Harow! Harow! St. George for Merrie England!
Happy St. George's Day!
(He of the dragon-slaying and damsel-rescuing fame.) We will begin with a scrap of poetry by C.S. Lewis, written to illustrate the stresses (Lifts) in Old English alliterative verse.
We were TALKing of DRAGONS, | TOLkien and IIt's also Shakespeare's Birthday!
In a BERKshire BAR. | The BIG WORKman
Who had SAT SILent | and SUCKED his PIPE
ALL the EVEning, | from his EMPTy MUG
With GLEAMing EYE | GLANCED toWARDS us;
'I SEEN 'em mySELF', | he SAID FIERCEly.
(Actually, we only know for sure that it's Shakespeare's death day, but it's also the day he was baptized, and given the practices of those days, it's as good a bet as we've got for his birthday.
When that I was and a little tiny boy,
With heigh-ho, the wind and the rain,
A foolish thing was but a toy,
For the rain it raineth every day.
Shakespeare's epitaph ends, "Curst be he who moves my bones." Well, curses aside, it's time to move my
bones. Hope your day goes well.