Prayers to Saint Joan of Arc
Commonplace Book – Page 183
“Prayer to Saint Joan of Arc” by The Bishop of Orleans, France (1939)
O Joan, holy liberator of France, the powerful holy force in the days of old, as you yourself said, “Peace would be found only at the point of a lance,” who used the weapons of war when no other means were able to obtain a just peace, take care and help today those who do not want to do violence and patiently try to employ all possible peaceful means of resolution, but now allow the violence of war.
Heroine of Orleans, transmit to our leaders, your talent to inspire your soldiers to accomplish great deeds of valor, in order that our soldier’s efforts will come to a rapid and successful end.
Triumphant One of Reims, prepare for us the just peace under the shield of a force that will be henceforth vigilant!
Martyr of Rouen, be near to all the soldiers who fall in battle, is order to support, console, and help them and those dear ones that they leave behind.
Saint of the Country, excite in all souls, in every home of the world, the zeal to contribute to the salvation of the world and the return of peace, works which you crave, the rediscovery of a more Christian life, though holy thoughts and actions, forgiveness and persistent prayer, that as you yourself once said, “God must be served first.” Amen.
Prayer to Saint Joan of Arc for Faith
In the face of your enemies, in the face of harassment, ridicule, and doubt, you held firm in your faith. Even in your abandonment, alone and without friends, you held firm in your faith. I pray that I may be as bold in my beliefs as you, St. Joan. I ask that you ride alongside me in my own battles. Help me be mindful that what is worthwhile can be won when I persist. Help me hold firm in my faith. Help me believe in my ability to act well and wisely. Amen.
“Go Catch a Falling Star” by John Donne and Excerpt from “An Essay on Man” by Alexander Pope
Commonplace Book – Pages 181-182
Go and catch a falling star,
Get with child a mandrake root,
Tell me where all past years are,
Or who cleft the devil’s foot,
Teach me to hear mermaids singing,
Or to keep off envy’s stinging,
And find, What wind
Serves to advance an honest mind.
If thou be’st born to strange sights,
Things invisible to see,
Ride ten thousand days and nights,
Till age snow white hairs on thee,
Thou, when thou return’st, wilt tell me,
All strange wonders that befell thee,
And swear, No where
Lives a woman true and fair.
If thou find’st one, let me know,
Such a pilgrimage were sweet;
Yet do not, I would not go,
Though at next door we might meet,
Though she were true, when you met her,
And last, till you write your letter,
Yet she, Will be
False, ere I come, to two, or thee.
Excerpt From “An Essay on Man” by Alexander Pope
…Heav’n from all creatures hides the book of fate,
All but the page prescrib’d, their present state:
From brutes what men, from men what spirits know:
Or who could suffer being here below?
The lamb they riot dooms to bleed today,
Had he thy reason, would he skip and play?
Pleas’d to the last, he crops the flow’ry food,
And licks the hand just rais’d to shed his blood.
Oh blindness to the future! Kindly giv’n,
That each may fill the circle mark’d by Heav’n:
Who sees with equal eyes, as God of all,
A hero perish, or a sparrow fall,
Atoms or systems into ruin hurl’d,
And now a bubble burst, and now a world.
Hope humbly then; with trembling pinions soar;
Wait the great teacher Death; and God adore.
What future bliss, he gives not thee to know,
But gives that hope to be thy blessing now.
Hope springs eternal in the human breast:
Man never is, but always too be blest:
The soul, uneasy and confin’d from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to some.
Lo! the poor Indian, whose untutor’d mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind;
His soul, proud science never taught to stray
Far as the solar walk, or milky way;
Yet simple nature to his hope has giv’n
Behind the cloud topp’d hill, an humbler heav’n;
Some safer world in depth of woods embrac’d,
Some happier island in the wat’ry waste,
Where slaves once more their native land behold
No fiends torment, no Christians thirst for gold.
To be, contents his natural desire,
He asks no angel’s wing, no seraph’s fire;
But thinks, admitted to that equal sky…
Ode to Mulan (Northern Wei Dynasty – 386-534)
Commonplace Book – Pages: 179-181
Ji-ji, again, ji-ji,
Mulan faces the door, weaving.
You can’t hear the sound of the loom’s shuttle,
You only hear Daughter’s sighs.
They ask Daughter who’s in her thought
They ask Daughter who’s on her memory
“No one is in Daughter’s thought
No one is in Daughter’s memory.”
Last night I saw the army notices,
The Khan is calling for a great force.
