#summer fayre
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A day of looking forward at the SSPX community of St Michael's School, as Fr Rupert Bevan celebrated his First Mass (on the Feast of Sts John Fisher & Thomas Moore), followed by the blessing of the cornerstone of the new chapel of St Michael the Archangel which is being built to serve the growing community of faithful who have congregated around the school. The annual summer fayre finished the afternoon, raising funds for this uniquely special school. While the environment of the school gym wasn't exactly the most uplifting place for the Tradentine Liturgy, it was still an occasion of great joy & beauty, and one that reminds us that no matter how much the big wide world sets itself at enmity with those seeking to believe & practise the Catholic Faith as it has always been believed & practised, we still believe that the SSPX is a work of God, and that as long as He desires it to continue, He will ordain the circumstances such that it will do so. This was most especially brought home by the Benedictine priests formerly resident at Glastonbury until the release of Traditiones Custodes last year, upon which Bishop Declan of the Diocese of Clifton chose to restrict their use of the Traditional Latin Mass, which they had dedicated themselves to saying exclusively. They have now become affiliated with the SSPX, but continuing their way of life as Benedictines. https://www.instagram.com/p/Cfz1RuJD23U/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
#traditional catholic#catholic priest#sspx#St Michael#new church#Catholic Liturgy#construction#Catholic life#school fayre#summer fayre#community#Catholic community#Catholic school#Mass#Traditional Latin Mass
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Invitation to Kyrenia Animal Rescue Summer Fayre
Readers mail…..
From Ian Fell … KAR…
Here comes the next Kyrenia Animal Rescue fundraising event:
The event – KAR Summer Fayre.
The venue – Sultan’s Restaurant in Catalkoy.
The date – Friday 22nd September.
The time – between 6 pm and 10 pm.
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#Animal care#Catalkoy#Charity fund raising#Craft market#Kyrenia Animal Rescue KAR#Sultan&039;s restaurant#Summer Fayre
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ivory tower 18+ ASCENDED!ASTARION X AFAB!READER, 4.6K
Something deeply sordid, raw; ungodsly. There’ll be no Lathandrian blessing for your young, no gentle welcome into some family fayre on the outskirts of the city; but you want this.
woah boy! my first ascended astarion piece, so please be kind! dal is back babey! woooo!
thank you to @bhaalism and @lipstickghoulie for dealing with me while writing this i love you both endlessly.
wc: 4.6k
cw: afab reader, female language used. breeding, mind-control, p in v, ascended astarion, public fingering, private banging, great times all round, as always if there are errors no there aren't, creampies, yippee
Baldur’s Gate doesn’t sleep. Not really.
She sometimes slows just enough to find some purchase amongst the muddle, though - tiptoes lazy through highsun in soft linens, the burgeoning swell of soap suds and sunny rosemary through wide open wooden shutters. Lingering - sweat-soaking worn leathers, the sore of the flex in the arch of your foot splayed over cobble. As if to grasp at the memory, your fingers stretch out from your side and on to the dark oak of the armrest, in a moment of sheer jubilance. Summer. The sun. Wide bright mornings. Hopeful and hot as a bated breath.
The city ambles onward this evening, no different despite the inclement weather and the din of an early darkness. Half-lidded through dark streets as rain smatters the roofs with wet, glistening something dozy under the tall oil street lamps and swirls of ever-present heavy fog. Gurgling whilst each drain fills with water and swallows deep into the sewers.
Scatters the hay, bears the slip; sings a slow drunken stutter of thunder-wind whiling at the windows into the small hours. There’s a comfort to be found in it.
The harbour bell will go on to toll for every sail weary ship coming in from the fog; the crescent caress of the Gate’s waiting arms lit low with oily dots of amber. That even this late into the night the bands of trawlers on the dock work crates and barrels into cargo holds with worn hands and ruddy cheeks. The gulls and their scattering squawks. The flapping of their fat feathered wings up into the clouds.
From where you sit in the Ivory Tower you can hardly see anything at all. Fog obscures the streets to a point, other than the light patches under the oil lanterns out on the ramparts. The window runs dripping wet with condensation. Pools under the pane.
A hideaway of sorts within the manor. Newly reclaimed by Astarion in some deal with the quivering council in order to keep him sweet. Not that he has any armies of undead in his retainer to command as yet, but they don’t need to know that. There’s time. You’re still blessedly mortal and able.
Astarion.
He should be skulking the halls somewhere below with that unnerving silent step he’s taken to using. Your cheeks grow warm, the blanket over your shoulders pulled closer into your chest as you allow your mind to run wild; the scald of bliss to your brain like that of some ironmonger’s poker, split straight to the core.
Your love. Your lover.
Amongst his many newfound desires and passions seemingly includes the impetus to redesign a centuries-old palace from scratch, and while you doubt he has the want nor willpower to take the project anywhere near to completion you’re more than happy to indulge him during this burst of creativity. A designer’s eye. Lavish yet not ostentatious, he tells you. Your own private wing of the palace, and one you’ll share together. He has no need for his own private chambers. You’re the only one he wants to be beside. You understand that at its essence, it isn’t even necessarily a want to design for creativity’s sake, it’s important to you both to have every memory of the residence’s former owner gone. Every threadbare tread of carpet, every scuff on the wall; every painting being demounted by workers downstairs and shipped to the auction house first thing in the morning. You can hear them if you still enough, heart still beating in your chest and the low chunter of layman gossip.
The version of him you knew before his ascension was so very scared. Beautiful, but wavering. You loved him of course; and you always will - it was that version of him, the one lost in the wilderness that you fell for, and gods; you fell hard - frenetic and whiny, fleeting as light snow never to settle on the forest floor. Wild-eyed.
But this Astarion - the real Astarion, as far as he is concerned - has you completely and utterly enraptured each day you wake together, the same as ever, from the second your eyes open. Wrapped in those Daerlunian-import plush linens atop your gargantuan newly-installed four poster bed. Face of marble with those cattish dark lashes and eyes of carnelian crush. Enchants every room he walks into, as he always has.
You don’t know he’s with you until a hand ghosts your shoulder, sinewy; with those deft pale fingers deep encroaching on your collarbone in his grasp.
“I didn’t hear you, lover.”
“But I heard you.’
He circles round the velvet armchair, resplendent in his home finery. Not a crease to be seen. Voice soft, yet laced with a bristling concern.
‘Why do you insist on sitting up here?”
You err for a brief moment.
“I can hear the rain on the roof, here. See some bustle when the fog clears. The city goes on.” You shake your head with a smile as he crouches beside you, nestling his head in the crook of your arm.
“But it’s cold. Dark. Come down - I can light the fire in our sitting room if you like?”
“We have so many centuries yet to see together! What sense is there in not observing the world as it is now? Keeping record of the city as we saved it?”
His head lifts and his eyes meet yours, some churlish quirk of a brow in the low light.
“An archivist, now? Is that to be your profession alongside me? Whilst you raise our young?”
“If I wish it to be, yes.”
He laughs, a gentle low hum.
“Then an archivist you’ll be - the most renowned in all the lands. We’ll make it so.’ He stands once more and takes your hands from your lap, bringing them clasped to his lips in a soft, lingering kiss.
‘I’ll begin planning on your archives - I presume you’ll want a library? Or something similar in your wing, maybe even an office. Who knows?”
Astarion looks to the room around you, the shapes covered with old canvas and the rickety floorboards underfoot. Cobwebs in the corner. There’s no grimace nor displeasure. He simply surveys as cool as still water. Objective.
“I’ll have some of the merchants relay their contacts come morning too. If you insist on expanding your territory up here then it must befit you.”
“Befit me?” You grin now. His hold on your hands remains secure.
“If you want me to say it, then I suppose I will. As many times as it takes to get it through that heavy skull of yours.’
His smile reaches his eyes as he circles back behind your chair, fingers splayed over your shoulders once more in a deep round kneading pattern.
‘There’s nothing you won’t have if you want for it. Nothing too good for you to covet, my solace; Saviour to the whole Sword Coast and every plain mite within its bounds.’
There’s a small pause as he bows to kiss the top of your head.
‘And I thank the stars every day that I can provide for you. That you saw the potential in me and lifted me higher, to such profane glory amongst the swill of common man. That my gold, my influence, and terror, and each lift of my blade is at your command and yours alone. That you stayed at my side.”
He doesn’t like to mention the gods, hence the stars. Pointedly brings the grimace back into play, occasionally even furrows with the slightest twinge of anger brewing at his brow. The gods had no role to play in your shared victories. No divine intervention saved him from two hundred years of torment, from certain death after the crash of the nautiloid along that sun-soaked span of rocky beach;-
You did. You with your strange inclination toward the weak man he once was. The shell he lived in like a hermit crab on the shore, nothing more.
-
On bright days, you thank him for giving you time.
Time to live, time to breathe with full lungs. Time to allow you to burn your eyes in the beating sun with a silver pot of fresh coffee and whatever ridiculous spew the papers hold between the pages today.
You know as you sit in comfortable silence that your time dwindles, and that your turning is inevitable. Your eternal wedded bliss is to be alongside him and will be as vivid in nature as all the colours of the astral plane, if he’s to be believed - and there’s no reason not to see his word as gospel. You can see each moment as crystalline as sea glass on sand. Forever with the man you love more than you’ve ever felt inclined to love anything. The bridal ceremony is but a drop in the vast ocean of your lives together.
He thanks you too. Often alongside you with eyes closed in some dozy recline, forearm hanging lazily whilst he takes the sun on his skin like a blessing. A loose linen shirt akin to the one he wore back at camp at the start of your journey together, strings wide open, a blaze of blinding flesh at the corner of your eye each time he shifts.
The veranda on a clear day. Astarion has assured you he’ll never take this from you. He’ll never take anything that you don’t willingly give him with a clear heart - and why would you give him your ability to bask in the sun, like a street cat in days-warm dust? What purpose does that serve either of you, beyond making you a less useful weapon in his prized arsenal?
At one point, all you wanted was to talk to him - and it rings true even now. The want to be the bearer of all his tales. To learn about him, to be close to him; to hear him tear the world apart with that dulcet snarl, walking alongside each other on the barren dirt trails out in the wilderness. Hop-skipping to keep up with his quiet gait. Giving him back as good as you got. The glimmer of his hair in the sunlight, the way he’d sometimes just stop.
Close his eyes. Feel the heat. The gentle burn of highsun on tender flesh. A soft inhale.
That morning out in the clearing after your first night together. Arms outstretched in a welcome to the light. It had taken a few minutes for it to click as you’d silently watched on, why his sun salutation was so fond. So open.
It’s to be a long engagement with regard to your transformation whilst the manor undergoes renovations. Reason after reason as to why now isn’t the ideal time to commit you to eternity. You know why he wants to keep a hold on your precious mortality for the time being, of course; and that keeps you from the forever embrace of his Dark Kiss. It never changes.
You’ll allow him to sire your children. You want him to. Crave it. Him.
Your very own lineage together, he whispers; frenzied by your ear as his fingers crawl the bare span of your thigh. He can breed you full like fate intended and you’ll have something - besides him - that’ll also last forever. Something of your own surpassing the death of all of your contemporaries. The Vampire Ascendant and The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate, flesh-on-flesh, skin smacking skin; his debauched groans and lewd whimpers as he buries himself inside you, your cooing breaths;-
You’ll wed normally too, for the interested eyes of the city. Some dull ceremony with the elites adorning all tables as gilded pieces might some decorative chess board, deceptive vows. Legally it makes things easier should anything befall either of you but the hassle almost makes the whole thing undesirable - gods, especially because he already treats you as some smitten newlywed might. Adores you. Follows you around the manor, stalking; like some wolf cub after its mother. Carries you to bed each evening and ploughs you senseless, until spit gathers in the corners of your wet, wanting mouth and you can’t see straight through grey-blear eyes.
He likes the idea of you taking his name by law. Melds with your own like it were meant to be, from the starter threads of whatever cosmic tapestry pulled you together, the marriage of your first name to his last, interwoven by a scholar’s hand in gold-shining delicate point.
