"Where dost thou run off to, O song?"

"I have a very bad feeling. I sense that if Barack Obama gets his way, backed by the most corrupt political party in living memory and reinforced by a seditious and cheerleading media, America will have been transformed beyond recognition as it limps into the sunset of its days."

(( Thee will not mind, I hope, Dr. Bones, if I park this vehicle here? In the abbreviated form I posted at the pajamatarians, it is scarcely intelligible. ))

Why on G-re’s green earth should a "Canadian poet and essayist" get misty-eyed if the Heimatland Gottes *does* have to sing a few verses of St. Rudyard’s "Recessional" for a change? That "Hope N. Glory" ditty of St. Edward the Less gets dreadfully tiresome when one must listen to it and nothin’ else almost every wakin’ minute of every day.[0]

Kennebunkport-Crawford’s extremity ought to be Hyperborea’s opportunity! [1] Exsurge, Ottawa!!

And, speakin’ of cheerleadin’, 

"Two, four, six, eight
 Whom do we appreciate?
    Solway!
      SOLWAY!!
         sol-WAAAAAAAAAAY!!!"

Flavour with "soulway" and "sole way" to taste -- and remember to shake well before slurpin’ it down!

Healthy days.

__
[0] One writes merrily, but nevertheless their endless wallowin’ in self-congratulation and self-exceptionalism and self-exceptionality and . . . really IS the worst single fault of wingnutettes and wingnuts and wombscholars and downdumbees. And even Kiddie Konservative ‘intellectual’ señoritos like this one


[1] ’Tis also a possible fresh start for Hyperzion, which we low-minded are bound to suspect is probably rather more to the point when far-fetched neocomrades like D. S. start hectorin’ New Yanks and Old Euros about "the West per se."

In any case, if the Neocomrade D. Solway product were really what it is labelled as, echt Qannádisch, ought it not be lamentin’ the Suicide of the South rather than keep harpin’ away at that previously owned lyre of Dr. Spengler? Ozzies’s OK, maybe, but alas! he can get quite as taedious as Lord Elgar.

A change of tune (or wind direction) might cheer us all up, and the DS product can almost certainly find itself a template to versify from somewhere in the Hispaniolated and countrereformed provinces of Italy in Century XI/XVII or XII/XVIII or XIII/XIX. "What life, what culture, now that Torquato Tasso is gone? Will the Muses ever return to Capua and Giudecca like the swallows to Capistrano CA and the buzzards to Hinckley OH?"

Indeed, why not spare Mr. McCloskey’s silly prosings and let’s smoke a little of the real thing? ’Tis a cinch to have the pet google go fetch such stichs nowadays:

    "O credenti in Christe,
Voi che d’Europa il fren tenete, aiuto,
Aiuto e pace a quelle sacre rive
Donde l’arte gentili il mondo ha tratte;
Non sien dagli empì [*] fatte
Vasta tomba d’eroi,
E più nobile in terra, e giusto e santo!

    "Canzon, dove trascorri?
Ahi!  da funesti errori
O da vani timori
Pietà prende consiglio, e indugia, e langue:
Intanto piove l’innocente sangue."

   --Marchetti, G., URL cit.,  p. 17.

[*] I believe that one would be impii (with paenultimate stress) in slightly earlier Late Latin. But Father Zeus knows best.

Sounds kinda like just yesterday in the neo-Levant, nicht wahr?

Yet the titleswipe is dated [A.D.] 1857 (== 1273 == 5618) -- and why would anybody want to forge it?

Though the poor fellow’s rime lamentabili survive, just barely, yet my little Gugghi has trouble finding his natal or obituary date, which suggests that his coprovincials don’t find the Rime e Prose del Conte Giovanni Marchetti a serious threat to the ditto of D. Aligheri.

How sua excellenza compares to the D. Solway product, on the other hand, I suppose one could ascertain if one absolutely had to.

Should some pajamatarian suffer from a really trashy taste in Dhimmí Lit., she will probably enjoy how the googlecyclists render the above gemma preziosa di Parnasso into New High HolyHomelandic.