There be none of Beauty»s daughters
With a magic like Thee;
And like music on the waters
Is thy sweet voice to me:
When, as if its sound were causing
The charm»d ocean»s pausing,
The waves lie still and gleaming,
And the lull»d winds seem dreaming:
And the midnight moon is weaving
Her bright chain o»er the deep,
Whose breast is gently heaving
As an infant»s asleep:
So the spirit bows before thee
To listen and adore thee;
With a full but soft emotion,
Like the swell of Summer»s ocean.


Вот тебе Байрон например

>>149294298
а есть чтот по длинней? куратор надавит мол маловат..

>>149294401
Ну блядь, я тебе автора на пример привел, ну вбей в гугл и ищи какой хочешь длинны.

>>149294062 (OP)
Through the gates of hell
As we make our way to heaven
Through the Nazi lines
Primo victoria
We've been training for years
Now we're ready to strike
As the great operation begins
We're the first wave on the shore
We're the first ones to fall
Yet soldiers have fallen before
In the dawn they will pay
With their lives as the price
History's written today
In this burning inferno
Know that nothing remains
As our forces advance on the beach
Aiming for heaven though serving in hell
Victory is ours their forces will fall
Through the gates of hell
As we make our way to heaven
Through the Nazi lines
Primo victoria
On the 6th of June
On the shores of western Europe 1944
D-day upon us
We've been here before
Used to this kind of war
Crossfire grind through the sand
Our orders were easy
It's kill or be killed
Blood on both sides will be spilled
In the dawn they will pay
With their lives as the price
History's written today
Now that we are at war
With the axis again
This time we know what will come
Aiming for heaven though serving in hell
Victory is ours their forces will fall
Through the gates of hell
As we make our way to heaven
Through the Nazi lines
Primo victoria
On 6th of June
On the shores of western Europe 1944
D-day upon us
6th of June 1944
Allies are turning the war
Normandy state of anarchy
Overlord
Aiming for heaven though serving in hell
Victory is ours their forces will fall
Through the gates of hell
As we make our way to heaven
Through the Nazi lines
Primo victoria
On 6th of June
On the shores of western Europe 1944
D-day upon us
Through the gates of hell
As we make our way to heaven
Through the Nazi lines
Primo victoria
On 6th of June
On the shores of western Europe 1944
Primo victoria

>>149294496
главное кругами там не начать ходить

>>149294401
>а если тебе куратор скажет с крыши прыгать, что тогда

>>149294661
Deus vult.

>>149294661
пошлю её а хули
у нас прост система такая, что вместо выпускного экзамена нужно представит портфолио, где записана вся деятельность, вот я и активизировался

>>149294062 (OP)
The Star-Spangled Banner
O say can you see, by the dawn’s early light,
What so proudly we hail’d at the twilight’s last gleaming,
Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight
O’er the ramparts we watch’d were so gallantly streaming?
And the rocket’s red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there,
O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

On the shore dimly seen through the mists of the deep
Where the foe’s haughty host in dread silence reposes,
What is that which the breeze, o’er the towering steep,
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?
Now it catches the gleam of the morning’s first beam,
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream,
’Tis the star-spangled banner - O long may it wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave!

And where is that band who so vauntingly swore,
That the havoc of war and the battle’s confusion
A home and a Country should leave us no more?
Their blood has wash’d out their foul footstep’s pollution.
No refuge could save the hireling and slave
From the terror of flight or the gloom of the grave,
And the star-spangled banner in triumph doth wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

O thus be it ever when freemen shall stand
Between their lov’d home and the war’s desolation!
Blest with vict’ry and peace may the heav’n rescued land
Praise the power that hath made and preserv’d us a nation!
Then conquer we must, when our cause it is just,
And this be our motto - “In God is our trust,”
And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave
O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.

>>149294496
И как это декламировать, лол?

>>149295256
начни ходить кругами и всё понимание само придёт

>>149295235
просто потёк, спасиб

If - Rudyard Kipling

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If— Related Poem Content Details
BY RUDYARD KIPLING
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00:0000:00Use Up/Down Arrow keys to increase or decrease volume.
(‘Brother Square-Toes’—Rewards and Fairies)
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise:

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools:

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breathe a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: ‘Hold on!’