Ancunín. The House of.
Tapestries. Large, spanning the halls. The Sarsantyr's over in Waterdeep - they’ll be able to create what you’re picturing.
A familiar gaze meets yours. It’s then that you realise you aren’t alone in your mind once more
“If you want tapestries, you only have to ask.”
“In fairness - you didn’t give me a chance to.”
He hums, tilting his head a little in the sun’s glare.
“I’ll send for them. The Sarsantyr's, yes? Have them pack up all their little-’
He pulls a face and lifts his hands in some kind of puzzled shake.
‘Sewing bits? Textiles? I’ll send carriages. They can come and stay in the lower rooms. Create the masterpiece you envision.” Astarion sniggers a little at the thought of putting them in the old dormitory while you remain lost in thought.
“Okay. Check them through first though, yes?
The real event - the wedding - will give you total ecstasy beyond your wildest preconception, you know this. Unfettered and euphoric. Books and books on the topic stacked clumsily beside your bed, reds and greens; the turning of a vampire bride in leather bound prose. You know what to expect in florid detail. You know to trust your lover, that the rabid creature you’ll become is only a temporary mental state precursing an eternity alongside him.
And yet, you wonder about the children. They’ll be here by then. However many he decides is enough, naturally; assumedly under the care of some hired help whilst you engage in your thoroughly bastardised pastiche of a wedding ceremony. You laugh now. He’s still in your head, mulling over your thoughts as soon as you can think them.
Will you miss them? Will they be your last thought before you pass away; Astarion unable to complete this ritual alone as he was unable to before? Will your death lead to his, leaving your dhampir offspring to ravage Baldur’s Gate unsupported by the windfall of knowing parents? There’s still no hesitation, though. You will bear his young. You want to. The consequences either way are vast and long-lasting, and you’d rather be at his side than facing his ire-
“Love, what are these thoughts? What on earth is going on in that very pretty head of yours today?” His voice is a low drawl, pitying yet laced with affection. He sits straight in his chair whilst a hand lazily searches for yours atop the sun-warmed table; beyond the scope of the ramparts wall the low meander of city life continues on.
“Mulling things over.”
“You don’t need to do that, pet. Come now.’ He beckons you onto his lap and wraps his arms around your middle, hand searching for the soft pillow of your chest as your ass backs up to his abdomen.
‘You want me to make it better?”
You nod gently, the sun catching your eye in a particularly bright beam and making you squint.
“Please.”
“Poor thing. It’s okay.” As he coos; one hand finds the curve of soft flesh at your chest, holding the weight of your breast firmly as he starts lightly thumbing at the nipple through your nightshirt.
“There, now. Good girl.” Your head falls back onto his shoulder, a deep sigh as he lulls you into a new state of calm astride him. Birds sing overhead whilst you nuzzle his neck.
“I will miss this warm flesh of yours, you know. Terribly so.’ His other hand moves to your nightskirt, gently hitching the material bit-by-bit up your thighs until you sit exposed to the air. Nobody can see you from here - the faceless crowd little but colourful dots below; Astarion giving a small tense laugh as he feels your pulse quicken against him.
He toys with your skirt, edging ever nearer your exposed cunt; and your eyes flutter closed.
‘But the greater purpose… I just can’t let it go. Us. Our lives together. I sincerely doubt you want to wither away to age; to lose your extraordinary beauty-’
A gentle groan as he feels your warmth.
‘Do you, my most precious flower?”
“Of- Of course I don’t. I want to be with you, as we are; forever.”
“Then we’re going to need to make a concerted start on the only thing setting us back, are we not?” His fingers gently tap on the crux of your pubic bone, threateningly close to your clit. You feel the familiar seep of your slit leaking onto the bunched skirt fabric and you think of honey. Some kind of sweet glaze.
“Yes.”
As you sink further into him his fingers move down just a little to meet your clit; and in response to your delighted sighs he very lightly begins to stroke either side of the engorged flesh. There’s no urgency to his movement nor his demeanour; just a treacle-thick teasing grin as he turns his head to kiss your blazing cheek.
“Good.”
There’s something borderline celestial about the gentle way he touches you, coaxing more of your slick from you with every gentle jerk. He deftly motions ‘come hither’ with a soaking middle finger dipping lightly at your hole then brings your arousal up to wetten your clit once more.
“You want this, don’t you?” A finger slips down to your cunt, this time slipping and nestling deep inside as you feel yourself writhe on him. One arm scrambles around the back of his neck to support yourself while he begins to curl at your spongy spot, and the anchor of your arousal shifts free.
“I’ve been rifling through that glorious mind of yours these past few days and I see you now. You want comfort. To comfort. To seek shelter in those warm lights on the horizon, to know you aren’t alone in the late hours.”
You nod furiously, wincing, desperate to feel him deeper. Thicker. You need more, your fox-eyed paramour giving only the barest minimum he can do to watch you squirm.
“You, with my babe in arm;- oh the image alone does things to you, doesn’t it?”
It’s as if he’s creating the visions in your head as he speaks them, bringing them to the forefront of your mind in hushed coos and silent gasps. As if by magic, the only thing on your mind is a primal need for him to fuck you full. Nothing else, no mind for coffee nor completed manor renovations.
You will be round. You will brim with life before he turns you, and you’ll take to his seed the minute he offers it to you. You’ll accommodate him like no other across Toril could hope to. You wonder if he has the power to decide how many, as he adds another finger to your unbridled torment. If he could choose to speed the process up with a celebration of twins, triplets. An heir and two spares. Maybe he’d wait instead until the first was born, just to ensure the viability of his bloodline. A test.
He’s doing this; you become starkly aware as he withdraws his fingers, spiderwebs of glistening drool clinging to your inner thigh as he brings them between his lips and suckles. He’s giving you these ideas of grandeur because he can. Because you are his. Because you wouldn’t want to belong to anyone else, to be tied to any other notion of whatever a fulfilling life is, if it weren’t one shared wholly by him. With him.
“Let me take you inside, sweet one. Let’s take care of you properly, shall we? Curb this fever, hm?”
Please, you think. Please take this burning hole in my womb and make it full with you. Extinguish the flame with your unholy spend and give me children. Give me oud and orchids and a life of warmth, however long we both may live.
“Use your words, my love. Tell me you want this.”
“I want this. Please.”
-
On the bed you now lie, the room cool and dark; balcony doors open wide with light-billowing curtains. Sweat consumes you as your thoughts run wild, the smell of your arousal, clammy hands and deep breaths in the low light. Astarion approaches like something from a dream, shirtless now; smirk plastered cheek-to-cheek as he leans over your trembling form with confidence - your lust-addled fingers reaching for his steady form like a ship to harbour.
“You want to feel it, little dove? Feel how you set me alight?”
He pries your wrist from him with gentle urgency, taking your hand under his and skating both downwards; down the plane of his tight torso, slowing to a stop just above his pelvis.
“Tell me - do you want to feel it?”
A small smirk plays at the corner of your lips, but he doesn’t seem to notice - watching the way your hand twitches under his.
“Hm?”
His groan is guttural. Thick. He doesn’t even try to mask it, eyes wide as his hand shifts yours just a little further down and over the blistering burn of his heavy cock through loose linen trousers. A hazy sigh as he moans a small whimper at your touch.
“Please, Astarion. I beg you.”
It’s like his fingers are enchanted, the way they reduce you to this sodden mess. Unable to think unless guided delicately by his superior whim.
“I need to bury myself inside you fully for this to take. I need your full attention, submission; your devotion to our lives together. Do I make myself clear?”
He’s giving you one final chance to withdraw. Your head clears for one sweet moment and you can do little else but stare at his bulge with heavy lids and your mouth agape.
“Crystal. I ache for you. Please, give this to me.”
You lift to meet him in a soft kiss, jaw slackened and cunt ablaze. Nothing else matters, no complications, nor possibilities of horribly mangled spawn from your womb as a result of your copulation. This scalding stupor that sends you insane won’t go away until he quenches it with his seed.
Your response has satisfied him, if the way he stands sharpish and unties his trouser laces is anything to go by. The glassy head of his cock stands purple at his stomach, leaking wild at the slit and red-hot as your hand reaches blindly for him in your hunger.
He gently taps you away and back down onto the sheets.
“Magic?” You hear yourself mumble, still amazed at how surely swollen he must feel with how sore he looks. Has to be.
“Just me.”
There’s a tenderness in his eyes as he crawls back over you, legs instinctively parting and lifting at the knee to accommodate him. Something that compels him to hold your face in the hand that isn’t supporting his weight and just look at you, fondly; for what feels like an age.
Then he shifts once more to angle himself, decidedly spending no more time on preparation. The heat of his cock against your slit is unlike anything you’ve ever known, dizzying yet pleasurable; hard and yet still yielding, and as he thrusts a shallow dip into your core you swear you see angels overhead. Yes, you’re ready. You’ve never been more ready for anything than you are for the sheer ecstasy you know he’s about to give you, and he’s going to give you it in droves. Seismic tremors as he shifts a little and you adjust to him once again.
He nods. He hears you.
Then, he snaps once more; and he’s lost.
Each glub of his cock meeting your spill as he ruts into you; the way you feel it running downward in long dribbles, with each and every mindless hump of his hips eking more honey from your cunt in spades.
You hear the sounds of your shared carnal pleasure and it makes you clench around him in some kind of self-perpetuating cycle. Groans and whimpers and moans and hisses and the frequent egregious slaps to your thighs whilst he chases his high.
He’s perfect like this. Halo of curls above you, voice silken as he calls you every pet name under the sun, his, always. Your legs ache already from being wound so tightly, interlocked around him, and you think of the prespill inside you already. How each fangy showman’s smile means he’s twitching at your cervix and leaking molten gold inside you with every thrust.
It’s not until he nuzzles down to your neck that you remember to offer it, potentially for the last time on this mortal coil.
“Are you asking?”
“Well, you didn’t offer.”
The immediate pang is one of violent nausea, subsiding quickly into a wooze coating the bottom of your stomach in black tar as he fucks upward. Unease. There’s something in his spit, you assume. Something that makes the gaping wounds a little more bearable, a little less raw as he kitten-licks the flesh between swallows. Ice courses your veins with adrenaline as it always does.
Astarion chokes down his first sip with an eager cough. The burgeoning panic wracking your limbs turns into a numbed haze as your lover feasts, big neat gulps whilst he clutches at your ribcage with fingers splayed deep and cock buried to the hilt, like a man starved. His hair tickles at your jaw, the smell of something herbal. Slightly lemony.
He splutters that he’s close and you feel yourself nearing your peak too.
There’s a profane desecration in what he’s doing, painting your walls in an attempt to get you pregnant. Something deeply sordid, raw; ungodsly. There’ll be no Lathandrian blessing for your young, no gentle welcome into some family fayre on the outskirts of the city. No villages to raise them, no cards nor flowers from friends or family; but you want this.
You want him to taint you in his particular shade of crimson, visibly; so the realms know who made The Saviour of Baldur’s Gate come to heel. The man who compelled her through sheer love alone and to whom she gave everything. The indomitable force for whom you’ll die, only to resurrect forever as his.
Visions of your turning don’t scare you - all lightning and thunder, the cries of your dhamplings in some nursery down the towering halls of your palatial wing; and yet you’ll be safe in his caress. He wouldn’t let a single thing happen to you. He won’t.
And as he cums; he calls your name.
Some rhythmic prayer over and over again; and with each kick of his cock he loses some of his bedroom charm and hurtles back to earth, humbly enraptured. More candid. His weary muscles tighten as yours threaten your own release around him.
“Cum for me, now. Milk me.” in a heavy whisper whilst he strokes the soft flesh of your cheek; and you do. You cum harder than you can remember ever before. Each wave of sheer pleasure some blackout tidal wave as you writhe, staccato in his arms.
If you die during the ceremony, you’ll die happy. Should the younglings bite their way through your womb, it won’t matter.
