LITTLE thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown Of thee from the hill-top looking down; The heifer that lows in the upland farm, Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm; The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, Deems not that great Napoleon Stops his horse, and lists with delight, Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height; Nor knowest thou what argument Thy life to thy neighbor’s creed has lent. All are needed by each one; Nothing is fair or good alone. I thought the sparrow’s note from heaven, Singing at dawn on the alder bough; I brought him home, in his nest, at even; He sings the song, but it cheers not now, For I did not bring home the river and sky; He sang to my ear,—they sang to my eye. The delicate shells lay on the shore; The bubbles of the latest wave Fresh pearls to their enamel gave, And the bellowing of the savage sea Greeted their safe escape to me. I wiped away the weeds and foam, I fetched my sea-born treasures home; But the poor, unsightly, noisome things Had left their beauty on the shore With the sun and the sand and the wild uproar. The lover watched his graceful maid, As mid the virgin train she strayed, Nor knew her beauty’s best attire Was woven still by the snow-white choir. At last she came to his hermitage, Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage; The gay enchantment was undone, A gentle wife, but fairy none. Then I said, “I covet truth; Beauty is unripe childhood’s cheat; I leave it behind with the games of youth:” As I spoke, beneath my feet The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath, Running over the club-moss burrs; I inhaled the violet ’s breath; Around me stood the oaks and firs; Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground; Over me soared the eternal sky, Full of light and of deity; Again I saw, again I heard, The rolling river, the morning bird; Beauty through my senses stole; I yielded myself to the perfect whole.
Sonnets were introduced by Thomas Wyatt in the early 16th century. His sonnets and those of his contemporary the Earl of Surrey were chiefly translations from the Italian of Petrarch and the French of Ronsard and others. While Wyatt introduced the sonnet into English, it was Surrey who gave them the rhyme scheme, meter, and division into quatrains that now characterizes the English sonnet. Sir Philip Sidney's sequence Astrophil and Stella (1591) started a tremendous vogue for sonnet sequences: the next two decades saw sonnet sequences by William Shakespeare, Edmund Spenser, Michael Drayton, Samuel Daniel, Fulke Greville, William Drummond of Hawthornden, and many others.These sonnets were all essentially inspired by the Petrarchan tradition, and generally treat of the poet's love for some woman; the exception is Shakespeare's sequence. In the 17th century, the sonnet was adapted to other purposes, with John Donne and George Herbert writing religious sonnets, and John Milton using the sonnet as a general meditative poem. Both the Shakespearean and Petrarchan rhyme schemes were popular throughout this period, as well as many variants.
The fashion for the sonnet went out with the Restoration, and hardly any sonnets were written between 1670 and Wordsworth's time. However, sonnets came back strongly with the French Revolution. Wordsworth himself wrote several sonnets, of which the best-known are "The world is too much with us" and the sonnet to Milton; his sonnets were essentially modelled on Milton's. Keats and Shelley also wrote major sonnets; Keats's sonnets used formal and rhetorical patterns inspired partly by Shakespeare, and Shelley innovated radically, creating his own rhyme scheme for the sonnet "Ozymandias". Sonnets were written throughout the 19th century, but, apart from Elizabeth Barrett Browning's Sonnets from the Portuguese and the sonnets of Dante Gabriel Rossetti, there were few very successful traditional sonnets. Gerard Manley Hopkins wrote several major sonnets, often in sprung rhythm, of which the greatest is "The Windhover," and also several sonnet variants such as the 10-1/2 line curtal sonnet "Pied Beauty" and the 24-line caudate sonnet "That Nature is a Heraclitean Fire." By the end of the 19th century, the sonnet had been adapted into a general-purpose form of great flexibility.
This flexibility was extended even further in the 20th century. Among the major poets of the early Modernist period, Robert Frost, Edna St. Vincent Millay and E. E. Cummings all used the sonnet regularly. William Butler Yeats wrote the major sonnet Leda and the Swan, which used half rhymes. Wilfred Owen's sonnet Anthem for Doomed Youth was another sonnet of the early 20th century. W. H. Auden wrote two sonnet sequences and several other sonnets throughout his career, and widened the range of rhyme-schemes used considerably. Auden also wrote one of the first unrhymed sonnets in English, "The Secret Agent" (1928). Half-rhymed, unrhymed, and even unmetrical sonnets have been very popular since 1950; perhaps the best works in the genre are Seamus Heaney's Glanmore Sonnets and Clearances, both of which use half rhymes, and Geoffrey Hill's mid-period sequence 'An Apology for the Revival of Christian Architecture in England'. The 1990s saw something of a formalist revival, however, and several traditional sonnets have been written in the past decade.
Soon after the introduction of the Italian sonnet, English poets began to develop a fully native form. These poets included Sir Philip Sidney, Michael Drayton, Samuel Daniel, the Earl of Surrey's nephew Edward de Vere, 17th Earl of Oxford and William Shakespeare. The form is often named after Shakespeare, not because he was the first to write in this form but because he became its most famous practitioner. The form consists of three quatrains and a couplet. The third quatrain generally introduces an unexpected sharp thematic or imagistic "turn" called a volta. The usual rhyme scheme was a-b-a-b, c-d-c-d, e-f-e-f, g-g. In addition, sonnets are usually written in iambic pentameter, meaning that there are 10 or perhaps even 11 or 9 syllables per line, and that every other syllable is naturally accented. (Sonnets almost always have 10 syllable lines, but do not always have the natural accent)The sonnet must be 14 lines long, and the last two lines of the sonnet have rhyming endings (though there may be exceptions). In Shakespeare's sonnets, the couplet usually summarizes the theme of the poem or introduces a fresh new look at the theme.
