Monday, December 26, 2011
Happy Second Bite of Birthday After Death, Mr. Vanderleun
Stained glass window by John Piper
Gerard, may all your days be graced by Love, Truth and Beauty from here, to Eternity, and beyond!
Now that the hearth is crowned with smiling fire,
And some do drink, and some do dance,
Some ring,
Some sing,
And all do strive to advance
The gladness higher;
Wherefore should I
Stand silent by,
Who not the least,
Both love the cause, and authors of the feast?
Give me my cup, but from the Thespian well,
That I may tell to Sidney what
This day
Doth say,
And ne may think on that
Which I do tell;
When all the noise
Of these forced joys,
Are fled and gone,
And he with his best Genius left alone.
This day says, then, the number of glad years
Are justly summed, that make you man;
Your vow
Must now
Strive all right ways it can,
T’ outstrip your peers:
Since he doth lack
Of going back
Little, whose will
Doth urge him to run wrong, or to stand still.
Nor can a little of the common store
Of nobles’ virtue, show in you;
Your blood
So good
And great, must seek for new,
And study more:
Nor weary, rest
On what’s deceas’t.
For they, that swell
With dust of ancestors, in graves but dwell.
‘Twill be exacted of your name, whose son,
Whose nephew, whose grandchild you are;
And men
Will then
Say you have followed far,
When well begun:
Which must be now,
They teach you how,
And he that stays
To live until tomorrow, hath lost two days.
So may you live in honour, as in name,
If with this truth you be inspired;
So may
This day
Be more and long desired;
And with the flame
Of love be bright,
As with the light
Of bonfires! then
The birthday shines, when logs not burn, but men.
Ode To Sir William Sidney On His Birthday
by Ben JonsonNow that the hearth is crowned with smiling fire,
And some do drink, and some do dance,
Some ring,
Some sing,
And all do strive to advance
The gladness higher;
Wherefore should I
Stand silent by,
Who not the least,
Both love the cause, and authors of the feast?
Give me my cup, but from the Thespian well,
That I may tell to Sidney what
This day
Doth say,
And ne may think on that
Which I do tell;
When all the noise
Of these forced joys,
Are fled and gone,
And he with his best Genius left alone.
This day says, then, the number of glad years
Are justly summed, that make you man;
Your vow
Must now
Strive all right ways it can,
T’ outstrip your peers:
Since he doth lack
Of going back
Little, whose will
Doth urge him to run wrong, or to stand still.
Nor can a little of the common store
Of nobles’ virtue, show in you;
Your blood
So good
And great, must seek for new,
And study more:
Nor weary, rest
On what’s deceas’t.
For they, that swell
With dust of ancestors, in graves but dwell.
‘Twill be exacted of your name, whose son,
Whose nephew, whose grandchild you are;
And men
Will then
Say you have followed far,
When well begun:
Which must be now,
They teach you how,
And he that stays
To live until tomorrow, hath lost two days.
So may you live in honour, as in name,
If with this truth you be inspired;
So may
This day
Be more and long desired;
And with the flame
Of love be bright,
As with the light
Of bonfires! then
The birthday shines, when logs not burn, but men.

Friday, December 16, 2011
The Appeasement continues, unabated

So now the Anglican Church, the State Church of Great Britain, is teaching the Christmas story to their dwindling membership from the Koran. I really hope that they festooned the church with decorations that don’t inflame the anger glands of those surly practitioners of The Religion of Peace™. In other words, I hope they’ve Decked the Halls with white flags of surrender outside all the windows. Just in case.
Combuke: Islam’s Jihad Against Christmas is a great and lengthy read on this topic, and he posted a list of suitably revised carols:
Friday, December 2, 2011
Abide With Me
1. Abide with me; fast falls the eventide; the darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide. When other helpers fail and comforts flee, Help of the helpless, O abide with me. 2. Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day; earth's joys grow dim; its glories pass away; change and decay in all around I see; O thou who changest not, abide with me. 3. I need thy presence every passing hour. What but thy grace can foil the tempter's power? Who, like thyself, my guide and stay can be? Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me. 4. I fear no foe, with thee at hand to bless; ills have no weight, and tears not bitterness. Where is death's sting? Where, grave, thy victory? I triumph still, if thou abide with me. 5. Hold thou thy cross before my closing eyes; shine through the gloom and point me to the skies. Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows flee; in life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.
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But what’s a Jihadmas without Charlie Brown?