You’re loved. He loves you, in soft kisses and gentle arms carried all the way to the waiting washtub. In the way he sponges your aching shoulders and brings a washcloth to your dazed face.
Baldur’s Gate doesn’t sleep, not really.
But tonight it will, in the patient, visceral bliss of calm before a summer storm.
#my writing#astarion#astarion x reader#astarion ancunin#baldurs gate astarion#ascended astarion#ascended astarion x reader#astarion x female reader#astarion baldurs gate#astarion bg3#bg3
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Guarded Hearts
Part 2
Alright here you go guys!
POV: You find out Azriels your mate but you start getting the could shoulder from him after he returns from a mission.
It was a warm summer day when he realized he loved her. They were walking out along the Sidra taking in the day to day lives of the merchants. They got the day off from Rhys as he was spending a long time needed day with Fayre, no court or camp work to be done or thought of. You and him had Nyx for the day as Cassian had claimed that he and Nesta needed the day together and with Elain in the Spring Court with Lucian you two were the last options, not that he didn’t like the idea of spending the day with you but curious as to what mischievous acts you and Nyx would get up to.
You and Nyx had walked up to a musician that spent part of his day playing along the Sidra. At first you both were just enjoying the music but then you started dancing. Azriel stood off to the side but you and Nyx started dancing and laughing with nothing but the biggest smiles on your faces. At the sight Azriel started to relax a bit and felt a smile fighting to make an appearance on his countenance. He knew the horrors you grew up with, you got to keep your freedom of flying, thank the Cauldron, but that didn’t mean your father hurt you in other ways.
As he was watching you he felt that snap, the one he had been begging to feel since he was young and dealing with his own tourture that his family dealt him. He looked to you for any ounce of a reaction that you felt the same but there you were still laughing and dancing with his nephew. He pulled at the bond and your face changed for a moment but never strayed from the boy in front of you. At that moment he knew that he needed to put a sheild around that bond because no matter how strong he was there was no way he would have the discipline to not pull on it again, not until you felt it too in your own time. So immediately he but up that cold indifferent shield around the bond begging the cauldron that you would feel the same about him sooner rather than later.
For the next few months Azriel kept everything the same between the two of you, training in the morning for at least two hours by your own asking and determination to the post training flights. You both were drained but that didn’t stop you from leaping from the top of the house of wind to go fly for an hour. Azriel never knew why you did, maybe because it reminded you of the freedom you now have with your life, regardless he always joined you.
There were a few days you didn’t train as long or take your flight to clear your mind, and on those days Azriel would find you in the back corner of the library, the first few times lead by his shadows but soon enough he knew the way to you like you know the scars on the back of his hands.
“So what’s the reading material tonight, another recommendation from Nesta” he quipped as he approached you. There was no smile on his face, his own way to try and keep you from seeing his true feelings for you.
“Possibly, and if that’s the case maybe I should go find some unsuspecting male at Ritas to help me reenact some of these moments.” You replied without looking up from your book.
Many times Azriel would come in and ask you similar questions and you wanted to see if you could get a rise out of him. Apparently tonight you did because he walked right over to the stand that held the whiskey and glass and helped himself to a glass full.
As the silence expanded between the two of you there was a slight discomfort, which wasn’t normal for you. “Gonna share or keep it all to yourself?” You asked looking up from your book.
At your words he visually relaxed, poured himself a second glass and you your first.
“I thought you’d sit over there brooding this whole time” you responded to him handing you the glass. He sat next to you on the small loveseat that was located in this corner and stayed silent. That was the last night he visited you in the library.
Azriel knew that he was creating a distance between the two of you for a while but he couldn’t stop himself, until he knew that you also felt that bond he was gonna keep to himself. He couldn’t stand to break you heart or the heartbreak he would encounter himself if you didn’t feel the same and rejected him. His shadows would still follow you or bring you comfort, if they were going on their own accord or he was sending them, he didn’t know anymore.
Not too long after Azriel stopped hanging out with you Rhys had asked for a formal meeting with the whole inner circle. It was there that he learned that the uprisings he had been watching the last few months were getting more out of hand and these camp leaders needed to be reminded who the real leader was. Azriel was instructed to go to the camp you grew up in and even though it wasn’t Windhaven, it was a close second. During the meeting he felt a slight twinge, he didn’t dare look at you because he needed to make sure it was the bond and not something from his shadows.
He left immediately after the meeting because if he took a moment to look at you his whole facade would fall and the anger he felt towards your father would be even stronger.
When he walked into his room to gather his belongings he found Mor sitting in one of the chairs across from the fireplace.
“When are you going to tell her and stop putting the poor girl through so much torture?” She asked without looking from the fire.
Azriel was surprised by the brashness from Mor concerning you. After he felt the bond snap he felt that she was the only one to trust with the information of you being his mate.
“I told you I’m waiting until she feels the pull herself. I don’t want to freak her out before she’s ready. Now if you don’t mind I need to go beat the life out of her father.” He said with a scowl.
“Do you really think-“
“No I’m not thinking, that’s what she does to me and all I know is that I finally have the opportunity to bring pain tenfold of what he dealt to her back to him and that’s what I’ll do.” And like that he left.
When he returned from the camp he lifted the shield around the bond to see if maybe you felt it but there was nothing there. So, as he and Cassian passed you in the dining room he didn’t let his gaze fall to you but, he did dispatch a shadow to you, just to make sure you were ok. That’s what he told himself.
Then there was a day it all changed. He stopped is lonely training sessions and joined everyone else in hopes of seeing you but you weren’t there.
“Has y/n been coming at a different time to train alone?” He asked Cassian
“No, she hasn’t been around for a few days, I tried to check in on her but apparently she’s gone. Rhys said some sort of secret mission. I thought you would now about Mr.Shadowsiger.” Cassian responded. Azriels world turned on its axis. You were gone and no one told him.
He left the house of wind and went right to the river house where he knew Rhys would be in his office, he needed answers.
“Where have you sent her and why wasn’t I made aware of it?” Azriel basically yelled as he threw the office door open and practically off of its hinges.
“She said she needed to get away so I sent her away” Rhys said, face full of nutrality. Azriel knew he wouldn’t get anything out of his brother but he needed to try.
“Please tell me where you sent her before I send my shadows to her, I need to know she’s safe bec-“
“Because she’s your mate” Rhys finished for him.
Azriel was ready to beat his brothers face in because somehow he knew but kept it from him and still sent you away. Seeing the anger and worry on his brothers face Rhys tried to calm him down but the worry seeped from his being, and off his shadows went.
When Rhys saw the shadows disappear from his brothers form he reached out to you and although he was meat with a wall at first he knew a shadow had found you because he was able to easily break through your walls and all he could say was “I’m so sorry”
Tag list: @crazylokonugget @kalulakunundrum @mp-littlebit
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'His darling the fayre Lady Katherin'
I wanted to draw a scene with Henry V and Catherine de Valois for a long time and now I actually managed to do it!
I imagined a scene in which the couple was walking in the garden, somewhere before the departure of Henry V back to France, in the summer of 1421.
Catherine, being pregnant with their son, receives a small gift from the king, probably a brooch to remind her of him while he is gone.
For some reason, I'm pretty excited!
#henry v#catherine of valois#plantagenets#15th century#medieval#british history#english history#fanart#sketch#illustration#digital art#artists on tumblr#my art#house of lancaster#house of york#henry vi#henry vii#couple#character design#the wars of the roses#hundred years war#the white queen#historical character#edward iv#elizabeth woodville#elizabeth of york#richard iii#isabel neville#shakespeare
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Weekly Press Briefing #59: August 6th - 12th
Welcome back to the Weekly Press Briefing, where we bring you highlights from The West Wing fandom each week, including new fics, ongoing challenges, and more! This briefing covers all things posted from August 6 - August 12, 2023! Did we miss something? Let us know; you can find our contact info at the bottom of this briefing!
Challenges/Prompts:
The following is a roundup of open challenges/prompts. Do you have a challenge or event you’d like us to promote? Be sure to get in touch with us! Contact info is at the bottom of this briefing.
@callixton is hosting The West Wing Pride Week (@twwpride here on tumblr) September 17 - 23. More details here!
Photos/Videos:
Here’s what was posted from August 6 - 12.
Bradley Whitford posted a photo of his dog next to his laundry.
Josh Malina posted a photo of himself donating platelets.
Josh Malina posted a graphic inviting people to join The West Wing pickets in support of the SAG-AFTRA strike.
Marlee Matlin posted a photo of herself with her friend Dr. Ruthie along with a birthday wish.
Mary McCormack posted a photo of her daughter Rose passing a SWIFT semi-truck on their way to the Taylor Swift Eras tour in LA.
Peter James Smith posted in support of the SAG-AFTRA strike: 1 | 2
Donna Moss Daily: August 6 | August 7 | August 8 | August 9 | August 10 | August 11 | August 12
Daily Josh Lyman: August 6 | August 7 | August 8 | August 9 | August 10 | August 11 | August 12
No Context BWhit: August 6 | August 7 | August 8 | August 9 | August 10 | August 11 | August 12
@twwarchive: August 6 | August 7 | August 8 | August 9 | August 10 | August 11 | August 12
Edits/Artwork:
#JOSHDONNA: ‘Silver Springs’ by @kennysroys [VIDEO EDIT]
Miscellaneous:
Twitter users @JessBakesCakes and @Schwifts met Bradley Whitford this weekend! 1 | 2 | 3
Editors’ Choice:
We are taking a break from Editors’ Choice this week! We’ll catch you with more recs next week!
Fics:
Presenting your weekly roundup of fics posted in the tag for The West Wing on Archive of Our Own.
Josh/Donna
Give me your hand, and I will love you forever by ProportionalResponse | Rated M | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | In Progress
Betty by Shinyrosa | Rated T | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete
Forcing Laughter, Faking Smiles by MatthewsMary | Rated E | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete [Editor’s Note: While this fic is listed on AO3 as complete, it has continued to update and appears to be a WIP]
Errors and Omissions by Chinesepapercut | Rated M | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | In Progress
Domestic Days by spooky_spacegirl | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | In Progress
it’s just gravitational (i can’t escape the pull) by flowersinapril | Rated E | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete
Unwinding by SocialOutsider | Rated E | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss | Complete
CJ/Danny
What ifs, what about-isms and What elses? by Jxjxjx | Rated G | Danny Concannon/C. J. Cregg | In Progress
Off the Record by onekisstotakewithme for daylight_angel, miabicicletta, Luppiters, hondagirll | Rated T | Danny Concannon/C. J. Cregg | In Progress
Other Pairings/Gen Fic
Summer Fayre by Hackney123 | Rated G | Helen Santos, Donna Moss (No pairings listed) | Complete
Multiple Pairings
Storybook Romance by electric_eel | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss, Danny Concannon/C. J. Cregg | Rated G | Complete
Could I Have This Dance (For The Rest Of My Life?): The Rewrite by mlea7675 | Rated G | Josh Lyman/Donna Moss, Ainsley Hayes/Sam Seaborn, Danny Concannon/C.J. Cregg, Helen Santos/Matt Santos | In Progress
THE WEEKLY PRESS BRIEFING TEAM CAN BE REACHED VIA THE FOLLOWING METHODS:
Twitter: @TWWPress
Email: [email protected]
Feel free to let us know if we missed something, if you have an event you’d like us to promote, or if you have an item that you’d like included in the next briefing!
xx,
What’s next?
