Showing posts with label 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨📺. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨📺. Show all posts

Thursday, September 15, 2022

Tennyson's Charge of the Light Brigade

This poem was written to memorialize a suicidal charge by light cavalry over open terrain by British forces in the Battle of Balaclava (Ukraine) in the Crimean War (1854-56). 247 men of the 637 in the charge were killed or wounded. The date of the Battle was October 25, 1854 and Tennyson wrote this famous poem in the same year. 

Half a league, half a league,

Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
`Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!’ he said:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
`Forward, the Light Brigade!’
Was there a man dismay’d?
Not tho’ the soldier knew
Some one had blunder’d:
Their’s not to make reply,
Their’s not to reason why,
Their’s but to do and die:
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volley’d and thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
Boldly they rode and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the mouth of Hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flash’d all their sabres bare,
Flash’d as they turn’d in air
Sabring the gunners there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder’d:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro’ the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel’d from the sabre-stroke
Shatter’d and sunder’d.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volley’d and thunder’d;
Storm’d at with shot and shell,
While horse and hero fell,
They that had fought so well
Came thro’ the jaws of Death,
Back from the mouth of Hell,
All that was left of them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder’d.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!

yeah! abortions!

 


The Kingdom and the Powerlifting and the Glory

 

The Kingdom and the Powerlifting and the Glory

Kevin Vost

When you’re figuring out how to live a holy life, lifting extremely heavy weights—powerlifting—might not be the first place you’d think to go for inspiration. You might even think powerlifting is vain, an obsession with good looks or superior physical strength as a detriment to personal holiness. But I’m here to tell you that’s all wrong . . . and one of the Church’s greatest saints and minds would agree with me.

I write this piece from experience as an Olympic weightlifter (performer of the overhead lifts called the snatch and clean and jerk), powerlifter (performer of squats, bench presses, and deadlifts), and now, as a would-be strongman senior citizen. Back when I was in second grade, I was mesmerized by a weightlifter I saw on TV (perhaps during the 1968 Olympics). I asked my dad for a set of barbells, and he happily complied. I was “bitten by the iron bug,” as older lifters used to call it, and even today, fifty-four years later, I lift almost every day. (I just heard the voice of my 35-year-old son, who has arrived to hoist barbells and dumbbells in our garage gym. I’ll have to go out in a bit and monitor his form on his heavy sets.)

Владимир Набоков К России

  Владимир Набоков К России Отвяжись, я тебя умоляю! Вечер страшен, гул жизни затих. Я безпомощен. Я умираю От слепых наплываний твоих. Тот,...