The Tory: Perspectives and Poems: Dr Pratt Datta

A Child's History of England by Charles Dickens - Chapter 1

A Child's History of England by Charles Dickens (1853). 

 

Courtesy of Project Gutenberg: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/699/699-h/699-h.htm#startoftext

The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde Part II

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/902/902-h/902-h.htm#page1

The Happy Prince by Oscar Wilde Part I

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/902/902-h/902-h.htm#page1

To a Reason by Rimbaud

To a Reason

BY ARTHUR RIMBAUD

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY JOHN ASHBERY

A tap of your finger on the drum releases all sounds and initiates the new harmony.
      A step of yours is the conscription of the new men and their marching orders.
     You look away: the new love!
     You look back,—the new love!
     “Change our fates, shoot down the plagues, beginning with time,” the children sing to you. “Build wherever you can the substance of our fortunes and our wishes,” they beg you.
     Arriving from always, you’ll go away everywhere.

A Verse for Napoleon by Pratim Datta

A Verse for Napoleon

Pratim Datta

On a day, year 69, 17 hundred,
Was born a petit Corsican, whom the world would dread!
20 years later when La Bastille fell,
Napoleon's star rose, First Republic served him well!

A general at 24, bless the siege of Toulon,
Robespierre’s blessing against the grand coalition;
Leading the charge of armée d’Italy,
Won Piedmont, Castilloni, and Rivoli!

Austrians did fold, to the Habsburgs he turned;
Léoben, Campo Formio, Bavaria burned.
Enveloping his enemies in sixty wars,
Pristine victories and Europe in scars!

Egypt was next, deprive Brits of trade!
Battle of the pyramids and Mamluks dead!
Napoleonic ambitions saw a dusk fall on dawn,
Trafalgar nemesis, Admiral Nelson!!

Returning to Paris as the first consul,
The republic gave France an emperor the rule!
From Amiens, Ulm, to Austerlitz,
La grandé armée crossed the Rhine in a Blitz!

1808 began the Russian March,
Berezina, Borodino, where winters are harsh,
In Leipzig cane his next big defeat,
Abdicated to Elba, in retreat.

Escape from Elba, did hundred days ensue,
Till Napoléon met Wellington at Waterloo!
1815 marked his final phase,
St Helena is where he spent his last days!

A flawed genius, extraordinaire,
Stills Holds his baton high for generals to dare!
In Gerone, Le jeune, and Louis David’s paint,
Vive la Napoleon, bravery will never taint!

Auguries of Innocence Part II by William Blake (Read to you by Pratt Datta)

Auguries of Innocence (continued)

William Blake

He who shall train the Horse to War

Shall never pass the Polar Bar 

The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat 

Feed them & thou wilt grow fat 

The Gnat that sings his Summers Song

Poison gets from Slanders tongue 

The poison of the Snake & Newt

Is the sweat of Envys Foot 

The poison of the Honey Bee

Is the Artists Jealousy

The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags

Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags 

A Truth thats told with bad intent

Beats all the Lies you can invent 

It is right it should be so 

Man was made for Joy & Woe 

And when this we rightly know 

Thro the World we safely go 

Joy & Woe are woven fine 

A Clothing for the soul divine 

Under every grief & pine

Runs a joy with silken twine 

The Babe is more than swadling Bands

Throughout all these Human Lands

Tools were made & Born were hands 

Every Farmer Understands

Every Tear from Every Eye

Becomes a Babe in Eternity 

This is caught by Females bright

And returnd to its own delight 

The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar 

Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore 

The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath

Writes Revenge in realms of Death 

The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air

Does to Rags the Heavens tear 

The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun 

Palsied strikes the Summers Sun

The poor Mans Farthing is worth more

Than all the Gold on Africs Shore

One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands

Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands 

Or if protected from on high 

Does that whole Nation sell & buy 

He who mocks the Infants Faith

Shall be mockd in Age & Death 

He who shall teach the Child to Doubt

The rotting Grave shall neer get out 

He who respects the Infants faith

Triumphs over Hell & Death 

The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons

Are the Fruits of the Two seasons 

The Questioner who sits so sly 

Shall never know how to Reply 

He who replies to words of Doubt

Doth put the Light of Knowledge out 

The Strongest Poison ever known

Came from Caesars Laurel Crown 

Nought can Deform the Human Race

Like to the Armours iron brace 

When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow

To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow 

A Riddle or the Crickets Cry

Is to Doubt a fit Reply 

The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile

Make Lame Philosophy to smile 

He who Doubts from what he sees

Will neer Believe do what you Please 

If the Sun & Moon should Doubt 

Theyd immediately Go out 

To be in a Passion you Good may Do 

But no Good if a Passion is in you 

The Whore & Gambler by the State

Licencd build that Nations Fate 

The Harlots cry from Street to Street 

Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet 

The Winners Shout the Losers Curse 

Dance before dead Englands Hearse 

Every Night & every Morn

Some to Misery are Born 

Every Morn and every Night

Some are Born to sweet delight 

Some are Born to sweet delight 

Some are Born to Endless Night 

We are led to Believe a Lie

When we see not Thro the Eye

Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night 

When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light 

God Appears & God is Light

To those poor Souls who dwell in Night 

But does a Human Form Display

To those who Dwell in Realms of day

 

Auguries of Innocence Part I by William Blake (Read to you by Pratt Datta)

Auguries of Innocence

In two Parts: Part !