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!

>>149295582
Блядь, говна зацепил, извиняюсь.

>>149295235
только... это гимен пендосов, а я живу в процветающем дноднр

>>149295256
Легко!

>>149294062 (OP)
Это осилишь?
HEATHER ALE
A GALLOWAY LEGEND


From the bonny bells of heather
They brewed a drink long-syne,
Was sweeter far than honey,
Was stronger far than wine.
They brewed it and they drank it,
And lay in a blessed swound
For days and days together
In their dwellings underground.

There rose a king in Scotland,
A fell man to his foes,
He smote the Picts in battle,
He hunted them like roes.
Over miles of the red mountain
He hunted as they fled,
And strewed the dwarfish bodies
Of the dying and the dead.

Summer came in the country,
Red was the heather bell;
But the manner of the brewing
Was none alive to tell.
In graves that were like children's
On many a mountain head,
The Brewsters of the Heather
Lay numbered with the dead.

The king in the red moorland
Rode on a summer's day;
And the bees hummed, and the curlews
Cried beside the way.
The king rode, and was angry,
Black was his brow and pale,
To rule in a land of heather
And lack the Heather Ale.

It fortuned that his vassals,
Riding free on the heath,
Came on a stone that was fallen
And vermin hid beneath.
Rudely plucked from their hiding,
Never a word they spoke:
A son and his aged father -
Last of the dwarfish folk.

The king sat high on his charger,
He looked on the little men;
And the dwarfish and swarthy couple
Looked at the king again.
Down by the shore he had them;
And there on the giddy brink -
"I will give you life, ye vermin,
For the secret of the drink."

There stood the son and father
And they looked high and low;
The heather was red around them,
The sea rumbled below.
And up and spoke the father,
Shrill was his voice to hear:
"I have a word in private,
A word for the royal ear.

"Life is dear to the aged,
And honour a little thing;
I would gladly sell the secret,"
Quoth the Pict to the King.
His voice was small as a sparrow's,
And shrill and wonderful clear:
"I would gladly sell my secret,
Only my son I fear.

"For life is a little matter,
And death is nought to the young;
And I dare not sell my honour
Under the eye of my son.
Take him, O king, and bind him,
And cast him far in the deep;
And it's I will tell the secret
That I have sworn to keep."

They took the son and bound him,
Neck and heels in a thong,
And a lad took him and swung him,
And flung him far and strong,
And the sea swallowed his body,
Like that of a child of ten; -
And there on the cliff stood the father,
Last of the dwarfish men.

"True was the word I told you:
Only my son I feared;
For I doubt the sapling courage
That goes without the beard.
But now in vain is the torture,
Fire shall never avail:
Here dies in my bosom
The secret of Heather Ale."

>>149295750
Зачем ему "Бремя" рассказывать? "Если" очень хорошее, всегда поднимает дух, когда вспоминаю его. Вообще-то я поэзией не интересуюсь и не понимаю её, но это в это стихотворение просто влюбился с первого раза.

>>149295769
за выходные осилить должен, спосиб

>>149295818
Дак ты не пой.

>>149294062 (OP)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1edPxKqiptw
Gerard Nolst Trenité - The Chaos (1922)

Dearest creature in creation
Studying English pronunciation,
I will teach you in my verse
Sounds like corpse, corps, horse and worse.

I will keep you, Susy, busy,
Make your head with heat grow dizzy;
Tear in eye, your dress you'll tear;
Queer, fair seer, hear my prayer.

Pray, console your loving poet,
Make my coat look new, dear, sew it!
Just compare heart, hear and heard,
Dies and diet, lord and word.

Sword and sward, retain and Britain
(Mind the latter how it's written).
Made has not the sound of bade,
Say-said, pay-paid, laid but plaid.

Now I surely will not plague you
With such words as vague and ague,
But be careful how you speak,
Say: gush, bush, steak, streak, break, bleak ,

Previous, precious, fuchsia, via
Recipe, pipe, studding-sail, choir;
Woven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, shoe, poem, toe.

Say, expecting fraud and trickery:
Daughter, laughter and Terpsichore,
Branch, ranch, measles, topsails, aisles,
Missiles, similes, reviles.