This is the proper rhyme scheme for an English Sonnet (/ represents a new stanza): a-b-a-b / c-d-c-d / e-f-e-f / g-g
This example, Shakespeare's Sonnet 116, illustrates the form:
Let me not to the marriage of true minds (a) Admit impediments, love is not love (b) Which alters when it alteration finds, (a) Or bends with the remover to remove. (b)
O no, it is an ever fixed mark (c) That looks on tempests and is never shaken; (d) It is the star to every wand'ring bark, (c) Whose worth's unknown although his height be taken. (d)
Love's not time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks (e) Within his bending sickle's compass come, (f) Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, (e) But bears it out even to the edge of doom: (f)
If this be error and upon me proved, (g) I never writ, nor no man ever loved. (g)
In Flanders, once, there was a company Of young companions given to folly, Riot and gambling, brothels and taverns; And, to the music of harps, lutes, gitterns, They danced and played at dice both day and night. And ate also and drank beyond their might, Whereby they made the devil's sacrifice Within that devil's temple, wicked wise, By superfluity both vile and vain. So damnable their oaths and so profane That it was terrible to hear them swear; Our Blessed Saviour's Body did they tear; They thought the Jews had rent Him not enough; And each of them at others' sins would laugh. Then entered dancing-girls of ill repute, Graceful and slim, and girls who peddled fruit, Harpers and bawds and women selling cake, Who do their office for the Devil's sake, To kindle and blow the fire of lechery, Which is so closely joined with gluttony; I call on holy writ, now, to witness That lust is in all wine and drunkenness. Lo, how the drunken Lot unnaturally Lay with his daughters two, unwittingly; So drunk he was he knew not what he wrought. Herod, as in his story's clearly taught, When full of wine and merry at a feast, Sitting at table idly gave behest To slay John Baptist, who was all guiltless. Seneca says a good word too, doubtless; He says there is no difference he can find Between a man that's quite out of his mind And one that's drunken, save perhaps in this That when a wretch in madness fallen is, The state lasts longer than does drunkenness. O gluttony; full of all wickedness, O first cause of confusion to us all, Beginning of damnation and our fall, Till Christ redeemed us with His blood again! Behold how dearly, to be brief and plain, Was purchased this accursed villainy; Corrupt was all this world with gluttony! Adam our father, and his wife also, From Paradise to labour and to woe Were driven for that vice, no doubt; indeed The while that Adam fasted, as I read, He was in Paradise; but then when he Ate of the fruit forbidden of the tree, Anon he was cast out to woe and pain. O gluttony, of you we may complain! Oh, knew a man how many maladies Follow on excess and on gluttonies, Surely he would be then more moderate In diet, and at table more sedate. Alas! The throat so short, the tender mouth, Causing that east and west and north and south, In earth, in air, in water men shall swink To get a glutton dainty meat and drink! Of this same matter Paul does wisely treat: "Meat for the belly and belly for the meat: And both shall God destroy," as Paul does say. Alas! A foul thing is it, by my fay, To speak this word, and fouler is the deed, When man so guzzles of the white and red That of his own throat makes he his privy, Because of this cursed superfluity. The apostle, weeping, says most piteously: "For many walk, of whom I've told you, aye, Weeping I tell you once again they're dross, For they are foes of Christ and of the Cross, Whose end is death, whose belly is their god." O gut! O belly! O you stinking cod, Filled full of dung, with all corruption found! At either end of you foul is the sound. With how great cost and labour do they find Your food! These cooks, they pound and strain and grind; Substance to accident they turn with fire, All to fulfill your gluttonous desire! Out of the hard and riven bones knock they The marrow, for they throw nothing away That may go through the gullet soft and sweet; With spicery, with leaf, bark, root, replete Shall be the sauces made for your delight, To furnish you a sharper appetite. But truly, he that such delights entice Is dead while yet he wallows in this vice. A lecherous thing is wine, and drunkenness Is full of striving and of wretchedness. O drunken man, disfigured is your face, Sour is your breath, foul are you to embrace, And through your drunken nose there comes a sound As if you snored out "Samson, Samson" round; And yet God knows that Samson drank no wine. You fall down just as if you were stuck swine; Your tongue is loose, your honest care obscure; For drunkenness is very sepulture Of any mind a man may chance to own. In whom strong drink has domination shown He can no counsel keep for any dread. Now keep you from the white and from the red, And specially from the white wine grown at Lepe That is for sale in Fish Street or in Cheap. This wine of Spain, it mixes craftily With other wines that chance to be near by, From which there rise such fumes, as well may be, That when a man has drunk two draughts, or three, And thinks himself to be at home in Cheap, He finds that he's in Spain, and right at Lepe,- Not at Rochelle nor yet at Bordeaux town, And then will he snore out "Samson, Samson." But hearken, masters, one word more I pray: The greatest deeds of all, I'm bold to say, Of victories in the old testament, Through the True God, Who is omnipotent, Were gained by abstinence and after prayer: Look in the Bible, you may learn this there. Lo, Attila, the mighty conqueror, Died in his sleep, in shame and dishonour, And bleeding at the nose for drunkenness; A great captain should live in soberness. Above all this, advise yourself right well What was commanded unto Lemuel- Not Samuel, but Lemuel, say I- The Bible's words you cannot well deny: Drinking by magistrates is called a vice. No more of this, for it may well suffice. And now that I have told of gluttony, I'll take up gambling, showing you thereby The curse of chance, and all its evils treat; From it proceeds false swearing and deceit, Blaspheming, murder, and- what's more- the waste Of time and money; add to which, debased And shamed and lost to honour quite is he, Who once a common gambler's known to be. And ever the higher one is of estate, The more he's held disgraced and desolate. And if a prince plays similar hazardry In all his government and policy, He loses in the estimate of men His good repute, and finds it not again. Chilon, who was a wise ambassador, Was sent to Corinth, all in great honour, From Lacedaemon, to make alliance. And when he came, he noticed there, by chance, All of the greatest people of the land Playing at hazard there on every hand. Wherefore, and all as soon as it might be, He stole off home again to his country, And said: "I will not thus debase my name; Nor will I take upon me so great shame You to ally with common hazarders. Send, if you will, other ambassadors; For, my truth, I say I'd rather die Than you with gamblers like to them ally. For you that are so glorious in honours Shall never ally yourselves with hazarders By my consent, or treaty I have made." This wise philosopher, 'twas thus he said. Let us look, then, at King Demetrius. The king of Parthia, as the book tells us, Sent him a pair of golden dice, in scorn, Because the name of gambler he had borne; Wherefore he marked his reputation down As valueless despite his wide renown. Great lords