Project: Music Inspired Imagery - Videos

Marilyn Manson - The Beautiful People

Right! What an image to start off a bit of annotating :D. Straight away you should be able to recognise the style of this video for what it is, really crazy, fast paced, and blinking creepy.

We're greeted with a lot of erratic movements setting the pace of the video showing all sorts of objects that, with the distortions (blurs, high exposures), are seemingly unidentifiable. But whether you know what's going on or not, you will feel that heavy sense of intensity being created. I'm not sure about anyone else, but the colour tones remind me of a sickly pile of puke in a freshly washed bucket smeared with leaked entrails from my bowels. The extreme nature of this video would attract anyone who's really into their hardcore metal and all things Gothic.

"You can't see the forest for the trees, You can't smell your ow n shit on your knees". What I make of this is that the forest is showing the big picture, and the trees are only what you see with your own eyes. Then the second part seems to be saying that you're such an asshole you don't even realise it. All-in-all the general basis of this song seems to be about perceptions and how they're misconceived from a lack of any in-depth thought.

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Massive Attack - Angel

Creepier and creepier. That seems to be a running theme in these videos. However there is quite a change in pace with this particular music video as the tempo has almost been completely reversed from incredibly fast, to rather slow. There's almost a calming tone to the song, until you open your eyes and see the wide-eyed corpse in the coffin.

The smooth melodic tone of the song is similar to one of my song choices, Dead Flag Blues, both of which have a negative vibe to their meanings although not quite to the same degree. Because of this I think experimenting with the style of this video into my own ideas will lead to some fitting imagery.

After analysing the few lyrics in this song I came to the conclusion that it is about a deceivingly beautiful woman who has a wicked side to her and tricks men, causing them to become nothing. I'm trying to think how that translates into the process of burying a dead body with an old-film style though. The fact there are very few lyrics though could mean that this video has nothing to do with the lyrics but more to do with the instrumental elements of the song. It seems though that what it's trying to show is that they really want to make sure this guy is dead when you see the two men at the ending sequence where they pound a big metal spike into the body.

The best thing to take from this video is definitely the style of film, even if we are only making still images. But I can still apply this style to my own ideas especially with one of my ideas that involve a closeup of an old man's mouth narrating the song. I'd rather have everything else in colour though or more likely slightly desaturated with particular pieces in full colour. We'll see during the trial and error stages.

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Peter Gabriel - Sledgehammer

"I'm staring into your soul, stealing your essence!". Ignoring that caption, this video for the song "Sledgehammer" brings us into a world of insanity, fun, and an immense amount of effort. I say effort because aft er being introduced to Peters face, you'll notice the rest of the video is done using the stop-motion technique. This is when a collection of photos are taken one after another and then placed into an ordered sequence in order to create the illusion of movement. It's also a really useful technique for defying the laws of physics and all things thought to be impossible, little things.

Simply because this is done using stop-motion makes me appreciate this video straight away without even needing to know the content. It is complete genius! I've done my fair share of stop-motion and I can definitely tell you that even if everything goes perfectly, it is still an incredibly time consuming process and when something goes wrong... I don't even want to think about all those hours I wasted because of a slight TILT!!! to the camera ><. Anyways! Enough of the technique, on to the content.

"Complete Genius"

Sex. Line after line after dirty dirty line of sex. Have a little read of the lyrics in this song with this in mind and you will easily notice the vast amount of sexual innuendos.

You could have a steam train
If you'd just lay down your tracks

Obviously this is not a literal offering of an actual steam train in which the conditions are that you must lay down the train tracks beforehand, so it must be a metaphor for something, but what? Perhaps the steam train is the penis, and the tracks being laid down is actually the woman spreading her legs?

"It feels like he's undressing me with his eyes"

You could have a big dipper
Going up and down, all around the bends
You could have a bumper car, bumping
This amusement never ends

Read that and tell me you weren't thinking of sex. The whole song seems to be about simply having some fun. There's also a bit that makes me think it's also about getting rid of the bad stuff in your life and just move on which goes exactly like this:

I've kicked the habit
Shed my skin
This is the new stuff

I'd also like to mention that this song is a definite head-nodder. The funky beat matches this strange and ever-changing world we're brought into. I don't think the video is meant to represent anything specific as there is just so much insanity going on here that you can't help but feel happy when watching those two dancing uncooked turkeys, or feel disturbed. Either way, it's definitely a video for those who just want to enjoy themselves.

