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Philippine Senate to Probe Philhealth Scam

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Senator Leila de Lima

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Websites To Make Your Life Easier During Covid Pandemic

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Warning to those corrupt in the government

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Websites To Make Your Life Easier During Covid Pandemic

www.nordvpn.com - Browse the Internet fast and anonymously and without a trace

www.kaspersky.com - Download Kaspersky anti-virus to protect your phones and laptops

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After School Activity

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After School Burnout

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After School Activity

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After school activities and burnout For millions of parents around the world, the day does not end with the school bell. There are still pictures to be painted, songs to be sung and games to be played. This all adds up to keeping children happy, safe and out of trouble. But, parents have to steer away from going overboard. After school is not baby-sitting: After school activities thrive only if it is backed by sufficient parental involvement. What would a soccer match be without parents cheering their little heroes from the sidelines?. Research and choose: Instead of convenience being the decisive factor, find out things that will interest your child. Once you select a program, get the fine print and find out what you have to contribute. Free time: Many children attend piano classes, followed by ballet and squeeze in some time for play dates in between just before they rush home in time for bed. This rigor is too much for a child. So, go slow. When to quit: Often, parents enroll their child in an activity to discover that he may not be the prodigy they thought he would be. This is the time to let go. Your child may not become the next wonder-kid. But, let him cultivate an interest that he enjoys. Remember, happiness and fulfillment are all that matter.

A home-based after school program So, your son's school does not offer any extracurricular activities. You are worried of depriving your child of all that extra knowledge and fun. What should you do? After school activities need not be taught in a school-like environment by professional teachers in a structured and timely manner. There is a lot YOU can do to support your child's academic, physical and social development. Do not be too concerned about formal programs, as many of our children are already over-scheduled. Obviously, school is top priority for children. They need to go to school, and finish their homework. They should then do their daily reading or writing work etc. This may take about 30-60 minutes. In the course of his daily work, your child may develop certain academic preferences and interests. In that case, you can try and find a program in a college or a community center that will help him and encourage him. In the age of the Internet, information is really not a rarity. Allow him to use the net to find more information about thing that he likes. Encouraging the child to do independent research to gain in-depth knowledge is something that no formal program does. If you are concerned about the lack of social life, enroll him or her in a club - a reading club maybe. Visit public libraries or even the theatre, if your child is interested. It is not necessary for your child to make friends with children his own age. A parent-child book club is another interesting option. If you can round up a number of like-minded children and their parents, you may well start your own after-school program. When there is no organized group activity, look to your community. Many children love to get involved in social problems. They get their first real taste of suffering, charity and community help from such experiences. Volunteering for clean-up sessions, adult education programs etc could be a real eye-opener for your child. The lessons thus learnt are invaluable. If physical activity or the lack of it is your major concern, enroll your child for some dancing classes. If organized sports are impossible to get, try to enroll her in a gym. She may find friends there and may take to the treadmill. Your child does not necessarily have to be a part of an organized group to benefit from after-school activities. There are various avenues open in front of you. Roping in the enthusiasm of your children in daily household activities like cooking, cleaning etc can also provide them with a refreshing extracurricular experience. Moreover, it will improve family ties too.

THE EMPEROR'S RETURN by Victor Hugo
     ("Un bouffon manquait à cette fête.")

     {LES BURGRAVES, Part II.}
     The EMPEROR FREDERICK BARBAROSSA, believed to be dead, appearing
     as a beggar among the Rhenish nobility at a castle, suddenly reveals
     himself.

       HATTO. This goodly masque but lacked a fool!
     First gypsy; next a beggar;â€"good! Thy name?

       BARBAROSSA. Frederick of Swabia, Emperor of Almain.

       ALL. The Red Beard?

       BARBAROSSA. Aye, Frederick, by my mountain birthright Prince
     O' th' Romans, chosen king, crowned emperor,
     Heaven's sword-bearer, monarch of Burgundy
     And Arlesâ€"the tomb of Karl I dared profane,
     But have repented me on bended knees
     In penance 'midst the desert twenty years;
     My drink the rain, the rocky herbs my food,
     Myself a ghost the shepherds fled before,
     And the world named me as among the dead.
     But I have heard my country callâ€"come forth,
     Lifted the shroudâ€"broken the sepulchre.
     This hour is one when dead men needs must rise.
     Ye own me? Ye mind me marching through these vales
     When golden spur was ringing at my heel?
     Now know me what I am, your master, earls!
     Brave knights you deem! You say, "The sons we are
     Of puissant barons and great noblemen,
     Whose honors we prolong." You do prolong them?
     Your sires were soldiers brave, not prowlers base,
     Rogues, miscreants, felons, village-ravagers!
     They made great wars, they rode like heroes forth,
     And, worthy, won broad lands and towers and towns,
     So firmly won that thirty years of strife
     Made of their followers dukes, their leaders kings!
     While you! like jackal and the bird of prey,
     Who lurk in copses or 'mid muddy bedsâ€"
     Crouching and hushed, with dagger ready drawn,
     Hide in the noisome marsh that skirts the way,
     Trembling lest passing hounds snuff out your lair!
     Listen at eventide on lonesome path
     For traveller's footfall, or the mule-bell's chime,
     Pouncing by hundreds on one helpless man,
     To cut him down, then back to your retreatsâ€"
     You dare to vaunt your sires? I call your sires,
     Bravest of brave and greatest 'mid the great,
     A line of warriors! you, a pack of thieves!

     Athenaeum.


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THE SON IN OLD AGE by Victor Hugo
     ("Ma Regina, cette noble figure.")

     {LES BURGRAVES, Part II.}
     Thy noble face, Regina, calls to mind
     My poor lost little one, my latest born.
     He was a gift from Godâ€"a sign of pardonâ€"
     That child vouchsafed me in my eightieth year!
     I to his little cradle went, and went,
     And even while 'twas sleeping, talked to it.
     For when one's very old, one is a child!
     Then took it up and placed it on my knees,
     And with both hands stroked down its soft, light hairâ€"
     Thou wert not born thenâ€"and he would stammer
     Those pretty little sounds that make one smile!
     And though not twelve months old, he had a mind.
     He recognized meâ€"nay, knew me right well,
     And in my face would laughâ€"and that child-laugh,
     Oh, poor old man! 'twas sunlight to my heart.
     I meant him for a soldier, ay, a conqueror,
     And named him George. One dayâ€"oh, bitter thought!
     The child played in the fields. When thou art mother,
     Ne'er let thy children out of sight to play!
     The gypsies took him from meâ€"oh, for what?
     Perhaps to kill him at a witch's rite.
     I weep!â€"now, after twenty yearsâ€"I weep
     As if 'twere yesterday. I loved him so!
     I used to call him "my own little king!"
     I was intoxicated with my joy
     When o'er my white beard ran his rosy hands,
     Thrilling me all through.

     Foreign Quarterly Review.

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THE FIRST BLACK FLAG by Victor Hugo
     ("Avez-vous oui dire?")

     {LES BURGRAVES, Part I., March, 1843.}
       JOB. Hast thou ne'er heard men say
     That, in the Black Wood, 'twixt Cologne and Spire,
     Upon a rock flanked by the towering mountains,
     A castle stands, renowned among all castles?
     And in this fort, on piles of lava built,
     A burgrave dwells, among all burgraves famed?
     Hast heard of this wild man who laughs at lawsâ€"
     Charged with a thousand crimesâ€"for warlike deeds
     Renownedâ€"and placed under the Empire's ban
     By the Diet of Frankfort; by the Council
     Of Pisa banished from the Holy Church;
     Reprobate, isolated, cursedâ€"yet still
     Unconquered 'mid his mountains and in will;
     The bitter foe of the Count Palatine
     And Treves' proud archbishop; who has spurned
     For sixty years the ladder which the Empire
     Upreared to scale his walls? Hast heard that he
     Shelters the braveâ€"the flaunting rich man stripsâ€"
     Of master makes a slave? That here, above
     All dukes, aye, kings, eke emperorsâ€"in the eyes
     Of Germany to their fierce strife a prey,
     He rears upon his tower, in stern defiance,
     A signal of appeal to the crushed people,
     A banner vast, of Sorrow's sable hue,
     Snapped by the tempest in its whirlwind wrath,
     So that kings quiver as the jades at whips?
     Hast heard, he touches now his hundredth yearâ€"
     And that, defying fate, in face of heaven,
     On his invincible peak, no force of war
     Uprooting other holdsâ€"nor powerful Cæsarâ€"
     Nor Romeâ€"nor age, that bows the pride of manâ€"
     Nor aught on earthâ€"hath vanquished, or subdued,
     Or bent this ancient Titan of the Rhine,
     The excommunicated Job?

     Democratic Review.

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FIRST LOVE by Victor Hugo
     ("Vous êtes singulier.")

     {MARION DELORME, Act I., June, 1829, played 1831.}

     MARION (smiling.) You're strange, and yet I love you thus.

     DIDIER.                     You love me?
     Beware, nor with light lips utter that word.
     You love me!â€"know you what it is to love
     With love that is the life-blood in one's veins,
     The vital air we breathe, a love long-smothered,
     Smouldering in silence, kindling, burning, blazing,
     And purifying in its growth the soul.
     A love that from the heart eats every passion
     But its sole self; love without hope or limit,
     Deep love that will outlast all happiness;
     Speak, speak; is such the love you bear me?

     MARION.                                      Truly.

     DIDIER. Ha! but you do not know how I love you!
     The day that first I saw you, the dark world
     Grew shining, for your eyes lighted my gloom.
     Since then, all things have changed; to me you are
     Some brightest, unknown creature from the skies.
     This irksome life, 'gainst which my heart rebelled,
     Seems almost fair and pleasant; for, alas!
     Till I knew you wandering, alone, oppressed,
     I wept and struggled, I had never loved.

     FANNY KEMBLE-BUTLER.

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MILTON'S APPEAL TO CROMWELL by Victor Hugo
     ("Non! je n'y puis tenir.")