Wholly, holly, signal, signing,
Same, examining, but mining,
Scholar, vicar, and cigar,
Solar, mica, war and far.

From "desire": desirable-admirable from "admire",
Lumber, plumber, bier, but brier,
Topsham, brougham, renown, but known,
Knowledge, done, lone, gone, none, tone,

One, anemone, Balmoral,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel.
Gertrude, German, wind and wind,
Beau, kind, kindred, queue, mankind,

Tortoise, turquoise, chamois-leather,
Reading, Reading, heathen, heather.
This phonetic labyrinth
Gives moss, gross, brook, brooch, ninth, plinth.

Have you ever yet endeavoured
To pronounce revered and severed,
Demon, lemon, ghoul, foul, soul,
Peter, petrol and patrol?

Billet does not end like ballet;
Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet.
Blood and flood are not like food,
Nor is mould like should and would.

Banquet is not nearly parquet,
Which exactly rhymes with khaki.
Discount, viscount, load and broad,
Toward, to forward, to reward,

Ricocheted and crocheting, croquet?
Right! Your pronunciation's OK.
Rounded, wounded, grieve and sieve,
Friend and fiend, alive and live.

Is your r correct in higher?
Keats asserts it rhymes Thalia.
Hugh, but hug, and hood, but hoot,
Buoyant, minute, but minute.

Say abscission with precision,
Now: position and transition;
Would it tally with my rhyme
If I mentioned paradigm?

Twopence, threepence, tease are easy,
But cease, crease, grease and greasy?
Cornice, nice, valise, revise,
Rabies, but lullabies.

Of such puzzling words as nauseous,
Rhyming well with cautious, tortious,
You'll envelop lists, I hope,
In a linen envelope.

Would you like some more? You'll have it!
Affidavit, David, davit.
To abjure, to perjure. Sheik
Does not sound like Czech but ache.

Liberty, library, heave and heaven,
Rachel, loch, moustache, eleven.
We say hallowed, but allowed,
People, leopard, towed but vowed.

Mark the difference, moreover,
Between mover, plover, Dover.
Leeches, breeches, wise, precise,
Chalice, but police and lice,

Camel, constable, unstable,
Principle, disciple, label.
Petal, penal, and canal,
Wait, surmise, plait, promise, pal,

Suit, suite, ruin. Circuit, conduit
Rhyme with "shirk it" and "beyond it",
But it is not hard to tell
Why it's pall, mall, but Pall Mall.

Muscle, muscular, gaol, iron,
Timber, climber, bullion, lion,
Worm and storm, chaise, chaos, chair,
Senator, spectator, mayor,

Ivy, privy, famous; clamour
Has the a of drachm and hammer.
Pussy, hussy and possess,
Desert, but desert, address.

Golf, wolf, countenance, lieutenants
Hoist in lieu of flags left pennants.
Courier, courtier, tomb, bomb, comb,
Cow, but Cowper, some and home.

"Solder, soldier! Blood is thicker",
Quoth he, "than liqueur or liquor",
Making, it is sad but true,
In bravado, much ado.

Stranger does not rhyme with anger,
Neither does devour with clangour.
Pilot, pivot, gaunt, but aunt,
Font, front, wont, want, grand and grant.

Arsenic, specific, scenic,
Relic, rhetoric, hygienic.
Gooseberry, goose, and close, but close,
Paradise, rise, rose, and dose.

Say inveigh, neigh, but inveigle,
Make the latter rhyme with eagle.
Mind! Meandering but mean,
Valentine and magazine.

And I bet you, dear, a penny,
You say mani-(fold) like many,
Which is wrong. Say rapier, pier,
Tier (one who ties), but tier.

Arch, archangel; pray, does erring
Rhyme with herring or with stirring?
Prison, bison, treasure trove,
Treason, hover, cover, cove,

Perseverance, severance. Ribald
Rhymes (but piebald doesn't) with nibbled.
Phaeton, paean, gnat, ghat, gnaw,
Lien, psychic, shone, bone, pshaw.

Don't be down, my own, but rough it,
And distinguish buffet, buffet;
Brood, stood, roof, rook, school, wool, boon,
Worcester, Boleyn, to impugn.

Say in sounds correct and sterling
Hearse, hear, hearken, year and yearling.
Evil, devil, mezzotint,
Mind the z! (A gentle hint.)

