https://sonett.fontane-place.de/ Sat, 27 Jun 2026 11:29:41 +0000 MyBB https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=39561 Sat, 16 May 2026 00:08:38 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=39561 Robert E. Howard
1906 - 1936 USA


Miser's Gold

"Nay, have no fear. The man was blind," said she.
"How could he see ’twas we that took his gold?
"The devil, man! I thought you were bold!"
"This is a chancy business!" muttered he,
"And we’ll be lucky if we get to sea.
"The fellow deals with demons, I’ve been told."
"Let’s open the chest, shut up and take a hold."
Then silence as they knocked the hinges free.

A glint of silver and a sheen of jade –
Two strange gems gleaming from a silken fold –
Rare plunder – gods, was that a hidden blade?
A scream, a curse, two bodies stark and cold.
With jewel eyes above them crawled and swayed
The serpent left to watch the miser’s gold.]]> Robert E. Howard
1906 - 1936 USA


Miser's Gold

"Nay, have no fear. The man was blind," said she.
"How could he see ’twas we that took his gold?
"The devil, man! I thought you were bold!"
"This is a chancy business!" muttered he,
"And we’ll be lucky if we get to sea.
"The fellow deals with demons, I’ve been told."
"Let’s open the chest, shut up and take a hold."
Then silence as they knocked the hinges free.

A glint of silver and a sheen of jade –
Two strange gems gleaming from a silken fold –
Rare plunder – gods, was that a hidden blade?
A scream, a curse, two bodies stark and cold.
With jewel eyes above them crawled and swayed
The serpent left to watch the miser’s gold.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=39560 Sat, 16 May 2026 00:08:16 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=39560 Robert E. Howard
1906 - 1936 USA



The Weakling

I died in sin and forthwith went to Hell;
I made myself at home upon the coals
Where seas of flame break on the cinder shoals.
Till Satan came and said with angry yell,
"You there – divulge what route by which you fell."
"I spent my youth among the flowing bowls,
"Wasted my life with women of dark souls,
"Died brothel-fighting – drunk on muscatel."

Said he, "My friend, you’ve been directed wrong:
"You’ve naught to recommend you for our feasts –
"Like factory owners, brokers, elders, priests;
"The air for you! This place is for the strong!"
Then as I pondered, minded to rebel,
He laughed and forthwith kicked me out of Hell.]]> Robert E. Howard
1906 - 1936 USA



The Weakling

I died in sin and forthwith went to Hell;
I made myself at home upon the coals
Where seas of flame break on the cinder shoals.
Till Satan came and said with angry yell,
"You there – divulge what route by which you fell."
"I spent my youth among the flowing bowls,
"Wasted my life with women of dark souls,
"Died brothel-fighting – drunk on muscatel."

Said he, "My friend, you’ve been directed wrong:
"You’ve naught to recommend you for our feasts –
"Like factory owners, brokers, elders, priests;
"The air for you! This place is for the strong!"
Then as I pondered, minded to rebel,
He laughed and forthwith kicked me out of Hell.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=39559 Sat, 16 May 2026 00:08:03 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=39559 Robert E. Howard
1906 - 1936 USA



Forbidden Magic

There came to me a Man one summer night,
When all the world lay silent in the stars,
And moonlight crossed my room with ghostly bars.
He whispered hints of weird, unhallowed sight;
I followed – then in waves of spectral light
Mounted the shimmery ladders of my soul
Where moon-pale spiders, huge as dragons, stole –
Great forms like moths, with wings of wispy white.

Around the world the sighing of the loon
Shook misty lakes beneath the false-dawn’s gleams;
Rose tinted shone the sky-line’s minaret;
I rose in fear, and then with blood and sweat
Beat out the iron fabrics of my dreams,
And shaped of them a web to snare the moon.]]> Robert E. Howard
1906 - 1936 USA



Forbidden Magic

There came to me a Man one summer night,
When all the world lay silent in the stars,
And moonlight crossed my room with ghostly bars.
He whispered hints of weird, unhallowed sight;
I followed – then in waves of spectral light
Mounted the shimmery ladders of my soul
Where moon-pale spiders, huge as dragons, stole –
Great forms like moths, with wings of wispy white.

