Simulation and Its Discontents
Uploaded by
rashmist9626Simulation and Its Discontents
Uploaded by
rashmist9626Simulation And Its Discontents
Sold on alibris.com
( 4.5/5.0 ★ | 202 downloads )
-- Click the link to download --
https://click.linksynergy.com/link?id=*C/UgjGtUZ8&offerid=1494105.26
539780262012706&type=15&murl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.alibris.com%2Fsearch%2
Fbooks%2Fisbn%2F9780262012706
Simulation And Its Discontents
ISBN: 9780262012706
Category: Media > Books > Non-Fiction > Education Books
File Fomat: PDF, EPUB, DOC...
File Details: 18.2 MB
Language: English
Website: alibris.com
Short description: Very good in very good dust jacket. Crisp jacket,
no marks in book, tight binding Glued binding. Cloth over boards. With
dust jacket. 232 p. Contains: Figures. Simplicity: Design, Technology,
Business, Life. Audience: General/trade.
DOWNLOAD: https://click.linksynergy.com/link?id=*C/UgjGtUZ8&
offerid=1494105.26539780262012706&type=15&murl=http%3A%2F%2F
www.alibris.com%2Fsearch%2Fbooks%2Fisbn%2F9780262012706
Simulation And Its
Discontents
• Click the link: https://click.linksynergy.com/link?id=*C/UgjGtUZ8&offerid=1494105.2653978026201270
6&type=15&murl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.alibris.com%2Fsearch%2Fbooks%2Fisbn%2F9780262012706 to do
latest version of Simulation And Its Discontents in multiple formats such as PDF, EPUB, and more.
• Don’t miss the chance to explore our extensive collection of high-quality resources, books, and guides on
our website. Visit us regularly to stay updated with new titles and gain access to even more valuable
materials.
.
VIII.
He pursued it with foot so fleet,
On his forehead stood the heat,
IX.
And down his courser’s flanks it ran;
—Evening now to close began;
X.
When he espied a stream that flowed
Near the Corregan’s abode.
XI.
Smoothest turf encircled its brink;
Down from his steed he alit to drink.
XII.
By its margin was seated there
The Corregan, combing her golden hair,
XIII.
Combing it with a comb of gold;—
Richly clad, and bright to behold.
XIV.
—“Thou art bolder than thou dost know,
Daring to trouble my waters so.
XV.
“Me shalt thou on the instant wed,
Or in three days shalt be dead.”
XVI.
—“I will not wed on the instant thee,
Nor yet in three days dead will be.
XVII.
“When God pleases I will die,
And already wedded am I;
XVIII.
“And besides I had rather died
Than to make a fairy my bride.”
XIX.
—“Sick am I, mother, at heart; oh spread,
If thou lovest me, my death-bed!
XX.
“Me the fairy has looked to death:
In three days shall I yield my breath.
y y y
XXI.
“Yet though my body in earth they lay,
To her I love, oh! nothing say.”
XXII.
—Three days after, “O mother, tell,”
She exclaimed, “why tolls the bell?
XXIII.
“Why do the Priests so mournfully go,
Clad in white, and chanting low?”
XXIV.
—“A beggar we lodged died yesternight;
They bury him with the morning light.”
XXV.
—“O mother, where is my husband gone?”
—“He from the town will return anon.”
XXVI.
—“O mother, I would to church repair;
Tell me what were meetest to wear:
XXVII.
“Shall it be my robe of blue,
Or my vest of scarlet hue?”
XXVIII.
—“It is now the manner to wear
Garments of black, my daughter, there.”
XXIX.
When she came to the churchyard ground,
Her husband’s grave was the first she found.
XXX.
—“Death of kin I have not heard,
Yet this earth has been newly stirred.”
XXXI.
—“My daughter, the truth I needs must show;
’Tis thy husband that lies below.”
XXXII.
Down she fell upon that floor;
Thence she rose not any more.
XXXIII.
But the night next after the day,
When by his her body lay,
e by s e body ay,
XXXIV.
Two tall oaks, both stately and fair,
Marvel to see! arose in air;
XXXV.
And upon their uppermost spray,
Two white doves, delightsome and gay:
XXXVI.
At dawn of morn they did sweetly sing;
At noon toward heaven they lightly spring.
SONNET.
Ulysses, sailing by the Sirens’ isle,
Sealed first his comrades’ ears, then bade them fast
Bind him with many a fetter to the mast,
Lest those sweet voices should their souls beguile,
And to their ruin flatter them, the while
Their homeward bark was sailing swiftly past;
And thus the peril they behind them cast,
Though chased by those weird voices many a mile.
But yet a nobler cunning Orpheus used:
No fetter he put on, nor stopped his ear,
But ever, as he passed, sang high and clear
The blisses of the Gods, their holy joys,
And with diviner melody confused
And marred earth’s sweetest music to a noise.
