Another translation of Antara

Pour me not the water of life with disgrace; But pour me, with glory, the bitterest cup; The water of life in disgrace is as Hell; And Hell with glory is the finest abode. (The last lines from his poem beginning "Judge by your swords".)

Thomas Gray on levelling death

Let not Ambition mock their useful Toil,Their homely Joys and Destiny obscure;Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful Smile,The short and simple Annals of the Poor. The Boast of Heraldry, the Pomp of Pow'r,And all that Beauty, all that Wealth e'er gave,Awaits alike th' inevitable Hour.The Paths of Glory lead but to the Grave. From Gray's … Continue reading Thomas Gray on levelling death →

The vanity of human wishes

Enlarge my Life with Multitude of Days, In Health, in Sickness, thus the Suppliant prays; Hides from himself his State, and shuns to know, That Life protracted is protracted Woe. Time hovers o'er, impatient to destroy, And shuts up all the Passages of Joy: In vain their Gifts the bounteous Seasons pour, The Fruit autumnal, … Continue reading The vanity of human wishes →

Two Glasses by Ibn al-Tilmidh

Through my life I have gone with two glasses, And depended on them at all passes; The one glass was filled up with ink, The other was filled with wine pink: By the one, my wisdom I proved; By the other, my heart’s pains I subdued. Ibn al-Tilmidh (1074-1165) was a Christian Arab physician and … Continue reading Two Glasses by Ibn al-Tilmidh →

A translation of Antara

I reproach an age that does not bend to reproaching,And plead for security from calamities approaching.Promised by the days a promise that deceived me—I know well it was but the promise of mendacity.I served a people and took on relationsTo aid me, and yet they became as scorpions. — Antara,1 I reproach an age (my … Continue reading A translation of Antara →

English politicians described

Here let those reign, whom Pensions can inciteTo vote a Patriot black, a Courtier white; Explain their Country's dear-bought Rights away,And plead for Pirates in the Face of Day;With slavish Tenets taint our poison'd Youth,And lend a Lye the Confidence of Truth. – Samuel Johnson, London (1738).