Now you need not pay attention
To such sounds as I don't mention,
Sounds like pores, pause, pours and paws,
Rhyming with the pronoun yours;

Nor are proper names included,
Though I often heard, as you did,
Funny rhymes to unicorn,
Yes, you know them, Vaughan and Strachan.

No, my maiden, coy and comely,
I don't want to speak of Cholmondeley.
No. Yet Froude compared with proud
Is no better than McLeod.

But mind trivial and vial,
Tripod, menial, denial,
Troll and trolley, realm and ream,
Schedule, mischief, schism, and scheme.

Argil, gill, Argyll, gill. Surely
May be made to rhyme with Raleigh,
But you're not supposed to say
Piquet rhymes with sobriquet.

Had this invalid invalid
Worthless documents? How pallid,
How uncouth he, couchant, looked,
When for Portsmouth I had booked!

Zeus, Thebes, Thales, Aphrodite,
Paramour, enamoured, flighty,
Episodes, antipodes,
Acquiesce, and obsequies.

Please don't monkey with the geyser,
Don't peel 'taters with my razor,
Rather say in accents pure:
Nature, stature and mature.

Pious, impious, limb, climb, glumly,
Worsted, worsted, crumbly, dumbly,
Conquer, conquest, vase, phase, fan,
Wan, sedan and artisan.

The th will surely trouble you
More than r, ch or w.
Say then these phonetic gems:
Thomas, thyme, Theresa, Thames.

Thompson, Chatham, Waltham, Streatham,
There are more but I forget 'em-
Wait! I've got it: Anthony,
Lighten your anxiety.

The archaic word albeit
Does not rhyme with eight-you see it;
With and forthwith, one has voice,
One has not, you make your choice.

Shoes, goes, does *. Now first say: finger;
Then say: singer, ginger, linger.
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze and gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, age,

Hero, heron, query, very,
Parry, tarry fury, bury,
Dost, lost, post, and doth, cloth, loth,
Job, Job, blossom, bosom, oath.

Faugh, oppugnant, keen oppugners,
Bowing, bowing, banjo-tuners
Holm you know, but noes, canoes,
Puisne, truism, use, to use?

Though the difference seems little,
We say actual, but victual,
Seat, sweat, chaste, caste, Leigh, eight, height,
Put, nut, granite, and unite.

Reefer does not rhyme with deafer,
Feoffer does, and zephyr, heifer.
Dull, bull, Geoffrey, George, ate, late,
Hint, pint, senate, but sedate.

Gaelic, Arabic, pacific,
Science, conscience, scientific;
Tour, but our, dour, succour, four,
Gas, alas, and Arkansas.

Say manoeuvre, yacht and vomit,
Next omit, which differs from it
Bona fide, alibi
Gyrate, dowry and awry.

Sea, idea, guinea, area,
Psalm, Maria, but malaria.
Youth, south, southern, cleanse and clean,
Doctrine, turpentine, marine.

Compare alien with Italian,
Dandelion with battalion,
Rally with ally; yea, ye,
Eye, I, ay, aye, whey, key, quay!

Say aver, but ever, fever,
Neither, leisure, skein, receiver.
Never guess-it is not safe,
We say calves, valves, half, but Ralf.

Starry, granary, canary,
Crevice, but device, and eyrie,
Face, but preface, then grimace,
Phlegm, phlegmatic, ass, glass, bass.

Bass, large, target, gin, give, verging,
Ought, oust, joust, and scour, but scourging;
Ear, but earn; and ere and tear
Do not rhyme with here but heir.

Mind the o of off and often
Which may be pronounced as orphan,
With the sound of saw and sauce;
Also soft, lost, cloth and cross.

Pudding, puddle, putting. Putting?
Yes: at golf it rhymes with shutting.
Respite, spite, consent, resent.
Liable, but Parliament.

Seven is right, but so is even,
Hyphen, roughen, nephew, Stephen,
Monkey, donkey, clerk and jerk,
Asp, grasp, wasp, demesne, cork, work.

A of valour, vapid vapour,
S of news (compare newspaper),
G of gibbet, gibbon, gist,
I of antichrist and grist,

Differ like diverse and divers,
Rivers, strivers, shivers, fivers.
Once, but nonce, toll, doll, but roll,
Polish, Polish, poll and poll.

