Manage episode 189870582 series 1412651
The poet this week is Anna Seward: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/anna-seward
Make your calls to make the world a better place: https://5calls.org/
Riverhouse Games Thanks You!
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Battlebards Tracks used:
Elven Dirge – Farewell – Score Music – Philippe Payet
Druid’s Grove – Life Answers – Score Music – Richard Daskas
Heavenly Plane – Crystal Arch – Score Music – Ian Fisher
For a long time, we were at war with The Jackals. But now, we’ve driven them off, and we have this – a year of relative peace. In this moment, there is an opportunity to build something.
A week has passed.
While summer roses all their glory yield to crown the votary of love and joy, misfortune’s victim hails, with many a sigh, thee, scarlet Poppy of the pathless field, gaudy, yet wild and lone; no leaf to shield thy flaccid vest that, as the gale blows high, flaps, and alternate folds around thy head. So stands in the long grass a love-crazed maid, smiling aghast; while stream to every wind her garish ribbons, smeared with dust and rain; but brain-sick visions cheat her tortured mind, and bring false peace. Thus, lulling grief and pain, kind dreams oblivious from thy juice proceed, thou flimsy, showy, melancholy weed.
We wake and the girl on whom we all depend who had been with us a long time is gone. We can feel her absence more than we had in her time in the woods. Now she has left for good.
While one sere leaf, that parting Autumn yields, trembles upon the thin, and naked spray of the river, November, dragging on this sunless day, lours, cold and sullen, on the watery fields; and Nature to the waste dominion yields, stripped her last robes, with gold and purple gay — so droops our life, of our soft beams despoiled, Youth, Health, and Hope, that long exulting smiled; and the wild carols, and the bloomy hues of merry Spring-time, spruce on every plain her half-blown bushes, moist with sunny rain, more pensive thoughts in my sunk heart infuse than Winter’s grey, and desolate domain faded like my lost Youth, that no bright Spring renews.
On the fleet streams, the Sun, that late arose, in amber radiance plays; the tall young grass no foot hath bruised; clear morning, as the marauders pass, breathing the pure gale, that on the blossom blows; and, as with gold yon green hill’s summit glows as the rising sun sparkles off of their sharp weaponry, the river inlays the vale with molten glass and the desperate heart of their bandit leader glows with hope as she sees our community nestled down the mountainous slope: now is the year’s soft youth, yet one, alas! Cheers not as it was wont; impending woes weigh on her heart as she sees Drach putting final touches on the houses for Djuna’s newcomers; the joys, that once were theirs shared during the War against the Jackals, Spring leads not back; and those that yet remain fade while she blooms. Each hour more lovely shine her crystal beams, and feed her floral train, but oh with pale, and warring fires, decline those eyes, whose light romantic hopes sustain.
Lurking as the marauders do, The Beast watches the bandit leader. Its jaw tight with hunger but its body too weak to strike outright. As it perches above the marauders, it watches them as they watch us, both waiting for the right moment to strike.
Behold that tree, in Autumn’s dim decay, stripped by the frequent, chill, and eddying wind; where yet some yellow, lonely leaves we find lingering and trembling on the naked spray, twenty, perchance, for millions whirled away! Emblem, also! too just, of humankind! Vain man expects longevity, designed for few indeed; and their protracted day.
Down in our community, Safwan gives a small cough as the autumn chill tickles their lungs. What is it worth that Wisdom does not scorn? The blasts of sickness, care, and grief appall, that laid the friends in dust, whose natal morn rose near their own; and solemn is the call; yet, like those weak deserted leaves forlorn, shivering they cling to life, and fear the fall. We begin a project to erect a hospital, a safe tent for those ill. As the nights grow longer and the warmth of the mountains turns into a rocky chill, we may need this facility in short order.
And a week passes.
Thank you for joining us for the twenty ninth episode of From The Jackals To The Shepherds. If you like this show please give us a rating on iTunes, tell a friend, or share us on social media. As always the intro for the show was read by Dave Lapru, who is also our mapkeeper. You can find Dave on twitter at plantbird, and I’m at leviathan files. This week’s poet is Anna Seward. Please consider visiting our website at Riverhouse Games dot com, or supporting this show and other Riverhouse Games work on Patreon at patreon dot com slash Riverhouse Games. Music for this episode was provided by Battlebards dot com.
Listeners, I have a favor to ask of you. In these times there’s a lot that scares me in the world, but we have to stand up as a people and make our voices heard. I ask that you make a few phone calls to your representatives about issues that matter to you. I’ve been using a great website at 5 Calls dot org which provides critical issues, background information, contact info, and even scripts to read while on the phone. Thankfully my representative’s offices have been polite and personable when I call, but if you’re worried about it, or if you experience phone anxiety, there’s an app you can download called Stance, which allows you to pre-record your statement, which it will then deliver straight to the representative’s voicemail. Today I’m calling to demand that congress pass a clean DREAM act:
In September, Trump rescinded the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals act, threatening over 800,000 undocumented young people with deportation. The declaration gave Congress until March of 2018 to pass a legislative fix or equivalent to DACA, or else those currently protected would face rapid deportation. The most robust legislative fix is the DREAM Act, a bipartisan bill originally drafted in 2001 that not only provides protection and work permits to roughly a million undocumented immigrants, but also a path to legal citizenship.
Please make your calls to help make our world a better place. Thank you, I love you, and I’m proud of you in advance.
And until next week, I hope your week goes well.http://traffic.libsyn.com/theleviathanfiles/Jackals_29.mp3
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