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Saturday, 19 August 2017
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Listen Mage Divi Pana Nala Rakinne (Sinhala Hymn) with Lyrics


Tulog (Sleep) (South Border)

Sa tulog ko lang ba kitang ma'ring makamtan
Di ba puwedeng makasama ka sa ibang paraan
O Diyos ko tulungan mong maging totoo
Ang panaginip kong ito

Sa pagtulog ko, ikaw ang nakikita saisipan
Puro sa iyo lang napupunta ang bawat kuwento
Sinungaling na panaginip
Di ka raw lumalayo sa akin

O kay sarap,
di tayo mapaghiwalay
Tuloy tuly pa rin, lumilipad ako sa aking isip
Ayokong magising,ayokong malayo sa piling mo
Kahit imposible ok lang
Basta't palaging nandiyan kasama ka
O kay sarap, di tayo mapaghiwalay

Derita Cinta (Jamal Abdillah)

Derita Cinta

Biarkan gelora melanda hati
Biarkan tangisan merintih
Begitulah pedihnya
Jiwa oh kasih

Kiranya panas yang kuharapkan
Tetapi derita yang tiba
Begitulah suratan hidup
Insan bercinta

( korus )
Dulu aku pernah menderita
Bila hatiku kau lukakan
Oh... oh... kini kau ** merasakan
Bersama dia yang kau puja

Padaku usah kau merayu
Hatiku telah dimilikki
Cukuplah yang kurasa duka
Derita cinta

Under The Tree Of Us'dum (Elvenking)

[Intro harmony:] "March to the tree"

Step by step, we walked the elfdom as far as the pass of Helm
Now waves of twilight wash our shields, shine in our swords
We've reached the elfic mighty oak, over hills await the
legions of the ogres
With new sun the final battle will begin

Is the bond of our companionship
that will lead us to the victory All the blood that (will)
spill from our
enemies is the only grim reward

Tunes of battle clash, ploughing all the seven seas and
Time is coming fast

Far to the world where the dawn is falling
Far, through the lands, against the power of the Dark
To the fields where you hear the calling
Down, to the hills where the wizard of Arthanelron had ruled

[Melody: Jarpen]

Far beyond, over the horizon a sickle of Moon floats in the night
An handful of sparks Branches to roots, blood to the flesh
A spell of ancient ages past, draw the swords and raise
our hearts to glorify
With new sun the final battle will begin

Is the bond of our companionship
That will lead us to the victory For the life of one that has fade away
Another one will fight for all

Tunes of battle clash, ploughing all the seven seas
And Time is coming fast

Far to the world where the dawn is falling
Far, through the lands, against the power of the Dark
To the fields where the blood is flowing
Down, to the hills where the wizard of Arthanelron had ruled

[Hymn: Aydan]

Strong and proud we stand again In circle round the tree of Usdu'm
The shadow in the wood are lengthening Over our fears and beliefs
A frosty blanket's wrapping us In death or glory at dusk it will end
The banner's high on our lances The final clash has begun

[Solos: both, Aydan, Dag'or'dil]

Tunes of battle clash, ploughing all the seven seas
And Time has come too fast

[CHORUS 1 & 2:]
Far to the world where the dawn is falling
Far, through the lands, against the power of the Dark
To the fields where you hear the calling
Down, to the hills where the wizard of Arthanelron had ruled

Far to the world where the dawn is falling
Far, through the lands, against the power of the Dark
To the fields where the blood is flowing
Down, to the hills where the wizard of Arthanelron had ruled

hymn to her (daniel lioneye)

The Four Freshmen - Hymn to Her Music Downloads The Four Freshmen - Hymn to Her Ringtone Let me inside you Into your room I've heard it's lined With the things you don't show Lay me beside you Down on the floor I've been your lover From the womb to the tomb I dress as your daughter When the moon becomes round You be my mother When everything's goneAnd she will always carry on Something is lost But something is found They will keep on speaking her name Somethings change Some stay the sameKeep beckoning to me From behind that closed door The maid and the mother And the crone that's grown oldI hear your voice Coming out of that hole I listen to you And I want some more I listen to you And I want some moreAnd she will always carry on Something is lost But something is found They will keep on speaking her name Some things change Some stay the same------------- Lyrics Powered by LyricFind Written By KEENE, MEGLyrics © EMI Music Publishing The Four Freshmen - Hymn to Her Music Downloads The Four Freshmen - Hymn to Her Ringtone