     {CROMWELL, Act III. sc. iv.}
     Stay! I no longer can contain myself,
     But cry you: Look on John, who bares his mind
     To Oliverâ€"to Cromwell, Milton speaks!
     Despite a kindling eye and marvel deep
     A voice is lifted up without your leave;
     For I was never placed at council board
     To speak my promptings. When awed strangers come
     Who've seen Fox-Mazarin wince at the stings
     In my epistlesâ€"and bring admiring votes
     Of learned colleges, they strain to see
     My figure in the glareâ€"the usher utters,
     "Behold and hearken! that's my Lord Protector's
     Cousinâ€"that, his son-in-lawâ€"that next"â€"who cares!
     Some perfumed puppet! "Milton?" "He in blackâ€"
     Yon silent scribe who trims their eloquence!"
     Still 'chronicling small-beer,'â€"such is my duty!
     Yea, one whose thunder roared through martyr bones
     Till Pope and Louis Grand quaked on their thrones,
     And echoed "Vengeance for the Vaudois," where
     The Sultan slumbers sick with scent of roses.
     He is but the mute in this seraglioâ€"
     "Pure" Cromwell's Council!
     But to be dumb and blind is overmuch!
     Impatient Issachar kicks at the load!
     Yet diadems are burdens painfuller,
     And I would spare thee that sore imposition.
     Dear brother Noll, I plead against thyself!
     Thou aim'st to be a king; and, in thine heart,
     What fool has said: "There is no king but thou?"
     For thee the multitude waged war and wonâ€"
     The end thou art of wrestlings and of prayer,
     Of sleepless watch, long marches, hunger, tears
     And blood prolifically spilled, homes lordless,
     And homeless lords! The mass must always suffer
     That one should reign! the collar's but newly clamp'd,
     And nothing but the name thereon is changedâ€"
     Master? still masters! mark you not the red
     Of shame unutterable in my sightless white?
     Still hear me, Cromwell, speaking for your sake!
     These fifteen years, we, to you whole-devoted,
     Have sought for Libertyâ€"to give it thee?
     To make our interests your huckster gains?
     The king a lion slain that you may flay,
     And wear the robeâ€"well, worthilyâ€"I say't,
     For I will not abase my brother!
     No! I would keep him in the realm serene,
     My own ideal of heroes! loved o'er Israel,
     And higher placed by me than all the others!
     And such, for tinkling titles, hollow haloes
     Like that around yon painted browâ€"thou! thou!
     Apostle, hero, saint-dishonor thyself!
     And snip and trim the flag of Naseby-field
     As scarf on which the maid-of-honor's dog
     Will yelp, some summer afternoon! That sword
     Shrink into a sceptre! brilliant bauble! Thou,
     Thrown on a lonely rock in storm of state,
     Brain-turned by safety's miracle, thou risest
     Upon the tott'ring stone whilst ocean ebbs,
     And, reeking of no storms to come to-morrow,
     Or to-morrowâ€"deem that a certain pedestal
     Whereon thou'lt be adored for e'erâ€"e'en while
     It shakesâ€"o'ersets the rider! Tremble, thou!
     For he who dazzles, makes men Samson-blind,
     Will see the pillars of his palace kiss
     E'en at the whelming ruin! Then, what word
     Of answer from your wreck when I demand
     Account of Cromwell! glory of the people
     Smothered in ashes! through the dust thou'lt hear;
     "What didst thou with thy virtue?" Will it respond:
     "When battered helm is doffed, how soft is purple
     On which to lay the head, lulled by the praise
     Of thousand fluttering fans of flatterers!
     Wearied of war-horse, gratefully one glides
     In gilded barge, or in crowned, velvet car,
     From gay Whitehall to gloomy Temple Barâ€""
     (Whereâ€"had you slipt, that head were bleaching now!
     And that same rabble, splitting for a hedge,
     Had joined their rows to cheer the active headsman;
     Perchance, in mockery, they'd gird the skull
     With a hop-leaf crown! Bitter the brewing, Noll!)
     Are crowns the end-all of ambition? Remember
     Charles Stuart! and that they who make can break!
     This same Whitehall may black its front with crape,
     And this broad window be the portal twice
     To lead upon a scaffold! Frown! or laugh!
     Laugh on as they did at Cassandra's speech!
     But markâ€"the prophetess was right! Still laugh,
     Like the credulous Ethiop in his faith in stars!
     But give one thought to Stuart, two for yourself!
     In his appointed hour, all was forthcomingâ€"
     Judge, axe, and deathsman veiled! and my poor eyes
     Descryâ€"as would thou saw'st!â€"a figure veiled,
     Uplooming thereâ€"afar, like sunrise, coming!
     With blade that ne'er spared Judas 'midst free brethren!
     Stretch not the hand of Cromwell for the prize
     Meant not for him, nor his! Thou growest old,
     The people are ever young! Like her i' the chase
     Who drave a dart into her lover, embowered,
     Piercing the incense-clouds, the popular shaft
     May slay thee in a random shot at Tyranny!
     Man, friend, remain a Cromwell! in thy name,
     Rule! and if thy son be worthy, he and his,
     So rule the rest for ages! be it grander thus
     To be a Cromwell than a Carolus.
     No lapdog combed by wantons, but the watch
     Upon the freedom that we won! Dismiss
     Your flatterersâ€"let no harpings, no gay songs
     Prevent your calm dictation of good laws
     To guard, to fortify, and keep enlinked
     England and Freedom! Be thine old self alone!
     And make, above all else accorded me,
     My most desired claim on all posterity,
     That thou in Milton's verse wert foremost of the free!

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CROMWELL AND THE CROWN by Victor Hugo
     ("Ah! je le tiens enfin.")

     {CROMWELL, Act II., October, 1827.}
THURLOW communicates the intention of Parliament to
     offer CROMWELL the crown.

       CROMWELL. And is it mine? And have my feet at length
     Attained the summit of the rock i' the sand?

       THURLOW. And yet, my lord, you have long reigned.

       CROM.                                   Nay, nay!
     Power I have 'joyed, in sooth, but not the name.
     Thou smilest, Thurlow. Ah, thou little know'st
     What hole it is Ambition digs i' th' heart
     What end, most seeming empty, is the mark
     For which we fret and toil and dare! How hard
     With an unrounded fortune to sit down!
     Then, what a lustre from most ancient times
     Heaven has flung o'er the sacred head of kings!
     Kingâ€"Majestyâ€"what names of power! No king,
     And yet the world's high arbiter! The thing
     Without the word! no handle to the blade!
     Awayâ€"the empire and the name are one!
     Alack! thou little dream'st how grievous 'tis,
     Emerging from the crowd, and at the top
     Arrived, to feel that there is something still
     Above our heads; something, nothing! no matterâ€"
     That word is everything.

     LEITCH RITCHIE.


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THE LOVERS' COLLOQUY by Victor Hugo
     ("Mon duc, rien qu'un moment.")

     {HERNANI, Act V.}
     One little moment to indulge the sight
     With the rich beauty of the summer's night.
     The harp is hushed, and, see, the torch is dim,â€"
     Night and ourselves together. To the brim
     The cup of our felicity is filled.
     Each sound is mute, each harsh sensation stilled.
     Dost thou not think that, e'en while nature sleeps,
     Some power its amorous vigils o'er us keeps?
     No cloud in heaven; while all around repose,
     Come taste with me the fragrance of the rose,
     Which loads the night-air with its musky breath,
     While everything is still as nature's death.
     E'en as you spokeâ€"and gentle words were those
     Spoken by you,â€"the silver moon uprose;
     How that mysterious union of her ray,
     With your impassioned accents, made its way
     Straight to my heart! I could have wished to die
     In that pale moonlight, and while thou wert by.

       HERNANI. Thy words are music, and thy strain of love
     Is borrowed from the choir of heaven above.

       DONNA SOL. Night is too silent, darkness too profound
     Oh, for a star to shine, a voice to soundâ€"
     To raise some sudden note of music now
     Suited to night.

       HERN.           Capricious girl! your vow
     Was poured for silence, and to be released
     From the thronged tumult of the marriage feast.

       DONNA SOL. Yes; but one bird to carol in the field,â€"
     A nightingale, in mossy shade concealed,â€"
     A distant flute,â€"for music's stream can roll
     To soothe the heart, and harmonize the soul,â€"
     O! 'twould be bliss to listen.

     {Distant sound of a horn, the signal that HERNANI
     must go to DON RUY, who, having saved his
     life, had him bound in a vow to yield it up.}

     LORD F. LEVESON GOWER (1ST EARL OF ELLESMERE).

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THE ROLL OF THE DE SILVA RACE by Victor Hugo
     ("Celui-ci, des Silvas, c'est l'aîné.")

     {HERNANI, Act III.}
                     In that reverend face
     Behold the father of De Silva's race,
     Silvius; in Rome he filled the consul's place
     Three times (your patience for such honored names).
     This second was Grand Master of St. James
     And Calatrava; his strong limbs sustained
     Armor which ours would sink beneath. He gained
     Thirty pitched battles, and took, as legends tell,
     Three hundred standards from the Infidel;
     And from the Moorish King Motril, in war,
     Won Antiquera, Suez, and Nijar;
     And then died poor. Next to him Juan stands,
     His son; his plighted hand was worth the hands
     Of kings. Next Gaspar, of Mendoza's lineâ€"
     Few noble stems but chose to join with mine:
     Sandoval sometimes fears, and sometimes woos
     Our smiles; Manriquez envies; Lara sues;
     And Alancastre hates. Our rank we know:
     Kings are but just above us, dukes below.
     Vasquez, who kept for sixty years his vowâ€"
     Greater than he I pass. This reverend brow,
     This was my sire'sâ€"the greatest, though the last:
     The Moors his friend had taken and made fastâ€"
     Alvar Giron. What did my father then?
     He cut in stone an image of Alvar,
     Cunningly carved, and dragged it to the war;
     He vowed a vow to yield no inch of ground
     Until that image of itself turned round;
     He reached Alvarâ€"he saved himâ€"and his line
     Was old De Silva's, and his name was mineâ€"
     Ruy Gomez.

       King CARLOS. Drag me from his lurking-place
     The traitor!

     {DON RUY leads the KING to the portrait behind
     which HERNANI is hiding.}

                   Sire, your highness does me grace.
     This, the last portrait, bears my form and name,
     And you would write this motto on the frame!
     "This last, sprung from the noblest and the best,
     Betrayed his plighted troth, and sold his guest!"

     LORD F. LEVESON GOWER (1ST EARL OF ELLESMERE)


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THE OLD MAN'S LOVE by Victor Hugo
     ("Dérision! que cet amour boiteux.")

     {HERNANI, Act III.}
     O mockery! that this halting love
     That fills the heart so full of flame and transport,
     Forgets the body while it fires the soul!
     If but a youthful shepherd cross my path,
     He singing on the wayâ€"I sadly musing,
     He in his fields, I in my darksome alleysâ€"
     Then my heart murmurs: "O, ye mouldering towers!
     Thou olden ducal dungeon! O how gladly
     Would I exchange ye, and my fields and forests,
     Mine ancient name, mine ancient rank, my ruinsâ€"
     My ancestors, with whom I soon shall lie,
     For his thatched cottage and his youthful brow!"
     His hair is blackâ€"his eyes shine forth like thine.
     Him thou might'st look upon, and say, fair youth,
     Then turn to me, and think that I am old.
     And yet the light and giddy souls of cavaliers
     Harbor no love so fervent as their words bespeak.
     Let some poor maiden love them and believe them,
     Then die for themâ€"they smile. Aye! these young birds,
     With gay and glittering wing and amorous song,
     Can shed their love as lightly as their plumage.
     The old, whose voice and colors age has dimmed,
     Flatter no more, and, though less fair, are faithful.
     When we love, we love true. Are our steps frail?
     Our eyes dried up and withered? Are our brows
     Wrinkled? There are no wrinkles in the heart.
     Ah! when the graybeard loves, he should be spared;
     The heart is youngâ€"that bleeds unto the last.
     I love thee as a spouse,â€"and in a thousand
     Other fashions,â€"as sire,â€"as we love
     The morn, the flowers, the overhanging heavens.
     Ah me! when day by day I gaze upon thee,
     Thy graceful step, thy purely-polished brow,
     Thine eyes' calm fire,â€"I feel my heart leap up,
     And an eternal sunshine bathe my soul.
     And think, too! Even the world admires,
     When age, expiring, for a moment totters
     Upon the marble margin of a tomb,
     To see a wifeâ€"a pure and dove-like angelâ€"
     Watch over him, soothe him, and endure awhile
     The useless old man, only fit to die;
     A sacred task, and worthy of all honor,
     This latest effort of a faithful heart;
     Which, in his parting hour, consoles the dying,
     And, without loving, wears the look of love.
     Ah! thou wilt be to me this sheltering angel,
     To cheer the old man's heartâ€"to share with him
     The burden of his evil years;â€"a daughter
     In thy respect, a sister in thy pity.

       DONNA SOL. My fate may be more to precede than follow.
     My lord, it is no reason for long life
     That we are young! Alas! I have seen too oft
     The old clamped firm to life, the young torn thence;
     And the lids close as sudden o'er their eyes
     As gravestones sealing up the sepulchre.

     G. MOIR.


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THE LOVER'S SACRIFICE by Victor Hugo
     ("Fuyons ensemble.")

     {HERNANI, Act II.}
       DONNA SOL.                  Together let us fly!