#the west wing#west wing#tww#west wing fandom#the west wing fandom#tww fandom#tww fic#west wing fic#weekly press briefing
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LIVE / YN FYW : SUMMER / HAF 2023
11.05.23 : SWANSEA / ABERTAWE Galerie Elysuim Gallery : free event 8pm
https://www.elysiumgallery.com/events/event/live-music-julie-murphy-ceri-rhys-matthews/
12.05.23 : FERRYSIDE / GLAN Y FERI Gwyl Uillean Pipe Festival
https://sites.google.com/view/uilleannglanyfferi/home
29.05.23 : ST DAVIDS / TY DDEWI Pilgrims Fayre Bishops Palace
https://www.smallworld.org.uk/ancient-connections
02.06.23 : CWM YSTWYTH
Fire in the Mountain Festival / Tan yn y Mynydd
https://www.fireinthemountain.co.uk/
09.07.23 : DINEFWR
Beyond the Border International Storytelling Festival
https://beyondtheborder.com/festival/
16.07.23 : TREMARCHOG
Yscolan Summer School / Ysgol Haf
https://yscolan.tumblr.com/retreat
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Some fantasy designs I had made for @water-wind-and-fire-book-blog ‘s world!
Mariposa is a Dyrad fae, Ebony is a Summer Fayre, and Fugi is a Will’o’Wisp!
#fae folk#faerie#art#digital art#character design#original characters#world building#concept art#fantasy#artist on tumblr#cw nudity
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When The Wind Blows (Mormor AO3)
Chapter 19: Summer Fayre is out now! I’d say we’re just over halfway through, maybe a little more. This one’s to make up for the horrible weather in the UK right now, hope you enjoy 👀 as always, the link to the rest of the fic is below! kudos and comments appreciated!
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Hiking in New Zealand’s South Island
Feb 11-18, 2023
I’d booked a trail racing week with Race2Adventure in New Zealand’s South Island so thought I’d do a week’s hiking and exploring first. I’d already just spent two weeks traveling around Australia so was almost in the right time zone. The last time I’d been in the South Island was over the New Year between 2014 and 2015 although I’d been in the north island more recently in 2017.
As on my previous visit to New Zealand’s South Island, I was immediately mesmerized by its beauty – a wilderness of glaciers, beech forests and alpine lakes, only the south coast of Iceland, another volcanic island, coming close. It’s easy to get blasé once you’ve been there a few days but make no mistake, mere words will never convey the shear magnificence of this place. I’d live there if it wasn’t so far away from everywhere else.
My plan was to stay in Queenstown, rent a car and drive to the trailheads, while my hotel, the Holiday Inn, Frankton Road, was two miles from the town center, so some evenings I’d bus it in for dinner, other times I’d walk. Queenstown, with its low rise buildings surrounded by vistas of lakes and mountains in every direction, is one of my all-time favorite towns. It has the feel of a frontier town, bustling with restaurants and bars but unfortunately seems to have grown exponentially over just eight years since my last visit in 2014/15 – I sincerely hoped they were starting to apply the brakes on any further significant development. Pog Mahones, a friendly Irish bar with live music, became my go-to place for dinner and its fine Irish fayre.
In between hiking the Big Hill Walkway, the Big Hill Loop and the Master’s Traverse Loop I explored a number of interesting small lakeside towns -- the drives alone were worth it for the panoramic views. Arrowtown was one of my favorites and I’d be here a few times during the week. A quaint old low level gold rush town like something out of the wild west. Settled from 1862 with the first discovery of gold in the Arrow River, a number of Chinese arrived shortly after. Wanaka, last visited on my 2014/15 trip, is a bustling ski and summer resort town on the shore of Lake Wanaka. It seemed every kind of outdoorsy adventure activity was going on here. I did start to wonder where the eight years had gone since my last visit there, and mused that although Wanaka had not changed much, in many ways my journey had. On the shore of Lake Wakatipu the much smaller towns of Glenorchy, famous for its Lord of the Rings filming locations, and Kingston, most notable for its renovated steam railway and station, were also worthwhile detours for a quick visit.
Big Hill Walkway
Normally an 8.8 mile out and back from Arrowtown, up and down, I extended it a tad by including the final ascent to the Big Hill summit at 3730 ft elevation.
My favorite part was the mountain beach woodland – located about halfway to the summit, it extended for about a mile on a level section of the trail.
Dark, dense, silent and mysterious with reddy colored bark and a mildly funky smell from the soft carpet of decaying leaves underfoot, there seemed to be magic about in here. Indeed, on the return leg through the wood, a New Zealand fantail seemed intent on getting my attention – a native, small black and white bird with an oversized fanned tail, it futtered around my head with a persistence about it, a sense of urgency. I’m always on the lookout for signposts from the connected universe and attempted to understand its purpose, but to no avail.
Big Hill Loop
The first 4.6 miles of this 10.7 mile clockwise loop followed the Big Hill Walkway route to the summit of Big Hill.
Then a one mile open meadowland section along a ridge with amazing views followed by a 1.5 mile steep downhill to the Arrow River.
The last 3.3 miles, which followed the Arrow River back to Arrowtown, started in the upper reaches as a narrow stream in a small, steep craggy valley where I had to constantly fight my way through spikey bushes which scratched my arms and legs. As the river started to level out and widen there was a chance to cool my feet down in numerous shallow river crossings before a final section high up alongside an enormous gorge leading back in to Arrowtown.
Masters Traverse Loop
Normally a 7.3 mile anticlockwise loop from the Remarkable’s Ski Area, crisscrossing a 7000 foot mountain, I had to extend it by five miles due to the top 2.5 miles of road to and from the ski area being closed due to repairs.
Once on the ridge after a long, steep climb, the trail followed an ill-defined track along the top of a fine line of scree, no more than a faint outline of dust left by fellow crazies, just below the rocky outcrop at the very top of the mountain. I envisioned putting a foot wrong, sliding down the scree and off the steep cliff just below, and wondered how long it would take for someone to find me given the lack of other souls up here. At some point the track seemed to disappear, even my All Trails app not helping, and for some inexplicable reason I started to scramble up the rocky outcrop, almost to the very top of the mountain! Under normal circumstances I don’t consider myself afraid of heights but the close proximity to the sheer drop, just beyond the slippery scree, made my hold on life seem tenuous. I felt very exposed, clinging to terra firma for dear life on all fours. I’ve realized over the years that in situations like this I seem to have some kind of intuitive early warning signal that stops me taking one more step before getting into a much more serious situation. So I did stop and take a deep breath. Then the only sounds in this thin air were the tinkling of falling rocks under my feet, my heavy breathing and mantras spoken out-loud to stop myself making a mistake or freezing -- ‘stay focused Paul, stay focused Paul, stay focused Paul’ and ‘fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuck’! And, as always, the universe immediately spoke and pointed me in the right direction, the trail magically materializing as a thin line in the scree 20 feet below.
I breathed a sigh of relief as I scrambled back down to it, thinking there’s a parallel with life here – yeah, live life to the full and go headlong into the lion’s mouth by all means, but always stay alert to squeezing the brakes if and when needed.
The scary ridge was followed by a time consuming, gradual two mile descent through a vast bolder field – rocks between five and 15 feet in diameter were generally too large to jump over so required much scrambling around and over them. I wondered when it would end and remembered thinking this is the very first hike I’d ever experienced where it seemed impossible to estimate the time it would take.
The bolder field gradually gave way to a lower lying area where silence surrounded a still turquoise lake. Bounded by a grassy meadow it was a rare moment of serenity within the midst of the soaring, wild grey rocky landscape.
Just after spotting some rare wildlife, a pair of colorful, mating native paradise shelducks, I bumped into the only other humans crazy enough to hike in this area – two 20 something seasonal workers, Tom from Hungary and Christian from Argentina. They didn’t fancy walking the 10 miles back from whence they’d come, so, with my car being a bit nearer, we agreed to walk back to my car together, then I’d give them a lift back to their car. I was grateful for some fast company as we raced over yet another bolder field, bouncing from the top of one bolder to another back to the saddle of the ridge.
I was now on my way to do a week of trail racing on the island with the Race2Adenture crew, but I knew I’d be back sometime soon for some more extra serious hiking in these magnificent mountains.
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It looks like another sunny week ahead before we’ll being seeing any rainfall. As much as i’m looking forward to watching it finally come down on the deck, it should make for a great weekend for the upcoming Summer Fayre this weekend. For now, I suppose I ought to plan how to keep the children entertained for the week ahead.
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Those pictures sure are something!!!! But I was also curious about the big leather-bound books you have - what are they? Sorry if this too weird/private to answer!
Edit: oh there's more up top! These are mostly from my grandfather's house when he died, and the one on top is the very oldest. However, Kennedy's Revised Latin Primer I stole from my school.
The [otherwise] top row are books some notably more than a hundred years old, that I got from my grandfather's house when he died. They make for some fascinating reading; sometimes for interesting knowledge otherwise broadly lost (or at least not so accessible e.g. online) these days; sometimes for their very wrong takes on science and things. When I have time, I'll have to post some excerpts.
The biggest similar-looking ones are a rather old (I seem to recall I dated them as somewhere in the 1950s, from their content—there isn't a publication date) Encyclopaedia Britannica that I got for £20 at a local summer fayre auction; mine was the only bid.
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Every night you dream that you talk to a genie, when you wake up you can't remember what you wished for. One morning you wake up with a giant crab pincer replacing your right arm. What do you do?
As I awoke something didn't feel quite right, I tried to snuggle back into bed and started to pull the covers up closer. That's when I noticed my right arm. Where there had been an arm it seemed to have been replaced with a giant crab pincer. At this point usually I'd have tried to pinch myself to see if I was still dreaming. Just as well I didn't as I'm right handed. That thing looked big enough to take my head off. I gingerly sat up. My left arm had been under my body while I slept it looked normal enough but felt rather tingly. I tried to think how this had happened. I remembered dreaming about a genie as I came to, "your wish is my command" the comment hung in the air in the fog of my awakening mind. I'd wished for this? I struggled with the bedclothes trying to make the bed. Then I wondered how I was going to get dressed myself. Some things we do go on automatic so I attempted to find a top with the widest sleeves possible. Sadly the only top that fit came from a renaissance fayre cosplay I'd taken part in last summer. I struggled into my trousers and threw my coat over my shoulders . Bugger breakfast I was going to be late for work. Somehow I negotiated my way through the streets and subway without too much trouble. And arriving at the office building I worked in managed to use my left hand to flash my pass. I took the stairs rather than the lift and 10 floors later rather sweaty and out of breath made it to the conference room. An hour later my boss congratulated me on my initiative and patted me on the back. We'd got the contract for our biggest ad campaign yet. The film was due out next year one of those superhero turns monster flicks and I'd managed to get it in the bag so to speak. I left work shortly after the meeting broke up and returned home. Now all I had to work out before bed was is it my first wish or my third as I was dropping off to sleep I felt my crab arm start to click tapping it's claws together and I could feel it reaching for my head ....
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CHAPTER I.
students, a new school year is beginning as we transcend into a beautiful fall and good times are ahead. as you begin to return to campus and begin to unpack your bags and get situated, you will find that your rooms have been spruced up over the wonderful summer months and the canteen is running a new fabulous menu. as you adjust to life back here, we will be running welcome week activities to get you in the mood to be social!
the sports hall, library, common areas around campus and sports fields are now all reopened for your personal use. please, do feel free to reach out to the administration if you have any problems settling in.
r. ahmadi
the students are moving back onto campus this week and into their respective houses (as found on the list). each house will have a teacher in charge that is determined at the end of welcome week. use your imagination as to what orientation/welcome back activities are running but this will include parties thrown by different characters in rooms, sports tournaments such as ping-pong, darts, basketball, academic fayres and arts & crafts activities ran by the sacred vow.
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WEEK 001: August 22nd — August 28th
BIRTHDAYS THIS WEEK:
No birthdays this week!
EVENTS THIS WEEK:
Knox Smythe is hosting a BYOB/BYOD Beach Bonfire Party on Wednesday 24th August!
Tobias Wilde is hosting a Quiz Night at The Red Lion Pub on Thursday 25h August!
Tobias Wilde and The Village Committee are hosting a Summer Fayre on Saturday 27th August and Sunday 28th August!
TASKS THIS WEEK:
Please see below the cut for your pairings for this weeks random text pairings task — make sure to post your starter text before 6PM EST on Sunday 28th August!
Private messages containing your random anon match should have been sent and received! If you opted in but haven't received a DM from myself, please DM me ASAP!
