Virgil

Virgil
Pound Sterling
Merchant
"Mercantilismo en Venecia" 
Buckingham Palace's Gardens
Merchant of Venice
Mission

Psalm 44:12
"Thou sellest thy people for nought, and dost not increase thy wealth by their price."

Cobblestone Street, Barcelona, Spain

"kept his lips closed with the expression of a man inwardly laughing"~~~T.S. Stribling




Banca en los jardines de Buckingham Palace

"The prelude was as iridescent as a prism in a morning room."~~~Carson McCullers



No es el Laguito Philips de La Garita, ni una calle en San Felipe de Alajuelita, es un laguito artificial en la residencia del Príncipe Felipe y la Reina Isabel II, o sea en los jardines de Buckingham Palace.

"The prelude was as iridescent as a prism in a morning room."~~~Carson McCullers

Praga

Chess: “ Pound Sterling” "Virgil" "Merchant"  "Buckingham Palace's Gardens" "Merchant of Venice" "Mission"

To Virgil
by Lord Alfred Tennyson
(1809-1892)

Written at the Request of the Mantuans for the Nineteenth Centenary of
Virgil's Death

 

Roman Virgil, thou that singest
Ilion's lofty temples robed in fire,
Ilion falling, Rome arising,
wars, and filial faith, and Dido's pyre;

Landscape-lover, lord of language
more than he that sang the Works and Days,
All the chosen coin of fancy
flashing out from many a golden phrase;

Thou that singest wheat and woodland,
tilth and vineyard, hive and horse and herd;
All the charm of all the Muses
often flowering in a lonely word;

Poet of the happy Tityrus
piping underneath his beechen bowers;
Poet of the poet-satyr
whom the laughing shepherd bound with flowers;

Chanter of the Pollio, glorying
in the blissful years again to be,
Summers of the snakeless meadow,
unlaborious earth and oarless sea;

Thou that seest Universal
Nature moved by Universal Mind;
Thou majestic in thy sadness
at the doubtful doom of human kind;

Light among the vanished ages;
star that gildest yet this phantom shore;
Golden branch amid the shadows,
kings and realms that pass to rise no more;

Now thy Forum roars no longer,
fallen every purple Caesar's dome -
Tho' thine ocean-roll of rhythm
sound for ever of Imperial Rome -

Now the Rome of slaves hath perished,
and the Rome of freemen holds her place,
I, from out the Northern Island
sundered once from all the human race,

I salute thee, Mantovano,
I that loved thee since my day began,
Wielder of the stateliest measure
ever moulded by the lips of man.