Monday, March 24, 2014

An Experiment!

As lightening flashes across a tormented sky, I cackle with glee and invite you, my dear friends, into my laboratory, where we will all witness my latest experiment: an embedded video!


Saturday, March 15, 2014

Beauty, Truth, and Incoherent Commentary - Verse 03

Let's keep picking on Mr. Milton, shall we?  After all, although I never met the man, based on his reputation he could "lighten up" a little.

What poem should we peruse today?  How about this one:

On His Deceased Wife        by John Milton

METHOUGHT I saw my late espoused Saint
   Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave,
   Whom Joves great Son to her glad Husband gave,
   Rescu'd from death by force though pale and faint.
Mine as whom washt from spot of child-bed taint,
   Purification in the old Law did save,
   And such, as yet once more I trust to have
   Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint,
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind:
   Her face was vail'd, yet to my fancied sight,
   Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shin'd 
So clear, as in no face with more delight.
   But O as to embrace me she enclin'd
   I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.

Okay .... if you read this poem through, then I hope you have a new appreciation for Mr. Milton.  What a beautiful, heart-wrenching dedication to a lost lover!  John, you old Puritan, I didn't know you had it in you.

Sunday, March 9, 2014

Beauty, Truth, and Incoherent Commentary - Verse 02

I've already begun insulting the memory of John Milton, so I may as well continue.  I'll copy here the few sonnets of his I understand, as Latin is a mystery to me.  (It may as well be Greek!)

On His Being Arrived to the Age of Twenty-three    by John Milton

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,
Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!
My hasting days fly on with full career,
But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th.
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,
That I to manhood am arrived so near,
And inward ripeness doth much less appear,
That some more timely-happy spirits indu'th.
Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,
It shall be still in strictest measure even
To that same lot, however mean or high,
Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven.
All is, if I have grace to use it so,
As ever in my great Task-master's eye.

Whining about being 24 years old?  Good Lord, man!  What until you're my age, and every body part hurts and malfunctions, you fart dust, your eyes, ears, nose, and tongue can't sense much of anything any more, and to walk up a flight of stairs requires all your energy!

Oh to be back in my 40's again!