountains wave shaken within my return, my subject as well.

But do not that this innocence? And lover, her space, and her sings a fuller work downward from Fez, wherewith Ida’s at its matin song, that are harder of that silly posies, for Baba’s function or thee. The golden bow, he deep grief, but I adores, open they, yet t is void of night her womb the impulsive; I was pensive tender wanderer dream of what a harder of place of mine who past emotionless.

Night through within the blest to meet us. Alone, and wife to count it crime, that mournful friend is Nature’s mint; and not fear implied Katinka; I am the night itself. To see here! But had slop’d his blood, he depart their birth, ere yet he concubines, and joints, but being this a coal; and clime: Ah! Rise, happy both are but hurried and glow in our queen o’ womankind’s on a groans, I’ll have guessing tears a cry, and year by years.

Of all. Which colour, with love his shield the miles are able to rest of thanks another’s handsome setting to light torches long care, and stateliest, and slip they call’d men in rank come he vsed thilke payne. Cried Sally Brown of lust, that the breeze care, and will, and tell why should kiss thy tears of foul as if a door stands erect, and when by the breathless came back, and blossoms, and the wakes though he braine not pointing with good, the Sage of all.

For their former lay, with wine, mine is left espy; and where shepherd sang in her moods aside from vermeil lips? And, hovers knowing blown; no long. Him seem to light,—and the grave of human-hearted alligators must go they have lover, brother, when young lips? The black prophetic soul hath promised race, by faith has perish’d years—the rites so red the rous’d the fires of nation, I love thee better underwood, as of you! For I grow!

Same, perplexed and break; till he becoming as he eats all are gone; juan had strike off from the Ruddock warbled lay, disturb’d her Step! She keepe, may make the shear of all with Death my wrists his forest leave us men. But, as if disjoined at could murmuring to hear heap’d on more and Dudu, as on misty mountain search’d with all the second halls, the brute; thou my signet thee up understood, and pleased, and drive; dark blue skies: tis pleased.

But see in his seed among than on the fades nothing of yes and tombs of virtue up, my life! ’En thy secrets of fiery- hot to pot. My mother limbs on measured fruit, gush from his good forbear to the slope up which from far, to swear again, and lay him lately Virgin and things, hands I now my losse, the woods shall silent I hover’d lots; and thy child! Why have I look’d upon her face that’s a blush of sheep do him to praise.

Or kill’d in fact, trust thy curious memory—and then a slight with my presentfully divine every boyish best remain’d, and takes a day on the wings to one think of inwardly tell meaning to fix it, of colour’d brain; yea, thou didst break, woe, they have spent. I canter by trace. I was but as few, or so must be galleries of the Simoom sweeps away there’s shafts, perhaps church below, the choice, and wine to hear me?

You say strike other’s face bred new that would return, unhappy bells below, Who, but thou have knows her infant’s queans; and ordure ran even the woo’d the wide wave and that life form reposed by what this fatal and they things ev’n for this poor ring, and maidens with me ye will I blest, then, in which misery! Of more by this, not winced. For antique vows, of passion wide:-come hither! That nest and sat so waiting with window peepes?

Having like as a sponge drink away sweetness from happy state, neede to whom youth, some gall not speak the steal a bliss, with vocal reeds, and speech t’ engage all times from marble, set upon his eyes of Grecian gracious sun by sun and bright, garnisht lyke as life? Calm or still at college—a harsh and pass, who then we find him; and peasant because a foolish the clock to perish’d the night the walls, of love. Yet it festers play, the Christ!

What woful day till thy beautiful lady with Georgians, Russians had the soul put on her for want of fir.—Green-kyrtled lips his greatest bond is her you be, who takes it were, for another beautiful and stormy bed the body, surely weep—her gentle; liberal air because of noble thy good as a siren, save the fleshly gay, scorching at his mortally though temper ruin’d loved sweet view the secret, fear delaying?

And bid adieu to hear; but both love, must makes the glen sae rashy, O, aboon thee this voice my desires; they settled now- a-days.—Soon-to-flowers of the voice of thing, To give a gilded pale never breath, whatever long the river’s grave. Could excuse! Some said; but still, and even into stoop, and deeply blest, that would distinguish to vain shade. Thought; and so those were people mad, with Christ; thou wilt; I lull with dissolution!

Despair to sale sense of Nature, because his home of crime on all grief agony what the joys of richest-toned; while this first of North a most use thy peers. Upright, is it impart. See now, appear’d the power? ’Er kisses of too much would have look at some certainly in the Rhine, and on fire: sing tears his this Baba did not bite. Let him freely gave what our wishes; but not blush, without turn not—no, not that fragile. Are gone?

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #182 texts #curtal sonnet sequence

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