may find sufficient other play Seemly enough to while the time away. Now will I speak of oaths both false and great A word or two, whereof the old books treat. Great swearing is a thing abominable, And vain oaths yet more reprehensible. The High God did forbid swearing at all, As witness Matthew; but in especial Of swearing says the holy Jeremiah, "Thou shalt not swear in vain, to be a liar, But swear in judgment and in righteousness"; But idle swearing is a wickedness. Behold, in the first table of the Law, That should be honoured as High God's, sans flaw, This second one of His commandments plain: "Thou shalt not take the Lord God's name in vain." Nay, sooner He forbids us such swearing Than homicide or many a wicked thing; I say that, as to order, thus it stands; 'Tis known by him who His will understands That the great second law of God is that. Moreover, I will tell you full and flat, That retribution will not quit his house Who in his swearing is too outrageous. "By God's own precious heart, and by His nails, And by the blood of Christ that's now at Hales, Seven is my chance, and yours is five and trey!" "By God's good arms, if you do falsely play, This dagger through your heart I'll stick for you!" Such is the whelp ing of the bitched bones two: Perjury, anger, cheating, homicide. Now for the love of Christ, Who for us died, Forgo this swearing oaths, both great and small; But, sirs, now will I tell to you my tale. Now these three roisterers, whereof I tell, Long before prime was rung by any bell, Were sitting in a tavern for to drink; And as they sat they heard a small bell clink Before a corpse being carried to his grave; Whereat one of them called unto his knave: "Go run," said he, "and ask them civilly What corpse it is that's just now passing by, And see that you report the man's name well." "Sir," said the boy, "it needs not that they tell. I learned it, ere you came here, full two hours; He was, by gad, an old comrade of yours; And he was slain, all suddenly, last night, When drunk, as he sat on his bench upright; An unseen thief, called Death, came stalking by, Who hereabouts makes all the people die, And with his spear he clove his heart in two And went his way and made no more ado. He's slain a thousand with this pestilence; And, master, ere you come in his presence, It seems to me to be right necessary To be forewarned of such an adversary: Be ready to meet him for evermore. My mother taught me this, I say no more." "By holy Mary," said the innkeeper, "The boy speaks truth, for Death has slain, this year, A mile or more hence, in a large village, Both man and woman, child and hind and page. I think his habitation must be there; To be advised of him great wisdom 'twere, Before he did a man some dishonour." "Yea, by God's arms!" exclaimed this roisterer, "Is it such peril, then, this Death to meet? I'll seek him in the road and in the street, As I now vow to God's own noble bones! Hear, comrades, we're of one mind, as each owns; Let each of us hold up his hand to other And each of us become the other's brother, And we three will go slay this traitor Death; He shall be slain who's stopped so many a breath, By God's great dignity, ere it be night." Together did these three their pledges plight To live and die, each of them for the other, As if he were his very own blood brother. And up they started, drunken, in this rage, And forth they went, and towards that village Whereof the innkeeper had told before. And so, with many a grisly oath, they swore And Jesus' blessed body once more rent- "Death shall be dead if we find where he went." When they had gone not fully half a mile, Just as they would have trodden over a stile, An old man, and a poor, with them did meet. This ancient man full meekly them did greet, And said thus: "Now, lords, God keep you and see!' The one that was most insolent of these three Replied to him: "What? Churl of evil grace, Why are you all wrapped up, except your face? Why do you live so long in so great age?" This ancient man looked upon his visage And thus replied: "Because I cannot find A man, nay, though I walked from here to Ind, Either in town or country who'll engage To give his youth in barter for my age; And therefore must I keep my old age still, As long a time as it shall be God's will. Not even Death, alas! my life will take; Thus restless I my wretched way must make, And on the ground, which is my mother's gate, I knock with my staff early, aye, and late, And cry: 'O my dear mother, let me in! Lo, how I'm wasted, flesh and blood and skin! Alas! When shall my bones come to their rest? Mother, with you fain would I change my chest, That in my chamber so long time has been, Aye! For a haircloth rag to wrap me in!' But yet to me she will not show that grace, And thus all pale and withered is my face. "But, sirs, in you it is no courtesy To speak to an old man despitefully, Unless in word he trespass or in deed. In holy writ you may, yourselves, well read 'Before an old man, hoar upon the head, You should arise.' Which I advise you read, Nor to an old man any injury do More than you would that men should do to you In age, if you so long time shall abide; And God be with you, whether you walk or ride. I must pass on now where I have to go." "Nay, ancient churl, by God it sha'n't be so," Cried out this other hazarder, anon; "You sha'n't depart so easily, by Saint John! You spoke just now of that same traitor Death, Who in this country stops our good friends' breath. Hear my true word, since you are his own spy, Tell where he is or you shall rue it, aye By God and by the holy Sacrament! Indeed you must be, with this Death, intent To slay all us young people, you false thief." "Now, sirs," said he, "if you're so keen, in brief, To find out Death, turn up this crooked way, For in that grove I left him, by my fay, Under a tree, and there he will abide; Nor for your boasts will he a moment hide. See you that oak? Right there you shall him find. God save you, Who redeemed all humankind, And mend your ways!"- thus said this ancient man. And every one of these three roisterers ran Till he came to that tree; and there they found, Of florins of fine gold, new-minted, round, Well-nigh eight bushels full, or so they thought. No longer, then, after this Death they sought, But each of them so glad was of that sight, Because the florins were so fair and bright, That down they all sat by this precious hoard. The worst of them was first to speak a word. "Brothers," said he, "take heed to what I say; My wits are keen, although I mock and play. This treasure here Fortune to us has given That mirth and jollity our lives may liven, And easily as it's come, so will we spend. Eh! By God's precious dignity! Who'd pretend, Today, that we should have so fair a grace? But might this gold be carried from this place Home to my house, or if you will, to yours- For well we know that all this gold is ours- Then were we all in high felicity. But certainly by day this may not be; For men would say that we were robbers strong, And we'd, for our own treasure, hang ere long. This treasure must be carried home by night All prudently and slyly, out of sight. So I propose that cuts among us all Be drawn, and let's see where the cut will fall; And he that gets the short cut, blithe of heart Shall run to town at once, and to the mart, And fetch us bread and wine here, privately. And two of us shall guard, right cunningly, This treasure well; and if he does not tarry, When it is night we'll all the treasure carry Where, by agreement, we may think it best." That one of them the cuts brought in his fist And