Post by Datuk Seri Maharaja Dúryodhanã on Feb 12, 2014 23:28:54 GMT -8
And there she lulled me asleep,
And there I dream’d—Ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream’d
On the cold hill’s side.
I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!”
~ John Keats
And there I dream’d—Ah! woe betide!
The latest dream I ever dream’d
On the cold hill’s side.
I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—“La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!”
~ John Keats
It was so long ago, when
In the joyous spring of life,
I roamed the hills alone now and then
Living carefree, far from all storms or strife-
Enjoying the cool breeze, the cool skies
And then I met you, the one lady
Who stole my mind with your two eyes;
Who won my heart in all glory.
There was nothing else that I had ever seen before
And it was still morning, and the world was new,
The Springtime’s clean tides rushing towards the shore
When I first met my destiny and doom in you.
You did not, and still do not; have a rival in any other,
And so, being the knight I was I strove to do you honour.
O, Love was when in Summer I beheld you:
Those two eyes full of joy, born of Divine Grace,
And lovingly, in a languid embrace; held you:
In all your fastness, in the Summer’s embrace
Summer winds replaced Spring’s breezes so fresh:
My life was filled with love-dreams and yearning
For those rich dark locks, the translucent flesh,
From the dawn late into the azure morning.
And I stood upon my very two feet;
A soaring spirit lit a flame in me:
Thus did Love ennoble me in spirit,
And my life was made whole with you beside me.
And the fields and shores of my life turned green,
The air was lit with a prismatic sheen.
Frank Cadogan Cowper
La Belle Dame Sans Merci
So far was I led astray from the right trail;
So wrong am I even until now.
Now my Fool’s Paradise is a flail,
And longing for salvation grinds my brow.
So many rivers have flowed into the seas,
So many seasons have arrived and passed away.
And now Age’s frost is fast in my hair and cruel on my knees:
Too long and too far have I gone astray.
Nearing the very end of my Day,
All my life’s works are all but empty-
Empty husks flying away, as the world passes away:
Nothing is ever eternal save great God’s glory.
For the Winter of life awaits me, and the tears
Of regret the only harvest of those wasted years.