The army register is in twelve scrolls,
and every scroll has Father’s name.
Father has no adult son,
Mulan has no older brother.
“Wish to buy a saddle and horse,
and serve in Father’s place.”
In the East Market she buys a steed,
In the West Market she buys a saddle and saddle blanket,
In the South Market she buys a bridle,
In the North Market she buys a long whip.
At dawn she bids farewell to Father and Mother,
In the evening she camps on the bank of the Yellow River.
She doesn’t hear the sound of Father and Mother calling for Daughter,
She only hears the Yellow River’s flowing water cry jian-jian.
At dawn she bids farewell to the Yellow River.
In the evening she arrives at the summit of Black Mountain.
She doesn’t hear the sound of Father and Mother calling for Daughter,
She only hears Mount Yan’s nomad horses cry jiu-jiu.
She goes ten thousand miles in the war machine,
She crosses mountain passes as if flying.
Northern gusts carry sound of army rattles,
Cold light shines on iron armor.
Generals die in a hundred battles,
Strong warriors return after ten years.
On her return she sees the Son of Heaven,
The Son of Heaven sits in the ceremonial hall.
Merits are recorded in twelve ranks
And grants a hundred thousand strong
The Khan asks her what she desires.
“Mulan has no use for a high officials post.
I wish to borrow a ten-thousand mile camel
To take me back home.”
Father and Mother hear Daughter is coming
They go outside the city wall, supporting each other.
When Older Sister head Younger Sister is coming
Facing the door, she puts on rouge,
When Little Brother hears Older Sister is coming
He sharpens the knife, quick, quick, for pig and sheep.
“I’ll open the door to my east room,
I sit on my bed in the west room.”
I take off my wartime gown
And put on my old-time clothes.”
Facing the window she fixes the cloudlike hair on her temples,
Facing a mirror she dabs on yellow flower powder.
She goes out the door and sees her comrades.
Her comrades are all shocked.
Traveling together for twelve years
They did not know Mulan was a girl.
“The male rabbit’s feet kick up and down,
The female rabbit’s eyes are bewildered.
Two rabbits running close to the ground,
How can they tell if I am male or female?”
Poetry (Cont.)
List of Poems (Cont.) – Click Titles to View
“Annabel Lee” by Edgar Allan Poe and “221B” by Vincent Starett
“English Monarchs” by Anonymous
and “How Doth the Little Crocodile” by Lewis Carroll
“Jabberwocky” by Lewis Carroll
and Excerpt From “What Pleases the Ladies” by Voltaire
“My Library” by Lucy Maud Montgomery
and “The Grave” (13th Century)
“At the Theatre to the Lady Behind Me” by A.P. Herbert
and “Remember” by Christina Rossetti
“When I was Fair and Young…” by Elizabeth I
and “Ode to My Wife” by Anonymous
“Joan of Arc” by Leonard Cohen
“The Destruction of Sennacerib” by Lord Byron
“You are Old, Father William” by Lewis Carroll
“To the Queen of Hungary” by Voltaire
“I Am My Own Grandpa” by Dwight B. Latham and Moe Jaffe
“London Lickpenny” by Anonymous
“Ode to Mulan” (Northern Wei Dynasty – 386-534)
“Go Catch A Falling Star” by John Donne
and Excerpt From “An Essay On Man” by Alexander Pope
“The Cremation of Sam McGee” by Robert Service
The Prologue to “Sweeney Todd” by Stephen Sondheim
London Lickpenny by Unknown
Commonplace Book – Pages: 159-161
In London there I was bent,
I saw my-selfe, where trouthe should be ateynte;
Fast to Westminster-ward I went
To a man of lawe, to make my complaynt.
I sayd, for Mary’s love, that holy seynt,
Have pity on the powre, that would procede.
I would gyve sylvar, but my purs is faynt.
For lacke of money, I may not spede.*
As I thrast thrughe-out the thronge
Amonge them all, my hode was gonn;
Netheless I let not longe,
To Kyngs benche tyll I come.
Byfore a juge I kneled anon;
I prayed hym for God’s sake he would take hede.
Full rewfully to hym I gan make my mone**
For lacke of money, I may not spede.
Benethe hym sat clerks, a great rowt;
Fast they writen by one assent.
There strode up one, and cryed round about,
Richard, Robert, and one of Kent!
I wist not wele what he ment
He cried so thike *** there in dede;
There were stronge theves shamed and shent,
But they that lacked money mowght not spede.
Unto the common place* I yowde thoo
Where sat one with a sylken houde.