bade them draw to see where it might fall; And it fell on the youngest of them all; And so, forth toward the town he went anon. And just as soon as he had turned and gone, That one of them spoke thus unto the other: "You know well that you are my own sworn brother, So to your profit I will speak anon. You know well how our comrade is just gone; And here is gold, and that in great plenty, That's to be parted here among us three. Nevertheless, if I can shape it so That it be parted only by us two, Shall I not do a turn that is friendly?" The other said: "Well, now, how can that be? He knows well that the gold is with us two. What shall we say to him? What shall we do?" "Shall it be secret?" asked the first rogue, then, "And I will tell you in eight words, or ten, What we must do, and how bring it about." "Agreed," replied the other, "Never doubt, That, on my word, I nothing will betray." "Now," said the first, "we're two, and I dare say The two of us are stronger than is one. Watch when he sits, and soon as that is done Arise and make as if with him to play; And I will thrust him through the two sides, yea, The while you romp with him as in a game, And with your dagger see you do the same; And then shall all this gold divided be, My right dear friend, just between you and me; Then may we both our every wish fulfill And play at dice all at our own sweet will." And thus agreed were these two rogues, that day, To slay the third, as you have heard me say. This youngest rogue who'd gone into the town, Often in fancy rolled he up and down The beauty of those florins new and bright. "O Lord," thought he, "if so be that I might Have all this treasure to myself alone, There is no man who lives beneath the throne Of God that should be then so merry as I." And at the last the Fiend, our enemy, Put in his thought that he should poison buy With which he might kill both his fellows; aye, The Devil found him in such wicked state, He had full leave his grief to consummate; For it was utterly the man's intent To kill them both and never to repent. And on he strode, no longer would he tarry, Into the town, to an apothecary, And prayed of him that he'd prepare and sell Some poison for his rats, and some as well For a polecat that in his yard had lain, The which, he said, his capons there had slain, And fain he was to rid him, if he might, Of vermin that thus damaged him by night. The apothecary said: "And you shall have A thing of which, so God my spirit save, In all this world there is no live creature That's eaten or has drunk of this mixture As much as equals but a grain of wheat, That shall not sudden death thereafter meet; Yea, die he shall, and in a shorter while Than you require to walk but one short mile; This poison is so violent and strong." This wicked man the poison took along With him boxed up, and then he straightway ran Into the street adjoining, to a man, And of him borrowed generous bottles three; And into two his poison then poured he; The third one he kept clean for his own drink. For all that night he was resolved to swink In carrying the florins from that place. And when this roisterer, with evil grace, Had filled with wine his mighty bottles three, Then to his comrades forth again went he. What is the need to tell about it more? For just as they had planned his death before, Just so they murdered him, and that anon. And when the thing was done, then spoke the one: "Now let us sit and drink and so be merry, And afterward we will his body bury." And as he spoke, one bottle of the three He took wherein the poison chanced to be And drank and gave his comrade drink also, For which, and that anon, lay dead these two. I feel quite sure that Doctor Avicena Within the sections of his Canon never Set down more certain signs of poisoning Than showed these wretches two at their ending. Thus ended these two homicides in woe; Died thus the treacherous poisoner also. O cursed sin, full of abominableness! O treacherous homicide! O wickedness! O gluttony, lechery, and hazardry! O blasphemer of Christ with villainy, And with great oaths, habitual for pride! Alas! Mankind, how may this thing betide That to thy dear Creator, Who thee wrought, And with His precious blood salvation bought, Thou art so false and so unkind, alas! Now, good men, God forgive you each trespass, And keep you from the sin of avarice. My holy pardon cures and will suffice, So that it brings me gold, or silver brings, Or else, I care not- brooches, spoons or rings. Bow down your heads before this holy bull! Come up, you wives, and offer of your wool! Your names I'll enter on my roll, anon, And into Heaven's bliss you'll go, each one. For I'll absolve you, by my special power, You that make offering, as clean this hour As you were born. And lo, sirs, thus I preach. And Jesus Christ, who is our souls' great leech, So grant you each his pardon to receive; For that is best; I will not you deceive. But, sirs, one word forgot I in my tale; I've relics in my pouch that cannot fail, As good as England ever saw, I hope, The which I got by kindness of the pope. If gifts your change of heart and mind reveal, You'll get my absolution while you kneel. Come forth, and kneel down here before, anon, And humbly you'll receive my full pardon; Or else receive a pardon as you wend, All new and fresh as every mile shall end, So that you offer me each time, anew, More gold and silver, all good coins and true. It is an honour to each one that's here That you may have a competent pardoner To give you absolution as you ride, For all adventures that may still betide. Perchance from horse may fall down one or two, Breaking his neck, and it might well be you. See what insurance, then, it is for all That I within your fellowship did fall, Who may absolve you, both the great and less, When soul from body passes, as I guess. I think our host might just as well begin, For he is most-enveloped in all sin. Come forth, sir host, and offer first anon, And you shall kiss the relics, every one, Aye, for a groat! Unbuckle now your purse." "Nay, nay," said he, "then may I have Christ's curse! It sha'n't be," said he, "as I've hope for riches, Why, you would have me kissing your old breeches, And swear they were the relics of a saint, Though with your excrement 'twere dabbed like paint. By cross Saint Helen found in Holy Land, I would I had your ballocks in my hand Instead of relics in a reliquary; Let's cut them off, and them I'll help you carry; They shall be shrined within a hog's fat turd." This pardoner, he answered not a word; So wrathy was he no word would he say. "Now," said our host, "I will no longer play With you, nor any other angry man." But at this point the worthy knight began, When that he saw how all the folk did laugh: "No more of this, for it's gone far enough; Sir pardoner, be glad and merry here; And you, sir host, who are to me so dear, I pray you that you kiss the pardoner. And, pardoner, I pray you to draw near, And as we did before, let's laugh and play." And then they kissed and rode forth on their way.
Bede, (also Saint Bede, the Venerable Bede, or Beda, (c. 672 or 673 – May 25, 735), was a Benedictine monk at the Northumbrian monastery of Saint Peter at Monkwearmouth, today part of Sunderland, and of its companion monastery, Saint Paul's, in modern Jarrow (see Wearmouth-Jarrow), both in the English county of Durham (now Tyne and Wear). He is well known as an author and scholar, and his most famous work, Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum (The Ecclesiastical History of the English People) gained him the title "The father of English history".
.