       HERNANI. Together? No! the hour is past for flight.
     Dearest, when first thy beauty smote my sight,
     I offered, for the love that bade me live,
     Wretch that I was, what misery had to give:
     My wood, my stream, my mountain. Bolder grown,
     By thy compassion to an outlaw shown,
     The outlaw's meal beneath the forest shade,
     The outlaw's couch far in the greenwood glade,
     I offered. Though to both that couch be free,
     I keep the scaffold block reserved for me.

       DONNA SOL. And yet you promised?

       HERNANI (falls on his knee.)  Angel! in this hour,
     Pursued by vengeance and oppressed by powerâ€"
     Even in this hour when death prepares to close
     In shame and pain a destiny of woesâ€"
     Yes, I, who from the world proscribed and cast,
     Have nursed one dark remembrance of the past,
     E'en from my birth in sorrow's garment clad,
     Have cause to smile and reason to be glad;
     For you have loved the outlaw and have shed
     Your whispered blessings on his forfeit head.

       DONNA SOL. Let me go with you.

       HERNANI.                      No! I will not rend
     From its fair stem the flower as I descend.
     Goâ€"I have smelt its perfume. Goâ€"resume
     All that this grasp has brushed away of bloom.
     Wed the old man,â€"believe that ne'er we met;
     I seek my shadeâ€"be happy, and forget!

     LORD F. LEVESON GOWER (1ST EARL OF ELLESMERE).

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THE SPANISH LADY'S LOVE by Victor Hugo
     DONNA SOL to HERNANI.

     ("Nous partirons demain.")

     {HERNANI, ACT I.}
     To mount the hills or scaffold, we go to-morrow:
     Hernani, blame me not for this my boldness.
     Art thou mine evil genius or mine angel?
     I know not, but I am thy slave. Now hear me:
     Go where thou wilt, I follow thee. Remain,
     And I remain. Why do I thus? I know not.
     I feel that I must see theeâ€"see thee stillâ€"
     See thee for ever. When thy footstep dies,
     It is as if my heart no more would beat;
     When thou art gone, I am absent from myself;
     But when the footstep which I love and long for
     Strikes on mine ear againâ€"then I remember
     I live, and feel my soul return to me.

     G. MOIR.

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THE OLD AND THE YOUNG BRIDEGROOM by Victor Hugo
     ("L'homme auquel on vous destina.")

     {HERNANI, Act I.}
     Listen. The man for whom your youth is destined,
     Your uncle, Ruy de Silva, is the Duke
     Of Pastrana, Count of Castile and Aragon.
     For lack of youth, he brings you, dearest girl,
     Treasures of gold, jewels, and precious gems,
     With which your brow might outshine royalty;
     And for rank, pride, splendor, and opulence,
     Might many a queen be envious of his duchess!
     Here is one picture. I am poor; my youth
     I passed i' the woods, a barefoot fugitive.
     My shield, perchance, may bear some noble blazons
     Spotted with blood, defaced though not dishonored.
     Perchance I, too, have rights, now veiled in darkness,â€"
     Rights, which the heavy drapery of the scaffold
     Now hides beneath its black and ample folds;
     Rights which, if my intent deceive me not,
     My sword shall one day rescue. To be brief:â€"
     I have received from churlish Fortune nothing
     But air, light, water,â€"Nature's general boon.
     Choose, then, between us two, for you must choose;â€"
     Say, will you wed the duke, or follow me?

       DONNA SOL. I'll follow you.

       HERN. What, 'mongst my rude companions,
     Whose names are registered in the hangman's book?
     Whose hearts are ever eager as their swords,
     Edged by a personal impulse of revenge?
     Will you become the queen, dear, of my band?
     Will you become a hunted outlaw's bride?
     When all Spain else pursued and banished me,â€"
     In her proud forests and air-piercing mountains,
     And rocks the lordly eagle only knew,
     Old Catalonia took me to her bosom.
     Among her mountaineers, free, poor, and brave,
     I ripened into manhood, and, to-morrow,
     One blast upon my horn, among her hills,
     Would draw three thousand of her sons around me.
     You shudder,â€"think upon it. Will you tread
     The shores, woods, mountains, with me, among men
     Like the dark spirits of your haunted dreams,â€"
     Suspect all eyes, all voices, every footstep,â€"
     Sleep on the grass, drink of the torrent, hear
     By night the sharp hiss of the musket-ball
     Whistling too near your ear,â€"a fugitive
     Proscribed, and doomed mayhap to follow me
     In the path leading to my father's scaffold?

       DONNA SOL. I'll follow you.

       HERN.           This duke is rich, great, prosperous,
     No blot attaches to his ancient name.
     He is all-powerful. He offers you
     His treasures, titles, honors, with his hand.

       DONNA SOL. We will depart to-morrow. Do not blame
     What may appear a most unwomanly boldness.

     CHARLES SHERRY.

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THE DEGENERATE GALLANTS by Victor Hugo
     ("Mes jeunes cavaliers.")

     {HERNANI, Act I., March, 1830.}
     What business brings you here, young cavaliers?
     Men like the Cid, the knights of bygone years,
     Rode out the battle of the weak to wage,
     Protecting beauty and revering age.
     Their armor sat on them, strong men as true,
     Much lighter than your velvet rests on you.
     Not in a lady's room by stealth they knelt;
     In church, by day, they spoke the love they felt.
     They kept their houses' honor bright from rust,
     They told no secret, and betrayed no trust;
     And if a wife they wanted, bold and gay,
     With lance, or axe, or falchion, and by day,
     Bravely they won and wore her. As for those
     Who slip through streets when honest men repose,
     With eyes turned to the ground, and in night's shade
     The rights of trusting husbands to invade;
     I say the Cid would force such knaves as these
     To beg the city's pardon on their knees;
     And with the flat of his all-conquering blade
     Their rank usurped and 'scutcheon would degrade.
     Thus would the men of former times, I say,
     Treat the degenerate minions of to-day.

     LORD F. LEVESON GOWER (1ST EARL OF ELLESMERE.)


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PATERNAL LOVE by Victor Hugo
     ("Ma fille! ô seul bonheur.")

     {LE ROI S'AMUSE, Act II}
     My child! oh, only blessing Heaven allows me!
     Others have parents, brothers, kinsmen, friends,
     A wife, a husband, vassals, followers,
     Ancestors, and allies, or many children.
     I have but thee, thee only. Some are rich;
     Thou art my treasure, thou art all my riches.
     And some believe in angels; I believe
     In nothing but thy soul. Others have youth,
     And woman's love, and pride, and grace, and health;
     Others are beautiful; thou art my beauty,
     Thou art my home, my country and my kin,
     My wife, my mother, sister, friendâ€"my child!
     My bliss, my wealth, my worship, and my law,
     My Universe! Oh, by all other things
     My soul is tortured. If I should ever lose theeâ€"
     Horrible thought! I cannot utter it.
     Smile, for thy smile is like thy mother's smiling.
     She, too, was fair; you have a trick like her,
     Of passing oft your hand athwart your brow
     As though to clear it. Innocence still loves
     A brow unclouded and an azure eye.
     To me thou seem'st clothed in a holy halo,
     My soul beholds thy soul through thy fair body;
     E'en when my eyes are shut, I see thee still;
     Thou art my daylight, and sometimes I wish
     That Heaven had made me blind that thou might'st be
     The sun that lighted up the world for me.

     FANNY KEMBLE-BUTLER.

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THE FATHER'S CURSE by Victor Hugo
     ("Vous, sire, écoutez-moi.")

     {LE ROI S'AMUSE, Act I.}
     M. ST. VALLIER (an aged nobleman, from whom King Francis I.
     decoyed his daughter, the famous beauty, Diana of
     Poitiers).

     A king should listen when his subjects speak:
     'Tis true your mandate led me to the block,
     Where pardon came upon me, like a dream;
     I blessed you then, unconscious as I was
     That a king's mercy, sharper far than death,
     To save a father doomed his child to shame;
     Yes, without pity for the noble race
     Of Poitiers, spotless for a thousand years,
     You, Francis of Valois, without one spark
     Of love or pity, honor or remorse,
     Did on that night (thy couch her virtue's tomb),
     With cold embraces, foully bring to scorn
     My helpless daughter, Dian of Poitiers.
     To save her father's life a knight she sought,
     Like Bayard, fearless and without reproach.
     She found a heartless king, who sold the boon,
     Making cold bargain for his child's dishonor.
     Oh! monstrous traffic! foully hast thou done!
     My blood was thine, and justly, tho' it springs
     Amongst the best and noblest names of France;
     But to pretend to spare these poor gray locks,
     And yet to trample on a weeping woman,
     Was basely done; the father was thine own,
     But not the daughter!â€"thou hast overpassed
     The right of monarchs!â€"yet 'tis mercy deemed.
     And I perchance am called ungrateful still.
     Oh, hadst thou come within my dungeon walls,
     I would have sued upon my knees for death,
     But mercy for my child, my name, my race,
     Which, once polluted, is my race no more.
     Rather than insult, death to them and me.
     I come not now to ask her back from thee;
     Nay, let her love thee with insensate love;
     I take back naught that bears the brand of shame.
     Keep her! Yet, still, amidst thy festivals,
     Until some father's, brother's, husband's hand
     ('Twill come to pass!) shall rid us of thy yoke,
     My pallid face shall ever haunt thee there,
     To tell thee, Francis, it was foully done!...

       TRIBOULET (the Court Jester), sneering. The poor man
     raves.

       ST. VILLIER. Accursed be ye both!
     Oh Sire! 'tis wrong upon the dying lion
     To loose thy dog!  (Turns to Triboulet)
                        And thou, whoe'er thou art,
     That with a fiendish sneer and viper's tongue
     Makest my tears a pastime and a sport,
     My curse upon thee!â€"Sire, thy brow doth bear
     The gems of France!â€"on mine, old age doth sit;
     Thine decked with jewels, mine with these gray hairs;
     We both are Kings, yet bear a different crown;
     And should some impious hand upon thy head
     Heap wrongs and insult, with thine own strong arm
     Thou canst avenge them! God avenges mine!

     FREDK. L. SLOUS.

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THE QUIET RURAL CHURCH by Victor Hugo
     It was a humble church, with arches low,
       The church we entered there,
     Where many a weary soul since long ago
       Had past with plaint or prayer.

     Mournful and still it was at day's decline,
       The day we entered there;
     As in a loveless heart, at the lone shrine,
       The fires extinguished were.

     Scarcely was heard to float some gentlest sound,
       Scarcely some low breathed word,
     As in a forest fallen asleep, is found
       Just one belated bird.
     A STORM SIMILE.

     ("Oh, regardez le ciel!")

     {June, 1828.}
     See, where on high the moving masses, piled
     By the wind, break in groups grotesque and wild,
           Present strange shapes to view;
     Oft flares a pallid flash from out their shrouds,
     As though some air-born giant 'mid the clouds
           Sudden his falchion drew.

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THE BEGGAR'S QUATRAIN by Victor Hugo
     ("Aveugle comme Homère.")

     {Improvised at the Café de Paris.}
     Blind, as was Homer; as Belisarius, blind,
       But one weak child to guide his vision dim.
     The hand which dealt him bread, in pity kindâ€"
       He'll never see; God sees it, though, for him.

     H.L.C., "London Society."


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LORD ROCHESTER'S SONG by Victor Hugo
     ("Un soldat au dur visage.")

     {CROMWELL, ACT I.}
     "Hold, little blue-eyed page!"
       So cried the watchers surly,
     Stern to his pretty rage
       And golden hair so curlyâ€"
     "Methinks your satin cloak
       Masks something bulky under;
     I take this as no jokeâ€"
       Oh, thief with stolen plunder!"

