INVICTUS

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

W.E. Henley

A Sonnet by Francis Beaumont

Flattering Hope, away and leave me,

She'll not come, thou dost deceive me;

Hark the cock crows, th' envious light

Chides away the silent night;

Yet she comes not, oh ! how I tire

Betwixt cold fear and hot desire.

Here alone enforced to tarry

While the tedious minutes marry,

And get hours, those days and years,

Which I count with sighs and fears

Yet she comes not, oh! how I tire

Betwixt cold fear and hot desire.

Restless thoughts a while remove

Unto the bosom of my love,

Let her languish in my pain,

Fear and hope, and fear again;

Then let her tell me, in love's fire,

What torment's like unto desire?

Endless wishing, tedious longing,

Hopes and fears together thronging;

Rich in dreams, yet poor in waking,

Let her be in such a taking:

Then let her tell me in love's fire,

What torment's like unto desire?

Come then, Love, prevent day's eyeing,

My desire would fain be dying:

Smother me with breathless kisses,

Let me dream no more of blisses;

But tell me, which is in Love's fire

Best, to enjoy, or to desire?

Francis Beaumont

Abou Ben Adhem

By James Henry Leigh Hunt

Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase!)
Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace,
And saw, within the moonlight in his room,
Making it rich, and like a lily in bloom,
An angel writing in a book of gold:—
Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold,
And to the Presence in the room he said
"What writest thou?"—The vision raised its head,
And with a look made of all sweet accord,
Answered "The names of those who love the Lord."
"And is mine one?" said Abou. "Nay, not so,"
Replied the angel. Abou spoke more low,
But cheerly still, and said "I pray thee, then,
Write me as one that loves his fellow men."

The angel wrote, and vanished. The next night
It came again with a great wakening light,
And showed the names whom love of God had blessed,
And lo! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest.

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