Playboys, Punks, And Pretty Things (Swingin Utters)

"A penny for your thoughts," he says as he swiftly slips from bed to bed and the thoughtful ones are charmed by him and the **y ones turned on by him and he's knighted by casanova's kin and his ladies would never turn on him 'cause he's the cary grant of the party kings and the playboy of your wildest dreams wouldn't you like to be a sweetheart? Haven't you dreamed of being an upstart? Owning the heart of every beauty queen the envy of every ladies man-machine making regular stops at meat market spots lifting skirts and molesting tarts buying bottles and blow and whiskey shots for any femme fatale who's got an urge to **. Sometimes he's not alone he's got a family and home does he rent or does he own? Is he the villian in your tome? Has he forgotten his way? Has he a mind to leave the fray? Are you so naive and vague? Does it matter anyway? ly afternoon it's dead they've all gone down and off to bed and in his hands a fifth of gin, a fine young thing, some methedrine disgusted, drunk and all washed up and still nursing a stinking cup he shades his eyes from a cloudless sky and punkes it up, it's party time again. Combat boots are all laced up prada shoes with argyle socks seductive stares and massed up hair ripped and torn and now laid bare i'll take you to my little room i'll play you "fly me to the moon" relax, i'm clean and blind and free you won't gain anything from me. Come take comfort from the storm befriend the ones you scorned i'll be your savior and your saint i'll be what all the others ain't it's not as bad as it all seems what if this were all a dream? Do you have to be so plain? Does it matter anyway?

Noctis Invocat (Noctis Invocat)

"La Oscuridad no hubiera brotado jamás,
Si el velo del día que nos oculta las estrellas,
No hubiera sido abierto por las manos de la noche".

The starlights in the nocturnal loneliness
Hear thee final confessions,
And watch thee dreams go far away,
As the wind´s whispers intoning with hate:

A strange and silently hymn,
Wrapening on thy sign,
The most hidden desires.

Carrying thee own feelings,
To garden with black roses
As the darkness, with big trees
With thy leafs showed to sky,
Summoning with anxiety
The last night of full moon.

Girls On Top (Boa)

modunge naege yojaga yojadaun gosur gangyohe...

nar barabonun ne yaruthan shisun duri nan shirho...
(yaghan yoja... sarange yaghan yoja WHOO...)
nege gangyo hajima... thure gadhyo borir nega aningor
jonbu naui tudero...

nanun naingor... nugudo deshin hajimara...
(gurohge man man hage nomogar nega aniya...)
ne mosub gudero dang dang hago shipho...
(gunure gadhyo sanun yojarur gide hajima...)

shyekshi han, chobun han, yongwonhi han namjaman anun tabunham...
gugon baro chagag, modun namja durui dwan shimsa....

nan isesangur modu bakwo borir khumur da gajigor...
(GET IT UP... nan bujoghe -- GET IT UP... modunge da)
mari dweji anhjanha... guder manui phyondun gathun gon...
gude duri mandun gijune mage...

nanun naingor... nugudo deshin hajimara...
(gurohge man man hage nomogar nega aniya...)
ne mosub gudero dang dang hago shipho...
(gunure gadhyo sanun yojarur gide hajima...)

modunge naege yojaga yojadaun gosur gangyohe...
do isangun chamji mara... SHAKE IT EVERTHING, I LIKE THAT...

maumur do yorobwa.. urin gathun gosur hyanghan gajanha...
modu hamke yongwon harthende... soro darun song irphun... jonje hagi wihan
ingan ingor.. WHY.. ijen bujong hajima...

RAP) namjadur moduga sesangui jinrinun jordero burbyonui bochi girago...
ikarur jabun nan sesangui jibeja, himui nonri, namja manui bobchig dur...
aju ugi shine! BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH
done nuni moro jajon shimur sanun namja, gude ijen maji hera DOOMS AND A DOOMS
ja! ige BoA yegir dama duja! se shide...... STORY... GIRLS ON TOP!

isesangui ban, gugon yojaduri mandur goya...
dang dang hage nan molli aphur hyanghan gorogalle...

nanun naingor... nugudo deshin hajimara...
(gurohge man man hage nomogar nega aniya...)
ne mosub gudero dang dang hago shipho...
(gunure gadhyo sanun yojarur gide hajima...)

nu sunt cuminte (Anda Adam Cu Alex)