Around the world the sighing of the loon
Shook misty lakes beneath the false-dawn’s gleams;
Rose tinted shone the sky-line’s minaret;
I rose in fear, and then with blood and sweat
Beat out the iron fabrics of my dreams,
And shaped of them a web to snare the moon.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17745 Mon, 22 Dec 2008 12:15:31 +0100 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17745 To Disappointment

Birthright of Poets! all, to which they claim
On the wide Earth, an undisputed right.
Thou! whose dark clouds veil with the gloom of night,
Each flatt'ring promise of a rising Fame.

Pale Disappointment! think not that my breast,
(Tho' gath'ring round, thy thick'ning sea of clouds,
With murky gloom, my life's gay morning shrouds)
Shall skrink before thy chilling frown oppress'd.

To new exertion rous'd, my soul shall tow'r,
With strength superiour to thy deadly hate,
Though with industrious care, malignant Fate,

With Grief should poison ev'ry future hour:
And since she can't avert, shall firmly bear
The Ills ordain'd by Heav'n, a Poet's share.]]> To Disappointment

Birthright of Poets! all, to which they claim
On the wide Earth, an undisputed right.
Thou! whose dark clouds veil with the gloom of night,
Each flatt'ring promise of a rising Fame.

Pale Disappointment! think not that my breast,
(Tho' gath'ring round, thy thick'ning sea of clouds,
With murky gloom, my life's gay morning shrouds)
Shall skrink before thy chilling frown oppress'd.

To new exertion rous'd, my soul shall tow'r,
With strength superiour to thy deadly hate,
Though with industrious care, malignant Fate,

With Grief should poison ev'ry future hour:
And since she can't avert, shall firmly bear
The Ills ordain'd by Heav'n, a Poet's share.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17744 Mon, 22 Dec 2008 11:47:07 +0100 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17744 Martha Hanson
fl. 1809

To the Glow-Worm

Bright Insect! who delight'st in shades to dwell,
And shed at Ev'ning's hour, thy modest ray;
I love to see thee, when alone I stray,
Spangling the bank that skirts the lonely dell.

To me, thy glimmering light is ever dear;
I love to view thee on the grassy blade,
What time mild Eve bathes, with a crystal tear,
Each closing flow'r, which decks the silent shade.

And still, as Night arrays with duskier hue
The scene around, thou shed'st a brighter ray,
(While balmy Zephyrs through the foliage play)

To guide the Pilgrim o'er the nightly dew.
Ah! that the Star of Hope, like thee, would deign,
To guide my footsteps, o'er Life's dreary plain!]]> Martha Hanson
fl. 1809

To the Glow-Worm

Bright Insect! who delight'st in shades to dwell,
And shed at Ev'ning's hour, thy modest ray;
I love to see thee, when alone I stray,
Spangling the bank that skirts the lonely dell.

To me, thy glimmering light is ever dear;
I love to view thee on the grassy blade,
What time mild Eve bathes, with a crystal tear,
Each closing flow'r, which decks the silent shade.

And still, as Night arrays with duskier hue
The scene around, thou shed'st a brighter ray,
(While balmy Zephyrs through the foliage play)

To guide the Pilgrim o'er the nightly dew.
Ah! that the Star of Hope, like thee, would deign,
To guide my footsteps, o'er Life's dreary plain!]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17410 Sun, 28 Oct 2007 10:18:57 +0100 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17410 The high gates of his cloudy house at last ;
I pondered o'er the dark days of the past,
And those that, darker still, the future hideth.
Then spake the voice that mocketh aye, that chideth
My inmost heart:'Lo thy high love is cast
Away, and thy life's stream is ebbing fast
From where thy soul in barrenness abideth.'
To still that voice, to quench heart-burning fire
What stream's forgetfulness shall we desire,
What murmuring water's soothing lullaby ?
Is it the darkness of Lethean flood,
Is it the brook that in Spring's morninghood
Waters the blue-starred flower of memory ?]]> The high gates of his cloudy house at last ;
I pondered o'er the dark days of the past,
And those that, darker still, the future hideth.
Then spake the voice that mocketh aye, that chideth
My inmost heart:'Lo thy high love is cast
Away, and thy life's stream is ebbing fast
From where thy soul in barrenness abideth.'
To still that voice, to quench heart-burning fire
What stream's forgetfulness shall we desire,
What murmuring water's soothing lullaby ?
Is it the darkness of Lethean flood,
Is it the brook that in Spring's morninghood
Waters the blue-starred flower of memory ?]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17409 Sun, 28 Oct 2007 10:12:31 +0100 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17409
I.