     "I am of high repute,
       And famed among the truthful:
     This silver-handled lute
       Is meet for one still youthful
     Who goes to keep a tryst
       With her who is his dearest.
     I charge you to desist;
       My cause is of the clearest."

     But guardsmen are so sharp,
       Their eyes are as the lynx's:
     "That's neither lute nor harpâ€"
       Your mark is not the minxes.
     Your loving we disputeâ€"
       That string of steel so cruel
     For music does not suitâ€"
       You go to fight a duel!"

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LOVER'S SONG by Victor Hugo
     ("Mon âme à ton coeur s'est donnée.")

     {ANGELO, Act II., May, 1835.}
     My soul unto thy heart is given,
       In mystic fold do they entwine,
     So bound in one that, were they riven,
       Apart my soul would life resign.
     Thou art my song and I the lyre;
     Thou art the breeze and I the brier;
     The altar I, and thou the fire;
       Mine the deep love, the beauty thine!
     As fleets away the rapid hour
       While weepingâ€"may
       My sorrowing lay
     Touch thee, sweet flower.

     ERNEST OSWALD COE.
     A FLEETING GLIMPSE OF A VILLAGE.

     ("Tout vit! et se pose avec grâce.")
     How graceful the picture! the life, the repose!
       The sunbeam that plays on the porchstone wide;
     And the shadow that fleets o'er the stream that flows,
       And the soft blue sky with the hill's green side.

     Fraser's Magazine.

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ESMERALDA IN PRISON by Victor Hugo
     ("Phoebus, n'est-il sur la terre?")

     {OPERA OF "ESMERALDA," ACT IV., 1836.}
     Phoebus, is there not this side the grave,
                 Power to save
     Those who're loving? Magic balm
     That will restore to me my former calm?
     Is there nothing tearful eye
     Can e'er dry, or hush the sigh?
     I pray Heaven day and night,
     As I lay me down in fright,
     To retake my life, or give
     All again for which I'd live!
     Phoebus, hasten from the shining sphere
                 To me here!
     Hither hasten, bring me Death; then Love
     May let our spirits rise, ever-linked, above!


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TO CRUEL OCEAN by Victor Hugo
     Where are the hapless shipmen?â€"disappeared,
       Gone down, where witness none, save Night, hath been,
     Ye deep, deep waves, of kneeling mothers feared,
       What dismal tales know ye of things unseen?
       Tales that ye tell your whispering selves between
         The while in clouds to the flood-tide ye pour;
       And this it is that gives you, as I ween,
         Those mournful voices, mournful evermore,
         When ye come in at eve to us who dwell on shore.

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AN AUTUMNAL SIMILE by Victor Hugo
     ("Les feuilles qui gisaient.")
     The leaves that in the lonely walks were spread,
     Starting from off the ground beneath the tread,
             Coursed o'er the garden-plain;
     Thus, sometimes, 'mid the soul's deep sorrowings,
     Our soul a moment mounts on wounded wings,
             Then, swiftly, falls again.

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SERENADE by Victor Hugo
     ("Quand tu chantes.")
     When the voice of thy lute at the eve
             Charmeth the ear,
     In the hour of enchantment believe
             What I murmur near.
     That the tune can the Age of Gold
             With its magic restore.
     Play on, play on, my fair one,
             Play on for evermore.

     When thy laugh like the song of the dawn
             Riseth so gay
     That the shadows of Night are withdrawn
             And melt away,
     I remember my years of care
             And misgiving no more.
     Laugh on, laugh on, my fair one,
             Laugh on for evermore.

     When thy sleep like the moonlight above
             Lulling the sea,
     Doth enwind thee in visions of love,
             Perchance, of me!
     I can watch so in dream that enthralled me,
             Never before!
     Sleep on, sleep on, my fair one!
             Sleep on for evermore.

     HENRY F. CHORLEY.


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FREEDOM AND THE WORLD by Victor Hugo
     {Inscription under a Statue of the Virgin and Child, at Guernsey.â€"The
     poet sees in the emblem a modern Atlas, i.e., Freedom supporting the
     World.}

     ("Le peuple est petit.")
     Weak is the Peopleâ€"but will grow beyond all otherâ€"
     Within thy holy arms, thou fruitful victor-mother!
     O Liberty, whose conquering flag is never furledâ€"
     Thou bearest Him in whom is centred all the World.


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OH, WHY NOT BE HAPPY?{1}
By Victor Hugo
     ("A quoi bon entendre les oiseaux?")

     {RUY BLAS, Act II.}
     Oh, why not be happy this bright summer day,
     'Mid perfume of roses and newly-mown hay?
     Great Nature is smilingâ€"the birds in the air
     Sing love-lays together, and all is most fair.
               Then why not be happy
                 This bright summer day,
               'Mid perfume of roses
                 And newly-mown hay?

     The streamlets they wander through meadows so fleet,
     Their music enticing fond lovers to meet;
     The violets are blooming and nestling their heads
     In richest profusion on moss-coated beds.
               Then why not be happy
                 This bright summer day,
               When Nature is fairest
                 And all is so gay?

     LEOPOLD WRAY.

     {Footnote 1: Music composed by Elizabeth Philip.}

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THE SOWER.
     Sitting in a porchway cool,
       Fades the ruddy sunlight fast,
     Twilight hastens on to ruleâ€"
       Working hours are wellnigh past

     Shadows shoot across the lands;
       But one sower lingers still,
     Old, in rags, he patient stands,â€"
       Looking on, I feel a thrill.

     Black and high his silhouette
       Dominates the furrows deep!
     Now to sow the task is set,
       Soon shall come a time to reap.

     Marches he along the plain,
       To and fro, and scatters wide
     From his hands the precious grain;
       Moody, I, to see him stride.

     Darkness deepens. Gone the light.
       Now his gestures to mine eyes
     Are august; and strangeâ€"his height
       Seems to touch the starry skies.

     TORU DUTT.


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THE PITY OF THE ANGELS.
     ("Un Ange vit un jour.")

     {LA PITIÉ SUPREME VIII., 1881.}
     When an angel of kindness
       Saw, doomed to the dark,
     Men framed in his likeness,
       He sought for a sparkâ€"
     Stray gem of God's glory
           That shines so sereneâ€"
       And, falling like lark,
     To brighten our story,
           Pure Pity was seen.


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SWEET SISTER by Victor Hugo
     ("Vous qui ne savez pas combien l'enfance est belle.")
     Sweet sister, if you knew, like me,
     The charms of guileless infancy,
     No more you'd envy riper years,
     Or smiles, more bitter than your tears.

     But childhood passes in an hour,
     As perfume from a faded flower;
     The joyous voice of early glee
     Flies, like the Halcyon, o'er the sea.

     Enjoy your morn of early Spring;
     Soon time maturer thoughts must bring;
     Those hours, like flowers that interclimb,
     Should not be withered ere their time.

     Too soon you'll weep, as we do now,
     O'er faithless friend, or broken vow,
     And hopeless sorrows, which our pride
     In pleasure's whirl would vainly hide.

     Laugh on! unconscious of thy doom,
     All innocence and opening bloom;
     Laugh on! while yet thine azure eye
     Mirrors the peace that reigns on high.

     MRS. B. SOMERS.

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CHARITY by Victor Hugo
     ("Je suis la Charité.")

     {February, 1837.}
     "Lo! I am Charity," she cries,
       "Who waketh up before the day;
     While yet asleep all nature lies,
       God bids me rise and go my way."

     How fair her glorious features shine,
       Whereon the hand of God hath set
     An angel's attributes divine,
       With all a woman's sweetness met.

     Above the old man's couch of woe
       She bows her forehead, pure and even.
     There's nothing fairer here below,
       There's nothing grander up in heaven,

     Than when caressingly she stands
       (The cold hearts wakening 'gain their beat),
     And holds within her holy hands
       The little children's naked feet.

     To every den of want and toil
       She goes, and leaves the poorest fed;
     Leaves wine and bread, and genial oil,
       And hopes that blossom in her tread,

     And fire, too, beautiful bright fire,
       That mocks the glowing dawn begun,
     Where, having set the blind old sire,
       He dreams he's sitting in the sun.

     Then, over all the earth she runs,
       And seeks, in the cold mists of life,
     Those poor forsaken little ones
       Who droop and weary in the strife.

     Ah, most her heart is stirred for them,
       Whose foreheads, wrapped in mists obscure,
     Still wear a triple diademâ€"
       The young, the innocent, the poor.

     And they are better far than we,
       And she bestows a worthier meed;
     For, with the loaf of charity,
       She gives the kiss that children need.

     She gives, and while they wondering eat
       The tear-steeped bread by love supplied,
     She stretches round them in the street
       Her arm that passers push aside.

     If, with raised head and step alert,
       She sees the rich man stalking by,
     She touches his embroidered skirt,
       And gently shows them where they lie.

     She begs for them of careless crowd,
       Of earnest brows and narrow hearts,
     That when it hears her cry aloud,
       Turns like the ebb-tide and departs.

     O miserable he who sings
       Some strain impure, whose numbers fall
     Along the cruel wind that brings
       Death to some child beneath his wall.

     O strange and sad and fatal thing,
       When, in the rich man's gorgeous hall,
     The huge fire on the hearth doth fling
       A light on some great festival,

     To see the drunkard smile in state,
       In purple wrapt, with myrtle crowned,
     While Jesus lieth at the gate
       With only rags to wrap him round.

     Dublin University Magazine


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FGM is a harmful practice

Second leading cause of death worldwide.

Outbreaks anywhere a threat everywhere

Covid-19 Coronavirus Fake or Real?

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Atty. Victor Dela Serna tops (No. 1) the Bar Exam in the late 60's. He graduated from San Beda College of Law.

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Atty. Victor Dela Serna, former Bohol Governor and member of the 1987 Constitutional Convention

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Billions Lost in Philhealth Scandal

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No Lockdown in Tacurong City, Sultan Kudarat

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If I want a better President,
I WILL PRAY for the one we have.

If I want a better Health Secretary,
I WILL PRAY for the one we have.

If I want a better City Mayor,
I WILL PRAY for the one we have.

If I want better medical professionals,
I WILL PRAY for all of them.

If I want a better AFP and PNP,
I WILL PRAY for all of them in the rank and file.

Because they are not perfect but they are the ones in position.
Because criticizing them will not alleviate our situation.
Because mocking their sincere efforts is despicable.
Because I am not a smart aleck and I am not perfect.
Because if I were in their shoes, I doubt if I can do better.
Because this is not the time for political colors.
Because our nation’s wellbeing is more important than our political alliances.
Because this is the time to be united, not to further divide.
Because it is my Christian duty to pray for those in authority.
Because GOD IS IN CONTROL.

Phil.4:6-7
Be careful for nothing; but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

1Tim.2:1-4
I exhort therefore, that, first of all, supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks, be made for all men;
For kings, and for all that are in authority; that we may lead a quiet and peaceable life in all godliness and honesty.
For this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour;
Who will have all men to be saved, and to come unto the knowledge of the truth.

Though I walk in the shadow of COVID-19, I will lift our government in prayer. GOD BLESS PHILIPPINES!


