Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Eulogy for the Fallen

Farewell to Robert, Nessa, Jeff, Brian and Melody.

The Revel by Bartholomew Dowling

We meet 'neath the sounding rafter,
And the walls all around are bare;
As they shout back our peals of laughter
It seems that the dead are there.
Then stand to your glasses, steady!
We drink in our comrades eyes:
One cup to the dead already-
Hurrah for the next that dies!

Not here are the goblets glowing,
Not here is the vintage sweet;
'Tis cold as our hearts are growing,
And dark as the doom we meet.
But stand to your glasses, steady!
And soon shall our pulses rise:
A cup to the dead already-
Hurrah for the next that dies!

There's many a hand that's shaking,
And many a cheek that's sunk;
But soon, though our hearts are breaking,
They'll burn with the wine we've drunk.
Then stand to your glasses, steady!
'Tis here the revival lies:
Quaff a cup to the dead already-
Hurrah for the next that dies.

Time was when we laughed at others;
We thought we were wiser then;
Ha! Ha! Let them think of their mothers,
Who hope to see them again.
No! stand to your glasses, steady!
The thoughtless is here the wise:
One cup to the dead already-
Hurrah for the next that dies!

Not a sigh for the lot that darkles,
Not a tear for the friends that sink-,
We'll fall, 'midst the wine-cup's sparkles,
As mute as the wine we drink.
Come, stand to your glasses, steadyl!
'Tis this that the respite buys:
A cup to the dead already-
Hurrah for the next that dies!

There's a mist on the glass congealing,
'Tis the hurricane's sultry breath;
And thus does the warmth of feeling
Turn ice in the grasp of Death.
But stand to your glasses, steady!
For a moment the vapor flies:
Quaff a cup to the dead already-
Hurrah for the next that dies!

Who dreads to the dust returning?
Who shrinks from the sable shore,
Where the high and haughty yearning
Of the soul can sting no more?
No, stand to your glasses, steady!
The world is a world of lies:
A cup to the dead already-
And hurrah for the next that dies!

Cut off from the land that bore us,
Betrayed by the land we find,
When the brightest have gone before us,
And the dullest are most behind-
Stand, stand to your glasses, steady!
'Tis all we have left to prize:
One cup to the dead already-
Hurrah for the next that dies!

7 comments:

  1. how nice to wax poetic, from the person who has been spoofing nessa since her demise.

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  2. ...

    What?

    You think I'm "Nessa"?

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  3. I think he means you've been picking before she died or something. As I recall, she didn't like you too well before, and you seemed to have some sort of distaste to most others as well as her. That's just how I saw it though, and my memory could've decayed a lot since then.

    Because I haven't been paying attention, I must ask: do we still have to code messages of importance, or is your blog successfully shielded from him now? I have a thing or two to ask you.

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  4. uhm, nevermind, sorry Reach. Paranoia reared its ugly head there for a day or so.

    "nessa" said in her last post for the day

    "Reach Out

    AHAHAHAHAHA"

    thought that was you revealing your colors.

    Truth be told I'm not fully convinced you're able to hide from him, this could all still be a puppet show to establish sympathy.

    However, I do apologize for the accusation.

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  5. Hello old friend.
    Save that ode for later.

    Dead is something I'm not.

    -Jeff

    ReplyDelete
  6. It's fine.

    And you're right, I'm not able to hide from him in any meaningful way yet. I'm on the run. I can shield myself for an hour or so each day at most, and even then, I end up alerting him to where I am. Hopefully, if my current plan goes well, I'll be able to shield blogs temporarily.

    ReplyDelete