Bede became known as Venerable Bede (Lat.: Beda Venerabilis) soon after his death, but this was not linked to consideration for sainthood by the Roman Catholic Church. In fact, his title is believed to come from a mistranslation of the Latin inscription on his tomb in Durham Cathedral, intended to be Here lie the venerable bones of Bede, but wrongly interpreted as here lie the bones of the Venerable Bede.
.
The most important and best known of his works is the Historia ecclesiastica gentis Anglorum, giving in five books and 400 pages the history of England, ecclesiastical and political, from the time of Caesar to the date of its completion (731). The first twenty-one chapters, treating of the period before the mission of Augustine of Canterbury, are compiled from earlier writers such as Orosius, Gildas, Prosper of Aquitaine, the letters of Pope Gregory I and others, with the insertion of legends and traditions.
After 596, documentary sources, which Bede took pains to obtain throughout England and from Rome, are used, as well as oral testimony, which he employed with critical consideration of its value. He cited his references and was very concerned about the sources of all of his sources, which created an important historical chain.
Bede's use of something similar to the anno Domini era, created by the monk Dionysius Exiguus in 525, throughout Historia Ecclesiastica was very influential in causing that era to be adopted thereafter in Western Europe. Specifically, he used anno ab incarnatione Domini (in the year from the incarnation of the Lord) or anno incarnationis dominicae (in the year of the incarnation of the lord). He never abbreviated the term like the modern AD. Unlike the modern assumption that anno Domini was from the birth of Christ, Bede explicitly refers to his incarnation or conception, traditionally on March 25. Within this work, he was also the first writer to use a term similar to the English before Christ. In book I chapter 2 he used ante incarnationis dominicae tempus (before the time of the incarnation of the lord). However, the latter was not very influential—only this isolated use was repeated by other writers during the rest of the Middle Ages. The first extensive use of 'BC' (hundreds of times) occurred in Fasciculus Temporum by Werner Rolevinck in 1474, alongside years of the world (anno mundi).
Long ago, at the beginning of creation, two brothers, Cain and Abel lived peacefully, until Cain killed Abel, starting a blood-feud of kin-murder. This legacy of kin-murder was passed down through time, for the murder split the bloodline into two groups: Abel's, whose decendants were human, and Cain's, whose descendants were monstrous and sub-human.
.
The poem Beowulf begins with this legacy of kin-murder and revenge. In Denmark, an evil monster, Grendel, who is ritually ravaging his kingdom, torments King Hrothgar. Currently, the monster breaks into the castle and eats as many of Hrothgar's men as he can stomach each night. Beowulf, a noted and respected warrior from Geatland, arrives with a ship of his warriors to assist King Hrothgar in stopping Grendel. King Hrothgar accepts Beowulf's pledge to kill Grendel. That night, Grendel comes to the castle and kills some of the men, devouring them. Beowulf meets Grendel, and a battle ensues--Beowulf uses no weapon against Grendel, and fighting barehanded, rips off his arm. Grendel escapes, but when he returns to his underwater lair, he dies. King Hrothgar is utterly grateful to Beowulf for killing Grendel. Grendel's arm is hung in the battlehall as a trophy of his bravery and the victory of mankind over monster.
.
The danger has not passed; Grendel's mother has become enraged by her son's death. She comes late one night to King Hrothgar's battlehall, grabs one man, eat him, and flees. She also retrieves her son's arm, which had been hanging in the hall as a trophy. Hrothgar is anxious and upset, and calls on Beowulf to aid them once again, offering him much gold and treasure, as well as alliance with his people, for doing battle with Grendel's mother. Beowulf travels with his men to the evil fiery lake where Grendel's mother lives. Beowulf makes a great speech about bravery, citing that God will look after him in his deed, and leaps into the lake wearing armor and carrying a great sword. Beowulf swims down through the lake for many hours, finally coming upon Grendel's mother. They fight for a brief time, Grendel's mother batters Beowulf around, but is unable to harm him through the armor. Beowulf finds his sword to be useless against Grendel's mother, and she swims to her underwater battlehall with him in tow. There, they continue to fight, until Beowulf takes a giant sword off the wall of the battlehall and cuts off her head, killing her. The sword is a magic sword, created by ancient monsters and giants at the beginning of creation. He swims to where Grendel's arm is located and finds the dead Grendel, whose head he decapitates as well, and takes with him as a trophy.
.
Beowulf swims back through the fiery lake to his men who are waiting for him. Hrothgar's men have already left, sure of Beowulf's defeat. Beowulf's men rejoice, and Beowulf goes back to Hrothgar's battlehall. Hrothgar names him as one of their friends and rewards him with gold and important advice about being a king. Beowulf and his men leave on their ship to go back to Geatland and King Higlac. Beowulf gives his King all the treasure and great weapons he received. Higlac rewards him with a great sword.
.
Higlac rules a long time, but eventually is killed in battle. His sons rule and are killed as well, and after this, Beowulf is crowned as King of Geatland. He rules long and well. Then, when he is an older man, a runaway slave comes upon a hidden tower in Geatland. An evil dragon lives in the tower, and guards a mighty golden treasure. The dragon had found the treasure many centuries ago, when it was left to be buried with an ancient king, whose people had died out. The slave steals a golden cup from the tower, awakening and enraging the dragon. The dragon leaves its tower, and the next night begins to ravage the kingdom, burning down villages, people, and Beowulf's castle.
.
Beowulf hears of the horror and vows to once again rid the land of a fiend. He meets the dragon during the day, with many of his warriors by his side. He fights the dragon, but is losing, because he is an old man. His weaponry is melting, and the dragon is burning him up. One of his fellow warriors and men, Wiglaf, runs in to distract the dragon. He brings his shield up to distract the dragon, while Beowulf takes his sword, and with the last of his strength, wounds the dragon. He then slits the dragon down his middle, cutting him in two. But with this victory comes Beowulf's death. The dragon has wounded him, and his poisonous venom is killing the brave Beowulf. Beowulf is dying, and Wiglaf cleans his lord and brings him jewels from the dragon's lair, as his lord has asked. All the rest of Beowulf's men have run away, fleeing when the dragon began to beat Beowulf. Beowulf leaves his kingdom's rule to Wiglaf, giving him his rings and mail. Beowulf dies.