Pronunciation-think of Psyche!-
Is a paling, stout and spiky.
Won't it make you lose your wits
Writing groats and saying "grits"?

It's a dark abyss or tunnel
Strewn with stones like rowlock, gunwale,
Islington, and Isle of Wight,
Housewife, verdict and indict.

Don't you think so, reader, rather,
Saying lather, bather, father?
Finally, which rhymes with enough,
Though, through, bough, cough, hough, sough, tough??

Hiccough has the sound of sup...
My advice is: GIVE IT UP!

Если сможешь без ошибок продекламировать, тебе все отсосут, инфа 146%.

>>149294062 (OP)
Внезапно, когда-то охуел от ритмики английской поэзии с https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/La_Belle_Dame_sans_Merci
И до сих пор очень нравится.
Рекомендую.
Поэма, конечно, длиннее 8 четверостиший, но даже если не возьмёшь её как материал к олимпиаде, просто ознакомься. Я так понимаю, раз олимпиадник - значит интересуешься языком хоть сколько-то.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
Alone and palely loitering?
The sedge has withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

O what can ail thee, knight-at-arms,
So haggard and so woe-begone?
The squirrel’s granary is full,
And the harvest’s done.

I see a lily on thy brow,
With anguish moist and fever-dew,
And on thy cheeks a fading rose
Fast withereth too.

I met a lady in the meads,
Full beautiful, a fairy’s child;
Her hair was long, her foot was light,
And her eyes were wild.

I made a garland for her head,
And bracelets too, and fragrant zone;
She looked at me as she did love,
And made sweet moan

I set her on my pacing steed,
And nothing else saw all day long,
For sidelong would she bend, and sing
A faery’s song.

She found me roots of relish sweet,
And honey wild, and manna-dew,
And sure in language strange she said—
‘I love thee true’.

She took me to her Elfin grot,
And there she wept and sighed full sore,
And there I shut her wild, wild eyes
With kisses four.

And there she lullèd me asleep,
And there I dreamed—Ah! woe betide!—
The latest dream I ever dreamt
On the cold hill side.

I saw pale kings and princes too,
Pale warriors, death-pale were they all;
They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci
Hath thee in thrall!’

I saw their starved lips in the gloam,
With horrid warning gapèd wide,
And I awoke and found me here,
On the cold hill’s side.

And this is why I sojourn here,
Alone and palely loitering,
Though the sedge is withered from the lake,
And no birds sing.

Newermore ебани им, штоб ахуели от жизни и послали тебя нахуй с какой-нибудь грамотой.

>>149295860
Перевод Маршака чёткий. Может помочь в запоминании ритма стиха.

Из вереска напиток
Забыт давным-давно.
А был он слаще меда,
Пьянее, чем вино.
В котлах его варили
И пили всей семьей
Малютки-медовары
В пещерах под землей.

Пришел король шотландский,
Безжалостный к врагам,
Погнал он бедных пиктов
К скалистым берегам.
На вересковом поле
На поле боевом
Лежал живой на мертвом
И мертвый - на живом.

Лето в стране настало,
Вереск опять цветет,
Но некому готовить
Вересковый мед.
В своих могилках тесных,
В горах родной земли
Малютки-медовары
Приют себе нашли.

Король по склону едет
Над морем на коне,
А рядом реют чайки
С дорогой наравне.
Король глядит угрюмо:
"Опять в краю моем
Цветет медвяный вереск,
А меда мы не пьем!"

Но вот его вассалы
Приметили двоих
Последних медоваров,
Оставшихся в живых.
Вышли они из-под камня,
Щурясь на белый свет, -
Старый горбатый карлик
И мальчик пятнадцати лет.

К берегу моря крутому
Их привели на допрос,
Но ни один из пленных
Слова не произнес.
Сидел король шотландский,
Не шевелясь, в седле.
А маленькие люди
Стояли на земле.

Гневно король промолвил:
- Пытка обоих ждет,
Если не скажете, черти,
Как вы готовили мед!
Сын и отец молчали,
Стоя у края скалы.
Вереск звенел над ними,
В море - катились валы.

