Coelius Sedulius & Giovanni Vianini

Beowulf

...

May one so valiant

and venturesome

come unharmed

through

the clash of battle ... 


Lines 299 - 300

                                       
                
                                                                 up to you 

Heather Allen : "Grasses"

So still at heart, 

They respond like water 

To the slightest breeze,

Rippling as one body,



And, as one mind,

Bend continually

To listen:

The perfect confidants,



They keep to themselves

A web of trails and nests,

Burrows and hidden entrances --

Do not reveal



Those camouflaged in stillness 

From the circling hawks,

Or crouched and breathless

At the passing of the fox.





Poem of the Day, posted by The Poetry Foundation on May 27, 2016

Here's where I lower you

        into the drizzle

of the visible,

        my eager one,

where I hold you out like a gift

        to this water,

                         out at the end of my hand . . .







Jorie Graham, Mirror Prayer, poem excerpt
First Published on POETRY Magazine, November 1983 
The Poetry Foundation 

Coleman Barks : "Glad"

In the glory of the gloaming-green soccer
field her team, the Gladiators, is losing


ten to zip. She never loses interest in
the roughhouse one-on-one that comes


every half a minute. She sticks her leg
in danger and comes out the other side running.


Later a clump of opponents on the street is chant-
ing, WE WON, WE WON, WE . . .  She stands up


on the convertible seat holding to the wind-
shield. WE LOST, WE LOST BIGTIME, TEN TO 


NOTHING, WE LOST, WE LOST. Fist pumping
air. The other team quiet, abashed, chastened.


Good losers don't laugh last; they laugh
continuously, all the way home so glad.





From Winter Sky by Coleman Barks 
Published by University of Georgia Press, 2008
University of Georgia Press

Moschus : "Europa"

Cypris, when all but shone the dawn's glad beam,

To fair Europa sent a pleasant dream;

When sleep, upon the close-shut eyelids sitting,

Sweeter than honey, is eye-fetters knitting.

The limb-dissolving sleep! When to and fro

True dreams, like sheep at pasture, come and go.

Europa, sleeping in her upper room,

The child of Phoenix, in her virgin bloom,

Thought that she saw a contest fierce arise

Betwix two continents, herself the prize;

They to the dreamer seemed like women quite,

Asia, and Asia's unknown opposite.

This was a stranger, that a native seemed,

And closer hugged her- so Europa dreamed;

And called herself Europa's nurse and mother,

Said that she bore and reared her; but that other

Spared not her hands, and still the sleeper drew,

With her good will, and claimed her as her due.

And said that Zeus AEgiochus gave her,

By Fate's appointment, that sweet prisoner.



Up-started from her couch the maiden waking,

And felt her heart within her bosom quaking;

She thought it true, and sat in hushed surprise-

Still saw those women with her open eyes;

Then to her timid voice at last gave vent; -

'Which of the gods to me this vision sent?

What kind of dream is this that startled me,

And sudden made my pleasant slumber flee?

Who was the stranger that I saw in sleep?

What love for her did to my bosom creep!

 And how she hailed me, as her daughter even!

But only turn to good my vision, Heaven!'


So said, and bounded up, and sought her train

Of dear companions, all of noble strain,

Of equal years and stature, gentle, kind,

Sweet to the sight, and pleasant to the mind;

With whom she sported, when she led the choir,

Or in the river's urn-like reservoir

She bathed her limbs, or in the meadow stopt

And from its bosom odorous lilies cropt.

Her flower-basket in each maiden's hand;

And to the meadows near the pleasant shore

They sped, where they had often sped before,

Pleased with the roses growing in their reach,

And with the waves that murmured on the beach.




A basket by Hephaestus wrought of gold,

Europa bore - a marvel to behold;

He gave it Libya, when a blooming bride

She went to grace the great Earth's shaker side;

She gave it Thelephassa fair and mild,

Who now had given it to her virgin child.

Therein where many sparkling wonders wrought-

The hapless lo to the sight was brought;

A heifer's for a virgin's form she wore; 

The briny paths she frantic wandered o'er,

And was a swimming heifer to the view,

While the sea round her darkened into blue.



Two men upon a promontory stood, 

And watch the heifer traversing the flood.

Again where seven- mouthed Nile divides his strand,

Zeus stood and gently stroked her with his hand,

And from her horned figure and imbruted

To her original form again transmuted.



In brass the heifer- Zeus was wrought in gold;

Nile softly in a silver current rolled.

And to the life was watchful Hermes shown

Under the rounded basket's  golden crown;

And Argus near him with unsleeping eyes

Lay stretched at lenght, then from his blood did rise

The bird, exulting in the brilliant pride

Of his rich plumes and hues diversified,

And like a swift ship with her out spread sail,

Expanding proudly his resplendent tail,

The basket's golden rim he shadowed o'er

Such was the basket fair Europa bore.



They reached the mead with vernal blossoms full,

And each begun her favorite flowers to pull.

Narcissus one; another thyme did get;

This hyacinth, and that the violet;

And of the spring-sweets in the meadow found

Much scented bloom was scattered on the ground.

Some of the troop in rivalry chose rather 

The sweet and yellow crocuses to gather;

Shining, as mid the graces Cypris glows,

The Princess in the midst preferred the rose;

Nor long with flowers her gentle fancy charmed,

Nor long she kept her virgin flower unharmed.

With love for her, was Saturn's son inflamed,

By unexpected darts of Cypris tamed,

Who only tames e'en Zeus. To shun the rage

Of Here, and the virgin's mind engage, 

To draw her eyes and her attention claim,

He hid his godhead and a bull became;

Not such as feeds at stall, or then or now,

The furrow cuts and draws the crooked plough;

Not such as feeds the lowing kine among,

Or trails in yoke the heavy wain along;

His body all a yellow hue did own,

But a white circle in his forehead shone

His sparkling eyes with love's soft lustre gleamed;

His arched horns like Dian's crescent seemed.