I dyd hym reverence as me ought to do;
I tolde hym my case, as well as I coulde,
And seyd all my goods, by nowrd and by sowde,
I am defraudyd with great falshed;
He would not geve me a mome** of his mouthe.
For lacke of money, I may not spede.
Then I went me unto the rollis***
Before the clerks of the chauncerie
There were many qui tollis
But I herd no man speke of me.
Before them I knelyd upon my kne,
Shewyd them myne evidence and they began to reade.
They seyde trewer things might there nevar be,
But for lacke of money I may not spede.
In Westminster Hall I found one
Went in a longe gowne of ray*
I crowched, I kneled before them anon;
For Mary’s love, of helpe I gan them pray
As he had to be wrothe, he voyded away
Bakward, his hand he gan me byd
I wot not what thou meanst, gan he say.
Ley downe sylvar, or here thow may not spede.
In all Westminster Hall I could nevar find a one
That for me would be, thowghe I should dye.
Without the dores** were flemings grete woon;
Upon me fast they gan to cry
And sayd, mastar, what will ye copen***or by-
Fine felt hats, spectacles for to rede?
Oh this gay gere, a great cause why
For lacke of money I might not spede.
Then to Westminster Gate I went
When the sone was at highe prime.*
Cokes to me, they toke good extent
Called me nere, for to dyne,
And proferyd me good brede, ale and wyne
A fayre clothe they began to sprede,
Rybbes of befe, both fat and fine;
But for lacke of money I might not spede.
In to London I gan me hy;
Of all the lond it bearethe the prise.
Hot pescods! One gan cry,
Strabery rype, and chery in the ryse!
One bad me come nere and by some spice;
Pepar and saffron they gan me bede,
Clove, grayns, and flowre of rise.
For lacke of money I might not spede.
Then into Chepe** I gan me drawne,
Where I sawe stond moche people
One bad me come here, and by fine cloth of lawne***
Paris thred, coton, and umple*
I seyde there-upon I could no skyle,
I am not wont there-to in dede.
One bad me by an hewre,** my hed to hele.***
For lacke of money I might not spede.
Turn went I forth by London stone
Thrughe-out all canwike* strete.
Drapers to me they called anon;
Grete chepe of clothe, they gan me hete**
Then come there one, and cried hot shepes fete!
Risshes faire and grene, an othar began to grete;
Both melwell and makarell I gan mete,
But for lacke of money I might not spede.
Then I hied me into Estchepe.***
One cried, ribes of befe, and many a pie!
Pewtar potts they clattered on a heape.
Ther was harpe, pipe and sawtry*
Ye by cokke! Nay by cokke! Some began to cry;
Some sange of jenken and julian, to get themselves mede.
Full fayne I wold hadd of that mynstralsie,
But for lacke of money I could not spede.
Into Cornhill anon I yode
Where is moche stolne gere amonge.
I saw wher henge** myne owne hode
That I had lost in Westminster amonge the throng.
Then I beheld it with lokes full longe;
I kenned*** it as well as I dyd my crede.
To be myne owne hode agayne, me thought it wrong,
But for lacke of money I might not spede.
Then came the taverner, and take my by the sleeve,
And seyd, ser, a pint of wyn would yow assay?
Syr, Quod I, it may not greve;
For a penny may do no more then it may.
I dranke a pint, and therefore gan pay;
Sore a-hungered away I yede;
For well London lykke-peny for ones and eye,*
For lacke of money I may not spede.
Then I hyed me to Byllingesgate,
And cried wagge, wagge** yow hens!
I praye a barge man, for God’s sake,
That they would spare me myn expens.
He sayde, ryse up, man, and get the hens.
What wenist thow I will do on the my almes-dede?
Here skapethe no man, by-nethe IJ. Pens!
For lacke of money I might not spede.
Then I conveyed me into Kent,
For of the law would I medle no more;
By-caus no man to me would take extent,
I dight me to the plowe, even as I ded before.
Jhesus save London, that in Bethelem was bore,
And every trew man of law, God graunt hym souls med;
And they that be othar, God theyr state restore:
For he that lackethe money, with them he shall not spede!
Glossary
*succeed — **complaint — *** quickly — *Court of Common Pleas — ** mum — *** Court of rolls –
*striped cloth — **outside — ***barter — *9:00am — **Cheapside — ***linen — *fine gauze
**cap — ***cover — *Candlewick — **offer — ***Eastcheap — *psaltry — **hung — ***recognized
*once and for all — **move