(if u are praying for our  beloved Nation, copy&paste this in ur wall)

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If there's a wheel, there's a way

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Red wine source

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Stocks of red wine

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Red wine

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Red wine

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Excerpt from Korea Times

My long time professional friend JC Lee of Jell Deli in Itaewon once commented to me that the California wines always lack finesse to his palate and he usually goes with Burgundy when this trait is on his priority list. By the way, the word finesse means, if I can describe it in simple terms, the elegance and harmony that you find in certain wines and their settings.
I pick this difficult subject today because the State of California and the Wine Institute of California have jointly concluded an impressive wine tasting this week here in Seoul. The tasting, featuring about 20 California wineries was held at the JW Marriott Hotel located above the Express Bus Terminal on the southern end of Banpo bridge. Included in the list of participants were Kendall-Jackson, Beringer and Franciscan Estate.
Unfortunately I was not at this important wine event as I was ironically in California at the time to harvest my own grape crops on my mountain top vineyards. In order to add an additional point to the selection of this subject, my wine maturity literally parallels these California wineries and my personal attendance at this wine event wasn't all that critical.

In fact, I have a better perspective of these wines from this end of the globe as I shared the same geographical location with all of the participants. More accurately, I have lived here in in Northern California for the last 35 years and knowing the wines of these wineries is part of my second nature. More over, a good part of the names among these participants were unknown back in my old days.
The last few weeks, California had a very irregular weather pattern which included unscheduled rain fall and cooler temperatures, not to mention the earth quake which shook the Napa wine country. I said unscheduled rain because it normally does not rain at all this time of the year. Most California vintners are in fear that they may not be seeing the usual sugar level in their grape crops, thus the wine production will be less merry than the usual vintage. You know the pre-harvest heat is very important to bring the sugar level up so the vintners will have the freedom in making the style choice of their wines.

However, forecasters are predicting that this part of the golden state will have its usual Indian Summer the next few days and it sure is good news for those anxious and worrisome winemakers. No one knows where the word Indian Summer came from but it means a late summer heat spill. Without a doubt, it is truly a blessed natural occurrence in California's viticultural environment. Here in California, like the other new wine regions, we never have to deal with grape picking in rain gear, as rain fall during harvest can take away critical ingredients needed in making a good vintage.

No wonder that the vintage of wines from French Burgundy is so important. The weather in the region is very unpredictable during the harvest season. So you can take an amateur view that California wines are far different from its old world counterpart. Year after year, California wines are, in many minds of wine spectators around the world, the power wine of choice. …

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TO THE NAPOLEON COLUMN by Victor Hugo
     {Oct. 9, 1830.}
     When with gigantic hand he placed,
     For throne, on vassal Europe based,
       That column's lofty height â€"
     Pillar, in whose dread majesty,
     In double immortality,
       Glory and bronze unite!
     Aye, when he built it that, some day,
     Discord or war their course might stay,
       Or here might break their car;
     And in our streets to put to shame
     Pigmies that bear the hero's name
       Of Greek and Roman war.
     It was a glorious sight; the world
     His hosts had trod, with flags unfurled,
       In veteran array;
     Kings fled before him, forced to yield,
     He, conqueror on each battlefield,
       Their cannon bore away.
     Then, with his victors back he came;
     All France with booty teemed, her name
       Was writ on sculptured stone;
     And Paris cried with joy, as when
     The parent bird comes home again
       To th' eaglets left alone.
     Into the furnace flame, so fast,
     Were heaps of war-won metal cast,
       The future monument!
     His thought had formed the giant mould,
     And piles of brass in the fire he rolled,
       From hostile cannon rent.
     When to the battlefield he came,
     He grasped the guns spite tongues of flame,
       And bore the spoil away.
     This bronze to France's Rome he brought,
     And to the founder said, "Is aught
       Wanting for our array?"
     And when, beneath a radiant sun,
     That man, his noble purpose done,
       With calm and tranquil mien,
     Disclosed to view this glorious fane,
     And did with peaceful hand contain
       The warlike eagle's sheen.
     Round thee, when hundred thousands placed,
     As some great Roman's triumph graced,
       The little Romans all;
     We boys hung on the procession's flanks,
     Seeking some father in thy ranks,
       And loud thy praise did call.
     Who that surveyed thee, when that day
     Thou deemed that future glory ray
       Would here be ever bright;
     Feared that, ere long, all France thy grave
     From pettifoggers vain would crave
       Beneath that column's height?

     Author of "Critical Essays."


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Covid-19 Symptom Check in Manila

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Where is Governor Alvarez now?

How Your Body Rebuilds Itself in Less than 365 Days

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UAAP Champions

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20 years from now by Mark Twain

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Press Release
𝐏𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐡𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐛𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐚 𝐁𝐅𝐀𝐑

Sa tulong ng ating lokal na pamahalaan at City Agriculturists Office, namahagi ng mga motorized at non-motorized bancas at iba pang mga fishing gears sa mga fisherfolks ng lungsod sa pangunguna ng Bureau of Fisheries and Aquatic Resources (BFAR XII) bilang parte sa response and recovery program ngayong COVID-19.

Namigay ng anim (6) na motorized bancas sa mga fisherfolks at limang (5) non-motorized bancas. Kabilang sa mga nabigyan ng non-motorized bancas ang Bula Bangkero Bantay Dagat Association, Bangus Fish Cage Bawing, Bula Seaweeds Farmers Association at East Coast Tour Guiding Association.

Nabigyan din ng mga fishing gears (life vests, multiple hook & lines, hook & lines, at squid jiggers) ang Tinago 9-A Fisherfolks Association, Dadiangas South Bantay Dagat, Labangal Headliners, at Bawing.

Ayon pa kay Supervising Aqua Culturist, Jonathan Balili, ito ay magsisilbing tulong sa ating mga fisherfolks na patuloy na nagtatrabaho sa kabila man ng pandemya. Aniya, ang lokal na pamahalaan at ang BFAR XII ay patuloy na naghahanap ng paraan para makapagpatupad ng mga kaukulang tulong at serbisyo upang malampasan ang krisis dulot ng COVID-19.

Nagpapasalamat din ang lokal na pamahalaan sa mga mangigisda na may mahalagang papel na ginagampanan para sa food production sa lungsod lalo na sa panahon ng pandemya.(CPIO/RR/RSC) Photo by : City Agriculturist's Office

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Highest Covid cases in Southeast Asia

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Rethink if you want to undergo this procedure

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More sweeper flights that carry Covid-positive passengers.

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Now we top in Southeast Asia with more than 115,000 Covid cases.

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Hope Smart would re-introduce this promo

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Look! LGU Gensan through the City Economic Management and Cooperative Development Office convened two of the private partners of the city: GenSan Chamber of Commerce and Filipino-Chinese Chamber of Commerce for  an emergency meeting re: COVID-19 updates in the city.

The meeting aims to discuss the plans of the city in battling the COVID-19 pandemic as the city move forward towards economic development.

Present are the key officials of the said sector, City Administrator Atty. Arnel Zapatos, Dr. Rochelle Gajete-Oco and Mr. Leonard Flores and other city officials.
Source: Press Release

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Dr Ryan Oscar Aplicador, in his own words

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Tip: How to Wear and Remove Facemask

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Hosea 9
 1  O Israel, rejoice not for joy, like the people, for you have gone whoring away from your God; you have loved a reward upon every grain floor.

 2  The threshing floor and the winepress shall not feed them, and the new wine shall fail in her.

 3  They shall not dwell in the LORD'S land; but Ephraim shall return to Egypt, and they shall eat unclean things in Assyria.

 4  They shall not pour wine to the LORD, nor shall they be pleasing to Him. Their sacrifices shall be like the bread of sorrows to them; all who eat of them shall be defiled, for their bread is for their appetite, it shall not come into the house of the LORD.

 5  What will you do in the solemn day, and in the day of the feast of the LORD?

 6  For lo, they have left because of destruction. Egypt shall gather them up; Memphis shall bury them. Nettles shall possess the desirable things of their silver; thorns shall be in their tents.

 7  The days of her judgment have come; the days of vengeance have come; Israel shall know it. The prophet is a fool, the spiritual man is insane because of the multitude of your iniquity and your great hatred.

 8  The watchman of Ephraim was with my God. The prophet is a fowler's snare in all his ways, and enmity in the house of his God.

 9  They have deeply corrupted themselves, as in days of Gibeah. Therefore He will remember their iniquity; He will punish them for their sins.

 10  "I found Israel like grapes in the wilderness. I saw your fathers as the firstfruit in the fig tree at her first season. But they went to Baal Peor and set themselves apart to a shameful thing; and they became abominations, like the things they loved.

 11  Ephraim is like a birdâ€"their glory shall fly away from birth, and from the womb, and from conception.

 12  Though they bring up their children, yet I will make them childless, without a man. Yea, woe also to them when I depart from them!

 13  Ephraim, when I looked toward Tyre, was planted in a pleasant place. But Ephraim shall bring out his children to the murderer."

 14  Give them, O LORD; what will You give? Give them a miscarrying womb and dry breasts.

 15  "All their wickedness is in Gilgal, for there I hated them. I will drive them out of My house for the wickedness of their doings. I will love them no more; all their rulers are revolters.

 16  Ephraim is stricken; their root is dried up; they shall bear no fruit. Yea, though they bear, yet I will slay the beloved fruit of their womb."

 17  My God shall cast them away because they did not hearken to Him. And they shall be wanderers among the nations.


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DOE Sec. Cusi Signs MOA with DA to Boost Energy and Food Security

TAGUIG CITY - As part of collaborative efforts to boost the country’s energy and food security, especially during the novel coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic, Department of Energy (DOE) Secretary Alfonso G. Cusi yesterday (6 August) signed a Memorandum of Agreement (MOA) with Agriculture Secretary William P. Dar at the Department of Agriculture - Philippines  (DA) in Diliman, Quezon City.

"We have been actively seeking ways for the DOE and DA to work closely together, given that food and energy security are intertwined concepts. With the COVID-19 crisis further underscoring the importance of energy and food independence, we want to build on this momentum to ensure that we are able to fully utilize our indigenous energy resources to boost our agrifood sector," Energy Secretary Cusi said.

Under the MOA, the DOE and DA will develop and implement a comprehensive Renewable Energy Programs and Projects for the Agriculture and Fishery Sector (REP-AFS), as part of the National Renewable Energy Program and Food Security Program. The objectives of the REP-AFS are:

• strengthen and/or expand the implementation of existing renewable energy (RE) programs, projects, and technologies for the agri-fishery sector in all feasible sites all over the country, such as, but not limited to solar-powered irrigation systems (SPIS); biomass gasifiers; and small-scale geothermal energy to supply heat, mechanical and electrical power for farm machinery, post-harvest facilities, and greenhouses;

• promote the use of RE, such as solar, wind, hydro, biomass, small-scale geothermal, and other farm-based energy resources for agriculture and fisheries to reduce the cost of production of agri-fishery products;

• develop new and emerging RE technologies for the agri-fishery sector in collaboration with research and development institutions, state colleges and universities, and the private sector;

• promote and coordinate the human resource/manpower development of RE for the agri-fisheries sector through capacity development; and the deployment of agricultural and bio systems engineers, technicians, farmers, fishermen, farm workers, and other concerned stakeholders in collaboration with the Technical Education and Skills Development Authority, Commission on Higher Education, Department of Labor and Employment, and the Department of Education;

• promote, coordinate and/or undertake the development and implementation of standards on the design and construction of RE equipment and facilities for the agri-fishery sector; and

• provide technical and other support services to local manufacturers, fabricators, and suppliers of locally-produced equipment and components of RE-powered agri-fishery systems; and encourage continuing technology innovation through public private partnerships, joint venture arrangements, technology business incubation, contract research, management contract, and other legal instruments.

A Joint Technical Working Group (TWG) will be created to develop the detailed programs and projects, address policy and technical requirements, and attend to other related concerns. The TWG will be composed of the DOE-Renewable Energy Management Bureau; and the DA's Bureau of Agricultural and Fisheries Engineering, Philippine Rice Research Institute, Philippine Center for Postharvest Development and Mechanization, Sugar Regulatory Administration, Philippine Coconut Authority, and Bureau of Fisheries and Aquatic Resources.