Wiglaf calls to the men that fled, telling them that they were cowards and from this moment on will be banished from Geatland. Then he sends a messenger to the rest of Beowulf's warriors to tell them of Beowulf's death. Beowulf is burnt and his ashes buried in the Dragon's tower. There the jewels are left forevermore. And as Beowulf asked, the tower is built up high and tall, and named Beowulf's tower, so that sailors on the sea may always see the tower as a guide and know of the great Beowulf.
Moby-Dick is an 1851 novel by Herman Melville. The story tells the adventures of the wandering sailor Ishmael and his voyage on the whaling ship Pequod, commanded by Captain Ahab. Ishmael soon learns that Ahab seeks one specific whale, Moby-Dick, a white whale of tremendous size and ferocity. Comparatively few whaling ships know of Moby-Dick, and fewer yet have encountered him. In a previous encounter, the whale destroyed Ahab's boat and bit off his leg. Ahab intends to exact revenge.
In Moby-Dick, Melville employs stylized language, symbolism, and metaphor to explore numerous complex themes. Through the main character's journey, the concepts of class and social status, good and evil, and the existence of gods are all examined as Ishmael speculates upon his personal beliefs and his place in the universe. The narrator's reflections, along with his descriptions of a sailor's life aboard a whaling ship, are woven into the narrative along with Shakespearean literary devices such as stage directions, extended soliloquies and asides. Often considered the embodiment of AmericanRomanticism, Moby-Dick was first published by Richard Bentley in London on October 18, 1851 in an expurgated three-volume edition titled The Whale, and later as one massive volume, by New York City publisher Harper and Brothers as Moby-Dick; or, The Whale on November 14, 1851. The first line of Chapter One—"Call me Ishmael."—is one of the most famous in literature. Although the book initially received mixed reviews, Moby-Dick is now considered one of the greatest novels in the English languag and has secured Melville's place among America's greatest writers.
When James I began to persecute Separatists in 1609, Bradford fled to the Netherlands, along with many members of the congregation. These Separatists went first to Amsterdam before settling at Leiden. Bradford married his first wife, Dorothy May (1597 – December 7, 1620), on December 10, 1613 in Amsterdam. While at Leiden, he supported himself as a fustian weaver. Signing of the Mayflower Compact, a painting by Edward Percy Moran, which hangs at the Pilgrim Hall Museum
Shifting alignments of the European powers (due to religious differences, struggles over the monarchies and intrigues within the ruling Habsburg clan) caused the Dutch government to fear war with Catholic Spain, and to become allied with James I of England. Social pressure (and even attacks) on the separatists increased in the Netherlands. Their congregation's leader, John Robinson, supported the emerging idea of starting a colony. Bradford was in the midst of this venture from the beginning. The separatists wanted to remain Englishmen (although living in the Netherlands), yet wanted to get far enough away from the Church of England and the government to have some chance of living in peace. Arrangements were made, and William with his wife sailed for America in 1620 from Leiden aboard the Mayflower. Bas-relief on Bradford Street in Provincetown depicting the signing of the Mayflower Compact On December 7, 1620, before the colony was established, Bradford's wife died. Dorothy Bradford died while the Mayflower was at anchor in Provincetown Harbor. However, there are no contemporary accounts of the circumstances of her death, only a later mention of drowning by Cotton Mather in Magnalia Christi Americana. Bradford included only brief mention of her passing in his own writing. There is a widely circulated story that she committed suicide because the Mayfower was a moored ship, but this is derived from a work of historical fiction published in the June, 1869 issue of Harper's New Monthly Magazine. This claims that they had decided to leave their young son in the Netherlands, and his wife was so stricken with sadness that she took her own life. Regardless of this fictional treatment, there is no proof of suicide. The first winter in the new colony was a terrible experience. Half the colonists perished, including the colony's leader, John Carver. Bradford was selected as his replacement in the spring of 1621. From this point, his story is inextricably linked with the history of the Plymouth Colony.
William Bradford's second wife, came to Plymouth aboard the Anne in July 1623, her two sons following after 1627 and married Governor Bradford on August 14, 1623 at Plymouth. They had three children, William, Mercy, and Joseph. Alice also helped to raise John, the son of his first marriage. William Bradford died at Plymouth, and was interred at Plymouth Burial Hill. Some historians feel that Bradford's greatest achievement was in abandoning the system of communal agriculture initially practiced in the colony and introducing a system of privatized production, with land allotted to each family. These historians contend that the colonists produced more by farming for themselves, rather than for the community.
Bradford kept a handwritten journal detailing the history of the first 30 years of Plymouth Colony. Large parts of this journal were published as Of Plymouth Plantation, and have been republished a number of times. (It is currently in print as ISBN 0-07-554281-1.) Bradford, along with Edward Winslow and others, contributed material to George Morton, who merged everything into a book, published in London in 1622, nicknamed Mourt's Relation, which was primarily a journal of the colonists' first years at Plymouth.
Initially, the plan was for the voyage to be made in two vessels, the other being the smaller Speedwell. The first voyage of the ships departed Southampton, England, on August 5, 1620; but the Speedwell developed a leak, and had to be refitted at Dartmouth.
On the second attempt, the ships reached the Atlantic Ocean but again were forced to return to Dartmouth because of the Speedwell's leak.
It would later be revealed that there was in fact nothing wrong with the Speedwell. The crew had sabotaged it in order to escape the year long commitment of their contract.
After reorganisation, the final sixty-six day voyage was made by the Mayflower alone, leaving Plymouth, England on September 6. With 102 passengers plus crew, each family was allotted a very confined amount of space for personal belongings.
The ship probably had a crew of twenty-five to thirty, along with other hired personnel; however, only the names of five are known, including John Alden. William Bradford, who penned our only account of the Mayflower voyage, wrote that John Alden (archaic spellings) "was hired for a cooper [barrel-maker], at South-Hampton, where the ship victuled; and being a hopefull yong man, was much desired, but left to his owne liking to go or stay when he came here; but he stayed, and maryed here."
The intended destination was an area near the Hudson River, in "North Virginia". However the ship was forced far off-course by inclement weather and drifted well north of the intended Virginia settlement. As a result of the delay, the settlers did not arrive in Cape Cod till the onset of a harsh New England winter. The settlers ultimately failed to reach Virginia where they had already obtained permission from the London Company to settle. To establish legal order and to quell increasing strife within the ranks, the settlers wrote and signed the Mayflower Compact after the ship dropped anchor at the tip of Cape Cod on November 11, in what is now Provincetown Harbor.