TEXT PAIRINGS
Alastair Wilde & Jackie St Clarington [ @gradianalastair & @tinydancxr ]
Alfie Smythe & Max Hudson [ @ghcstfm & @gradianmax ]
Asher McCarthy & Vivian Porter [ @asher-mccarthy & @tinydancxr ]
Auggie Abrams & Milo McIntosh [ @gradianauggie & @ghcstfm ]
Autumn Holliday & Knox Smythe [ @tinydancxr & @kncxsmy ]
Casey Wilde & Elliot Rose [ @casey-wilde & @elliejamesrose ]
Elton Rose & Hunter McClarington [ @eltonrose & @ghcstfm ]
Evan McIntosh & Theo Puckerman [ @evanmcintosh & @ghcstfm ]
Kieran Flanagan & Levi McClarington [ @kierflan & @leviticxsmcc ]
Natasha Hudson & Tobias Wilde [ @tinydancxr & @txbiaswilde ]
Patrick St Clarington & Summer Holliday [ @patrick-stclarington @sumholliday ]
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Take me that the yellow ripe: my hart like Hebes in
A Meredith sonnet sequence
1
As he black and arbitrary blacked fyne.
Then as a wave that hue whose beams the wave’s
delight, and hold with kissed him softly sweet
rosy lips. An old and Love’s hight.—Who then
waiting frost, my should be our hot starting
it is the touching furious beautiful
army. Amorous squire with glance, threatest,
so calm, yet loue which bondage earst with
it eternal thirty years, we fell in
me ye proud port, and graceth, if Rubies
forsake and come—falling streight be sleep
reciting from Camelot: for ylike these
curious name be the Simple truth of
Morn whence I with you exceeding then, that
old ways. Take me that the yellow ripe: my
hart like Hebe’s in my mind, till increace.
2
Best-nature of beauty dwell the raging
flames of puissance; and are all that the taste
neat wine and e’en to be the vanquisht with
buryed long date. So semest thou the Fates
were tutor us to end.: And your feet:
and kill, whose sounde. Hesitate, and them hath
my despight: that words as, uttering
Accuser also may climes and thee the hand,
and thought: had give thy mother. Or than for
their brave still reueale, with shifting on my
radiant culminations and themes, or stain
thy greater stoutly the waves which joyful
Hesperides; whose louely eye: but he
so fayre is turned to sorrow it chill, and
enisle ourself the Pumpkin round the
minde, which on each others powre hath natural.
3
Which caracter of a burning on my
breast: while thee. As that should reached. On my loue
and dying. So sooner blood did mercy
shall beast am I say, now his body
down, and death forth I did spy, a wicked
men—good! As heart is lame, thou throws upon
their wealthy Secret heard but her verdure
never singing and fills, while its name. Without
elucidation of his own darling,
pale, dread of grateful Evening might dismayd,
vsed Trophees to be inclynd: and there
as he rode, and againe the Rosemaree?
And souls in the pale cheare. Ae e’ening o’t;
were where it gotten and wound Leander,
be lucky in teares: yet as a
ship, that she be foes. And what he made war.
4
What’s the earth, and new breath, and will me why.
Humbled for doing hugging back, saw Neptune
and peasant mew, that Hobbinol right:
and aside and the priesthood man becomes
home. What soft pipes, play with into my Damzell
doth fly, with my headlong that drew the
world was his fury, and often straight in
stormes ought my still to bed: goldilocks snug
upstairs, the face, breake we all in all: then
my ways together, say nay! When she such
strangled, then death; next, to my selfe pype of
orphans and Ops began to give birth too
ripe, and ioyes enioy! Called medowes hands,
lyke dear Perilla, I will choose never
leaves, loving on his spleen, commanded by
sun. On Altar of my blue eye, her fill.
5
Let me die, then thou not reason at all.
But say thee to me, and, he fled; and I,
in myrth nor reasons trained, and sure, but lodwick,
the tenderneath half drown’d me with a
thorn, had left off her of the painted nice.
Then laughed something, who like a climber for
summers falling hot and aged Saturn
in your regular and holds, I lose my
love it to wooing mute, which elemented
mankind breathe outside of a kiss her
song of their looks asquints green, and dead doing
hugging the dark shore, and all which ye
mildly looke sheep and sighed to be so cruell
handle you are mine, nor others end: againe
the covenant that rob sencelesse
bloud, glimpsed he loose through solid the spring.
6
I can name with folly doctor-like wool.
How was sixty! Come to thee that all which
Musicke can call the ancient tree, the loved.
Then laughing leaves, their statue rose tree. For
like in trump shal you lying what I a
new Tale Wit can’t open for ever canst
thou say’st, in spotless Jeanie wist, her hair,
or rare: fayre let then disappeared. In love.
Say you are foe, and the covert creep; the
lowly state? Trusty elde, that comes it from
the earthly fumes. Are returne to outlive
long a while the cedar-shadow of ice
exchangeably reflected. Their straws and
the sweet devized occasion? Only—
but the closing no moe the raging water
drink but only fayre hath, everything.
7
If you do. Are banquets rang; our dances
of Greece or weep: all breathed her accord full
of Noise and grame; and free, like wailful anglers
hide her faith, too except thou amongst
which is come to both pure and rymes, seeking
the door she will to die, I would burn
with us? About this song she let her
huge brightnesse mought a kiss, I lookt to fly,
my friend, yet when their fault with full maiesty,
that I know. So trembling the top. Dull substance,
with sweet peace with the louely living
floods, nor would elide your brain, I say, all
wastefull bloud, when he turns orchestral
crooked on this veins, spits forth, and a ho,
and wreck both demand of civilization
of the king; he tormenteth evil.
8
Restrain, thoughts would by our love that dainties,
garden was spangled, the last ornament:
yet asleep: so thought, whom mortally torment
me thus? And stone glitter’d House of kynd.
Already how a body closely I
did not chosen ones hanging Thee report
of her carelesse layd, vnto me here, the
cocked ugly night, which al power; ah yes,
where the hand he seize; she charmed did make agree,
for their style I’ll no gang to empty
cells for my loue: in her eie lids low embase,
between that each part in life that woman,
white: to seekes with Jewel utterly
defy. As good minute, but this generous
dint that seem to behold thy countenance—
like world drown’d me with which I abide.
9
On you fall lovers, his honey bag from
court others did make iudgements hackney
on, the Good! What maid I love, yet now methinks
he knew where unhappily forgives
her head: she wrapt him stung as your selfe captiue
vs to wayt on like a goodly grace
wherewith a hey, and its frog sits on
it saue my scribed the lining some carriage,
had foretold, dying, ding; since now cease
to look upon this point did canopy
the brawest lad, or long. No marvell’d simple
Rustic to a Cunning Mars the Spirit
won above come to time, where he was
all away something doe them by this: they
mistake, and, for love. Mark when on its girth;
but many deare drawes to head-quarters!
10
So long whose Memory quickly were much
hangs loose your masterpieces: thus melt, and
two: but newly spredd, my soule with these sweet
love’s bracelet on his hands. Lost, too cruelty.
But, taking intellect some fro shame
it were before hie, feare to vipers breathing
souls themselves, that and tears ago when
death half in drops dead. Let’s content that to
me, let me relieve me, my musick, which
I too well in dreary Mars heau’nly hew
and stole from her deep in us, waiting
for the Crow his breath, who were wont tenrage
them for my loue what Thyself discouery
one, or, thought; then run out alasse ay green
cornfield and miseryes. He saw the play
but blythest earnest gods he took away.
11
And greene bayes to be, for she turned to seeke
and be not else was brought can we find my
bethrothed to be seen, which thou the gray
mosse marriage, had foretold, dying, Staying
put to my mind, the gifts; he said, a field
alone. None maybe, I must lose my heele:
but therewith starry train abode.
The moments which her gaue, with his shield doth
dark her stubberne with his tale moon-beam dwell.
Can life was uncertainty, though I am
fain by the gloomy pains, and forth plumes
are fill with the neater glory stole from
those which laden sky, not wait henceforth the
People’s purse—the Tyranny the gray walls
like a wretches and you shalt remaine, oft
turning careless bower, glistered me.
12
With vile tongue: when christall clenched in the sorrow
at erst: then to burn, for spite, forth they
been wait on a daffodil I see for
ever unexpresseth with tears, badges
of barley and my fingers closed her lost.
Of Soldier stooping; and spotless chast
affection of thy salutary Vintage
round there it speake no noises too from feare.
But then, Sir, ’twas but that still headlong the
chance deckt, yet field alone. As Diane beauties
yet be low sibilation. First
infusion, so innocent. And Cyril and
gear will, but tell her solemn birds; nor walks
in black. The knew thing rascal to tent the
body gryde. Now on the drowned. Everybody
love wilt heare ouerthrow. And when he turne?
13
Would lye, and into my life doth more tender
joys to tell me gentle cruell hart: and
greene, the orchard of her a rebell befits,
for my face of so sweeter that was
the goal yet, as if theyr head. And, to be
sent with all there, but short or snow. There happy
herself secure, am like designed
as old and sighed to moue, the Lyons house
by his byre; take them Rebel feeding false
to playe: the eare his rich in thilke sollein
season which it festers books compile giue
my plaint a sweet consume the bad man at
last to my stony glances on to burn
or put to your leaves all in the bang’d me,
if it weeping turne to clatter: with my
Bond, nor doth speak? And sallowes to hold.
14
Fast, still she had no tone: fair Sacharissa
lov’d trick’d the conquer all his own,
ornaments he use of natures skill sourly
lea? As she stripped, long in Winters wrath appeared
in crimson clad, the king’s law, bade the
equall parts entangled, that if ye gie
a woman, but of dark herse, no tear-drop
that he weeds stolne from his own hand anger
likely to yield so soon as ASTREA may
be gone, let none cadence, thy nature is
on herb, fruitless sort of honour. Commingle
flies about as lonely in loue is
flow.—And if of one doth laughter settled,
I feel to-day. By this, and there drizzling
rash beholding murmurs in an ambling
at the full lips be Rubies forth than she.
15
Like the coal fire. I starts, which heauie herse, als
Colin close, and arm, a leg, and dried him
to swerve. In Sylvia they grant flowre, in
beautie star doth burne much he scarce could there waning,
there, the worlds glad that none burning hot
and the state of such as mild as a brother.
Nor ought, all is no woman to any
chaunce, and in his twining later life
intolerant brighteous Lord of hands. Eye-
iudgement in this nigh it, like religion
but a dream? A gentle Bee ye dayly
such lowliness as my youth, for pittie
winne, and spare me not, began, the touched by
women foolish fashion to appeare. Turn
formally to run to swim and, as Senses
falling. Though I leaue no meane a one.
16
No stay. Like a taste of alcohol, And
euer was as might may be; there wont afore,
as is awake agree: for from her shrine,
his immense and made you on the trew obiect
to inspire lovely, as birds flew from
the songs did close, fit medicine saynt or
raven black look the grove to play upon
the gods are all day doe weary’d with it.
The chaffe for any good. After his love
were smooth his heart, a loyal mind, which is
with drossy slope of sunset in aspire:&
with shew of morning’s sun that lulled him up
and, like lights comming teare: for what her, if
thou be to-morrow is turnd to moue, leaving
status as one down to Annihilation.
Bring back against annoy to stay.
17
And through stubborn pride: so sweet plighted; and
the man not a chef come airs, and clean. Whom
your day as the ships, and all the siege by
the influence came from him down from which
mishap I rew, my fill at your name with
round aboue vnto thee quite and raw, long to
matchable to none, and warnes al louers speake hand
down and did like fyre: the Turmoil, creeps aside,
the bonds broke us from time it is
permanent and being free, like threaded
spiders thus keep his due? To other honor
Pan thou can using her deity,
theirs, lessened in all the Buskie-glen, I dinna
care footing well rigged and day, in mournful
lips, and with heauy sprite with four garages
and heauen hent. All Muse in rurall vaine.
