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Literature Text
Three em-bloodied gold-gilt lions descend
on the silver lilies of far fair France—
grim and red-stained kings—while her sons defend
the broken land with shriven spear and lance.
The smoking reek of famine, war, and death,
plague, and wailing cries, and desolation:
sick land—poor and weary France!—gasps for breath
with the diseased and choking nation's desperation.
Drenched afresh in humiliations new:
of Agincourt, and bloody Henry's fame
where the proud many fell to England's few
and knighthood's flow'r perished in bitter shame.
The peasant maid sits in a sainted trance;
Arise O Joan! And save belovéd France!
on the silver lilies of far fair France—
grim and red-stained kings—while her sons defend
the broken land with shriven spear and lance.
The smoking reek of famine, war, and death,
plague, and wailing cries, and desolation:
sick land—poor and weary France!—gasps for breath
with the diseased and choking nation's desperation.
Drenched afresh in humiliations new:
of Agincourt, and bloody Henry's fame
where the proud many fell to England's few
and knighthood's flow'r perished in bitter shame.
The peasant maid sits in a sainted trance;
Arise O Joan! And save belovéd France!
Literature
The death of Beatrice
I see her, my vision blurred,
Her sentence, her absolution confirmed,
Yearning to catch a breath,
But cannot; life's gate closing,
She had fallen.
She had fallen.
Yet an angel descends from heaven's above,
Standing her up,
He clothes her in the dresses of red,
Removing the tears her sleeping eyes have shed,
Speaks loud and clear,
Pulling my lady to him near:
"Oh fair Beatrice, angel of the mortal world of blood and flesh,
I bring to you the force from which you could replenish,
Take my hand,
For you will so lead a man,
Of who's love, you had been banned".
So she does,
My lady flies away, to the stars.
The wind blows, sca
Literature
German History Deutsche Geschichte
Die Geschichte der Deutschen - The history of the Germans
5000-4000 BC: Coming from the Caucasus mountains over Southern Russia, the western branch of the Indo-Germanics/ Indo-Euroepans conquer Europe. Later on they will split up in different tribes: Germanics, Celts, Slavs, Romanics, Greeks, Illyrians, Thracians, Baltics and another branch will settle down in the Middle East and India.
2000 BC: Germanics, Slavs, Romans and Celts all share similar cultures. They have similar gods, languages and symbols. But soon they developed disctinct cultures.
1000 BC: The Germanics are now their own distinct ethnicity. They live in Southern Scandinavia
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The Vision of La Pucelle
"Joan of Arc and the Archangel Michael" by Eugene Thirion
So, for my Shakespeare class, I had to do a final project about one of the plays we read in class, and one of the choices was to write a Shakespearean sonnet (Hey! Beats writing a five page paper!). So you know, 14 lines, abab, 10 syllables each line with the rhyming couplet at the end and all that.
Anyway, the play I picked was the most awesome and epic Henry V, which I (obviously) loved. But for my sonnet I added a little twist: it's the Hundred Years war and Agincourt from the French perspective. I actually wrote the rhyming couplet at the end first, and I imagined the above image by Eugene Thirion of Joan of Arc with that trance-like expression. So I imagine her either recalling these events in her mind, or being reminded of them by the Archangel Michael and being told: Go and save France!
So Happy Birthday Shakespeare! (Even though he probably would not have a approved, hahah, thinking dear Jeanne la Pucelle to be a witch and all that. Well, we'll forgive him. He was slightly biased after all. )
"Joan of Arc and the Archangel Michael" by Eugene Thirion
So, for my Shakespeare class, I had to do a final project about one of the plays we read in class, and one of the choices was to write a Shakespearean sonnet (Hey! Beats writing a five page paper!). So you know, 14 lines, abab, 10 syllables each line with the rhyming couplet at the end and all that.
Anyway, the play I picked was the most awesome and epic Henry V, which I (obviously) loved. But for my sonnet I added a little twist: it's the Hundred Years war and Agincourt from the French perspective. I actually wrote the rhyming couplet at the end first, and I imagined the above image by Eugene Thirion of Joan of Arc with that trance-like expression. So I imagine her either recalling these events in her mind, or being reminded of them by the Archangel Michael and being told: Go and save France!
So Happy Birthday Shakespeare! (Even though he probably would not have a approved, hahah, thinking dear Jeanne la Pucelle to be a witch and all that. Well, we'll forgive him. He was slightly biased after all. )
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Very nice, love Saint Joan, and thanks for the art reference!