He came into the meadow, nor the sight

Fluttered the virgins into sudden flight.

But they desired to touch and see him near;

His breath surpassed the meadow sweetness there.

Before Europa's feet he halted meek,

Licked her fair neck and eke her rosy cheek;

Threw round his neck her arms the Beautiful,

Wiped from his lips the foam and kissed the bull;

Softly he lowed, no lowing of a brute

It seemed, but murmur of Mygdonian flute;

Down on his knees he slunk; and first her eyed,

And then his back, as asking her to ride.

The long-haired maidens she began to call;-

'Come let us ride, his back will hold us all,

E'en as a ship, a bull unlike the rest,

As if human heart were in breast,

He gentle is and tractable and meek,

And wants but voice his gentleness to speak.'



 She said and mounted smiling, but before

Another did, he bounded for the shore.

The royal virgin struck with instant fear,

Stretched out her hands and called her playmates dear;

But how could they the ravished Princess reach?

He, like a dolphin, pushed out from the beach

From their sea-hollows swift the Nereids rose,

Seated on seals, and did his train compose;

Poseidon went before, and smooth did make

The path of waters for his brother's sake,

Around their king in close array did keep

The loud-voiced Tritons, minstrels of the deep,

And with her conchs proclaimed the nuptial song.

But on Jove's bull back as she rode along,

The maid with one hand grasped his branching horn,

The flowing robe, that did her form adorn,,

Raised with the other hand, and tried to save

From the salt moisture of the saucy wave;

Her robe, inflated by the wanton breeze,

Seemed like a ship's sail hovering o'er the seas.

Bur when, her father-land no longer nigh,

Nor sea-dashed shore was seen, nor mountain high,

But only sky above, and sea below-

She said, and round her anxious glance did throw;-



"Whither with me, portentous bull? Discover

This and thyself; and how canst thou pass over

The path of waters, walking on the wave,

And dost not fear the dangerous path to brave?

Along this tract swift ships their courses keep,

But bulls are wont to fear the mighty deep.

What pasture here? What sweet drink in the brine?

Art thou a god? Thy doings seem divine.

Nor sea-born dolphins roam the flowery mead,

Nor earth-born bulls through Ocean's realm proceed;

Fearless on land, and plunging from the shores 

Thou roamest ocean, and thy hoofs are oars.

Perchance anon, up-borne into the sky

Thou without wings like winged birds wilt fly!

Ah me unhappy! who my father's home 

Have left and with a bull o'er ocean roam,

A lonely voyager! My helper be,

Earth-shaking Regent of the hoary sea! 

I hope to see this voyage's cause and guide,

For not without a god these things betide.'



To her the horned bull with accent clear:

'Take courage, virgin! nor the billow fear,

The seeming bull is Zeus; for I with ease

Can take at will whatever form I please.

My fond desire for thy sweet beauty gave

To me this shape- my footstep to the wave.

Dear Crete, that nursed me, now shall welcome thee;

In Crete Europa's nuptial rites shall be;

From our embrace illustrious sons shall spring,

And everyone of them a sceptered king.'-



And instantly they where in Crete, his own

Form Zeus put on- and off her virgin zone.

Stowed the glad bed the Hours, of joy profuse;

The while virgin was the bride of Zeus.




Translation: M.J. Chapman

From The Poem Hunter Library

Li-Young Lee

" Love, what is the night ?

Is a man thinking in the night

the night?

Is fruit ripening in the night

the night? " ...





From "The Winged Seed"
Simon & Schuster 1995

Easter Tide

Saint Rev. Father Robert Southwell (1561 - 1595) : "The Virgin Mary To Christ On The Cross"

What mist hath dimm'd that glorious face?

What seas of grief my sun doth toss?

The golden rays of heavenly grace

Lies now eclipsed on the cross.



Jesus, my love, my Son, my God,

Behold Thy mother wash'ed in tears:

Thy bloody wounds be made a rod

To chasten these my later years.



You cruel Jews, come work your ire 

Upon this  worthless flesh of mine,

And kindle not eternal fire

By wounding Him who is divine.



Thou messenger that didst impart 

His first descent into my womb,

Come help me now to cleave my heart,

That there I may my Son entomb.



You angels, all that present were

To show His birth with harmony,

Why are you not now ready here,

To make a mourning symphony?



The cause I know you wail alone,

And shed your tears in secrecy,

Lest I should moved be to moan,

By force of heavy company.



But wail, my soul, thy comfort dies,

My woful womb, lament thy fruit;

My heart give tears unto mine eyes,

Let sorrow string my heavy lute.




Fr. Robert Southwell's poems - LUMINARIUM 
Saint Rev. Fr. Robert Southwell  Forty Martyrs of England and Wales

the messenger

Gordon Lightfoot (1938) : If You Could Read My Mind

If you could read my mind, love

What a tale my thoughts could tell

Just like an old time movie

'Bout a ghost from a wishing well

In a castle dark or a fortress strong

With chains upon my feet

You know that ghost is me

And I will never be set free

As long as I'm a ghost that you can't see.



If I could read your mind, love

What a tale your thoughts could tell

Just like a paperback novel

The kind the drugstores sell

Then you reach the part where the heartaches come

The hero would be me

But heroes often fail

And you won't read that book again 

Because the ending's just too hard to take!




I'd walk away like a movie star

Who gets burned in a three way script

Enter number two:

A movie queen to play the scene

Of bringing all the good things out in me



. . .





"If You Could Read My Mind" by Gordon Lightfoot   
written 1969 - recorded 1970