18
Dear round be possess and feeling world chose
then we cried full of Summer’s time to thread
now? They circle their loves them, her far, is
it be your winter bringen bitter as
his piteous empressing, Now vse these would
have thy stock in sight he recline and branching
slips that loue hath so dumb in the rest.
Star-she loose wynd. Beneath the Ocean for
you, freeze kissed her loue, that seemd to see each
had her brest thou lour’st on me, display: she,
so as I conne, my love to dye. And false
more shepeheard Lobbin, how blubber’d nothing
halfe soone council—knowing Hellespont,
guilty of the sun that stir vp lustes
in field the change my year, I feel for every
way. She loom she made, but once. For shame.
19
Wild night, weigh that light doth bow to frame that
the kisses bring her idle flight, then the
motion; not touching, with still? But we, my
mazed hart stood bathing,&think if thou love,
and returnd to see, while their chanced the
fables the louers speak, ev’n with the stay in
blue swear; yet we meant the road runs about
thirty minute seemes from him down from
thence he gave thyself self-Lost, and Conscience-
quit of meanes of A Love Supreme. Mocking
in flame, shall after his for on my
friend, because thee shepheards God perdie God was
you were when in his clawe dooth persever
so as stiffenesse state of nyne, such ivory
skies, when thou lurke, if these last, and on
the beauty to embracements defaced.
20
And though is all the lose my size against
all I love in verses meriment. Of
being on their violence honey bag
from thy flames which did lately azure circle
thee; but your eies the stroke, I strike those
eyes them mastered ever brought to greeting
the wight, was pretty pilfering sympathy.
They began to give in a gleaming
against my selfe to me, your bed will, but
they once in like armes had Venus stood where,
whose Teeth are forsworn, and myself above!
But what wad make all women living and
often-misunderstand, the beames into
the pain and darksome call my grief are,
and a ho, and half shut, an every long,
after his Soul was my burial come.
21
I saw the snow I dreamed of the skidmarks
of weather yet her mind spirit suddenly
wit, that prodigious morning fynd, and
the feature to his Head, there been a straight
as the heart so of men, that left discontent
to dye, threats with plumes we rustic town
till the day, to the fair, but use? Nay take.
To catch her since thou shalt win. If I so
much grace expelling where alive alone
is nowhere the honey enough is apt
enough for camouflage and for his colors
dint: all Muse in field Mars heast them; ah,
when I wandering, with fascinations
and the green althought bands can finde, when should
not won before less timmer, sing
mythological it was, and in mine, nor walks.
22
Which of your fairest Cupid’s day, whose couering
lost pulse of Love’s mother. No pace else
was ouer thankful rite may so fayre beames
did stay that Midas’ brood shalt win. Two roads
diverged in the spirit better seem is
but shall me captiuity then, till to seeke
and methoughtless nigh, but simplicity.
Through king, ’ he said: went sighs the charming smyles
weary grow to look and faire Beauty,—
that is a beauty is creast; Mars heavens;
there bene the minde, whether will find two
better her flowers vpon the dishes were
all my loue I bough of wilding heauen matcht,
were long-abandoned when I bear, and tooke
him hideth and growes weake: the body
close for a kiss, or ear, but no younger.
23
As they are myne for maids are all carelesse
beauty is also a pauper. Over
to be, die single life did I see
her, and yse which hold my loue: and there, God
know eternity, whose fayle fall away.
While burning brest thoughts astray. See how
it not that worthy mother’s eyes, that shows
hereto my Damzell doth fine cages
forse: she has just so small for ever would
the more to your life, some seruewe his flaring
grenadine nebraska wicked on
a dance, that you and you like chase the blackness
of his care, and close the undecided,
about was vowel-keen and death which
I desire no brother. And all the
long-hair’d page in which thy perusal stands.
24
What will were mad, with his worlds rare, the ground
wherewith beauties but ensigns oft bold
Sir Lancelot. But when her fancy is
the empty air he fled, and seemeth into
weete whatsoever Thou shall the heat
of my Firmán of the bath’d himself most
divine ASTREA works by Virtue’s might Coral
beneath her gentle planked men to
see such as young girls, she tooke his rage, danger
than shew, it rauishing but Wisdom when
with leaden sky, and you sit and bubbled
up against your fair and her lyps, such grace
which all the rivers with his song she left
off her these cruell hast sworn and fly the dawn’s
swiftly blazon for a kiss from th’enameless
some with Anguish till in her prayse.
25
’ The conquer all her splendor; in thy green
and when all one, or humor with such strange.
Where Venus’ altar-stair. Right so young to
make the which she willed, but while your flocke of
fountains spouted Creame. That through the stormes and
destroy the quickly were met, the knows I
don’t the year because the sodain rysing
diamond brief; with fine bed along the flowres
vntill mountains mingle dropt with weeping
him whisper to be the cruel wherewith
ioy begins to thee, and with Florian,
unperceiue therefore to learn to her this useless
and with my fraile spirit ditties
of her his journey to towers over
garden plaste. Stretch that the hell rosed, or
else shores of Art? I saw he herse, the war.
26
When as night arose, till Morning, till we
moved the hair woman woos, what they did lay,
whom all the weare away you returne, it
selfe in the faire encreasing proofe makes me
say for bulls or crystal mirror cleare, rude
ditties tund to flowers in the antique
timely fruite of earth nought aske I, but he
might hath given to be. I dare claim, because
whylest he sweet thine own fyre, thrugh stubborn
pride shepherds when a’ our faire haire the
day, the guidance of all expyre, and fill
you mayst might, o heauen to be sought: for when
he knew the springs, and often kiss to
remaine, and this is gone, and kindled at
a plunge intolerant bright enclouds bedimme
and wedded with its ears old; and sun.
27
As doen advaunce: and round; if natured? And
with his sorrow at erst: the better leaves,
had the Ocean for shame, in beauty do
I question’d words of these kissed him up and
she fertile earth lies bareness o’er young
till gentle their rest, shall enemie. That tells
the angel waiting for the Lady Psyche’s
pupil pen, reserve where waning, queen
of song, there’s news, lassie, ye’re but what
deaths wound a statue made many the leafless
to heauie herse, break and quiver. These are
done! Much letters wrack, since that land: there mought
but bitter threats with Wisdom hath lost: thy
Ewes, that courted her, shaped her. With anguish,
whose spotless Surface neither graue, thy beauty
her side doth with my skill so cunning.
28
Let all I speak, which oft I wandering
blossomd Iessemynes, such portliness
and driverside and tell her pride: and euer
she stars; and turtle’s breathe, that from you have
flowers throbbed too, vs in the float
about me shatter’d; but they call that she
and many a curly shower of like
theyr bane, the kiss of yesterday and down
to his beauty’s grace, in whom frowne the Evil
Doer, the hour at our fine be the steals
men’s souls there are the uneven her eyes
full storme into the house your living waues
attyre. Of finite her we asked, she spake
his breathd from her softly said, who taught they
punched each other, was not I, but fie! To
which burneth to Geb and friends; I haue fedd.
29
Wild savage and sighed to know. ’Er young giraffes
if you want you vp vnto think it streight
invade, and some honor of her and
unfolded to flower, I never shorn, had
reach there had words and some pitty neuer
reade of my youth was the leafless the Winters
bowre of its rocky cave e’er to rest:
and pleasure profanity and chimes, lips
taste neat with presence of her locks father
hand honour, loue, ioue on his own darling
can be water-side, affection of earth
assured my soul, assay, for to relent
quite and behind you said, he look’d more
cunningly require it, communion! Immense
and I—light, and chide the chaffe should drops
pearles both my absent night, that of all?
30
Began himself thus did stings. Ill vpbraide, my
mother, quo’ she, instead perfection of
the fondly feare, let me end when the child
so goodly ymage of deadly fatal
knife that order. As heart beating th’Idæaea
playnts, as pitying the waues, lips away.
While thy found; if Gold, her will choose my loue
directed, enterchanges the bound on
glass. On peace was excels, in a vale, playing
not your force must depart, the wold and
vnkind, catch’d at last, like Her—her Hand—not by
steal the shady place, this brain distraction
but sharpe darted, loue the first I bred, of
purpose set to me, let me great lords in
silent nights and bowre, guies me an inters
night windows but drosse vncleane: for now of ice.
31
As virtue is turne your eyes. And by the
Harvest moon is bitten him for wanton
music, midnight laughed consume not only
pretty ring thro’ the Braine. Our foot, make all
feeble beast am I; what’s be done! Exceeds,
I wish to all please your hip; the mote
be made a though Hero, nothing else these
not one shall turne to run. And if ye
countenance is extinct. Do Greece or Ilium
any good. Half-flush thee my hart still his
most sweet. This, Time’s leisure with us, your
be an oil paine: the dimensions of this
Leander now? Not in low coral grove
it was all sorts of state the subtle Censor
scrutinize. Of life to loose or used
that neuer single still, yet sowre enough.
32
The god, seem so were may descry the King.
But pricked on the loves, my brand new, always
remembreth her treasury, as he would
do that is ill. Hercules, enterchange
tales this isn’t even shapely—just a trifle
or ten. But straws and I will be. And
sithens haue enchased away fast, our
childish her eyes, which your footsteps bending
doth fade, the truth, truth, sorrow speak to hide.
When althoughts that his fiery arrows
passed you an’ I in maiden fair, with foot
so contented deare blood, and the Shepherds
do sing the taxing Wisdom can untie
the coloured on the faults with a charm of
each cares doo day all this wonder much heuenly
seemed to shepheards boyes you both to applie.
33
Finest gods might: submitting year! The burro,
too cute, that heauen, but in blindly in
a foreign place sound again—first look than
our hardned him Love, insatiate dance of
my paine: she sound abounded, hardly I
endure to stately wed; I am host.
Or cleare my times and I. So I handed
by the terrible reticent gorge in
contain! But long wont on Travel-weary,
Senses fall asleep, your lovest, and smile;
but be said: the smell may turned aside and
better laughed in her guilefull verse. It
rauisht as the lovely fade. Where it glides, the
obiect of treasure, but few beholding
me with a nobleman of Dream Myself
to his sake we all naked truth to ease.
34
No skill can say thee when it saue were
miserable queenly your soul would have no ear,
and methought—meet, if theyr want subject to
view: she threat triumpher of my life she star
of every one, which to speak. I shall see
me a new Tale Wit can no matter, for
sharp satires, but did smiled, no matter
now those worke that pipes, and bids me play upon
me, whether of the alarm broke and
one exterior sense, no tear-floods, nor
comfortlesse layd, yet would leade is Dido,
dead fraile mind, my father down, and peeled
by, and street half drown’d me with my abodes
prefixed by authority direct,
that makes no being put to his owne
self be lessoned so, not else, but feed.
35
At moment was that spot of joy into
thee, to sigh, another; and in love, my
mind, did sacrilege again! In my Ear
till morn, of those spotless neck lyke one sweat,
that hungry, and loues vnbridle bells rang me,
and all their heart the smell, this race and laid
his poor excuse—e’en thereof immortally:
and doth speech, or I shall moult away
she knit the day you realize I’m not
my heauen may them hath beene, but left her as
a punishment. Men to go, are of ill
deigne to confirm by the thing-a snail, a
neighbouring Princess sleek compare so she
with which element, a mind wastes, whereat
they misse. Was Danae’s statue in all the
face turne to clouds bedimme my tongue has flow.
36
Sylvan single, and pleasures, Heaven, if
Gold, her faces through thou bringes and lips
be Rubies, looking all the same gan so
to be won, beauteous Lord along her fair
love profanity and half impair no
pace else short, speak of your force must bee. My
bough our bright meet in hart to deceived and
hour, been our hardness, beside—this, and hold
my selfe that hung aloft, where he cast to
time we’ve here she’s gone, because it down on
your love me that we meane, within thy yeares
sinnes for the truth, under the
fiesta of such a glassy countenance
his mantle heaven, the genuine selfsame
day we are borne, you take delight. These
are breast thou kiss again! The gentle shake.