Project: Video Jockey - Album Covers

The ideal piece of art for me to look into would be the album cover for the band of the song I picked, but since my song was made specifically for a movie then inspecting the art for the movie itself should be satisfactory. I don't have access to any possible resources for that right now though, so for now I'll just look into a few pieces of album cover art for other bands that I already have images of.

Starting things off we have a somewhat abstract pieces of art done for a band called "Editors". The first one seems to almost resemble a building, but I'm not too sure on what the right one is meant to show except for the face I can see (bottom-left) which seems to be trying to push itself outwards of the 'storm'. Regardless of meaning though they definitely made me think "Creepy, ambient, atmospheric". The best part about this style though is the smudging done to it. It really helps bring out the eerie side of the images which is actually quite a simple technique whether it's done in Photoshop using the Smudge or Liquify tool or handmade through the use of fingers rubbing against charcoal (which is also quite fun :D).

I don't think that, at a first glance, this style would fit in to the dark area I'm trying to touch with my music. I do however 'really' enjoy anything that uses watercolour, so it's more to do with the techniques used in this particular image rather than the specific content within this image. Some of the things I could imagine using watercolours for could be to film the movements of watercolours across a blank canvas, leaving behind it's textured goodness ^^ or perhaps using the dripping idea I have mentioned before but rather than using water I could use watercolours, somehow.

Want disturbing? BAM! Closeup shot of... whatever that is. I'm not sure I want something that's as in-your-face as these, but I could imagine there being a blank screen, and then when the echo sounds occur an object lights up and dims back into the darkness in correspondence to the sound. What these objects could be have yet to be decided, but it will be interesting to see what type of things could work best to create a sense of confinement and fear. I would imagine the photographer uses a macro lens in order to get these high quality images so close up to such small beings which would then be thrown into Photoshop to achieve this same colour throughout the subject within the photo.

Project: Video Jockey - Video

The original use of my chosen song (those two words pop up far too much ><) was not intended for a music video, but instead used for the opening sequence of Resident Evil (the movie). It's an abridged (shortened) version of the track I chose which I actually prefer, but it's too short so I went with the longer version.

Straight away, the video shows a very scientific look with the professional-sounding narration along with the seemingly advanced interface being engaged and displaying information. The fact the entire opening sequence is shot in a lab really helps give off this sci-fi vibe too. I really like how the interface fades into this scary and scratchy background as the glockenspiel begin to play because I'm thinking of creating a turning point as they play for my own ideas too, or so sort of key moment that will be as easily noticeable as the glockenspiel itself.

Once we're past the title we are brought into a lab, and that is where the heavy thundering sounds begin to pound into the scene. When used with this particular scenario it seems to invoke a feeling of danger and hazard which is (if any of you have seen this movie or played any of the games) exactly what you should be feeling given the context of what it actually going on what with the harmful chemicals that bring about the apocalypse of all mankind being handled. So an element of danger or some kind of force is what I could go for during the thundering moments of the song which I can then end in contrast to the light glockenspiel.

Project: Video Jockey - Hard Candy

Hard Candy is one of my true all time favorites when it comes to movies. The intense psychological standoff between the main characters completely immerses you within the movie and leaves you questioning who is right and who is wrong all the way through until the very end, and even after that you're left with a fair amount of questions that I probably shouldn't go into any detail or else I would go off on a ramble of scrambling long words and end up with nothing of any particular significant relevance.

BUT! This bit of research has little to do with the content of the movie itself, but rather this deceiving poster made 'for' the movie. Everything about my chosen song is creepy, intense, dark, and all sorts of negative stuffs :). When you look at this poster all those words come to mind, except maybe intense as it actually looks quite calm. But then again the whole point of this poster is to deceive so that's alright.

I like to think that the ultimate (and sometimes lazy) form of fearful moments are when you show a little, but think a lot. By showing very little you allow the audience to use their imagination to fill in the gaps, and most people usually assume the worst when they're left to contemplate which is perfect for anything that's meant to be scary. I think because you don't see the girl's face you're left with this wonder of whether she really is who she appears to be. While this isn't exactly following the "show a little, think a lot" theory, it does create an element of fear by making the audience keep guessing and always leaving them uncertain.