I: Ce visezi, ce gandesti, stiu exact ceea ce iti doresti Ochii tai spun ceva, eu sunt tot ceea ce tu ai vrea Ma atingi, ma provoci, nu stiam ca-ti place sa te joci Simti deja, sunt a ta, vreau ceva fierbinte in seara asta. Spune-mi ce-ai sa faci cand o sa fim doar noi doi Noi doi, doar noi doi... Refren(x2): Vreau doar o noapte fierbinte Nu sunt o fata cuminte Vreau multe fapte, nu cuvinte. II: Te sarut, te aprinzi, trupul meu fierbinte il cuprinzi Ma doresti, ma topesc, trec la fapte fara sa gandesc Te alint pana in zori, clipa asta n-o sa uiti usor Simti deja, sunt a ta, vreau ceva fierbinte in seara asta. Spune-mi ce-ai sa faci cand o sa fim doar noi doi Noi doi, doar noi doi... Refren(x2):.. Spune-mi ce-ai sa faci cand o sa fim doar noi doi Noi doi, doar noi doi... Refren(x2):..

The Greatest Man That Ever Lived (Variations On A Shaker Hymn) (Weezer)

You try to play cool like you just don't care
But soon I'll be playin' in your underwear
I'm like a mage with the magic spell
You come like a dog when I ring yo' bell
I got the money and I got the fame
You got the hots to ride on my plane
You givin' me all that I desire
'caus down with me I'm taking you higher

I'm the baddest of the bad
I'm the best that you've ever had
I'm the tops, I'm the thing
All the girls get up when I sing, yeah
I'm the meanest in the place
Step up, I'll mess with your face
I don't care where you are
Look up and follow the star

I, I'm gonna tear down the wall
I may not be here when you call
So best be givin' me your all

After the havoc that I'm gonna wreak
No more words will critics have to speak
I've got to answers to the tangled knot
Sleep tight in your cot

Oh baby, I've been told I'm goin' crazy
Oh baby, I can't be held down
Oh baby, somehow I'm keeping it steady
Oh baby, I'm tearing up this town

Hey, this is what I like
Cut my heart with a martyr's spike
Hey, this is nothing new
I've got more than enough for you

I can take on anybody
I can do my thing
I don't wanna hurt nobody
But a bee has got to sting
I'ma fix it if you mix it up
Talk smack, and I'ma gonna shut you up

I am the greatest man that ever lived
I was born to give
I am the greatest man that ever lived, oh

Somebody said all the world's a stage
And each of us is a player
That's what I've been tryin' to tell you
In Act 1 I was struggling to survive
Nobody wanted my action dead or alive
Act 2, I hit the big time
And bodies be all up on my behind
And I can't help myself because I was born to shine
And if you don't like it, you can shove it
But you don't like it, you love it
So I'll be up here in a rage
'til they bring the curtain down on the stage

I'm the greatest man that ever lived
I'm the greatest man that ever lived
I'm the greatest man that ever lived

I am the greatest man that ever lived
I was born to give and give and give
I am the greatest man that ever lived

I am the greatest man that ever lived
I was born to give

Sonnets 61-90 (Crystal K)


Is it thy will thy image should keep open
My heavy eyelids to the weary night?
Dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken,
While shadows like to thee do mock my sight?
Is it thy spirit that thou send'st from thee
So far from home into my deeds to pry,
To find out shames and idle hours in me,
The scope and tenor of thy jealousy?
O, no! thy love, though much, is not so great:
It is my love that keeps mine eye awake;
Mine own true love that doth my rest defeat,
To play the watchman ever for thy sake:
For thee watch I whilst thou dost wake elsewhere,
From me far off, with others all too near.


Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye
And all my soul and all my every part;
And for this sin there is no remedy,
It is so grounded inward in my heart.
Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,
No shape so true, no truth of such account;
And for myself mine own worth do define,
As I all other in all worths surmount.
But when my glass shows me myself indeed,
Beated and chopp'd with tann'd antiquity,
Mine own self-love quite contrary I read;
Self so self-loving were iniquity.
'Tis thee, myself, that for myself I praise,
Painting my age with beauty of thy days.


Against my love shall be, as I am now,
With Time's injurious hand crush'd and o'er-worn;
When hours have drain'd his blood and fill'd his brow
With lines and wrinkles; when his youthful morn
Hath travell'd on to age's steepy night,
And all those beauties whereof now he's king
Are vanishing or vanish'd out of sight,
Stealing away the treasure of his spring;
For such a time do I now fortify
Against confounding age's cruel knife,
That he shall never cut from memory
My sweet love's beauty, though my lover's life:
His beauty shall in these black lines be seen,
And they shall live, and he in them still green.