BY WILLIAM BLAKE

 

To see a World in a Grain of Sand

And a Heaven in a Wild Flower 

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand 

And Eternity in an hour

A Robin Red breast in a Cage

Puts all Heaven in a Rage 

A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons

Shudders Hell thr' all its regions 

A dog starvd at his Masters Gate

Predicts the ruin of the State 

A Horse misusd upon the Road

Calls to Heaven for Human blood 

Each outcry of the hunted Hare

A fibre from the Brain does tear 

A Skylark wounded in the wing 

A Cherubim does cease to sing 

The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight

Does the Rising Sun affright 

Every Wolfs & Lions howl

Raises from Hell a Human Soul 

The wild deer, wandring here & there 

Keeps the Human Soul from Care 

The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife

And yet forgives the Butchers knife 

The Bat that flits at close of Eve

Has left the Brain that wont Believe

The Owl that calls upon the Night

Speaks the Unbelievers fright

He who shall hurt the little Wren

Shall never be belovd by Men 

He who the Ox to wrath has movd

Shall never be by Woman lovd

The wanton Boy that kills the Fly

Shall feel the Spiders enmity 

He who torments the Chafers Sprite

Weaves a Bower in endless Night 

The Catterpiller on the Leaf

Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief 

Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly 

For the Last Judgment draweth nigh

The River's Tale by Rudyard Kipling (read to you by Pratim Datta)

The River's Tale

Prehistoric

 

Twenty bridges from Tower to Kew--

(Twenty bridges or twenty-two)--

Wanted to know what the River knew,

For they were young and the Thames was old,

And this is the tale that the River told:--

 

"I WALK my beat before London Town,

Five hour up and seven down.

Up I go till I end my run

At Tide-end-town, which is Teddington.

Down I come with the mud in my hands

And plaster it over the Maplin Sands.

But I'd have you know that these waters of mine

Were once a branch of the River Rhine,

When hundreds of miles to the East I went

And England was joined to the Continent.

 

"I remember the bat-winged lizard-birds, The Age of Ice and the mammoth herds, And the giant tigers that stalked them down Through Regent's Park into Camden Town. And I remember like yesterday The earliest Cockney who came my way, When he pushed through the forest that lined the Strand, With paint on his face and a club in his hand. He was death to feather and fin and fur. He trapped my beavers at Westminster. He netted my salmon, he hunted my deer, He killed my heron off Lambeth Pier. He fought his neighbour with axes and swords, Flint or bronze, at my upper fords, While down at Greenwich, for slaves and tin, The tall Phoenician ships stole in. And North Sea war-boats, painted and gay, Flashed like dragon-flies, Erith way; And Norseman and Negro and Gaul and Greek Drank with the Britons in Barking Creek, And life was gay, and the world was new, And I was a mile across at Kew! But the Roman came with a heavy hand, And bridged and roaded and ruled the land, And the Roman left and the Danes blew in-- And that's where your history-books begin!"

A Death Bed by Kipling

A Death-Bed

By Rudyard Kipling

 

1918

 

"This is the State above the Law. 

    The State exists for the State alone." 

[This is a gland at the back of the jaw, 

    And an answering lump by the collar-bone.] 

 

Some die shouting in gas or fire; 

    Some die silent, by shell and shot. 

Some die desperate, caught on the wire; 

    Some die suddenly. This will not. 

 

"Regis suprema voluntas Lex" 

    [It will follow the regular course of—throats.] 

Some die pinned by the broken decks, 

    Some die sobbing between the boats. 

 

Some die eloquent, pressed to death 

    By the sliding trench as their friends can hear. 

Some die wholly in half a breath. 

    Some—give trouble for half a year. 

 

"There is neither Evil nor Good in life. 

    Except as the needs of the State ordain." 

[Since it is rather too late for the knife, 

    All we can do is mask the pain.] 

 

Some die saintly in faith and hope— 

    Some die thus in a prison-yard— 

Some die broken by rape or the rope; 

    Some die easily. This dies hard. 

 

"I will dash to pieces who bar my way. 

    Woe to the traitor!    Woe to the weak!" 

[Let him write what he wishes to say. 

    It tires him out if he tries to speak.] 

 

Some die quietly.    Some abound 

    In loud self-pity.    Others spread 

Bad morale through the cots around . . . 

    This is a type that is better dead. 

 

"The war was forced on me by my foes. 

    All that I sought was the right to live." 

[Don't be afraid of a triple dose; 

    The pain will neutralize half we give. 

 

Here are the needles.    See that he dies 

    While the effects of the drug endure . . . 

What is the question he asks with his eyes?— 

    Yes, All-Highest, to God, be sure.]

The Trade by Kipling

"The Trade"

By Rudyard Kipling

 

1914-18
(Sea Warfare)

 

They bear, in place of classic names, 

    Letters and numbers on their skin. 

They play their grisly blindfold games 

    In little boxes made of tin. 

    Sometimes they stalk the Zeppelin, 

Sometimes they learn where mines are laid, 

    Or where the Baltic ice is thin. 

That is the custom of "The Trade." 

 

Few prize-courts sit upon their claims. 

    They seldom tow their targets in. 

They follow certain secret aims 

    Down under, far from strife or din. 

    When they are ready to begin 

No flag is flown, no fuss is made 

    More than the shearing of a pin. 

That is the custom of "The Trade." 

 

The Scout's quadruple funnel flames 

    A mark from Sweden to the Swin, 

The Cruiser's thund'rous screw proclaims 

    Her comings out and goings in: 

    But only whiffs of paraffin 

Or creamy rings that fizz and fade 

    Show where the one-eyed Death has been. 

That is the custom of "The Trade." 

 

Their feats, their fortunes and their fames 

    Are hidden from their nearest kin; 

No eager public backs or blames, 

    No journal prints the yarn they spin 

    (The Censor would not let it in! ) 

When they return from run or raid. 

    Unheard they work, unseen they win. 

That is the custom of "The Trade."