BECAUSE the Few with signal virtue crowned,
The heights and pinnacles of human mind,
Sadder and wearier than the rest are found,
Wish not thy Soul less wise or less refined.
True that the small delights which every day
Cheer and distract the pilgrim are not theirs ;
True that, though free from Passion's lawless sway,
A loftier being brings severer cares.
Yet they have special pleasures, even Mirth,
By those undreamt-of who have only trod
Life's valley smooth ; and if the rolling earth
To their nice ear have many a painful tone,
They know, Man does not live by Joy alone,
But by the presence of the power of God.

II.


A SPLENDOUR amid glooms, a sunny thread
Woven into a tapestry of cloud,
A merry child a-playing with the shroud
That lies upon a breathless mother's bed,
A garland on the front of one new-wed,
Trembling and weeping while her troth is vowed,
A schoolboy's laugh that rises light and loud
In licensed freedom from ungentle dread ;
These are ensamples of the Happiness
For which our nature fits us ; More and Less
Are parts of all things to the mortal given,
Of Love, Joy, Truth, and Beauty. Perfect Light
Would dazzle, not illuminate our sight,
From Earth it is enough to glimpse at Heaven.]]>
I.

BECAUSE the Few with signal virtue crowned,
The heights and pinnacles of human mind,
Sadder and wearier than the rest are found,
Wish not thy Soul less wise or less refined.
True that the small delights which every day
Cheer and distract the pilgrim are not theirs ;
True that, though free from Passion's lawless sway,
A loftier being brings severer cares.
Yet they have special pleasures, even Mirth,
By those undreamt-of who have only trod
Life's valley smooth ; and if the rolling earth
To their nice ear have many a painful tone,
They know, Man does not live by Joy alone,
But by the presence of the power of God.

II.


A SPLENDOUR amid glooms, a sunny thread
Woven into a tapestry of cloud,
A merry child a-playing with the shroud
That lies upon a breathless mother's bed,
A garland on the front of one new-wed,
Trembling and weeping while her troth is vowed,
A schoolboy's laugh that rises light and loud
In licensed freedom from ungentle dread ;
These are ensamples of the Happiness
For which our nature fits us ; More and Less
Are parts of all things to the mortal given,
Of Love, Joy, Truth, and Beauty. Perfect Light
Would dazzle, not illuminate our sight,
From Earth it is enough to glimpse at Heaven.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17406 Sun, 28 Oct 2007 09:56:39 +0100 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17406 1811 - 1833


THE garden trees are busy with the shower
That fell ere sunset : now methinks they talk.
Lowly and sweetly as befits the hour,
One to another down the grassy walk.
Hark the laburnum from his opening flower
This cherry-creeper greets in whisper light,
While the grim fir, rejoicing in the night,
Hoarse murmurs to the murmuring sycamore.
What shall I deem their converse ? Would they hail
The wild grey light that fronts yon massive cloud,
Or the half-bow, rising like pillared fire ?
Or are they sighing faintly for desire
That with May dawn their leaves may be overflowed,
And dews about their feet may never fail ?]]> 1811 - 1833


THE garden trees are busy with the shower
That fell ere sunset : now methinks they talk.
Lowly and sweetly as befits the hour,
One to another down the grassy walk.
Hark the laburnum from his opening flower
This cherry-creeper greets in whisper light,
While the grim fir, rejoicing in the night,
Hoarse murmurs to the murmuring sycamore.
What shall I deem their converse ? Would they hail
The wild grey light that fronts yon massive cloud,
Or the half-bow, rising like pillared fire ?
Or are they sighing faintly for desire
That with May dawn their leaves may be overflowed,
And dews about their feet may never fail ?]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17267 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 18:09:55 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17267 Binding the captive earth in icy chains;
His chilling breath sweeps o'er the watery plains,
Howls in the blast, and swells the rising storm.

