Mhavos Dalat, a pleasure. (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
murderbaby) wrote2016-08-04 01:07 pm
murderbaby) wrote2016-08-04 01:07 pm
selected poetry bullshit.
QUICKLINKS
- Battle
- Riddle
- Faith
- Momento Mori
- Seasons
- Love
- Death
- Nostalgia
- Heartbreak
- Affair
- Devotional
- Form
- Romantic
- Kiss
- Love Sonnet
- Matrimony
- Sexuality
- Youth
- Disorder
- Luck
- Battle Poetry
descended from his horse
With a meager retinue of men.
There was his sword bathed in blood;
There I saw him bleeding and wounded,
Going on, fighting on foot,
Always ahead without turning back,
Until he had brought the standard
Of our sovereign prince all ways to the ground
And held it in his arms
As he died.
[...]
There I saw cast in the middle of the floor
Many a ragged standard
And many a defouled coat,
And many a shield so shattered and so scratched
That no color nor hue appeared upon them
[...]
Ah, Lord! I was so anguished
That I was seeing so many insignia there
And none that I could recognize,
Whether it were a little pennant or a standard,
A shield, a surcoat, or a pommel ornament:
All were dismantled and all were broken
[...]
Guillaume, he was discovered
Among the dead, wounded in the face and body,
The night after the battle,
And then indeed Huet Cholet, without doubt,
Was found on the third day after the battle,
… they had been left for dead. - vikingr / riddles
Who else hoards such yellow
hair, bright lady – fair as
your milk-mind shoulders,
where milled barley-gold falls?
Chuck the cowled hawk, harry
him with sweets. Crimsoner
of eagles’ claws, I covet
cool downpours of silk; yours.
[...]
How our blood-stained standards
stream! Erlingr – extreme
in terror, blade bristler –
bombards the doomed dromond.
Our spears cause suffering,
spread Saracen-gore. Red-
drenched blades clinch bone boldly.
We stack slain black sailors.
[...]
Ride the spray-maned sailed-horse!
Sea-ploughs don’t grub field-gorse!
Bows plough the blue wave’s course
to Byzantium. Norse-
men, claim that caliph’s gold!
Cut through steel-storms, be hold!
Feed wolves’ red grins! Withhold
wit while kings’ tale are told! - some short older poems
love / faith (fowls in the frith) ambiguity if beste = beast or best
Fowls in the frith,
The fishes in the flood,
And I must go mad;
Much sorrow I walke with
For beste of bone and blood. - Merry it is while summer last
Merry it is while summer last
With fowl in song;
But now do the winds threaten blast
And tempests strong.
Oh! Oh! What this night is long,
And I with much done so wrong
Sorrow and mourn and fast. - When the Turf is Thy Tower / momento mori (+ u should sleep w me)
When the turf is thy tower,
And thy pit is thy bower,
Thy skin and thy fair throat
invites worms to note.
What help thee then?
Shun pleasure ye then?
Each Day My Thoughts Come Tidings ThreeEach day my thoughts come tidings three
For heavy my soul bore these:
The one is that I shall die,
That other that I not when,
The third is most unfair,
That I not whither I go where.- Of Every Kind of Tree
Of every kind of tree,
Of every kind of tree,
The hawthorn blossoms sweetest,
Of every kind of tree.
My lover she shall be,
My lover she shall be,
The fairest of every kind,
My lover she shall be. - They Flee From Me
They flee from me that sometime did me seek
With naked foot, stalking in my chamber.
I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek,
That now are wild and do not remember
That sometime they put themself in danger
To take bread at my hand; and now they range,
Busily seeking with a continual change.
Thanked be fortune it hath been otherwise
Twenty times better; but once in special,
In thin array after a pleasant guise,
When her loose gown from her shoulders did fall,
And she me caught in her arms long and small;
Therewithall sweetly did me kiss
And softly said, ‘Dear heart, how like you this?’
It was no dream: I lay broad waking.
But all is turned thorough my gentleness
Into a strange fashion of forsaking;
And I have leave to go of her goodness,
And she also, to use newfangleness.
But since that I so kindly am served
I would fain know what she hath deserved. - And Wilt Thou Leave Me Thus?
And wilt thou leave me thus?
Say nay, say nay, for shame,
To save thee from the blame
Of all my grief and grame;
And wilt thou leave me thus?
Say nay, say nay!