“This is a win-win partnership for our energy and food industries. Energy is needed throughout the agrifood production process, and at the same time, the systems being used are also able to produce energy. It is up to us to optimize this synergy to benefit our people,” Secretary Cusi concluded.

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Kahadlok ug maoy katapad ni

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Hosea 8
 1  "Put a ram's horn to your mouth. He comes like an eagle against the house of the LORD because they have transgressed My covenant and have rebelled against My law.

 2  Israel shall cry to Me, 'My God, we know You.'

 3  Israel has thrown off good; the enemy shall pursue him.

 4  They have set up kings, but not by Me; they have made princes, and I knew it not. They have made themselves idols with their silver and their gold, so that they may be cut off.

 5  Your calf, O Samaria, has cast you off. My anger is kindled against them. How long shall they be incapable of innocence?

 6  For from Israel it came alsoâ€"the craftsman made it, but it is not God; for the calf of Samaria shall be broken into shivers.

 7  For they sow to the wind, and they shall reap the whirlwind. It has no stalk; the bud shall yield no meal; but if it does yield, strangers shall swallow it up.

 8  Israel is swallowed up; now they shall be among the Gentiles as a vessel in which there is no pleasure;

 9  For they have gone up to Assyria, a wild donkey alone by himself. Ephraim has hired lovers.

 10  Yea, though they have hired among the nations, now I will gather them. And they shall sorrow in a little while under the burden of kings and princes.

 11  Because Ephraim has multiplied altars to sin, altars shall be to him for sin.

 12  I have written to him the great things of My law, but they were counted as a strange thing.

 13  They sacrifice flesh for the sacrifices of My offerings, and eat it; but the LORD does not receive them. Now He will remember their iniquity and punish their sins. They shall return to Egypt;

 14  For Israel has forgotten his Maker, and builds temples. And Judah has multiplied cities. But I will send a fire on his cities, and it shall burn up her palaces."

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Hosea Chapter 7 A Faithful Version

 1  "When I would have healed Israel, then the iniquity of Ephraim was uncovered, and the wickedness of Samaria, for they have worked falsehood. And the thief comes in, the troop of robbers plunders outside.

 2  And they consider not within their hearts that I remember all their evil. Now their own doings have hemmed them in; they are before My face.

 3  They make the king glad with their wickedness, and the rulers with their lies.

 4  They are all adulterers, like an oven heated by the baker; he stops stirring, from kneading the dough, until it is leavened.

 5  In the day of our king, the rulers have sickened themselves with the heat of wine. He stretches out his hand with scorners,

 6  For they have made ready their hearts like an oven, while they lie in wait. Their baker sleeps at night; in the morning it burns like a flaming fire.

 7  They are all hot as an oven, and devour their judges. All their kings have fallen; there is none among them who calls to Me.

 8  Ephraim mixed himself among the people; Ephraim is a cake that is not turned.

 9  Strangers have eaten up his strength, and he does not know. Yea, gray hairs are here and there on him, yet he knows it not.

 10  And the pride of Israel testifies to his face. And they do not return to the LORD their God, nor seek Him in all this.

 11  Ephraim also is like a silly dove without heart; they call to Egypt; they go to Assyria.

 12  When they go, I will spread My net upon them; I will bring them down like the birds of heaven; I will chastise them, as their congregation has heard.

 13  Woe to them, for they have fled from Me! Destruction unto themâ€"because they have sinned against Me. Though I have redeemed them, yet they have spoken lies against Me.

 14  And they have not cried to Me with their heart, when they howled on their beds; they gather themselves for grain and wine, and they rebel against Me.

 15  Though I have bound and strengthened their arms, yet they think evil against Me.

 16  They return, but not to the Most High. They are like a deceitful bow; their rulers shall fall by the sword from the rage of their tongue. This shall be their scorn in the land of Egypt."


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Hosea 6 A Faithful Version
 1  Come and let us return to the LORD, for He has torn, and He will heal us; He has smitten, and He will bind us up.

 2  After two days He will revive us; in the third day He will raise us up, and we shall live in His sight.

 3  Then we shall understand, if we follow on to know the LORD. His going out is prepared as the morning; and He shall come to us as the rain, as the latter and former rain to the earth.

 4  "O Ephraim, what shall I do to you? O Judah, what shall I do to you? For your goodness is like a morning cloud, and as the early dew it goes away.

 5  So I have cut them down by the prophets; I have slain them by the words of My mouth. And the judgments against you are as the light that goes forth,

 6  For I desire mercy and not sacrifice, and the knowledge of God more than burnt offerings.

 7  But, like men, they have broken the covenant. They have acted like traitors against Me there.

 8  Gilead is a city of troublemakers, and is polluted with blood.

 9  And as troops of robbers wait for a man, the company of priests murder in the way of Shechem; for they committed wickedness.

 10  I have seen a horrible thing in the house of Israel; the whoredom of Ephraim is there; Israel is defiled.

 11  Also, O Judah, a harvest is appointed to you, when I reverse the captivity of My people."



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Hosea 5 A Faithful Version
 1  "Hear this, O priests, and hearken, O house of Israel. And give ear, O house of the king, for judgment is toward you because you have been a snare for Mizpah and a net spread over Tabor.

 2  And revolters have gone deep in slaughtering, and I chasten all of them.

 3  I know Ephraim, and Israel is not hidden from me, for now, O Ephraim, you committed whoredom; and Israel is defiled.

 4  Their doings will not allow them to turn to their God; for the spirit of whoredoms is in their midst, and they have not known the LORD.

 5  And the pride of Israel testifies to his face. Therefore Israel and Ephraim shall fall in their iniquity; Judah also shall fall with them.

 6  They shall go with their flocks and with their herds to seek the LORD; but they shall not find Him. He has withdrawn Himself from them.

 7  They have acted treacherously against the LORD, for they have begotten strange children. Now, within a month invaders shall devour their land.

 8  Blow the ram's horn in Gibeah, and the silver trumpet in Ramah; cry aloud at Beth Aven, 'Behind you, O Benjamin!'

 9  Ephraim shall be desolate in the day of rebuke. Among the tribes of Israel I have made known that which shall surely be.

 10  The rulers of Judah were like those who move a border; I will pour out My wrath upon them like water.

 11  Ephraim is crushed and broken in judgment because he willingly walked after vanity.

 12  Therefore I am as a moth to Ephraim, and to the house of Judah as rottenness.

 13  When Ephraim saw his sickness, and Judah saw his wound, then Ephraim went to the Assyrian and sent to King Contentious. Yet he could not heal you nor cure you of your wound,

 14  For I will be to Ephraim as a lion, and as a strong lion to the house of Judah. I, even I, will tear and go away. I will take away, and none shall rescue him.

 15  I will go; I will return to My place until they confess their guilt and seek My face; in their affliction they will seek Me earnestly."

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Hosea 4
 1  Hear the Word of the LORD, children of Israel, for the LORD has a controversy with the inhabitants of the land, "There is no truth, nor mercy, nor knowledge of God in the land.

 2  By swearing, and lying, and killing, and stealing, and the committing of adultery they break out; and blood touches blood.

 3  Therefore shall the land mourn, and everyone who dwells in it shall languish, with the beasts of the field and with the birds of the heavens. Yes, the fish of the sea shall also be taken away.

 4  Yet let no man strive, nor reprove another, for your people are as those who strive with the priest.

 5  And you shall stumble in the day, and the prophet also shall stumble with you in the night, and I will destroy your mother.

 6  My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge. Because you have rejected knowledge, I will also reject you from being as a priest to Me. Since you have forgotten the law of your God, I will also forget your children.

 7  As they were increased, so they sinned against Me. I will change their glory into shame.

 8  They eat up the sin of My people, and they set their heart on their iniquity.

 9  And it has become, like people, like priest; and I will punish them for their ways, and reward them for their doings,

 10  For they shall eat and not have enough. They shall commit whoredom and not increase because they have stopped taking heed to the LORD.

 11  'Whoredom and wine and new wine take away the heart.

 12  My people seek advice from their wooden idols, and their rod declares to them, for the spirit of whoredoms has caused them to go astray, and they have gone awhoring away from under their God.

 13  They sacrifice upon the tops of the mountains, and burn incense upon the hills, under oaks and poplars and elms because its shade is good. So your daughters shall commit whoredom, and your brides shall commit adultery.

 14  Will I not punish your daughters when they commit whoredom, or your wives when they commit adultery? Even the men themselves go aside with whores, and they sacrifice with temple prostitutes. The people who do not understand shall fall.

 15  Though you, Israel, play the harlot, yet do not let Judah become guilty. And do not come to Gilgal, nor go up to Beth Aven, nor swear, 'As the LORD lives,'

 16  For Israel slides back like a backsliding heifer. Now shall the LORD feed them as a lamb in a large place?

 17  Ephraim is joined to idols; let him alone.

 18  Their drink is sour; they have committed whoredom continually; her rulers dearly love dishonor.

 19  The wind has bound her up in her wings, and they shall be ashamed because of their sacrifices."

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Hosea 3 A Faithful Version
 1  And the LORD said to me, "Go again. Love a woman beloved by a friend, yet an adulteress, according to the love of the LORD toward the children of Israel, who turn to other gods, and love raisin cakes."

 2  So I bought her for fifteen pieces of silver, and for an homer of barley and a half homer of barley.

 3  And I said to her, "You shall abide with me many days. You shall not play the harlot, nor be with any man. And I also will be for you,"

 4  For the children of Israel shall live many days with no king, and no ruler, and with no sacrifice, and no pillars, and no ephod, or teraphim.

 5  Afterward the children of Israel shall return and seek the LORD their God and David their king. And they shall fear the LORD and His goodness in the latter days.

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Will Sara Duterte Run As President?

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Lagundi is being studied for its potential to cure Covid-19 infection.

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THE REFUGEE'S HAVEN by Victor Hugo
     ("Vous voilà dans la froide Angleterre.")

     {Bk. III. xlvii., Jersey, Sept. 19, 1854.}
     You may doubt I find comfort in England
       But, there, 'tis a refuge from dangers!
     Where a Cromwell dictated to Milton,
       Republicans ne'er can be strangers!


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THE EXILE'S DESIRE by Victor Hugo
     ("Si je pouvais voir, O patrie!")

     {Bk. III. xxxvii.}
     Would I could see you, native land,
     Where lilacs and the almond stand
     Behind fields flowering to the strandâ€"
                 But no!

     Can Iâ€"oh, father, mother, crave
     Another final blessing save
     To rest my head upon your grave?â€"
                 But no!

     In the one pit where ye repose,
     Would I could tell of France's woes,
     My brethren, who fell facing foes â€"
                 But no!

     Would I hadâ€"oh, my dove of light,
     After whose flight came ceaseless night,
     One plume to clasp so purely white.â€"
                 But no!

     Far from ye allâ€"oh, dead, bewailed!
     The fog-bell deafens me empaled
     Upon this rockâ€"I feel enjailedâ€"
                 Though free.

     Like one who watches at the gate
     Lest some shall 'scape the doomèd strait.
     I watch! the tyrant, howe'er late,
                 Must fall!


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THEN, MOST, I SMILE by Victor Hugo

     ("Il est un peu tard.")

     {Bk. III. xxx., Oct. 30, 1854.}
     Late it is to look so proud,
       Daisy queen come is the gloom
     Of the winter-burdened cloud!â€"
       "But, in winter, most I bloom!"

     Star of even! sunk the sun!
       Lost for e'er the ruddy line;
     And the earth is veiled in dun,â€"
       "Nay, in darkness, best I shine!"