See from its center bends the rifted tower,
Threat'ning the lowly vale with frowning pride,
O'er the scared flocks that seek its sheltering side,
A fearful ruin o'er their heads to pour.

While to the cheerful hearth and social board
Content and ease repair, the sons of want
Receive from niggard fate their pittance scant;

And where some shed bleak covert may afford,
Wan poverty, amidst her meager host
Casts round her haggard eyes, and shivers at the frost.]]> Binding the captive earth in icy chains;
His chilling breath sweeps o'er the watery plains,
Howls in the blast, and swells the rising storm.

See from its center bends the rifted tower,
Threat'ning the lowly vale with frowning pride,
O'er the scared flocks that seek its sheltering side,
A fearful ruin o'er their heads to pour.

While to the cheerful hearth and social board
Content and ease repair, the sons of want
Receive from niggard fate their pittance scant;

And where some shed bleak covert may afford,
Wan poverty, amidst her meager host
Casts round her haggard eyes, and shivers at the frost.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17266 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 18:03:31 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17266 Dim through the midnight mist - the rock thy bed -
The livid lightning flashed, and the wild storm
Fell blasting, keen, and loud, around thy head,

And Peace sat by, and poured forth many a tear.
To other realms I marked thy mournful flight,
While slowly bursting from the clouds of night,
Gleamed the pale moon upon thy blunted spear.

Though exiled still from Europe's purple plain,
Oh! fly not, Freedom! from our happier shore;
The tyrant's frown, or anarchy's wild train,
Too long do Gallia's harassed sons deplore:

But never from old Ocean's favorite isle,
Freedom! withdraw thy renovating smile.]]> Dim through the midnight mist - the rock thy bed -
The livid lightning flashed, and the wild storm
Fell blasting, keen, and loud, around thy head,

And Peace sat by, and poured forth many a tear.
To other realms I marked thy mournful flight,
While slowly bursting from the clouds of night,
Gleamed the pale moon upon thy blunted spear.

Though exiled still from Europe's purple plain,
Oh! fly not, Freedom! from our happier shore;
The tyrant's frown, or anarchy's wild train,
Too long do Gallia's harassed sons deplore:

But never from old Ocean's favorite isle,
Freedom! withdraw thy renovating smile.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17265 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 17:48:32 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17265 Who kindly cheer'st the lonely midnight hour,
For oft thy airy and fantastic power,
To my sad bosom, soothes the throb of pain.

When balmy sleep, on downy wing, retires
(Like the false friend who far from sorrow flies)
Stealing his poppies from my watchful eyes,
And leaves me, racked with fever's quenchless fires;

Then Fancy! thy soft melody I hear,
Around my couch, in soothing cadence play;
And round me throngs thy train of visions gay,

Attired in every hue, that paints the year.
Ah gentle Goddess! thy mild fire impart,
Its genial warmth revives my grief-chilled heart.]]> Who kindly cheer'st the lonely midnight hour,
For oft thy airy and fantastic power,
To my sad bosom, soothes the throb of pain.

When balmy sleep, on downy wing, retires
(Like the false friend who far from sorrow flies)
Stealing his poppies from my watchful eyes,
And leaves me, racked with fever's quenchless fires;

Then Fancy! thy soft melody I hear,
Around my couch, in soothing cadence play;
And round me throngs thy train of visions gay,

Attired in every hue, that paints the year.
Ah gentle Goddess! thy mild fire impart,
Its genial warmth revives my grief-chilled heart.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17264 Mon, 30 Jul 2007 17:40:22 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17264 Supposed to be repeated by Mary, Queen of Scots, from the deck of the ship which was to convey her to Scotland.

O land of elegance, where every grace
Resides - where science fills the polished mind,
How sad the bitter contrast I must find
In barren Scotia's rude and frowning face!

Oft, when away, shall memory love to trace
Thy smiling hillocks and thy flowery vales,
Thy groves, where feathered songsters tell their tales,
Thy purple vines, thy cheerful peasant race,

Thy court - but, ah! fond memory naught avails:
No more shall I of that gay court be queen!
For ever then farewell each long-loved scene.

And, see, the cruel wind now swells the sails!
I go, with feeble power to meet the storm,
Where hate and furious zeal my native shores deform.]]> Supposed to be repeated by Mary, Queen of Scots, from the deck of the ship which was to convey her to Scotland.