And wilt thou leave me thus,
That hath loved thee so long
In wealth and woe among?
And is thy heart so strong
As for to leave me thus?
Say nay, say nay!
And wilt thou leave me thus,
That hath given thee my heart
Never for to depart,
Nother for pain nor smart;
And wilt thou leave me thus?
Say nay, say nay!
And wilt thou leave me thus
And have no more pity
Of him that loveth thee?
Hélas, thy cruelty!
And wilt thou leave me thus?
Say nay, say nay! - And Whoso List
Stand whoso list upon the slipper top
Of court’s estates, and let me here rejoice;
And use me quiet without let or stop,
Unknown in court, that hath such brackish joys:
In hidden place, so let my days forth pass,
That when my years be done, withouten noise,
I may die agèd after the common trace,
For him death gripeth right hard by the crope
That is much known of other; and of himself alas,
Doth die unknown, dazed with dreadful face. - A Wreath (flexin ur form muscles)
A wreathèd garland of deservèd praise,
Of praise deservèd, unto Thee I give,
I give to Thee, who knowest all my ways,
My crooked winding ways, wherein I live,—
Wherein I die, not live ; for life is straight,
Straight as a line, and ever tends to Thee,
To Thee, who art more far above deceit,
Than deceit seems above simplicity.
Give me simplicity, that I may live,
So live and like, that I may know Thy ways,
Know them and practise them: then shall I give
For this poor wreath, give Thee a crown of praise. - The Collar (devotional af)
I struck the board, and cry’d, No more.
I will abroad.
What? shall I ever sigh and pine?
My lines and life are free; free as the rode,
Loose as the winde, as large as store.
Shall I be still in suit?
Have I no harvest but a thorn
To let me bloud, and not restore
What I have lost with cordiall fruit?
Sure there was wine
Before my sighs did drie it: there was corn
Before my tears did drown it.
Is the yeare onely lost to me?
Have I no bayes to crown it?
No flowers, no garlands gay? all blasted?
All wasted?
Not so, my heart: but there is fruit,
And thou hast hands.
Recover all thy sigh-blown age
On double pleasures: leave thy cold dispute
Of what is fit and not. Forsake thy cage,
Thy rope of sands,
Which pettie thoughts have made, and made to thee
Good cable, to enforce and draw,
And be thy law,
While thou didst wink and wouldst not see.
Away; take heed:
I will abroad.
Call in thy deaths head there: tie up thy fears.
She that forbears
To suit and serve His need,
Deserves her load.
But as I rav’d and grew more fierce and wilde
At every word,
Me thoughts I heard one calling, Child!
And I reply’d, My Lord. - Astrophil and Stella, romantic sonnet
With how sad steps, O moon, thou climb’st the skies;
How silently, and with how wan a face.
What, may it be that even in heavenly place
That busy archer his sharp arrows tries?
Sure, if that long-with-love-acquainted eyes
Can judge of love, thou feel’st a lover’s case;
I read it in thy looks; thy languished grace
To me, that feel the like, thy state descries.
Then, even of fellowship, O moon, tell me,
Is constant love deemed there but want of wit?
Are beauties there as proud as here they be?
Do they above love to be loved, and yet
Those lovers scorn whom that love doth possess?
Do they call virtue there ungratefulness? - Since There's No Help, Let Us Kiss and Part
Since there’s no help, come let us kiss and part.
Nay, I have done, you get no more of me;
And I am glad, yea glad with all my heart,
That thus so cleanly I myself can free.
Shake hands for ever, cancel all our vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our brows
That we one jot of former love retain.
Now at the last gasp of Love’s latest breath,
When, his pulse failing, Passion speechless lies;
When Faith is kneeling by his bed of death,
And Innocence is closing up his eyes—
Now, if thou wouldst, when all have given him over,
From death to life thou might’st him yet recover! - My True Love Has My Heart, and I Have His
My true love hath my heart, and I have his,
By just exchange one for the other given:
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss;
There never was a bargain better driven.
His heart in me keeps me and him in one;
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:
He loves my heart, for once it was his own;
I cherish his because in me it bides.
His heart his wound received from my sight;
My heart was wounded with his wounded heart;
For as from me on him his hurt did light,
So still, methought, in me his hurt did smart:
Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss,
My true love hath my heart, and I have his. - To My Dear and Loving Husband
If ever two were one, then surely we.
If ever man were loved by wife, then thee;
If ever wife was happy in a man,
Compare with me ye women if you can.
I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold,
Or all the riches that the East doth hold.
My love is such that Rivers cannot quench,
Nor aught but love from thee, give recompence.
Thy love is such I can no way repay,
The heavens reward thee manifold I pray.
Then while we live, in love lets so persever,
That when we live no more, we may live ever. - Upon Julia's Clothes
Whenas in silks my Julia goes,
Upon Julia's Breasts (a tasteful sequel)
Then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows
The liquefaction of her clothes.
Next, when I cast mine eyes and see
That brave vibration each way free
O how that glittering taketh me!Display thy breasts, my Julia, there let me
One more little thing--
Behold that circummortal purity;
Between whose glories, there my lips I’ll lay,
Ravished in that fair voie Lactée.[lit. 'milky way]Trust to good Verses, then;
They onley will aspire,
When Pyramids, as men,
Are lost, i’th’ funerall fire. - To The Virgins To Make Much Of Time, robert herricks was a spicy meatball
Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles today
Tomorrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he’s to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For having lost but once your prime,
You may forever tarry. - Delight in Disorder
A sweet disorder in the dress
Kindles in clothes a wantonness;
A lawn about the shoulders thrown
Into a fine distraction;
An erring lace, which here and there
Enthrals the crimson stomacher;
A cuff neglectful, and thereby
Ribands to flow confusedly;
A winning wave, deserving note,
In the tempestuous petticoat;
A careless shoe-string, in whose tie
I see a wild civility:
Do more bewitch me, than when art
Is too precise in every part. - The Coming Of Good Luck
So good luck came, and on my roof did light,
Like noiseless snow, or as the dew of night :
Not all at once, but gently, as the trees
Are by the sunbeams tickled by degrees. - The Night Piece: To Julia
Her eyes the glow-worm lend thee,
The shooting stars attend thee;
And the elves also,
Whose little eyes glow
Like the sparks of fire, befriend thee.
No Will-o’-th’-Wisp mis-light thee,
Nor snake or slow-worm bite thee;
But on, on thy way,
Not making a stay,
Since ghost there’s none to affright thee.
Let not the dark thee cumber;
What though the moon does slumber?
The stars of the night
Will lend thee their light,
Like tapers clear without number.
Then Julia let me woo thee,
Thus, thus to come unto me;
And when I shall meet
Thy silv’ry feet,
My soul I’ll pour into thee.
no subject
HOW MANY: Characters actually going along: 4-5 including Mhav. He may also have some conversations w/ leadership pre-mission, but those can be handwaved, or not, whatever's cool for you & your schedule. Will require stealthy people who won't be noticed, to get them to Val Royeaux, and some fancy people who will justify Riftwatch members being seen in the area, attending a party taking place at the same time.
OPEN/CLOSED: Open to OOC signups, IC they'll be assigned or chosen, w/e.
WHERE: Val Royeaux.
WHEN: OOCly & OOCly, Wintermarch or Guardian.
WHAT: In his absence, Mhavos was spying on the noble family of De Guignes for activity with the Venatory. He never found any and came back to RW when the patriarch of the family died. He receives a letter from one of the servants still working for the family confirming that the De Guignes have not been working with Venatori... but intelligence thought they were because the cadet branch of the family was. They finally have enough confirmed information to stop the Venatori connection through a quick assassination, and stop the cadet branch from selling their elven servants to the Venatori for blood magic.
GOAL:
Object: Will convince Mhavos that he needs to keep in contact with elven servants in Val Royeaux and start a small whisper network through coded letters.
Development: He's going to have to officially kill someone for Riftwatch, which will force his development forward, thinking about what he's doing etc.
Development: He's going to have to share his status with whoever is on the mission.
ORDERS: Official RW mission. He'd discuss the letter with Yseult, and also the spy network angle with Bastien, having been inspired by him at their little chat.
IMPACT & CONSEQUENCES: It will get more elves in Val Royeaux giving information to RW, which is good. It will make Mhavos' cover a little more wobbly, but only because he's actually doing something with it, so that's a natural consequence. It will stamp out at least one foothold Venatori have in Val Royeaux.
MOD INVOLVEMENT: Nothing, if you'd prefer the convos with Yseult and Bastien be handwaved. Otherwise, we can thread 'em. All good 2 me.
no subject