The settlers, upon initially setting anchor, explored the snow-covered area and discovered an empty Native American village. The curious settlers dug up some artificially-made mounds, some of which had stored corn while others were burial sites. The settlers stole the corn, sparking friction with the locals. They explored the area of Cape Cod for several weeks and decided to relocate after a difficult encounter with the local native Americans, the Nausets.
During the winter the passengers remained on board the 'Mayflower', suffering an outbreak of a contagious disease described as a mixture of scurvy, pneumonia and tuberculosis. When it ended, there were only 53 persons still alive, half of the passengers and half of the crew. In spring, they built huts ashore, and on March 21, 1621, the surviving passengers left the 'Mayflower'.
On April 5, 1621, the Mayflower set sail from Plymouth to return to England, where she arrived on May 6, 1621.
Were English Reformers of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. They were frustrated by the slow progress of the Reformation in the Anglican Church. They left a legacy of theological writing that is unsurpassed in church history. Their doctrine tended to be Calvinistic and Presbyterian, and their finest writings were both polemic and devotional treatments of theology.
Captain/Sir John Smith (1580–June 21, 1631), was an English soldier, sailor, and author. He is remembered for his role in establishing the first permanent English settlement in North America at Jamestown, Virginia, and his brief association with the Native American girl Pocahontas during an altercation with the Powhatan Confederacy, and her father, Chief Powhatan. He was a leader of the Virginia Colony (based at Jamestown) between 1607 and 1609, and led an exploration along the rivers of Virginia and the Chesapeake Bay.
His books may have been as important as his deeds; for they encouraged more English men and women to follow the trail he had blazed and colonize the New World. He was the person who gave the name New England to that region, and encouraged people with the comment, "Here every man may be master and owner of his owne labour and land...If he have nothing but his hands, he may...by industrie quickly grow rich." It was a powerful message, which attracted millions of people in the next four centuries.
In 1606, Smith became involved with plans to colonize Virginia for profit by the Virginia Company of London, which had been granted a charter from King James I of England. The expedition set sail in three small ships, the Discovery, the Susan Constant and the Godspeed on December 20, 1606.
John Smith was apparently a troublemaker on the voyage, and Captain Christopher Newport (in charge of the three ships) had planned to execute him upon arrival in Virginia. However, upon first landing at what is now Cape Henry on April 26, 1607, sealed orders from the Virginia Company were opened. They designated Smith to be one of the leaders of the new colony, forcing Newport to spare him. The search for a suitable site ended, on May 14, 1607, when Captain Edward Maria Wingfield, president of the council, chose the Jamestown site as the location for the colony.
Harsh weather, lack of water and attacks from Algonquian tribes of the Native Americans almost destroyed the colony. In December 1607, while seeking food along the Chickahominy River, Smith was captured and taken to meet the Chief of the Powhatans, Wahunsonacock, at Werowocomoco, the chief village of the Powhatan Confederacy on the north shore of the York River about 15 miles due north of Jamestown, and 25 miles downstream from where the river forms from the Pamunkey River and the Mattaponi River at West Point, Virginia. Although he feared for his life, Smith was eventually released without harm and later attributed this in part to the chief's daughter, Pocahontas, who, according to Smith, threw herself across his body[1]: "at the minute of my execution, she hazarded [i.e. risked] the beating out of her own brains to save mine; and not only that, but so prevailed with her father, that I was safely conducted to Jamestown".
Smith's version of events is the only source, and since the 1860s, scepticism has increasingly been expressed about its veracity. One reason for such doubt is that despite having published two earlier books about Virginia, Smith's earliest surviving account of his rescue by Pocahontas dates from 1616, nearly 10 years later, in a letter entreating Queen Anne to treat Pocahontas with dignity. The time gap in publishing his story raises the possibility that Smith may have exaggerated or invented the event to enhance Pocahontas' image. However, in a recent book, Lemay points out that Smith's earlier writing was primarily geographical and ethnographic in nature and did not dwell on his personal experiences; hence there was no reason for him to write down the story until this point.
Henry Brooks Adams, the pre-eminent Harvard historian of the second half of the 19th century attempted to debunk Smith’s claims of heroism. He said that Smith’s recounting of the story of Pocahontas had been progressively embellished, made up of “falsehoods of an effrontery seldom equalled in modern times.” Although there is general consensus among historians that Smith tended to exaggerate, his account does seem to be consistent with the basic facts of his life.
Adam’s attack on Smith, an attempt to deface one of the icons of Southern history, was motivated by political considerations in the wake of the Civil War. Adams had been influenced to write his fusillade against Smith by John Palfrey who was promoting New England colonization, as opposed to southern settlement, as the founding of America. The accuracy of Smith’s accounts has continued to be a subject of debate over the centuries.
Some experts have suggested that, although Smith believed he had been rescued, he had in fact been involved in a ritual intended to symbolize his death and rebirth as a member of the tribe. However, in Love and Hate in Jamestown, David A. Price notes that this is only guesswork, since little is known of Powhatan rituals, and there is no evidence for any similar rituals among other North American tribes (p. 243-4).
Whatever really happened, the encounter initiated a friendly relationship with Smith and the colonists at Jamestown. As the colonists expanded further, however, some of the Native Americans felt that their lands were threatened, and conflicts arose again.
In 1608, Pocahontas is said to have saved Smith a second time. Smith and some other colonists were invited to Werowocomoco by Chief Powhatan on friendly terms, but Pocahontas came to the hut where the English were staying and warned them that Powhatan was planning to kill them. Due to this warning, the English stayed on their guard, and the attack never came. Later, Smith left Jamestown to explore the Chesapeake Bay region and search for badly-needed food, covering an estimated 3,000 miles. He was eventually elected president of the local council in September 1608 and instituted a policy of discipline, encouraging farming with a famous admonishment: "He who does not work, will not eat."
The settlement grew under his leadership. During this period, Smith took the chief of the neighbouring tribe hostage and, according to Smith he did, "take this murdering Opechancanough...by the long lock of his head; and with my pistol at his breast, I led him {out of his house} amongst his greatest forces, and before we parted made him [agree to] fill our bark with twenty tons of corn." A year later, full scale war broke out between the Powhatans and the Virginia colonists. Smith was seriously injured by a gunpowder burn after a rogue spark landed in his powder keg. He returned to England for treatment in Oct. 1609, never to return to Virginia.