SONNET.
Were the sad tablets of our hearts alone
A dreary blank, for Thee the task were light,
To draw fair letters there and lines of light:
But while far other spectacle is shown
By them, with dismal traceries overdrawn,
Oh! task it seems, transcending highest might,
Ever again to make them clean and white,
Effacing the sad secrets they have known.
And then what heaven were better than a name,
If there must haunt and cling unto us there
Abiding memories of our sin and shame?
Dread doubt! which finds no answer anywhere
Except in him, who with him power did bring
To make us feel our sin an alien thing.
SONNET.
In the mid garden doth a fountain stand;
From font to font its waters fall alway,
Freshening the leaves by their continual play:—
Such often have I seen in southern land,
While every leaf, as though by light winds fanned,
Has quivered underneath the dazzling spray,
Keeping its greenness all the sultry day,
While others pine aloof, a parchèd band.
And in the mystic garden of the soul
A fountain, nourished from the upper springs,
Sends ever its clear waters up on high,
Which, while a dewy freshness round it flings,
All plants which there acknowledge its control
Show fair and green, else drooping, pale, and dry.
THE ETRURIAN KING.
[See Mrs. Hamilton Gray’s “Visit to the
Sepulchres of Etruria.”]
I.
One only eye beheld him in his pride,
The old Etrurian monarch, as he, died;
II.
And as they laid him on his bier of stone,
Shield, spear, and arrows laying at his side;
III.
In golden armour with his crown of gold,
One only eye the kingly warrior spied;
IV.
Nor that eye long—for in the common air
The wondrous pageant might not now abide,
V.
Which had in sealèd sepulchre the wrongs
Of time for thirty centuries defied.
VI.
That eye beheld it melt and disappear,
As down an hour-glass the last sand-drops glide.
VII.
A few short moments,—and a shrunken heap
Of common dust survived, of all that pride:
, p
VIII.
And so that gorgeous vision has remained
For evermore to other eye denied:
IX.
And he who saw must oftentimes believe
That him his waking senses had belied,
X.
Since what if all the pageants of the earth
Melt soon away, and may not long abide,
XI.
Yet when did ever doom so swift before
Even to the glories of the earth betide?
THE FAMINE.
I.
Oh, time it was of famine sore,
That ever sorer grew;
And many hungered that before
Rich plenty only knew!
II.
For year by year the labouring hind
Bewailed his fruitless toil,
And ever seemed some spell to bind
The hard, unthankful soil.
III.
His seed-corn rotted in the ground,
And did no more appear;
Or if in blade and stalk was found,
It withered in the ear.
IV.
And now unseasonable rains,
And now untimely drought,
With blight and mildew, all his pains
And hopes to nothing brought.
V.
And ever did that keen distress
In wider circles spread;
Who once with alms did others bless,
Now lacked their daily bread,
VI.
—One only, who was never known
To bless another’s board—
In all that Suabian land alone
This cruel, impious lord,
VII.
Did all the while exempt appear
From this wide-reaching ill;
With largest bounties of the year,
His broad fields laughing still.
VIII.
The Autumn duly had outpoured
For him its plenteous horn,
And safe in ample granaries stored
He saw his golden corn;
IX.
And high he reared new granaries vast,
Of hewn stone builded strong,
And made with bars of iron fast,
And fenced from every wrong.
X.
Till safe, as seemed, from every foe,
He now, as if the sight
Of others’ want, and others’ woe
E h d hi d li ht
Enhanced his own delight,
XI.
Sate high, and with his minions still
Did keep continual feast;
Long nights with waste and wassail fill
Which not with morning ceased;
XII.
Till ofttimes they who wandered near
Those halls at early day,
Culling wild herbs and roots in fear,
Their hunger to allay,
XIII.
Heard sounds of fierce and reckless mirth
Borne from those halls of pride,
While famine’s feeble wail went forth
From all the land beside;
XIV.
And strange thoughts rose in many a breast,
Why God’s true servants pined,
And largest means this man unblest
Did still for riot find;
XV.
Which stranger grew, as more and more
He did his coffers fill
He did his coffers fill
With gold and every precious store,
Wrung from men’s cruel ill;
XVI.
As he each poor man’s field was fain
To add unto his own—
To the wide space of his domain,
Now daily wider grown.
XVII.
For some, their lives awhile to save,
Had sold him house and lands;
And some to bonds their children gave,
As grew his stern demands:
XVIII.
Yet not a whit for poor man’s curse
This evil churl did care;
He said,—it passed, nor left him worse—
That words were only air.
XIX.
He, if they cried “For Jesu’s sake,
That so may light on thee
God’s blessing!” answer proud would make,
“What will that profit me?”