The giant bear trap helps with the creation of a dark atmosphere quite heavily because it is quite dirty and simply the fact that it's a giant blinking bear trap! I also really like how the grungy style of the poster doesn't overpower anything because of the subtlety of the textures, but still lets you know that this is scary, this will make you dispense bricks from within your bowels.

I've mentioned before about using contrasting figures in the sense that I use something that is meant to be happy and nice, but done in a creepy style. This poster does exactly that by showing what appears to be just a little girl. Then you put her on an overly exaggerated bear trap and you've got this very disturbing symbolic meaning about how this girl is seen as prey for predators, but if you thought this was going to be easy candy, you'd be dead wrong. Basically speaking, the girl is bait and the bear trap is showing that this is a trap they will severely regret once you step into it.

If you haven't watched it yet I seriously recommend you give it a look. Especially if you're into your intense psychological thrillers. Oh, and if you happen to be male I would recommend you to be ready for a very... disturbing scene.

Project: Music Inspired Imagery - Poems

J R R Tolkien

The Road Goes Ever On

The Road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began.

Now far ahead the Road has gone,

And I must follow, if I can,

Pursuing it with eager feet,

Until it joins some larger way

Where many paths and errands meet,

And whither then? I cannot say.

All That is Gold

All that is gold does not glitter,

Not all those who wander are lost;

The old that is strong does not wither,

Deep roots are not reached by the frost.

From the ashes a fire shall be woken,

A light from the shadows shall spring;

Renewed shall be blade that was broken,

The crownless again shall be king.

One Ring

One ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them.

Three rings for the Elven-kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

Durin

The world was young, the mountains green,

No stain yet on the Moon was seen,

No words were laid on stream or stone

When Durin woke and walked alone.

He named the nameless hills and dells;

He drank from yet untasted wells;

He stooped and looked in Mirrormere,

And saw a crown of stars appear,

As gems upon a silver thread,

Above the shadow of his head

The world was fair, the mountains tall,

In Elder Days before the fall.

Of mighty kings of Nargothrond

And Gondolin, who now beyond

The Western Seas have passed away;

The world was fair in Durin's Day.

A king he was on carven throne

In many-pillared halls of stone

With golden roof and silver floor,

And runes of power upon the door.

The light of sun and star and moon

In shining lamps of crystal hewn

Undimmed by cloud or shade of night

There shone for ever fair and bright.

There hammer on the anvil smote,

There chisel clove, and graver wrote,

There forged was blade, and bound was hilt;

The delver mined, the mason built,

There beryl, pearl, and opal pale,

And metal wrought like fishes' mail,

Buckler and corslet, axe and sword,

And shining spears were laid in hoard.

Unwearied then were Durin's folk;

Beneath the mountains music woke:

The harpers harped, the minstrels sang

And at the gates the trumpets rang.

The world is grey, the mountains old,

The forge's fire is ashen cold;

No harp is wrung, no hammer falls,

The darkness dwells in Durin's halls;

The shadow lies upon his tomb

In Moria, in Khazad-dûm.

But still the sunken stars appear

In dark and windless Mirrormere;

There lies his crown in water deep,

Till Durin wakes again from sleep.

Thomas Tickell

A Lady Before Marriage

Oh! form'd by Nature, and refin'd by Art,
With charms to win, and sense to fix the heart!
By thousands sought, Clotilda, canst thou free
Thy croud of captives and descend to me?
Content in shades obscure to waste thy life,
A hidden beauty and a country wife.
O! listen while thy summers are my theme,
Ah! sooth thy partner in his waking dream!
In some small hamlet on the lonely plain,
Where Thames, through meadows, rolls his mazy train;
Or where high Windsor, thick with greens array'd,
Waves his old oaks, and spreads his ample shade,
Fancy has figur'd out our calm retreat;
Already round the visionary seat
Our limes begin to shoot, our flowers to spring,
The brooks to murmur, and the birds to sing.
Where dost thou lie, thou thinly-peopled green?
Thou nameless lawn, and village yet unseen?
Where sons, contented with their native ground,
Ne'er travell'd further than ten furlongs round;
And the tann'd peasant, and his ruddy bride,
Were born together, and together died.
Where early larks best tell the morning light,
And only Philomel disturbs the night,
'Midst gardens here my humble pile shall rise,
With sweets surrounded of ten thousand dies;
All savage where th' embroider'd gardens end,
The haunt of echoes, shall my woods ascend;
And oh! if Heaven th' ambitious thought approve,
A rill shall warble cross the gloomy grove,
A little rill, o'er pebbly beds convey'd,
Gush down the steep, and glitter through the glade.
What chearing scents those bordering banks exhale!
How loud that heifer lows from yonder vale!
That thrush how shrill! his note so clear, so high,
He drowns each feather'd minstrel of the sky.
Here let me trace beneath the purpled morn,
The deep-mouth'd beagle, and the sprightly horn;
Or lure the trout with well dissembled flies,
Or fetch the fluttering partridge from the skies.