When I have seen by Time's fell hand defaced
The rich proud cost of outworn buried age;
When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage;
When I have seen the hungry ocean gain
Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,
And the firm soil win of the watery main,
Increasing store with loss and loss with store;
When I have seen such interchange of state,
Or state itself confounded to decay;
Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate,
That Time will come and take my love away.
This thought is as a death, which cannot choose
But weep to have that which it fears to lose.


Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But sad mortality o'er-sways their power,
How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower?
O, how shall summer's honey breath hold out
Against the wreckful siege of battering days,
When rocks impregnable are not so stout,
Nor gates of steel so strong, but Time decays?
O fearful meditation! where, alack,
Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid?
Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back?
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid?
O, none, unless this miracle have might,
That in black ink my love may still shine bright.


Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And guilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,
And folly doctor-like controlling skill,
And simple truth miscall'd simplicity,
And captive good attending captain ill:
Tired with all these, from these would I be gone,
Save that, to die, I leave my love alone.


Ah! wherefore with infection should he live,
And with his presence grace impiety,
That sin by him advantage should achieve
And lace itself with his society?
Why should false painting imitate his cheek
And steal dead seeing of his living hue?
Why should poor beauty indirectly seek
Roses of shadow, since his rose is true?
Why should he live, now Nature bankrupt is,
Beggar'd of blood to blush through lively veins?
For she hath no exchequer now but his,
And, proud of many, lives upon his gains.
O, him she stores, to show what wealth she had
In days long since, before these last so bad.


Thus is his cheek the map of days outworn,
When beauty lived and died as flowers do now,
Before the bastard signs of fair were born,
Or durst inhabit on a living brow;
Before the golden tresses of the dead,
The right of sepulchres, were shorn away,
To live a second life on second head;
Ere beauty's dead fleece made another**:
In him those holy antique hours are seen,
Without all ornament, itself and true,
Making no summer of another's green,
Robbing no old to dress his beauty new;
And him as for a map doth Nature store,
To show false Art what beauty was of yore.


Those parts of thee that the world's eye doth view
Want nothing that the thought of hearts can mend;
All tongues, the voice of souls, give thee that due,
Uttering bare truth, even so as foes commend.
Thy outward thus with outward praise is crown'd;
But those same tongues that give thee so thine own
In other accents do this praise confound
By seeing farther than the eye hath shown.
They look into the beauty of thy mind,
And that, in guess, they measure by thy deeds;
Then, churls, their thoughts, although their eyes were kind,
To thy fair flower add the rank smell of weeds:
But why thy odour matcheth not thy show,
The solve is this, that thou dost common grow.


That thou art blamed shall not be thy defect,
For slander's mark was ever yet the fair;
The ornament of beauty is suspect,
A crow that flies in heaven's sweetest air.
So thou be good, slander doth but approve
Thy worth the greater, being woo'd of time;
For canker vice the sweetest buds doth love,
And thou present'st a pure unstained prime.
Thou hast pass'd by the ambush of young days,
Either not assail'd or victor being charged;
Yet this thy praise cannot be so thy praise,
To tie up envy evermore enlarged:
If some suspect of ill mask'd not thy show,
Then thou alone kingdoms of hearts shouldst owe.


No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Then you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world, with vilest worms to dwell:
Nay, if you read this line, remember not
The hand that writ it; for I love you so
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
O, if, I say, you look upon this verse
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse.
But let your love even with my life decay,
Lest the wise world should look into your moan
And mock you with me after I am gone.


O, lest the world should task you to recite
What merit lived in me, that you should love
After my death, dear love, forget me quite,
For you in me can nothing worthy prove;
Unless you would devise some virtuous lie,
To do more for me than mine own desert,
And hang more praise upon deceased I
Than niggard truth would willingly impart:
O, lest your true love may seem false in this,
That you for love speak well of me untrue,
My name be buried where my body is,
And live no more to shame nor me nor you.
For I am shamed by that which I bring forth,
And so should you, to love things nothing worth.


That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou seest the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou see'st the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire
Consumed with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceivest, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.