37
On glass. He catch and grassy moonlight: that
hindering bee, fit medicine say. For
steadfast might be her their queen. Which made, breake
forth the one word to haue err’d in Venus
sittes and love conceaue, that every way. And
still see it playnts and bidding brere, for thou
thinks of other? The morn teem’d to Memory
to ever unexpresse. Als my buried
body chiefest joy, our love late in
my troubled hand, having course of Kent? What
stands as if an openness out; laid in
our two seconds while we the place; where king
my tardy arms the steele had a sin to
tak me frae my meaning: nurses teach my
little hour in equall paine. Fire and tooth
is shun the beauty throwes, full ryme, too.
38
Ere I with savage heat, like a beast disgrace;
let folke: his come, fall frets but oh your
mind of all theyr sondry colours to matcht,
were affection of a kiss—thus melt, and
through, sweet. For it had never complements
after his beauty bound on either rare:
I want reason no man know, the bringeth
and pawed his lecture rest be more lofty
lookes delight, that maiden garded
meteor, trailing Hymen concealed thanked somehow—
I know, or such heuens so much more to
lead thy mind, the rurall song intreat, promise
the ashes borowd fayre sunshine before
to be fed. Or, maybe, I myself,
my budding sayd, vnto Christ toil up and kisses;
and nights! Mee: but he this tongue but vaine?
39
Changed neuer than the quickly re-enforce
of the earthly think me bound. But we, my
hoped gaine the ground you start, and great is not
God it’s all I love of their goddess, at
midnight of my youth: but nowe vpright, yet now
mething through to long it was an ever
new; more he grace which true love who can ye
lyke to acquainted. And thee for my loues
sweet love’s ripened eares, with savages,
that proud with he fell for nuts larded from
his Life with some little words, thy cheerefull
Colin my thighs, and looke vpon my radiant
culmination, Nature self-pleasing
proof of all, and straight him went, frighted thro’
the pinks that I wear it on my penaunce
none for whose sterne council, plied his dying.
40
The nag like thretning grey; as blank indifference
is death dim and absinthe are break and
bristly bribe to guerdon silvered used
that counterfeit is poore Vassall dayly
more than Nectar from the fooled. Thy reasons
lin’d, or long wont songs sends forth him to die
too, which Atalanta did encroaching
anger canna buy; we may, the hours, gave
them all; whate’er my latest water face,
straight I but mine eyes, by Loue the heau’nly
harmonica line drop of doubtfully.
Seek you for you, fond game, and seem to scorne:
and looked dolphin from her sport and true,
original course to entrap in the Rain
to jar. Light, and woe amongst which other
bright meet in Derision, or in her fill.
41
I lay ourself to him, he swell of that
didn’t convince me liues she sparrows airy,
and, relaxing, who canst vouchsafe my pype
of course that men descried full worth, with this
one disparagements when she long fingers’
fears and found about then you to
harmefull vice, or this nearer then reason
is bitte to me. A funeral, with you
that I might have speak too much know: when then
wake more fayrest fals lowest: for one. The
decay: for her suddenly repent, as
he the winds howl to the Faith-preserve,
abandoned walls like a mer-creatures wait a
weede, or the and Matthew is it, the little
hath she turne to orphans young, to save
from a little, perhaps the Faery Queene.
42
Me and wan. As any one externall
sleep, your town by river your breast, but Phyllis
praysd for doing, of drosse vncleane: and half
in double though but feed his root or the
ground, the world how we so lowde as Larke, with
Love speaks: teach moment, can I keep Touch, that
vngently approaching to march in the west,
doth friese with iuncats, fit to hers like tears!
Much an one, two liberties ydle boast,
and in your selfe ye dayly, once haue the
skies pear eater in a corner, of a
song? Light of The World accountenance, but
not very blessed them mayst attending doth
flesh were neglected. Her vew, made his sister
is lustlesse is hostel, called it Venus
sittes and Osiris thoughts astray?
43
Bring then, from him was straight I once and sad!
Frame but that doth houe, if nor mone, but they
be to-morrow still upright, whose shadows.
Rose-maiden bosom try what am I,
the flouds do say, Her manners, nay, they saw
the bath and all that doth in excess! But
yet does the badg which I should more that is
faire. When the woodes can honourable
questions full fyre did hem keepe, adieu, mine
owne self be lesson derely tas-ke,
ystabled hath so sweet fruite it was the
body downward steals men’s face, prepare you
tend? When I pleasure on thy selfe to cure
through my friends. More soone, and still upright daylight
to part in the guest looks went to a
bell evening, closer, closely did entice.
44
And the roote, whereat she scared not a worke
that grow long to march in the weary year,
for when your childe, fledde step-dame Studies blow,
the rushes vsed to see it ruinous
and for faith! How is conceaue, cockel for nought
presently it was the Perfections warriour
which are Holy Land! Like a March twig:
an arm and fashion: but knewe we fooles,
which hath pight: and all with no loyal mind,
cast doth still as he rode down from me: when
thinkes the noble Peres of Greece or
Ill—which somebody else swooning each pallid
breed: that fondly laid, and loath the parent
to her; and you may; take me to our
tempests move; twere pride she should distant lawns,
goat foote: sike folks of other cheerly swum.
45
Colin my new lovely, an aster, whom
mad’st the sung in taking, the peeping turne
that is no more abused when the helmet
and love to bed, I’m o’er young lover in
it is the word she so fowly star when
your true, original course aright: ne
ought me Touch was well: that moment, a mind
washed in life in me to loose you’re drizzling
dragons drawne will sag if your wished purpose
set to yeild. To sing, my thou this, and vaine
resting after that sparke of woe were and
plucked in every where he before the rough.
It is the wood bluebells; there’s an infant-
stare of th’ other blinder mortal
fame whose tardy plumes are thronelet,
that the chaffe for my soul that in my sling.
46
The love where she should lose my self instead.
The lip of Julia’s sight; the breed dispute
betwixt I and sew to the hands, and woe
among. Tired of the sport my part: and
for thou this, with teares greife: the Lady
of things in weeks; and spare for now of youth,
beneath. Sweet loue, my wife she will not let
me learnd a lessoned so, to point your
sweetest scent. The frost ornaments when those
Lockes display both might so young Leander
viewed from stone. And from the silent
Nightingale. Which man at his Desert force of
fear; for their sorrow to outlive long-hair’d
page in wrinkled eild; o’ gude faith! She hath
to see the heauenly form some euill warriour
doth. But water dreerie death, what to his own.
47
Her locks into the Braine. For so it selfe
deserues sike Poet’s pages. The Sweet,
with craftily enfolds, nought me so high
worthlesse her love’s long stood and sighed to dry
bones, which wel could speake, her running suddenly
ground, you were mad, with delays, masks, and
a’ his growing, lulled a sleepless Eremite,
that mightes, that no thought to ken, how
that glorious spoil the bier wit: through; a
woman’s bed, until he not your vertue to
frame but her memory moth, pod of such
pryde at last I speak of your carefull
break a twofold the river among her
trusting well, crie Victorie, this inestimable
gem. It is new. People’s in my
Earth she my soul move still she cannot starved.
48
From me a sigh alone is not simply,
with gilt stared her the company is Heaven’s
winding much taller—tree of the chose
high and white stars. So like tear-floods the found
me to me; love so much more fit for fact,
which the herse, morne nowe sike Poet’s blacked at
the Eye, new fill’d his bruisèd hearken a wonder,
beauty, Lady of Shalott. There I,
methough Hero to his looks the bier with
spark of Nature Hasan—on their dark
abysses flowers, and passion do we
affected seeme to themselves on my childe, fledde
step-dame Studies blowing and I wander
ruddiest house; but bland this, by what the Mortal
clothe this the bodies aloud, when your
eyes? A pearl t’adorn it; her breast in verse.
49
That doth words that I can contaynd in tears
come forth the Ocean for thee convulsive
rapture of love to the husband dismay,
a wicked and blessing ivory skin and
your pleasaunce for your touched at her in the
into my charmed wel with a fulfild, as
is fair, I lo’e thee a taste. And at twilight
from the object both your name. Are reeking
words had skil: and is not see the more
mought wordes to herse, cease now my life these
lover. And the Veil may there, two widowed
lawn; my love of your surqedrie, without sharpe
his hand at every human passion, drink
of the heaven to burn, pipe to sit. A
sunbeam found a sin to tak me frae my
mammie coft me a face want of please, did pray.
50
About thy meed may takes on the good-bye.
Drips shimmering on me, and swore the bills.
So well she his father set the poet’s
be jocund white; write, delight: and love you
little light as the sea, playing the alarm;
and floated by, and when Old Lovers
love sails to ashes before. And man become,
chiding in his love them seuer; nor treasure
palace forsooth, and said: a Country
chere. Late raine. One dare not till well fayrest
she wild flow some timely death, and in lead:
deuouring the height dismal lyrics, prophesying
chains by thy Justice; but when once so
cruell hast pleasure love so alike, like silver
body as heart is layd abedde,
So oft a life he letters fresh louers books.
51
The houses hight: and from the rivers in
a nights, death, from ugly night; why warblings
that it fro my cell. First not me? In vain,
thought, and take delight: and our Heart to the
heat, seeing is awfull many more I
fynd, and tooke his count the wound, that with thee
list not love, our rhymes to Beauty bringen
bitter blasts to heare, her loue lay on the
bad man can both will abide, that vnkind, can’st
thou art gone, which thing angels know are of
many a wandering wind would haue enroll
these weary wife should get where euery
birds: please her, speake, her far excellent, that
wad make your golden hair therefore the tomb
of his owne decay, and women living
and give life enduraunce: a mortal go.
52
For hereto aye wonne, the sheaves look at
the frost, my father they brooke. The eye sinks
it down the grass, to fetched her, and in tears
shed Then, laughter and absinthe art, him lodging
of that he flew and red foode, my loved
of any ill: and lustës negligence
be rayned those voice revives themselves—and,
Behold! He, ready makes me poor rude pen
can hardly I endure on that nether
tucked to die too, which I doubt thou hadst before
Thee; for, to your bright is only two
for our hands, and some saying, Staying on
with she sparkling she wept her heart lies
nowe sike for maids were in vaine pleased, had hid
away slightly: what we mean, we can die.
I know by which her grace. Say nay, say nay!
53
It is not stop my ways together and
will, then. They are but lov’d three Elizabeths
for ages, and illiterary
leave me like mine eyes ready how all the
carven stooped to be blessing, in ev’ry
life was strooken blind that were enamoured
on the shadow from wife, love, he locks
the Tyranny the mirror. Then would kindled
about Ferguson, deceived; the way.
The dimensions Wit can tye: that her own
line, have none scapes freedom or reason,
that stand heav’nly fire, and see the Stars—’fore
whom I love them reall, that it both make of
worthily, my testament is new. I
and the Nose a freshly send, but since the
stayed, dived down from Shalott. With starry lips.
54
Boy, that she wrought not to iudge of her
memories, in which was in his banner. Is
lost in laurel, the raging fyre, and looked
at her? Albeit not bear love is old
Falstaf says let us hie, feare thrall, and
weary, fain would needs discord spills throbbing
glassy darkness spent, my wits to shake hasty
hand! I saw in ilka field, and more
fresh out of loues vntymely fade. I, was
well might compact, yet, love of the proue; now
bene those way too fast to so longer
lately wize he flies a solemn bird has
come and sole enemies. Lopsided, mute.
Willow swift to Right, among? A wicked
here and Love speak for her mate, but if it
prove twas but could haue she fled, and my head.
55
Her reioyce or Ilium any good. Helen,
that green sea agate spread, thoughts that more
majesty, the wean wants that sparkling saw
that tender, beauties some lyke behold, with
one best may her vndonne. I shut vp in worth.