И вдруг голосок раздался:
- Слушай, шотландский король,
Поговорить с тобою
С глазу на глаз позволь!
Старость боится смерти.
Жизнь я изменой куплю,
Выдам заветную тайну! -
Карлик сказал королю.

Голос его воробьиный
Резко и четко звучал:
- Тайну давно бы я выдал,
Если бы сын не мешал!
Мальчику жизни не жалко,
Гибель ему нипочем.
Мне продавать свою совесть
Совестно будет при нем.
Пускай его крепко свяжут
И бросят в пучину вод,
А я научу шотландцев
Готовить старинный мед!

Сильный шотландский воин
Мальчика крепко связал
И бросил в открытое море
С прибрежных отвесных скал.
Волны над ним сомкнулись.
Замер последний крик...
И эхом ему ответил
С обрыва отец-старик.

-Правду сказал я, шотландцы,
От сына я ждал беды.
Не верил я в стойкость юных,
Не бреющих бороды.
А мне костер не страшен.
Пускай со мной умрет
Моя святая тайна -
Мой вересковый мед!

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round;
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;
And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight ’twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

>>149296256
Сука, что ж ты делаешь, ком в горле стоит.
Советский мульт вспомнился тоже.

>>149296473
дай соус, что ли

>>149294062 (OP)
Бетов,съеби вконтакт

>>149294062 (OP)
>на тему средневековья
Ты когда-нибудь слышал о Шекспире?

>>149296968
слышал, куратор тоже ищет отрывок для меня в его произведениях

>>149297127
CHIRON
Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius;
He hath some message to deliver us.
AARON
Ay, some mad message from his mad grandfather.
Young LUCIUS
My lords, with all the humbleness I may,
I greet your honours from Andronicus.
Aside

And pray the Roman gods confound you both!
DEMETRIUS
Gramercy, lovely Lucius: what's the news?
Young LUCIUS
[Aside] That you are both decipher'd, that's the news,
For villains mark'd with rape.--May it please you,
My grandsire, well advised, hath sent by me
The goodliest weapons of his armoury
To gratify your honourable youth,
The hope of Rome; for so he bade me say;
And so I do, and with his gifts present
Your lordships, that, whenever you have need,
You may be armed and appointed well:
And so I leave you both:
Aside

like bloody villains.
Exeunt Young LUCIUS, and Attendant

DEMETRIUS
What's here? A scroll; and written round about?
Let's see;
Reads

'Integer vitae, scelerisque purus,
Non eget Mauri jaculis, nec arcu.'
CHIRON
O, 'tis a verse in Horace; I know it well:
I read it in the grammar long ago.
AARON
Ay, just; a verse in Horace; right, you have it.
Aside

Now, what a thing it is to be an ass!
Here's no sound jest! the old man hath found their guilt;
And sends them weapons wrapped about with lines,
That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick.
But were our witty empress well afoot,
She would applaud Andronicus' conceit:
But let her rest in her unrest awhile.
And now, young lords, was't not a happy star
Led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so,
Captives, to be advanced to this height?
It did me good, before the palace gate
To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing.
DEMETRIUS
But me more good, to see so great a lord
Basely insinuate and send us gifts.
AARON
Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius?
Did you not use his daughter very friendly?
DEMETRIUS
I would we had a thousand Roman dames
At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust.
CHIRON
A charitable wish and full of love.
AARON
Here lacks but your mother for to say amen.
CHIRON
And that would she for twenty thousand more.
DEMETRIUS
Come, let us go; and pray to all the gods
For our beloved mother in her pains.
AARON
[Aside] Pray to the devils; the gods have given us over.
Trumpets sound within

DEMETRIUS
Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish thus?
CHIRON
Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son.
DEMETRIUS
Soft! who comes here?
Enter a Nurse, with a blackamoor Child in her arms