     O, my soul! art 'bove alarm,
       Quaffing thus the cup of gallâ€"
     Canst thou face the grave with calm?â€"
       "Yes, the Christians smile at all."

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JERSEY by Victor Hugo
     ("Jersey dort dans les flots.")

     {Bk. III. xiv., Oct. 8, 1854.}
     Dear Jersey! jewel jubilant and green,
       'Midst surge that splits steel ships, but sings to thee!
     Thou fav'rest Frenchmen, though from England seen,
       Oft tearful to that mistress "North Countree";
     Returned the third time safely here to be,
     I bless my bold Gibraltar of the Free.

     Yon lighthouse stands forth like a fervent friend,
       One who our tempest buffets back with zest,
     And with twin-steeple, eke our helmsman's end,
       Forms arms that beckon us arms upon thy breast;
     Rose-posied pillow, crystallized with spray,
     Where pools pellucid mirror sunny ray.

     A frigate fretting yonder smoothest sky,
       Like pauseless petrel poising o'er a wreck,
     Strikes bright athwart the dearly dazzled eye,
       Until it lessens to scarce certain speck,
     'Neath Venus, sparkling on the agate-sprinkled beach,
       For fisher's sailing-signal, just and true,
       Until Aurora frights her from the view.

     In summer, steamer-smoke spreads as thy veil,
       And mists in winter sudden screen thy sight,
     When at thy feet the galley-breakers wail
       And toss their tops high o'er the lofty flight
     Of horrid storm-worn steps with shark-like bite,
     That only ope to swallow up in spite.

     L'ENVOY.

     But penitent in calm, thou givest a balm,
       To many a man who's felt thy rage,
     And many a sea-birdâ€"thanks be heard!â€"
       Thou shieldestâ€"sea-birdâ€"exiled bard and sage.

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AN OLD-TIME LAY by Victor Hugo
     ("Jamais elle ne raille.")

     {Bk. III. xiii.}
         Where your brood seven lie,
         Float in calm heavenly,
       Life passing evenly,
     Waterfowl, waterfowl! often I dream
             For a rest
             Like your nest,
           Skirting the stream.

         Shine the sun tearfully
         Ere the clouds clear fully,
         Still you skim cheerfully,
     Swallow, oh! swallow swift! often I sigh
             For a home
             Where you roam
           Nearing the sky!

         Guileless of pondering;
         Swallow-eyes wandering;
         Seeking no fonder ring
     Than the rose-garland Love gives thee apart!
             Grant me soonâ€"
             Blessed boon!
           Home in thy heart!

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MY HAPPIEST DREAM by Victor Hugo
     ("J'aime à me figure.")

     {Bk. III. vii. and viii.}
     I love to look, as evening fails,
     On vestals streaming in their veils,
     Within the fane past altar rails,
         Green palms in hand.
     My darkest moods will always clear
     When I can fancy children near,
     With rosy lips a-laughingâ€"dear,
         Light-dancing band!

     Enchanting vision, too, displayed,
     That of a sweet and radiant maid,
     Who knows not why she is afraid,â€"
         Love's yet unseen!
     Anotherâ€"rarest 'mong the rareâ€"
     To see the gaze of chosen fair
     Return prolonged and wistful stare
         Of eager een.

     Butâ€"dream o'er all to stir my soul,
     And shine the brightest on the roll,
     Is when a land of tyrant's toll
         By sword is rid.
     I say not daggerâ€"with the sword
     When Right enchampions the horde,
     All in broad dayâ€"so that the bard
     May sing the victor with the starred
         Bayard and Cid!


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ON HEARING THE PRINCESS ROYAL{1} SING by Victor Hugo
     ("Dans ta haute demeure.")

     {Bk. III. ix., 1881.}
     In thine abode so high
       Where yet one scarce can breathe,
     Dear child, most tenderly
       A soft song thou dost wreathe.

     Thou singest, little girlâ€"
       Thy sire, the King is he:
     Around thee glories whirl,
       But all things sigh in thee.

     Thy thought may seek not wings
       Of speech; dear love's forbidden;
     Thy smiles, those heavenly things,
       Being faintly born, are chidden.

     Thou feel'st, poor little Bride,
       A hand unknown and chill
     Clasp thine from out the wide
       Deep shade so deathly still.

     Thy sad heart, wingless, weak,
       Is sunk in this black shade
     So deep, thy small hands seek,
       Vainly, the pulse God made.

     Thou art yet but highness, thou
       That shaft be majesty:
     Though still on thy fair brow
       Some faint dawn-flush may be,

     Child, unto armies dear,
       Even now we mark heaven's light
     Dimmed with the fume and fear
       And glory of battle-might.

     Thy godfather is he,
       Earth's Pope,â€"he hails thee, child!
     Passing, armed men you see
       Like unarmed women, mild.

     As saint all worship thee;
       Thyself even hast the strong
     Thrill of divinity
       Mingled with thy small song.

     Each grand old warrior
       Guards thee, submissive, proud;
     Mute thunders at thy door
       Sleep, that shall wake most loud.

     Around thee foams the wild
       Bright sea, the lot of kings.
     Happier wert thou, my child,
       I' the woods a bird that sings!

     NELSON R. TYERMAN.

     {Footnote 1: Marie, daughter of King Louis Philippe, afterwards Princess
     of Würtemburg.}

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THE EPIC OF THE LION by Victor Hugo
     ("Un lion avait pris un enfant.")

     {XIII.}
     A Lion in his jaws caught up a childâ€"
     Not harming itâ€"and to the woodland, wild
     With secret streams and lairs, bore off his preyâ€"
     The beast, as one might cull a bud in May.
     It was a rosy boy, a king's own pride,
     A ten-year lad, with bright eyes shining wide,
     And save this son his majesty beside
     Had but one girl, two years of age, and so
     The monarch suffered, being old, much woe;
     His heir the monster's prey, while the whole land
     In dread both of the beast and king did stand;
     Sore terrified were all.

                               By came a knight
     That road, who halted, asking, "What's the fright?"
     They told him, and he spurred straight for the site!
     The beast was seen to smile ere joined they fight,
     The man and monster, in most desperate duel,
     Like warring giants, angry, huge, and cruel.
     Stout though the knight, the lion stronger was,
     And tore that brave breast under its cuirass,
     Scrunching that hero, till he sprawled, alas!
     Beneath his shield, all blood and mud and mess:
     Whereat the lion feasted: then it went
     Back to its rocky couch and slept content.
     Sudden, loud cries and clamors! striking out
     Qualm to the heart of the quiet, horn and shout
     Causing the solemn wood to reel with rout.
     Terrific was this noise that rolled before;
     It seemed a squadron; nay, 'twas something moreâ€"
     A whole battalion, sent by that sad king
     With force of arms his little prince to bring,
     Together with the lion's bleeding hide.

     Which here was right or wrong? Who can decide?
     Have beasts or men most claim to live? God wots!
     He is the unit, we the cipher-dots.
     Ranged in the order a great hunt should have,
     They soon between the trunks espy the cave.
     "Yes, that is it! the very mouth of the den!"
     The trees all round it muttered, warning men;
     Still they kept step and neared it. Look you now,
     Company's pleasant, and there were a thouâ€"
     Good Lord! all in a moment, there's its face!
     Frightful! they saw the lion! Not one pace
     Further stirred any man; but bolt and dart
     Made target of the beast. He, on his part,
     As calm as Pelion in the rain or hail,
     Bristled majestic from the teeth to tail,
     And shook full fifty missiles from his hide,
     But no heed took he; steadfastly he eyed,
     And roared a roar, hoarse, vibrant, vengeful, dread,
     A rolling, raging peal of wrath, which spread,
     Making the half-awakened thunder cry,
     "Who thunders there?" from its black bed of sky.
     This ended all! Sheer horror cleared the coast;
     As fogs are driven by the wind, that valorous host
     Melted, dispersed to all the quarters four,
     Clean panic-stricken by that monstrous roar.
     Then quoth the lion, "Woods and mountains, see,
     A thousand men, enslaved, fear one beast free!"
     He followed towards the hill, climbed high above,
     Lifted his voice, and, as the sowers sow
     The seed down wind, thus did that lion throw
     His message far enough the town to reach:
     "King! your behavior really passes speech!
     Thus far no harm I've wrought to him your son;
     But now I give you noticeâ€"when night's done,
     I will make entry at your city-gate,
     Bringing the prince alive; and those who wait
     To see him in my jawsâ€"your lackey-crewâ€"
     Shall see me eat him in your palace, too!"
     Next morning, this is what was viewed in town:
     Dawn comingâ€"people goingâ€"some adown
     Praying, some crying; pallid cheeks, swift feet,
     And a huge lion stalking through the street.
     It seemed scarce short of rash impiety
     To cross its path as the fierce beast went by.
     So to the palace and its gilded dome
     With stately steps unchallenged did he roam;
     He enters itâ€"within those walls he leapt!
     No man!

              For certes, though he raged and wept,
     His majesty, like all, close shelter kept,
     Solicitous to live, holding his breath
     Specially precious to the realm. Now death
     Is not thus viewed by honest beasts of prey;
     And when the lion found him fled away,
     Ashamed to be so grand, man being so base,
     He muttered to himself, "A wretched king!
     'Tis well; I'll eat his boy!" Then, wandering,
     Lordly he traversed courts and corridors,
     Paced beneath vaults of gold on shining floors,
     Glanced at the throne deserted, stalked from hall
     To hallâ€"green, yellow, crimsonâ€"empty all!
     Rich couches void, soft seats unoccupied!
     And as he walked he looked from side to side
     To find some pleasant nook for his repast,
     Since appetite was come to munch at last
     The princely morsel!â€"Ah! what sight astounds
     That grisly lounger?

                           In the palace grounds
     An alcove on a garden gives, and there
     A tiny thingâ€"forgot in the general fear,
     Lulled in the flower-sweet dreams of infancy,
     Bathed with soft sunlight falling brokenly
     Through leaf and latticeâ€"was at that moment waking;
     A little lovely maid, most dear and taking,
     The prince's sisterâ€"all alone, undressedâ€"
     She sat up singing: children sing so best.
     Charming this beauteous baby-maid; and so
     The beast caught sight of her and stoppedâ€"

                                                  And then
     Enteredâ€"the floor creaked as he stalked straight in.
     Above the playthings by the little bed
     The lion put his shaggy, massive head,
     Dreadful with savage might and lordly scorn,
     More dreadful with that princely prey so borne;
     Which she, quick spying, "Brother, brother!" cried,
     "Oh, my own brother!" and, unterrified,
     She gazed upon that monster of the wood,
     Whose yellow balls not Typhon had withstood,
     Andâ€"well! who knows what thoughts these small heads hold?
     She rose up in her cotâ€"full height, and bold,
     And shook her pink fist angrily at him.
     Whereonâ€"close to the little bed's white rim,
     All dainty silk and lacesâ€"this huge brute
     Set down her brother gently at her foot,
     Just as a mother might, and said to her,
     "Don't be put out, now! There he is, dear, there!"

     EDWIN ARNOLD, C.S.I.

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THE CHILDREN OF THE POOR by Victor Hugo
     ("Prenez garde à ce petit être.")

     {LAUS PUER: POEM V.}
     Take heed of this small child of earth;
       He is great: in him is God most high.
     Children before their fleshly birth
       Are lights in the blue sky.

     In our brief bitter world of wrong
       They come; God gives us them awhile.
     His speech is in their stammering tongue,
       And His forgiveness in their smile.

     Their sweet light rests upon our eyes:
       Alas! their right to joy is plain.
     If they are hungry, Paradise
       Weeps, and if cold, Heaven thrills with pain.

     The want that saps their sinless flower
       Speaks judgment on Sin's ministers.
     Man holds an angel in his power.
       Ah! deep in Heaven what thunder stirs.