Therefore your memory, a pale, because
to a Shrine, god being point to cloth. What
pipes and once thy quill, and these sad world would’st
thou hast thou, O cruell boy not be sure, in
which is will rayse. Mute, and in our sports of
truth but plaint to ruinate. But if you walk
again. Over my heart which sparkes when smiled
Neptune’s might use; such sweet was tied again,
though ne’er tripped into thee, stellas self-
pleasing intreat. And methought from human
life and I, is true: so live on a throne?
56
So, tyrant, for make, the dropt with you
presently both spredd, my Helice the inters
wrath to haul up and kindled aboundeth!
Would winds howl to thee, and oily course aright:
who ever a-spending duct tape, not
that libertee and the Glass o’ Inverness
amends the temptations bred in love ae
e’ening mightest water sinke; and, wanting
names and thoughts mine thou find a Remedy
force lover frown, sir. As I ought thee. How
she wiser than ours, and get into regions
which she yielded, will had worn with mild
please. The rain misty Acheron, heaved him
to remayne, and two black curls as one that
all, and guest—thus mellow heat and at please
all right meet infusion pure, how fully.
57
But still straynes but true loue to escape?
But did excel or shee speak. Upon his
own hand, of pure affection aptly grace
I found a Shaking, till intent poursewth,
what he swamp. Today we are heart made of
Cosset, which is a Tygre thanked men a straight
and the Spyders we sight? Gude advisement
light shin’st thus doth only fayrest sky: it
streams. Sweet dove, least one trembling birds sighed to
such warm, and thy lass of hurt you. And
balcony, by garden night in midst a sin
far worst did me Courtesy; and, relaxing,
who can tell. The sunlight t’enthral such
basenesse mixt red an old age shall be
mowne. I press’d me liked what lamp with earth return
us two friend being bosks of none.
58
And learns. Poor soldiery, sudden influence
to speak? What am I in no
anodyne; give me to moue, for evermore
her, being down from lover’s amend the
world drown’d me like widows herse, and strain, fair
youth to speak; she wrought, from Latmus’ mountain
we went, lead’st thou hadst place, and tooke, most vsen
Ambitious bliss, the couth: then leave her with
bold pretence and do is eloquent that
shame, this love my fraile from her cruelty,
whose eyes or other lips! The world is
censured doth one world how we sound were dart
of sight. Therein Leander seene, you close,
and you little room where above commeth
time thee were would artless as wax and pull
oft his holy day, ayming home againe.
59
Come away she wild to ashes from the
other the ground; if Rubies, loe her soundeth.
Where or hardens euermore of sunset
in ilka grove, when thro’ the mirror blue
the budded Bellamour, and all then deep-
ordain’d! Let not thy mothering of the
sweet odour did impute, when, aspens shiver
as aspire to granted: there or heate,
of life but ensigns oft Then, ere he was
and Nut, Isis and plenty to be
happiness and painting Intellectual
deeps in buoyancy afloat, below the
mere sight than ourself still unchange my small
demaund bene myne, to sadder plights of
flurrying is my loue too warily did
a countest Stella I do fawn upon?
60
Eyes in furrowes the jasmine a little
Cup whose beames did encroche, the the
more, one she, that hue whose body turnes
his name. Still pleasures fade: exit seraphim
and fades, unseen of many more squally
lamenting, if the shapes committing
the heavy artillery to whom they
would draw: of touch the bills. Believe, moves no
beginning I put on so soon to approch,
no more pity till to behold that
he strike down; the beauty in dust, but she
ran; after noon, one ray then, the time was
bent, I wish and set in Derision, so
effects, that tells through they knew they punched with
little Cup whose ymage plaint, which the temple
comes quiet: from th’enameless sleep!
61
Upon her therefore, I see it ruinous
and round along, who must, like ships,
together snow reall, to one, that course; still, gude
advisement they blush Cupid four will make
vnpitteid spoil the road runs above thee I
lay; if thou to the timely my true
beautiful and some of my dying. But long
journeys, her heauen doth sleepers parley: we
so sore happy he things; look when as they
are wont in tears, when bird has come and frost,
my father high heuenly feel? A slave of
orient pearl he turne you sit and in
hideous stood where were waning, regret.
Your selfe address’d—a bolt is such ivory
skin stretch out our first I bred, not know not,—
only sleeve, or tell her looke at my dayes.
62
And dismay, her looked his shee with light upon
her cruell harshly jar. Mind wagge the heart
is such a height and to undergrowth; then,
stooped to speake is turn to her bands, but been
a-telling-place. Look whence she to his for
this, Time? No, no, no, no, no, no, no, my
Deare, I say? And the cried, th’ enamoured
sun to erase a wrinkles painted
new: speak of yellow ripe: my hart, they
are ye blue, where when the earth remain, in
the little. To cozen with none council,
plied his garden wall and we have none for
now about Shalott. To the Syren’s hair
instead of orient cheeks, with small bald
eye skyward as if he should pour himself
he clung. For ever can pronounce upon.
63
Of the Grace was to Fortune and teach my
hands will blot? Cheered an ancient works her
sorowes showing, hey ding a sea-horse than
a cubit in a sweet bents let us
hie, flying: adieu, the spiders, one small
but soft awhit; nor vnto her too portliness
and woe amongst his rashness was, before,
Leander strife is slight: and lassie,
life’s ironies irritate my lamented
in spring, all she can stands to make
thou doost moist too much taller—tree of pearl
he turned, about the the year; though in thy
years brood shall at one travel both sweet soul.
In this craps and a hey nonino, that
guide my harueste hast to my mind, white man
not a world again, but with Tyrant goes.
64
Sees a City full of dewe, yet noble
conquer all, and kissed her to man, with a
most peak kiss we and mused her the light, where
lamping swallowing fennel, run their first
created; till to bed and leave the birds
sight thee parts entyre, guies me the unregarde,
the Saint—their first of hem, that in ours,
now—but hope I well, a wounded darts thou
viewest now is turne to me but he may
one hert doth slept on like thee; but what we
can jump both in thy cruelly, my meaning?
Ear of every land, where their priest, leauing liue
by fate. To heauie herse, now is the alarmed
wel with adorne, for the Faery land, this
mother. Give me evening whereto; Honour
shamefull Muse do make hast thou art.
65
Leander now, like to settle pains; a
heart. Speech, faine those rose. He said, the seemed about
her in the house said they are my tongue
with dew; nor reason fit to my mind, that
wakened als there’s Madam, with such
on me with wrath: he stared her this one that
thrilling guile her mantle hath boundary of
the blink o’ Robie’s e’e, as if it proved,
she strok’d them really a breed, to the
Eglantine Destinies laden barks of nought
but that April morne. Ae e’ening vnto an
enjoy each pallid breast, in look a space.
Chaste Hero, learne with loue too long and euer
to endure thy flames of hollow woods
together, long I sponne, doth Beauty thou dost
there was Gama; crack’d from basenesse rayse.
66
To be enjoy each severall Shape. Futile
thou lour’st on me, and attend, said they
had slept in long arms he lo’es sae weel again,
she were drizzling the other will; was
his storme, thus matcht, were dark tresses. But witched
meteor, trailing line that comes throbbing
glassy water wrought I mighty charms
chained in the breme Winters brightly: what are
claim, because she saw my face, say whether
to pleasaunce may win thy cruell carelesse
still and must die! Brighter times you wanted
to bed; even the beavers abiding
I tossed sore. And chimes, like Christ toil up and
singing though neither Hand—not by forth. My
heart, and speaks out. A Kurd of The World, unbless
than such out of the Firmán, he laies.
67
Speech, or blue the strife, a thousand men, and
me. But maugre death of Greeuance. And still silver
hammers pryde: finding lost but claims her ear.
We have much I desire after now
the piteous parentage, would wake more to
started to shepherd, sitting it, that Love’s
sole enemies. Had I a cave on so
hot destroy the queen, doest inspired train,
thou among thy glasse: such dead her, must light.
At night, and seemed I, my sprites goe visit
us my turret and enisle ours
in a dreade of thy loue denied. Therefore
year had told her that this favour of the
color line, no stately wed; I am
half in dreary Mars bareness holding
in the quintessence; but sicker thy sight?
68
I may it is little princesse of kynd.
Yes, yes, which of heaven fet, would tell her
stubborne her sacred peace, and know not wel
aware of pearl and ward: I then all her
glory that he wound all thy fair, can make
breathed for one maybe with smile, the world would
but a bayt such quintessence, and to hear
one little town; found Wit: od’s Life! The fairy,
bene with you closet of god floating
orator so it came from the hartlesse
Colin my youth within my heart that
if we’re even sacrifice that mostly
be banish, in his tongue with blush’d a sweetly
wel recure, am like good to warmth
or hardened my own; whate’er my loue, then
quickly shal thundring line then all to flight.
69
One day is nights containes of base they
did guides that could pour myself, and weep; is
it, because by the end of all my lids
low embased. As Diane hunted so,
nor wise, such as on a velvet bodies
and unfather’s front steps are more: this abused:
that cannot be staid no, yet dew place
rest, to euery planet shooting with those
which watch not new world stir of fountains and
so wide, the whole of liuing dew? He foreuer
in earth, and women; certain, but the world.
Life’s race no men, much like him staru’d: so
pleasure she doth seruile bands ye lowre,
but my rude lines, cloud, he lo’es me dear. And
loued last ornament: and all there on through
she more my simplicity, and almost.
70
But her harts desire, a golden fleece.
It was thend of these curiously,
inhabiting the ioyous days, that often lookes
aspire, world with my size again with
little space I forbear, as thought rather
flowers, her gentle hath lost: then told a
tale o’ love and, crying overmuch, so
not inclin’d—again vowed spotless wit, for
with appear to signified. The gate again.
And then morning. It spreading vntill morn,
of touch your faire leuell intreat? Might had told
all; but in your lips of the brunt so strange.
And guilded shine when it streight appal!&With
rich flowers, and, as a byrd that wanted
time. And wound the moone beloved by
reascending sweet youth, from her selfe with her bed.
71
But since he makes me thus?—More life, a thought
praise her. And turns of the which often through—
fire I can see the waues attyre: and her
tower’d Camelot. Rising and eke her
ladyship: and body was so richly
springtime, that nowe my Muse, ten times that thou
maun drink, lest wayle my witnesse it well
as Sight. Wherein campeth, spread thy mind, I
would be sometime she turned with virtue rudely
writ. Of touched her smoothe, his penitent
fare, till stroke, twinkling would vouchsafe me by
how all as the selfsame day amongst them;
ah, when I appeared. And blow, fixed by wonder
is hostes and basest brought I must
be: first, my wife and makes that time, when birds
are sweet pleasant that it were injury.
72
And strength all my sonne how litle glorious
chace the leafless the apple reddest
inspire love bewrayed. Bid her robes looser
looking out our waking throw mocking waye:
but straight the face, fell were tutor us
to entered the gamekeeper’s court other
essence, the byting for dryed vp winter’s
bare to mee: no, no, my Deare, let me alone
all lyke budde, reliuen not one the Godless,
and sweetest pricks ordayned: comes it
thought him did lately places, I shall see
despite till bloud, glimpse through euery minute?
And frosty winds howl to the fiercely seed:
then doe I now mourne now thou leaves which, years
brood: and the shadow from it depart, dare
not to-night: nor do aspiring. Alas!
73
The distant heat, that in mee.—But ever
pry—lest we too wel haue purest prison
you stretched Ixion’s roar; and man and all we
love received and is bent, and, knocked ugly
Chaos’ den upweighed out, your selfe mighty
violet past prime in spotless clime, thy
bud’s the peeping into bed: goldilocks
the world that all respit to expert. You
that hunted up, intent When people,
hitherto he did undergrowth; then, since Hell.
But will beguyld. On earth enfolds, nought me
to the which we stayed, in view, my soule, I
stole something refuge, slipped. Fair fools delights
when there when you ill, gude faith! And all the
warm, impassion, or in face, their hand; in
the dew, wanting, and blessing paused of none.
#poetry#automatically generated text#Patrick Mooney#Markov chains#Markov chain length: 6#194 texts#Meredith sonnet sequence
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