But be contented: when that fell arrest
Without all bail shall carry me away,
My life hath in this line some interest,
Which for memorial still with thee shall stay.
When thou reviewest this, thou dost review
The very part was consecrate to thee:
The earth can have but earth, which is his due;
My spirit is thine, the better part of me:
So then thou hast but lost the dregs of life,
The prey of worms, my body being dead,
The coward conquest of a wretch's knife,
Too base of thee to be remembered.
The worth of that is that which it contains,
And that is this, and this with thee remains.


So are you to my thoughts as food to life,
Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground;
And for the peace of you I hold such strife
As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found;
Now proud as an enjoyer and anon
Doubting the filching age will steal his treasure,
Now counting best to be with you alone,
Then better'd that the world may see my pleasure;
Sometime all full with feasting on your sight
And by and by clean starved for a look;
Possessing or pursuing no delight,
Save what is had or must from you be took.
Thus do I pine and surfeit day by day,
Or gluttoning on all, or all away.


Why is my verse so barren of new pride,
So far from variation or quick change?
Why with the time do I not glance aside
To new-found methods and to compounds strange?
Why write I still all one, ever the same,
And keep invention in a noted weed,
That every word doth almost tell my name,
Showing their birth and where they did proceed?
O, know, sweet love, I always write of you,
And you and love are still my argument;
So all my best is dressing old words new,
Spending again what is already spent:
For as the sun is daily new and old,
So is my love still telling what is told.


Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear,
Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste;
The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear,
And of this book this learning mayst thou taste.
The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show
Of mouthed graves will give thee memory;
Thou by thy dial's shady stealth mayst know
Time's thievish progress to eternity.
Look, what thy memory can not contain
Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find
Those children nursed, deliver'd from thy brain,
To take a new acquaintance of thy mind.
These offices, so oft as thou wilt look,
Shall profit thee and much enrich thy book.


So oft have I invoked thee for my Muse
And found such fair assistance in my verse
As every alien pen hath got my use
And under thee their poesy disperse.
Thine eyes that taught the dumb on high to sing
And heavy ignorance aloft to fly
Have added feathers to the learned's wing
And given grace a double majesty.
Yet be most proud of that which I compile,
Whose influence is thine and born of thee:
In others' works thou dost but mend the style,
And arts with thy sweet graces graced be;
But thou art all my art and dost advance
As high as learning my rude ignorance.


Whilst I alone did call upon thy aid,
My verse alone had all thy gentle grace,
But now my gracious numbers are decay'd
And my sick Muse doth give another place.
I grant, sweet love, thy lovely argument
Deserves the travail of a worthier pen,
Yet what of thee thy poet doth invent
He robs thee of and pays it thee again.
He lends thee virtue and he stole that word
From thy behavior; beauty doth he give
And found it in thy cheek; he can afford
No praise to thee but what in thee doth live.
Then thank him not for that which he doth say,
Since what he owes thee thou thyself dost pay.


O, how I faint when I of you do write,
Knowing a better spirit doth use your name,
And in the praise thereof spends all his might,
To make me tongue-tied, speaking of your fame!
But since your worth, wide as the ocean is,
The humble as the proudest sail doth bear,
My saucy bark inferior far to his
On your broad main doth wilfully appear.
Your shallowest help will hold me up afloat,
Whilst he upon your soundless deep doth ride;
Or being wreck'd, I am a worthless boat,
He of tall building and of goodly pride:
Then if he thrive and I be cast away,
The worst was this; my love was my decay.


Or I shall live your epitaph to make,
Or you survive when I in earth am rotten;
From hence your memory death cannot take,
Although in me each part will be forgotten.
Your name from hence immortal life shall have,
Though I, once gone, to all the world must die:
The earth can yield me but a common grave,
When you entombed in men's eyes shall lie.
Your monument shall be my gentle verse,
Which eyes not yet created shall o'er-read,
And tongues to be your being shall rehearse
When all the breathers of this world are dead;
You still shall live--such virtue hath my pen--
Where breath most breathes, even in the mouths of men.


I grant thou wert not married to my Muse
And therefore mayst without attaint o'erlook
The dedicated words which writers use
Of their fair subject, blessing every book
Thou art as fair in knowledge as in hue,
Finding thy worth a limit past my praise,
And therefore art enforced to seek anew
Some fresher stamp of the time-bettering days
And do so, love; yet when they have devised
What strained touches rhetoric can lend,
Thou truly fair wert truly sympathized
In true plain words by thy true-telling friend;
And their gross painting might be better used
Where cheeks need blood; in thee it is abused.


I never saw that you did painting need
And therefore to your fair no painting set;
I found, or thought I found, you did exceed
The barren tender of a poet's debt;
And therefore have I slept in your report,
That you yourself being extant well might show
How far a modern quill doth come too short,
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow.
This silence for my sin you did impute,
Which shall be most my glory, being dumb;
For I impair not beauty being mute,
When others would give life and bring a tomb.
There lives more life in one of your fair eyes
Than both your poets can in praise devise.


Who is it that says most? which can say more
Than this rich praise, that you alone are you?
In whose confine immured is the store
Which should example where your equal grew.
Lean penury within that pen doth dwell
That to his subject lends not some small glory;
But he that writes of you, if he can tell
That you are you, so dignifies his story,
Let him but copy what in you is writ,
Not making worse what nature made so clear,
And such a counterpart shall fame his wit,
Making his style admired every where.
You to your beauteous blessings add a curse,
Being fond on praise, which makes your praises worse.


My tongue-tied Muse in manners holds her still,
While comments of your praise, richly compiled,
Reserve their character with golden quill
And precious phrase by all the Muses filed.
I think good thoughts whilst other write good words,
And like unletter'd clerk still cry 'Amen'
To every hymn that able spirit affords
In polish'd form of well-refined pen.
Hearing you praised, I say ''Tis so, 'tis true,'
And to the most of praise add something more;
But that is in my thought, whose love to you,
Though words come hindmost, holds his rank before.
Then others for the breath of words respect,
Me for my dumb thoughts, speaking in effect.


Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,
Bound for the prize of all too precious you,
That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?
Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write
Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?
No, neither he, nor his compeers by night
Giving him aid, my verse astonished.
He, nor that affable familiar ghost
Which nightly gulls him with intelligence
As victors of my silence cannot boast;
I was not sick of any fear from thence:
But when your countenance fill'd up his line,
Then lack'd I matter; that enfeebled mine.


Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing,
And like enough thou know'st thy estimate:
The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing;
My bonds in thee are all determinate.
For how do I hold thee but by thy granting?
And for that riches where is my deserving?
The cause of this fair gift in me is wanting,
And so my patent back again is swerving.
Thyself thou gavest, thy own worth then not knowing,
Or me, to whom thou gavest it, else mistaking;
So thy great gift, upon misprision growing,
Comes home again, on better judgment making.
Thus have I had thee, as a dream doth flatter,
In sleep a king, but waking no such matter.


When thou shalt be disposed to set me light,
And place my merit in the eye of scorn,
Upon thy side against myself I'll fight,
And prove thee virtuous, though thou art forsworn.
With mine own weakness being best acquainted,
Upon thy part I can set down a story
Of faults conceal'd, wherein I am attainted,
That thou in losing me shalt win much glory:
And I by this will be a gainer too;
For bending all my loving thoughts on thee,
The injuries that to myself I do,
Doing thee vantage, double-vantage me.
Such is my love, to thee I so belong,
That for thy right myself will bear all wrong.


Say that thou didst forsake me for some fault,
And I will comment upon that offence;
Speak of my lameness, and I straight will halt,
Against thy reasons making no defence.
Thou canst not, love, disgrace me half so ill,
To set a form upon desired change,
As I'll myself disgrace: knowing thy will,
I will acquaintance strangle and look strange,
Be absent from thy walks, and in my tongue
Thy sweet beloved name no more shall dwell,
Lest I, too much profane, should do it wrong
And haply of our old acquaintance tell.
For thee against myself I'll vow debate,
For I must ne'er love him whom thou dost hate.


Then hate me when thou wilt; if ever, now;
Now, while the world is bent my deeds to cross,
Join with the spite of fortune, make me bow,
And do not drop in for an after-loss:
Ah, do not, when my heart hath 'scoped this sorrow,
Come in the rearward of a conquer'd woe;
Give not a windy night a rainy morrow,
To linger out a purposed overthrow.
If thou wilt leave me, do not leave me last,
When other petty griefs have done their spite
But in the onset come; so shall I taste
At first the very worst of fortune's might,
And other strains of woe, which now seem woe,
Compared with loss of thee will not seem so.


One of the Nicest song in the album "Dewathwaye Alokayen" Sang by Kasun Kalhara Album - Dewathwaye Alokayen. Lyrics - Rev.Fr. Shamindra Jayawardena ...

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