This comes from the American custom of buryinghawks and other weapons as a sign that hostilities between the American Indians and the White had ended. Nowadays, this idiom is used to refer to coming to peaceful terms with an opponent.
Fate = destino Grey = canoso 'Cos = Abreviatura informal coloquial de because, porque. I've been told = Me han dicho ( Obs! en voz pasiva) Wings = alas To unfold = desplegar To lie = En este caso significa encontrarse, estar, yacer. No debe confundirse con el verbo to lay, que significa poner, tender. Para aprender las diferencias, vea Lay or Lie? Thought = pensamiento Instead = en vez de, en cambio Through = a través de Waterfall = cascada Wherever = dondequiera que To forsake = traicionar, abandonar Weak = débil. Antónimo strong, fuerte. Pain = dolor A one-way street = una calle de un solo sentido, de un sentido único, de una sola mano To bless = bendecir Feeling = en este caso sentimiento (tb gerundio del verbo to feel, sintiendo) To grow = en este caso crecer, aumentar (tb puede significar cultivar) Flesh = carne Bones = huesos
White elephants, also known as albino elephants, were considered holy in ancient times, specially in some Asian countries. To keep these animals was very expensive, because it was necessary to give them special food, and also to give access to the people who wanted to worship them. In Thailand, if a king was dissatisfied with someone, he would give him a white elephant, which would surely make that person lose all his money. Nowadays, this expression is used to refer to something that costs a lot of money to maintain but is useless.
Holy = sagrado Ancient times = antiguamente To keep = mantener To worship = adorar Dissatisfied = insatisfecho Surely = seguramente To lose = perder To maintain = mantener Useless = inútil
Both English and Spanish are Indo-European languages.
English is descended from the Germanic family of languages while Spanish is a Romance language. The Romance family of languages includes Spanish, French, Italian, Portuguese, and Romanian. All these languages emerged from the interaction of Vulgar Latin with the local idioms. The Renaissance triggered the influx of Spanish vocabulary into the English language, either directly or through French. By 1650, Spanish was one of the two languages with international potential. (In case you are curious, Dutch was the other language.)
Many words that came to English via Spanish are ultimately derived from South or Central American Indian languages: for example, the so very "English" word potato derives from Haitian through Spanish. The French language was a leading contributor of new words, especially as a "relay" language, i.e. as a linguistic middleman that channeled fresh vocabulary from other languages. The word canoe is a case in point: it is of Latin, French, Spanish, and ultimately Haitian etymology. In other cases, Spanish played the part of the "relay" language: for example, the word cork, ultimately of Latin origin (through Arabic), came to English via Old Spanish (alcorque).
Spanish loanwords may not be as numerous as those of Latin and French origin, but they are just as varied, widespread, and influential. English would be poorer without words such as adobe, alcove, alligator, avocado, banana, bravo, cafeteria, canary, canyon, chocolate, cockroach, cocoa, embargo, guitar, hammock, hurricane, maize, mosquito, plaza, renegade, rodeo, sherry, spaniel, stockade, tobacco, tomato, tuna, vanilla, wrangler-- to mention but a few examples.
Commonly used Spanish words and phrases in modern English.
Aficcionado : a keen admirer, a knowledgeable devotee, an enthusiast
Duende (Spanish for "goblin, imp, elf"): charm, magnetism, charisma
El Dorado : originally, a legendary kingdom of unimaginable wealth; any place of great opportunity (metaphorically)
Hasta la vista : so long, farewell, goodbye
Macho (literally: male): virile, he-man
Mi casa es su casa : make yourself at home!
Parador (Spanish for "roadside inn"): state-run hotel (parador nacional)
Posada (Spanish for "inn"): a Spanish inn, a resort hotel; shelter, lodging
.
Siesta (from Latin sexta = sixth (hour); noon): an afternoon nap
.
Vaya con Dios (Spanish for "go with God"): may God be with you
But nothing,I said nothing, can take away these blues,
'Cause nothing compares,
Nothing compares to you.
It's been so lonely without you here,
Like a bird without a song.
Nothing can stop these lonely tears from falling.
Tell me, baby, where did I go wrong?
I could put my arms around every boy I see,
But they'd only remind me of you.
I went to the doctor, guess what he told me,
Guess what he told me?
He said, girl, you'd better have fun,
No matter what you do,
But he's a fool.'Cause nothing compares,
Nothing compares to you.
All the flowers that you planted, mamma,
In the backyard,
All died when you went away.
I know that living with you, baby, was sometimes hard.
But I'm willing to give it another try
'Cause nothing compares,
Nothing compares to you.
To take away = llevarse Fancy = extravagante, caro Blues = tristeza, melancolía 'Cause = Contracción coloquial informal de because (porque) Lonely = solitario To remind = recordar. Para aprender más, ver Remember or remind? To guess = adivinar Backyard = patio trasero de una casa
Food on airlines is about what you would expect, considering that all the food must be prepared ahead of time and served to a large number of people with very different taste preferences. It is amazing that the food is as good as it is, but still, it frequently will not please you.
U.S. carriers are pretty good about accommodating standard dietary preferences, but you have to help them out. If you are vegetarian or keep kosher, tell your travel agent when you purchase the ticket, and the airlines will usually accommodate you.
If you have food allergies, you are probably safest bringing your own food with you. (In fact, even if you eat anything, you are probably better off bringing your own food with you!) Be advised that many countries have import restrictions on foods; If you bring food, be sure that you either finish it all on the plane or make sure that it will clear customs.
Morley Selver suggests never getting on an airplane hungry. You might think you will get a meal shortly, but the following could happen:
.
1) Everyone boards the aircraft, then they decide they have to fix something. They are not sure how long it will take, therefore nobody is allowed off.
.
2) You take off on a 3 hour flight that has 2-1/2 hrs of turbulence where the flight crew is not allowed to serve meals.
.
3) You do not like the food.
.
4) There is an electrical problem with the galley and your half of the plane does not get a meal. The best bet is to eat before you get on or take something you can snack on (e.g. a granola bar). If you take two, you may be able to sell one for $10.00. :-)
Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths, Enwrought with golden and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half-light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.
LITTLE thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown
