The V Day Massacre
I thought a bit of my old friend Byron would suit. Don Juan, always a favourite of mine, the little scamp.
Alas! the love of women! it is known
To be a lovely and a fearful thing;
For all of theirs upon that die is thrown,
And if 't is lost, life hath no more to bring
To them but mockeries of the past alone,
And their revenge is as the tiger's spring.
Deadly, and quick, and crushing ; yet, as real
Torture is theirs, what they inflict they feel.
They are right; for man, to man so oft unjust,
Is always so to women ; one sole bond
Awaits them, treachery is all their trust;
Taught to conceal, their bursting hearts despond
Over their idol, till some wealthier lust
Buys them in marriage—and what rests beyond?
A thankless husband, next a faithless lover,
Then dressing, nursing, praying, and all's over.
Some take a lover, some take drams or prayers,
Some mind their household, others dissipation,
Some run away, and but exchange their cares,
Losing the advantage of a virtuous station;
Few changes e'er can better their affairs,
Theirs being an unnatural situation,
From the dull palace to the dirty hovel:
Some play the devil, and then write a novel.
Cheering, no?
Alas! the love of women! it is known
To be a lovely and a fearful thing;
For all of theirs upon that die is thrown,
And if 't is lost, life hath no more to bring
To them but mockeries of the past alone,
And their revenge is as the tiger's spring.
Deadly, and quick, and crushing ; yet, as real
Torture is theirs, what they inflict they feel.
They are right; for man, to man so oft unjust,
Is always so to women ; one sole bond
Awaits them, treachery is all their trust;
Taught to conceal, their bursting hearts despond
Over their idol, till some wealthier lust
Buys them in marriage—and what rests beyond?
A thankless husband, next a faithless lover,
Then dressing, nursing, praying, and all's over.
Some take a lover, some take drams or prayers,
Some mind their household, others dissipation,
Some run away, and but exchange their cares,
Losing the advantage of a virtuous station;
Few changes e'er can better their affairs,
Theirs being an unnatural situation,
From the dull palace to the dirty hovel:
Some play the devil, and then write a novel.
Cheering, no?
posted by Lady V at 12:02 am
3 Comments:
byron been a long standing favourite of pod's. shags his half sister augusta. deformity in the form of a clubbed foot. liked to dress in turbans. tragic death clouded in mystery and intrigue. fondness for buggery. devastatingly handsome. frankly, my ideal.
Do I detect a certain... shall we say... desperate tone in these lines? Perhaps of a man who wished he'd been gay?
defects, incest, closeted homosexuality...
all well and good, tots, but do keep up with the program. it's been too long since you've blogged properly.
yours, attentively,
sxg
p.s. how do you feel about fischerspooner?
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