XX.
“I ask no blessing—yet my fields
Have store of spiky grain:
The earth to me its fatness yields,
The sky its sun and rain.
XXI.
“And high my granaries stand, and strong,
Huge-vaulted, ribbed with stone:
What need I fear? from any wrong
I can defend mine own.”—
XXII.
Thus ever fierce, and fiercer rose
His words of scorn and pride;
And more he mocked at mortal woes,
And earth and heaven defied.
XXIII.
And thus it chanced upon a day,
As oft had been before,
That from his gates he spurned away
A widow, old and poor;
XXIV.
When to his presence entered in
A servant, pale with fear,
And did with trembling words begin:—
“Oh, dread my Lord, give ear!
XXV.
“As me perchance my business drew
Thy storehouse vast beside,
I heard unwonted sounds, and through
The iron grating spied.
XXVI.
“The thing I saw, if like it seemed
To any thing on earth,
I might some huge black bull have deemed
That hellish monstrous birth.
XXVII.
“Yet how should beast have entrance found
Into that guarded place,
Which strangely now it wandered round,
With wild, unresting pace?
XXVIII.
“Oh, here must be some warning meant,
Which do not now deride:
Oh, yet have pity, and relent,
Nor speak such words of pride!”
XXIX.
Slight heed his tale of fear might find,
Slight heed his counsel true;
That utterance of his faithful mind
He now had learned to rue,
XXX.
But that, even then, another came,
Worse terror in his mien:
—“Three monstrous creatures, breathing flame,
These eyes but now have seen;
XXXI.
“They toss about the hoarded store,
And greedily they eat,
Consuming thus a part, but more
They stamp beneath their feet.
XXXII.
“Oh, Sir! full often God doth take
What we refuse to give;
But yet to him large offering make,
And all our souls may live.”
XXXIII.
—“Fool!—Let another hasten now,
But if he shall not see
The self-same vision, fellow, thou
Shalt hang on yonder tree.”
XXXIV.
He said—when, lo! inrushed a third
Within the briefest space:—
“Of h ild d b ll h d
—“Of horses wild and bulls an herd
Is filling all the place.
XXXV.
“The numbers of that furious rout
Wax ever high and higher;
And from their mouths smoke issues out,
And from their nostrils fire.
XXXVI.
“From side to side they leap and bound,
The hoarded corn they eat,
They toss and scatter on the ground,
And stamp beneath their feet.
XXXVII.
“My Lord, these portents do not scorn;
Thy granary doors throw wide,
And poor men’s prayers even yet may turn
The threatened wrath aside.”
XXXVIII.
—“What, all conspiring in one tale!
Or fooled by one deceit!
Yet think not ye shall so prevail,
Or me so lightly cheat.
XXXIX.
“Come with me;—fling the portals back;—
Come with me;—fling the portals back;—
I too this sight would see:
What! one and all this courage lack?
Give me the ponderous key.”
XL.
In fear the vassal multitude
Fell back on either side:
Before the doors he singly stood—
He singly—in his pride.
XLI.
But them, or ere he touched, asunder
Some hand unbidden threw;
With lightning flash, with sound like thunder
The gates wide open flew.
XLII.
How shook then underneath the tread
Of thousand feet the earth!
Day darkened into night with dread!
So wild a troop rushed forth.
XLIII.
And all who saw like dead men stood,
As swept that wild troop by,
Till lost within a neighbouring wood
For aye from mortal eye.
XLIV.
XLIV.
But when that hurricane was past
Of hideous sight and sound,
And when they breathed anew, they cast
Their fearful glances round:
XLV.
They lifted up a blackened corse,
Where scorched and crushed it lay,
And scarred with hooves of fiery force,—
Then bore in awe away;
XLVI.
They bore away, but not to hide
In any holy ground;
Who in his height of sin had died
No hallowed burial found.
THE PRIZE OF SONG.
I.
Challenged by the haughty daughters
Of the old Emathian king,
Strove the Muses at the waters
Of that Heliconian spring—
Proved beside those hallowed fountains
Unto whom the prize of song,
Unto whom those streams and mountains
Did of truest right belong.
II.
First those others in vexed numbers
Mourned the rebel giant brood,
Whom the earth’s huge mass encumbers,
Or who writhe, the vulture’s food;
Mourned for earth-born power, which faileth
Heaven to win by might and main;
Then, thrust back, for ever waileth,
Gnawing its own heart in pain.
III.
Nature shuddered while she hearkened,
Through her veins swift horror ran:
Sun and stars, perturbed and darkened,
To forsake their orbs began.
Back the rivers fled; the Ocean
Howled upon a thousand shores,
As it would with wild commotion
Burst its everlasting doors.
IV.