O land of elegance, where every grace
Resides - where science fills the polished mind,
How sad the bitter contrast I must find
In barren Scotia's rude and frowning face!

Oft, when away, shall memory love to trace
Thy smiling hillocks and thy flowery vales,
Thy groves, where feathered songsters tell their tales,
Thy purple vines, thy cheerful peasant race,

Thy court - but, ah! fond memory naught avails:
No more shall I of that gay court be queen!
For ever then farewell each long-loved scene.

And, see, the cruel wind now swells the sails!
I go, with feeble power to meet the storm,
Where hate and furious zeal my native shores deform.]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17164 Sun, 29 Jul 2007 14:15:12 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17164 Illusive rays amid the tempest blend!
No more my soul with varied feelings rend,
Soft sensibility - refinement's child!

May apathy her wand ablivious spread
Steeped in lethean waves, with poppies twined,
And gently bending o'er my languid head,
To long repose beguile a wayward mind.

While keen reflection throbs in every vein,
Thy aid oblivion, vainly I implore!
This heart shall tremble with the sense of pain,
Till death's cold hand a lasting peace restore.

Ah' say can reason's feebler power control,
The finer movements of the feeling soul?]]> Illusive rays amid the tempest blend!
No more my soul with varied feelings rend,
Soft sensibility - refinement's child!

May apathy her wand ablivious spread
Steeped in lethean waves, with poppies twined,
And gently bending o'er my languid head,
To long repose beguile a wayward mind.

While keen reflection throbs in every vein,
Thy aid oblivion, vainly I implore!
This heart shall tremble with the sense of pain,
Till death's cold hand a lasting peace restore.

Ah' say can reason's feebler power control,
The finer movements of the feeling soul?]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17163 Sun, 29 Jul 2007 14:08:17 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=17163 Britain's vain thunder on her offspring hurled,
And the blind parent, in her frantic spleen,
Pouring weak vengeance on a filial world!

Thou, whose rough bilows in loud fury curled,
Have roared indignant under many a keel;
And while contention all her sails unfurled,
Have groaned the weight of ill-starred war to feel;

Now let thy placid waters gaily bear
A freight far differing from blood-thirsty steel;
See Hayley now to cross thy flood prepare,
A female merchant, fraught with friendly zeal!

Give her kind gales, ye spirits of the air,
Kind as her heart, and as her purpose fair!]]> Britain's vain thunder on her offspring hurled,
And the blind parent, in her frantic spleen,
Pouring weak vengeance on a filial world!

Thou, whose rough bilows in loud fury curled,
Have roared indignant under many a keel;
And while contention all her sails unfurled,
Have groaned the weight of ill-starred war to feel;

Now let thy placid waters gaily bear
A freight far differing from blood-thirsty steel;
See Hayley now to cross thy flood prepare,
A female merchant, fraught with friendly zeal!

Give her kind gales, ye spirits of the air,
Kind as her heart, and as her purpose fair!]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16207 Mon, 02 Jul 2007 09:31:40 +0200 ZaunköniG]]> https://sonett.fontane-place.de/showthread.php?tid=16207
Ye winds! whose various voices in his lay
That bard interpreted, - your utterance mild,
Nor less your ministration, fierce and wild,
Of those resistless laws which ye obey

In your apparent lawlessness, - O, say,
Is not your will-less agency reviled
When it is likened unto what is styled
By such unwise, The Spirit of the Day?

Not all the islands by tornadoes swept,
E’er knew such ruin as befalls a state,
When not the winds of God, but mortal breath,

With threatening sweetness of melodious hate,
Assaults the fabrics reverent ages kept
To shelter ancient loyalty and faith.]]>
Ye winds! whose various voices in his lay
That bard interpreted, - your utterance mild,
Nor less your ministration, fierce and wild,
Of those resistless laws which ye obey

In your apparent lawlessness, - O, say,
Is not your will-less agency reviled
When it is likened unto what is styled
By such unwise, The Spirit of the Day?

Not all the islands by tornadoes swept,
E’er knew such ruin as befalls a state,
When not the winds of God, but mortal breath,

With threatening sweetness of melodious hate,
Assaults the fabrics reverent ages kept
To shelter ancient loyalty and faith.]]>