A poem by Aeschylus (c. 525 – c. 456 Before Christ )
The night was passing, and the Grecian host
By no means sought to issue forth unseen.
But when indeed the day with her white steeds
Held all the earth, resplendent to behold,
First from the Greeks the loud-resounding din
Of song triumphant came; and shrill at once
Echo responded from the island rock.
Then upon all barbarians terror fell,
Thus disappointed; for not as for flight
The Hellenes sang the holy pæan then,
But setting forth to battle valiantly.
The bugle with its note inflamed them all;
And straightway with the dip of plashing oars
They smote the deep sea water at command,
And quickly all were plainly to be seen.
Their right wing first in orderly array
Led on, and second all the armament
Followed them forth; and meanwhile there was heard
A mighty shout: “Come, O ye sons of Greeks,
Make free your country, make your children free,
Your wives, and fanes of your ancestral gods,
And your sires’ tombs! For all we now contend!”
And from our side the rush of Persian speech
Replied. No longer might the crisis wait.
At once ship smote on ship with brazen beak;
A vessel of the Greeks began the attack,
Crushing the stem of a Phoenician ship.
Each on a different vessel turned its prow.
At first the current of the Persian host
Withstood; but when within the strait the throng
Of ships was gathered, and they could not aid
Each other, but by their own brazen bows
Were struck, they shattered all our naval host.
The Grecian vessels not unskillfully
Were smiting round about; the hulls of ships
Were overset; the sea was hid from sight,
Covered with wreckage and the death of men;
The reefs and headlands were with corpses filled,
And in disordered flight each ship was rowed,
As many as were of the Persian host.
But they, like tunnies or some shoal of fish,
With broken oars and fragments of the wrecks
Struck us and clove us; and at once a cry
Of lamentation filled the briny sea,
Till the black darkness’ eye did rescue us.
The number of our griefs, not though ten days
I talked together, could I fully tell;
But this know well, that never in one day
Perished so great a multitude of men.

A few random poems:
- The Grey Rock by William Butler Yeats
- Impostor’s Coronation
- The Do’set Militia by William Barnes
- Константин Бальмонт – На мотив экклезиаста
- Firesong by Sylvia Plath
- Ок Мельникова – Hey jude
- Шекспир – Неужто я, приняв любви венец – Сонет 114
- The Oak poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Такахама Кёси – Кончик трости моей
- In Christ there is No East Or West by John Oxenham
- Telescopes In The Square by Graham Rowlands
- Morning Coffee
- black_on_black.html
- Of Clementina by Walter Savage Landor
- Tenuous And Precarious by Stevie Smith
External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- In Commendation Of Musick by William Strode
- Her Epitaph by William Strode
- For A Gentleman, Who, Kissinge His Friend At His Departure Left A Signe Of Blood On Her by William Strode
- Epitaph On Mr. Bridgeman by William Strode
- Consolatorium, Ad Parentes by William Strode
- Chloris in the Snow by William Strode
- Anthem For Good Fryday by William Strode
- An Epitaph On Sr John Walter, Lord Cheife Baron by William Strode
- An Epitaph On Mr. Fishborne The Great London Benefactor, And His Executor by William Strode
- An Eare-Stringe by William Strode
- An Antheme by William Strode
- A Watch-String by William Strode
- A Watch Sent Home To Mrs. Eliz: King, Wrapt In Theis Verses by William Strode
- A Translation Of The Nightingale Out Of Strada by William Strode
- A Superscription On Sir Philip Sidney’s Arcadia, Sent For A Token by William Strode
- A Strange Gentlewoman Passing By His Window by William Strode
- A Song On The Baths by William Strode
- A Song On A Sigh by William Strode
- A Riddle: On A Kiss by William Strode
- A Purse-String by William Strode
More external links (open in a new tab):
Doska or the Board – write anything
Search engines:
Yandex – the best search engine for searches in Russian (and the best overall image search engine, in any language, anywhere)
Qwant – the best search engine for searches in French, German as well as Romance and Germanic languages.
Ecosia – a search engine that supposedly… plants trees
Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.
Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
Parallel Translations of Poetry
The Poetry Repository – an online library of poems, poetry, verse and poetic works
Aeschylus (525 Before Christ to 456 B.C.) was an ancient Greek author of Greek tragedy, and is often described as the father of tragedy. Academics’ knowledge of the genre begins with his work, and understanding of earlier Greek tragedy is largely based on inferences made from reading his surviving plays. According to Aristotle, he expanded the number of characters in the theatre and allowed conflict among them.