Nurse
Good morr ow, lords:
O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor?
AARON
Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all,
Here Aaron is; and what with Aaron now?
Nurse
O gentle Aaron, we are all undone!
Now help, or woe betide thee evermore!
AARON
Why, what a caterwauling dost thou keep!
What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms?
Nurse
O, that which I would hide from heaven's eye,
Our empress' shame, and stately Rome's disgrace!
She is deliver'd, lords; she is deliver'd.
AARON
To whom?
Nurse
I mean, she is brought a-bed.
AARON
Well, God give her good rest! What hath he sent her?
Nurse
A devil.
AARON
Why, then she is the devil's dam; a joyful issue.
Nurse
A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful issue:
Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad
Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime:
The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal,
And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's point.
AARON
'Zounds, ye whore! is black so base a hue?
Sweet blowse, you are a beauteous blossom, sure.
DEMETRIUS
Villain, what hast thou done?
AARON
That which thou canst not undo.
CHIRON
Thou hast undone our mother.
AARON
Villain, I have done thy mother

Не благодари

>>149294496
проиграл

>>149295769
Суровый старик был.

У меня для тебя есть один шедевр. Послание Моцарта Марие Анне (5.11.1777):

Well, i wish you good night
But first shit into your bed
and make it burst.
Sleep soundly, my love
Into your mouth your
arse you'll shove.

Вот это учи. Все охуеют гарантированно.

Come Lads and Come Lassies

Come lads an' come lassies, come ane an' come a',
   The boat it lies ready at aul' Broomielaw;
Come noo get yer tickets an' let's be away,
   For we a' mean to spend a richt happy day.
An' when we arrive doon at Campbeltown's shore,
   We'll meet wi' oor callants that's there by the score;
An' oh, sic gran' fun as we then a' will hae,
   Sae noo lads an' lassies let's hie an' away.
We'll dance and we'll sing maist the hale o' the day.
   Ilk lassie an' lad, while the piper will play;
An' them that likes best, they a-fishing can gang,
   Syne pass aff the day wi' a jest an' a sang.
Sae let us be aff while the sun noo is rising
   And we'll be there lads in time maist surprising;
An' oh, sic gran' fun as we then a' will hae,
   Alang wi' oor callants this bright simmer day.
The thocht o't brings back oor young days again,
   An' the trips that we then used tae hae by the train;
Sae noo for the sake o' aul' times let us spend,
   A richt rollicking day at oor journey's end.
Then come lads an' lassies, come ane an' come a',
   The boat it lies ready at aul' Broomielaw;
Noo come get yer tickets an' let's be away,
   For we a' mean tae spend a richt happy day.

>>149298918
я думал я один такой пизданутый.

>>149294062 (OP)

O, Death
O, Death
O, Death
Won't you spare me over 'til another year
Well what is this that I can't see
With ice cold hands takin' hold of me
Well I am Death, none can excel
I'll open the door to Heaven or Hell
Whoa, Death someone would pray
Could you wait to call me another day
The children prayed, the preacher preached
Time and mercy is out of your reach
I'll fix your feet til you can't walk
I'll lock your jaw til you can't talk
I'll close your eyes so you can't see
This very hour, come and go with me
I'm Death I come to take the soul
Leave the body and leave it cold
To draw up the flesh off of the frame
Dirt and worm both have a claim

O, Death
O, Death
Won't you spare me over 'til another year
My mother came to my bed
Placed a cold towel upon my head
My head is warm my feet are cold
Death is a-movin' upon my soul
Oh, Death how you're treatin' me
You've close my eyes so I can't see
Well you're hurtin' my body
You make me cold
You run my life right outta my soul

Oh Death please consider my age
Please don't take me at this stage
My wealth is all at your command
If you will move your icy hand
The old, the young, the rich or poor
All alike to me you know
No wealth, no land, no silver no gold
Nothing satisfies me but your soul

O, Death
O, Death
Won't you spare me over til another year
Won't you spare me over til another year
Won't you spare me over til another year

>>149300905
Ну так интересный сериал и стишок годный. Мне во время просмотра сразу стало интересно его нагуглить и понять в чём суть.

>>149301636
roll tide

>стих на английском на свободную тему

COUGHING FIT,
PANTS OF SHIT,
CAN'T STAND UP SHE HAS TO SIT
EVERY TIME SHE TELLS A LIE
SHIT RUNS DOWN HER INNER THIGH
PEE PEE PEE POO POO POO
SHE WON'T MAKE IT TO THE LOO
BY FIRE MONKEY, KEK, AND DONALD TRUMP
LIVE ON AIR, SHE'LL TAKE A DUMP

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZaOptjNhKPU