Posted on 09/16/2008 7:36:27 AM PDT by Kaslin
She was young, she was fair, she was new, she was nice,
She was ?, she was sweet seventeen.
He was old, he was vile, and no stranger to vice,
He was bad, he was base, he was mean.
He had slyly enviegled her up, to his flat,
To see his collection of stamps (all unperforated),
And he said, as he hastily put out the cat, the wine, his cigar, and the lamps,
“Have some madeira, m’dear, it’s ever so much nicer than beer.
And from there on, I can’t remember the lyrics well enough to write them down. :D
John Donne
74. “Batter my heart, three person’d God; for, you”
BATTER my heart, three person’d God; for, you
As yet but knocke, breathe, shine, and seeke to mend;
That I may rise, and stand, o’erthrow mee,’and bend
Your force, to breake, blowe, burn and make me new.
I, like an usurpt towne, to’another due, 5
Labour to’admit you, but Oh, to no end,
Reason your viceroy in mee, mee should defend,
But is captiv’d, and proves weake or untrue.
Yet dearely’I love you,’and would be loved faine,
But am betroth’d unto your enemie: 10
Divorce mee,’untie, or breake that knot againe;
Take mee to you, imprison mee, for I
Except you’enthrall mee, never shall be free,
Nor ever chast, except you ravish mee.
John Donne
75. “Show me deare Christ, thy spouse, so bright and clear”
SHOW me deare Christ, thy spouse, so bright and clear.
What! is it She, which on the other shore
Goes richly painted? or which rob’d and tore
Laments and mournes in Germany and here?
Sleepes she a thousand, then peepes up one yeare? 5
Is she selfe truth and errs? now new, now outwore?
Doth she, and did she, and shall she evermore
On one, on seaven, or on no hill appeare?
Dwells she with us, or like adventuring knights
First travaile we to seeke and then make Love? 10
Betray kind husband thy spouse to our sights
And let myne amorous soule court thy mild Dove,
Who is most trew, and pleasing to thee, then
When she’is embrac’d and open to most men.
John Donne
76. Goodfriday, 1613. Riding Westward
LET mans Soule be a Spheare, and then, in this,
The intelligence that moves, devotion is,
And as the other Spheares, by being growne
Subject to forraigne motions, lose their owne,
And being by others hurried every day, 5
Scarce in a yeare their naturall forme obey:
Pleasure or business, so, our Soules admit
For their first mover, and are whirld by it.
Hence is’t, that I am carryed towards the West
This day, when my Soules forme bends toward the East. 10
There I should see a Sunne, by rising set,
And by that setting endlesse day beget;
But that Christ on this Crosse, did rise and fall,
Sinne had eternally benighted all.
Yet dare I’almost be glad, I do not see 15
That spectacle of too much weight for mee.
Who sees Gods face, that is selfe life, must dye;
What a death were it then to see God dye?
It made his owne Lieutenant Nature shrinke,
It made his footstoole crack, and the Sunne winke. 20
Could I behold those hands which span the Poles,
And turne all spheares at once, peirc’d with those holes?
Could I behold that endlesse height which is
Zenith to us, and our Antipodes,
Humbled below us? or that blood which is 25
The seat of all our Soules, if not of his,
Made durt of dust, or that flesh which was worne
By God, for his apparell, rag’d, and torne?
If on these things I durst not looke, durst I
Upon his miserable mother cast mine eye, 30
Who was Gods partner here, and furnish’d thus
Halfe of that Sacrifice, which ransom’d us?
Though these things, as I ride, be from mine eye,
They’are present yet unto my memory,
For that looks towards them; and thou look’st towards mee, 35
O Saviour, as thou hang’st upon the tree;
I turne my backe to thee, but to receive
Corrections, till thy mercies bid thee leave.
O thinke mee worth thine anger, punish mee,
Burne off my rusts, and my deformity, 40
Restore thine Image, so much, by thy grace,
That thou may’st know mee, and I’ll turne my face.
Ms. Anthony is not what I would call a GOOD Catholic!
But we are nonetheless bound to obey the Church. And the Church has declared the visions inauthentic, and so it stands.
And it's not just a question of obedience -- the folks connected with Bayside are promulgating all sorts of nonsense, to-wit:
The "messages" and other related propaganda contain statements which, among other things, are contrary to the teachings of the Catholic Church, undermine the legitimate authority of bishops and councils and instill doubts in the minds of the faithful, for example, by claiming that, for years, an "imposter (sic) Pope" governed the Catholic Church in place of Paul VI.
I'm big on obedience, because I used to be an Episcopalian and I've seen where disobedience takes you.
Holy Sonnet No. VIIAt the round earth's imagined corners
blow your trumpets, angels
and arise from death
you numberless infinities of souls
and to your scattered bodies go!All whom the flood did and fire shall overthrow
All whom war, death, age, agues, tyrannies,
despair, law, chance hath slain;
And you whose eyes shall behold God
And never taste death's woe,But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space,
For, if above all these my sins abound,
'Tis late to ask abundance of Thy grace
When we are there.Here on this lowly ground,
Teach me how to repent, for that's as good
As if Thoud'st sealed my pardon with
Thy blood.
He set "At the round earth's imagined corners", "Thou hast made me, and shall Thy work decay?", "Batter my heart", and "Death be not proud" for contralto/bass and piano. They are a bit difficult but incredibly beautiful, and I can't find them anywhere on line - published by Alfred Lengnick & Co. in South Croydon of all places. I have a hard copy on the piano --
Re the Madeira -- collectors always keep the stuff too long. That's certainly not true here . . . we had four bottles of Margaux '82 and it's all gone, and very much enjoyed. It could have lasted another 25 years easy, but then we've had the pleasure of drinking it and can brag about it indefinitely.
Okay, I'll get off my soapbox now. :-)
It's funny who you meet, though, when you're wearing your Miraculous Medal!
(I can't get any of my Rosaries over my head anyway . . . either I have small Rosaries or my head is swelled . . . or a little of both . . . . )
I'm all for seafood! (but you can have all the calamari . . . )
Yeah, the Anglo-Irish types are a little uptight - it is just frustrating to see all the "never wear a rosary!" posts. Like I said, cultural imperialism :-P
And I will absolutely take the calamari, the scrod, the muscles, and whatever else you can get. Christmas Eve, eating a smorgasbord of seafood, most of it fried? And you wonder why we sleep in Christmas morning!
I should know by now that everything can be found on YouTube, but thank you for the link! It’s wonderful. :D I immediately passed it on to my sibs.
(Of course, finding the Scottish composer William Wordsworth in the midst of tens of thousands of embarassingly bad recordings of readings of the English poet William Wordsworth is a bit of a problem!)
Okay, ALMOST everything. :D
I have to go to the office today. I’m stalling...
We sang it Sunday, folks seemed to like it (what sound like mistakes at the end of the first section - and again at the end of the second section - are deliberate cross-relations. Drive you nuts.)
We also sang this one, for offertory:
Ludovic Viadana: "Exultate, Justi"
They mess with the tempo more than we do. We sing the first and last parts more slowly, then the middle section at a good clip, but with no rubato anywhere. Our choirmaster maintains that Renaissance motets should have an internal pulse that does not vary!
According to their site, the Brooklyn Diocese never investigated them, so to be honest I don't know who is telling the truth--but that comes out with the passage of time anyway.
All that matters to me is that Jesus is the Way, the Truth and the Life. In the final analysis, we will be judged on how well we obeyed Him.
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