     When God seeks out these tender things,
       Whom in the shadow where we keep,
     He sends them clothed about with wings,
       And finds them ragged babes that weep!

     Dublin University Magazine.

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TO THE CANNON "VICTOR HUGO."
     {Bought with the proceeds of Readings of "Les Châtiments" during
     the Siege of Paris.}

     {1872.}
         Thou deadly crater, moulded by my muse,
     Cast thou thy bronze into my bowed and wounded heart,
     And let my soul its vengeance to thy bronze impart!


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TO HIS ORPHAN GRANDCHILDREN by Victor Hugo
     ("O Charles, je te sens près de moi.")

     {July, 1871.}
     I feel thy presence, Charles. Sweet martyr! down
           In earth, where men decay,
     I search, and see from cracks which rend thy tomb,
           Burst out pale morning's ray.

     Close linked are bier and cradle: here the dead,
           To charm us, live again:
     Kneeling, I mourn, when on my threshold sounds
           Two little children's strain.

     George, Jeanne, sing on! George, Jeanne, unconscious play!
           Your father's form recall,
     Now darkened by his sombre shade, now gilt
           By beams that wandering fall.

     Oh, knowledge! what thy use? did we not know
           Death holds no more the dead;
     But Heaven, where, hand in hand, angel and star
           Smile at the grave we dread?

     A Heaven, which childhood represents on earth.
           Orphans, may God be nigh!
     That God, who can your bright steps turn aside
           From darkness, where I sigh.

     All joy be yours, though sorrow bows me down!
           To each his fitting wage:
     Children, I've passed life's span, and men are plagued
           By shadows at that stage.

     Hath any doneâ€"nay, only half performedâ€"
           The good he might for others?
     Hath any conquered hatred, or had strength
           To treat his foes like brothers?

     E'en he, who's tried his best, hath evil wrought:
           Pain springs from happiness:
     My heart has triumphed in defeat, my pulse
           Ne'er quickened at success.

     I seemed the greater when I felt the blow:
           The prick gives sense of gain;
     Since to make others bleed my courage fails,
           I'd rather bear the pain.

     To grow is sad, since evils grow no less;
           Great height is mark for all:
     The more I have of branches, more of clustering boughs,
           The ghastlier shadows fall.

     Thence comes my sadness, though I grant your charms:
           Ye are the outbursting
     Of the soul in bloom, steeped in the draughts
           Of nature's boundless spring.

     George is the sapling, set in mournful soil;
           Jeanne's folding petals shroud
     A mind which trembles at our uproar, yet
           Half longs to speak aloud.

     Give, then, my childrenâ€"lowly, blushing plants,
           Whom sorrow waits to seizeâ€"
     Free course to instincts, whispering 'mid the flowers,
           Like hum of murmuring bees.

     Some day you'll find that chaos comes, alas!
           That angry lightning's hurled,
     When any cheer the People, Atlas huge,
           Grim bearer of the world!

     You'll see that, since our fate is ruled by chance,
           Each man, unknowing, great,
     Should frame life so, that at some future hour
           Fact and his dreamings meet.

     I, too, when death is past, one day shall grasp
           That end I know not now;
     And over you will bend me down, all filled
           With dawn's mysterious glow.

     I'll learn what means this exile, what this shroud
           Enveloping your prime;
     And why the truth and sweetness of one man
           Seem to all others crime.

     I'll hearâ€"though midst these dismal boughs you sangâ€"
           How came it, that for me,
     Who every pity feel for every woe,
           So vast a gloom could be.

     I'll know why night relentless holds me, why
           So great a pile of doom:
     Why endless frost enfolds me, and methinks
           My nightly bed's a tomb:

     Why all these battles, all these tears, regrets,
           And sorrows were my share;
     And why God's will of me a cypress made,
           When roses bright ye were.

     MARWOOD TUCKER.


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THE BOY ON THE BARRICADE by Victor Hugo
     ("Sur une barricade.")

     {June, 1871.}
     Like Casabianca on the devastated deck,
       In years yet younger, but the selfsame core.
     Beside the battered barricado's restless wreck,
       A lad stood splashed with gouts of guilty gore,
       But gemmed with purest blood of patriot more.

     Upon his fragile form the troopers' bloody grip
       Was deeply dug, while sharply challenged they:
     "Were you one of this currish crew?"â€"pride pursed his lip,
       As firm as bandog's, brought the bull to bayâ€"
       While answered he: "I fought with others. Yea!"

     "Prepare then to be shot! Go join that death-doomed row."
       As paced he pertly past, a volley rangâ€"
     And as he fell in line, mock mercies once more flow
       Of man's lead-lightning's sudden scathing pang,
       But to his home-turned thoughts the balls but sang.

     "Here's half-a-franc I saved to buy my mother's bread!"â€"
       The captain startedâ€"who mourns not a dear,
     The dearest! mother!â€""Where is she, wolf-cub?" he said
       Still gruffly. "There, d'ye see? not far from here."
       "Haste! make it hers! then back to swell their bier."

     He sprang aloof as springald from detested school,
       Or ocean-rover from protected port.
     "The little rascal has the laugh on us! no fool
       To breast our bullets!"â€"but the scoff was short,
       For soon! the rogue is racing from his court;

     And with still fearless front he faces them and calls:
       "READY! but level lowâ€"she's kissed these eyes!"
     From cooling hands of men each rifle falls,
         And their gray officer, in grave surprise,
         Life grants the lad whilst his last comrade dies.

       Brave youth! I know not well what urged thy act,
       Whether thou'lt pass in palace, or die rackt;
       But then, shone on the guns, a sublime soul.â€"
       A Bayard-boy's, bound by his pure parole!
       Honor redeemed though paid by parlous price,
       Though lost be sunlit sports, wild boyhood's spice,
       The Gates, the cheers of mates for bright device!

     Greeks would, whilom, have choicely clasped and circled thee,
     Set thee the first to shield some new Thermopylae;
     Thy deed had touched and tuned their true Tyrtaeus tongue,
     And staged by Aeschylus, grouped thee grand gods among.

     And thy lost name (now known no more) been gilt and graved
     On cloud-kissed column, by the sweet south ocean laved.
     From us no crown! no honors from the civic sheafâ€"
     Purely this poet's tear-bejewelled, aye-green leaf!

     H.L.W.

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THE LESSON OF THE PATRIOT DEAD by Victor Hugo
     ("O caresse sublime.")

     {April, 1871.}
     Upon the grave's cold mouth there ever have caresses clung
     For those who died ideally good and grand and pure and young;
     Under the scorn of all who clamor: "There is nothing just!"
     And bow to dread inquisitor and worship lords of dust;
     Let sophists give the lie, hearts droop, and courtiers play the worm,
     Our martyrs of Democracy the Truth sublime affirm!
     And when all seems inert upon this seething, troublous round,
     And when the rashest knows not best to flee ar stand his ground,
     When not a single war-cry from the sombre mass will rush,
     When o'er the universe is spread by Doubting utter hush,
     Then he who searches well within the walls that close immure
     Our teachers, leaders, heroes slain because they lived too pure,
     May glue his ear upon the ground where few else came to grieve,
     And ask the austere shadows: "Ho! and must one still believe?
     Read yet the orders: 'Forward, march!' and 'charge!'" Then from the lime,
     Which burnt the bones but left the soul (Oh! tyrants' useless crime!)
     Will rise reply: "Yes!" "yes!" and "yes!" the thousand, thousandth time!

     H.L.W.

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MOURNING by Victor Hugo
     ("Charle! ô mon fils!")

     {March, 1871.}
     Charles, Charles, my son! hast thou, then, quitted me?
         Must all fade, naught endure?
     Hast vanished in that radiance, clear for thee,
         But still for us obscure?

     My sunset lingers, boy, thy morn declines!
         Sweet mutual love we've known;
     For man, alas! plans, dreams, and smiling twines
         With others' souls his own.

     He cries, "This has no end!" pursues his way:
         He soon is downward bound:
     He lives, he suffers; in his grasp one day
         Mere dust and ashes found.

     I've wandered twenty years, in distant lands,
         With sore heart forced to stay:
     Why fell the blow Fate only understands!
         God took my home away.

     To-day one daughter and one son remain
         Of all my goodly show:
     Wellnigh in solitude my dark hours wane;
         God takes my children now.

     Linger, ye two still left me! though decays
         Our nest, our hearts remain;
     In gloom of death your mother silent prays,
         I in this life of pain.

     Martyr of Sion! holding Thee in sight,
         I'll drain this cup of gall,
     And scale with step resolved that dangerous height,
         Which rather seems a fall.

     Truth is sufficient guide; no more man needs
         Than end so nobly shown.
     Mourning, but brave, I march; where duty leads,
         I seek the vast unknown.

     MARWOOD TUCKER.


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TOYS AND TRAGEDY by Victor Hugo
     ("Enfants, on vous dira plus tard.")

     {January, 1871.}
     In later years, they'll tell you grandpapa
       Adored his little darlings; for them did
     His utmost just to pleasure them and mar
       No moments with a frown or growl amid
     Their rosy rompings; that he loved them so
       (Though men have called him bitter, cold, and stern,)
     That in the famous winter when the snow
       Covered poor Paris, he went, old and worn,
     To buy them dolls, despite the falling shells,
     At which laughed Punch, and they, and shook his bells.

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THE CARRIER PIGEON by Victor Hugo
     ("Oh! qu'est-ce que c'est donc que l'Inconnu.")

     {January, 1871.}
     Who thenâ€"oh, who, is like our God so great,
     Who makes the seed expand beneath the mountain's weight;
     Who for a swallow's nest leaves one old castle wall,
     Who lets for famished beetles savory apples fall,
     Who bids a pigmy win where Titans fail, in yoke,
     And, in what we deem fruitless roar and smoke,
     Makes Etna, Chimborazo, still His praises sing,
     And saves a city by a word lapped 'neath a pigeon's wing!

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TO A SICK CHILD DURING THE SIEGE OF PARIS by Victor Hugo
     ("Si vous continuez toute pâle.")

     {November, 1870.}
     If you continue thus so wan and white;
           If I, one day, behold
     You pass from out our dull air to the light,
           You, infantâ€"I, so old:
     If I the thread of our two lives must see
           Thus blent to human view,
     I who would fain know death was near to me,
           And far away for you;
     If your small hands remain such fragile things;
           If, in your cradle stirred,
     You have the mien of waiting there for wings,
           Like to some new-fledged bird;
     Not rooted to our earth you seem to be.
           If still, beneath the skies,
     You turn, O Jeanne, on our mystery
           Soft, discontented eyes!
     If I behold you, gay and strong no more;
           If you mope sadly thus;
     If you behind you have not shut the door,
           Through which you came to us;
     If you no more like some fair dame I see
           Laugh, walk, be well and gay;
     If like a little soul you seem to me
           That fain would fly awayâ€"
     I'll deem that to this world, where oft are blent
           The pall and swaddling-band,
     You came but to departâ€"an angel sent
           To bear me from the land.

     LUCY H. HOOPER.

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Pray for Lebanon

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Beirut, Lebanon Explosion

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Bombing in Beirut, Lebanon

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Pray for Lebanon After Massive Explosion

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ABS-CBN NEWS:  A requirement for travelers to use face shields apart from their anti-virus masks applies to all modes of public transport across the country, Transportation Assistant Secretary Goddess Hope Libiran said, as authorities continue to fight the spread of COVID-19. The shield should cover the entire face and will be mandatory starting Aug. 15, she added. [pia-jd] https://news.abs-cbn.com/news/08/06/20/face-shield-rule-applies-in-ships-planes-trains-tricycles-dotr

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