Nor shall thy hand disdain to crop the vine,
The downy peach, or flavour'd nectarine;
Or rob the bee-hive of its golden hoard,
And bear th' unbought luxuriance to thy board.
Sometimes my books by day shall kill the hours,
While from thy needle rise the silken flowers,
And thou, by turns, to ease my feeble sight,
Resume the volume, and deceive the night.
Oh! when I mark thy twinkling eyes opprest,
Soft whispering, let me warn my love to rest;
Then watch thee, charm'd, while sleep locks every sense,
And to sweet Heaven commend thy innocence.
Thus reign'd our fathers o'er the rural fold,
Wise, hale, and honest in the days of old;
Till courts arose, where substance pays for show,
And specious joys are bought with real woe.
See Flavia's pendants, large, well-spread, and right,
The ear that wears them hears a fool each night:
Mark how the embroider'd colonel sneaks away,
To shun the withering dame that made him gay;
That knave, to gain a title, lost his fame;
That rais'd his credit by a daughter's shame;
This coxcomb's ribband cost him half his land,
And oaks, unnumber'd, bought that fool a wand.
Fond man, as all his sorrows were too few,
Acquires strange wants that nature never knew,
By midnight lamps he emulates the day,
And sleeps, perverse, the chearful suns away;
From goblets high-embost, his wine must glide,
Found his clos'd sight the gorgeous curtain slide;
Fruits ere their time to grace his pomp must rise,
And three untasted courses glut his eyes.
For this are nature's gentle calls withstood,
The voice of conscience, and the bonds of blood;
This wisdom thy reward for every pain,
And this gay glory all thy mighty gain.
Fair phantoms woo'd and scorn'd from age to age,
Since bards began to laugh, and priests to rage.
And yet, just curse on man's aspiring kind,
Prone to ambition, to example blind,
Our Children's children shall our steps pursue,
And the same errours be for ever new.
Mean while in hope a guiltless country swain,
My reed with warblings chears the imagin'd plain.
Hail humble shades, where truth and silence dwell!
The noisy town and faithless court farewell!
Farewell ambition, once my darling flame!
The thirst of lucre, and the charm of fame!
In life's by-road, that winds through paths unknown,
My days, though number'd, shall be all my own.
Here shall they end, (O! might they twice begin)
And all be white the Fates intend to spin.

To Mr. Addison on His Opera of Rosamond

The Opera first Italian masters taught,
Enrich'd with songs, but innocent of thought;
Britannia's learned theatre disdains
Melodious trifles, and enervate strains;
And blushes, on her injur'd stage to see
Nonsense well-tun'd, and sweet stupidity.
No charms are wanting to thy artful song,
Soft as Corelli, and as Virgil strong.
From Words so sweet new grace the notes receive,
And Music borrows helps, she us'd to give.

Thy style hath match'd what ancient Romans knew,
Thy flowing numbers far excel the new.
Their cadence in such easy sound convey'd,
The height of thought may seem superfluous aid;
Yet in such charms the noble thoughts abound,
That needless seem the sweets of easy sound.
Landscapes how gay the bowery grotto yields,
Which thought creates, and lavish fancy builds!
What art can trace the visionary scenes,
The flowery groves, and everlasting greens,

The babbling sounds that mimic echo plays,
The fairy shade, and its eternal maze?
Nature and Art in all their charms combin'd,
And all Elysium to one view confin'd!
No further could imagination roam,
Till Vanbrugh fram'd, and Marlborough rais'd the dome.
Ten thousand pangs my anxious bosom tear,
When drown'd in tears I see th' imploring fair;
When bards less soft the moving words supply,
A seeming justice dooms the nymph to die;

But here she begs, nor can she beg in vain
(In dirges thus expiring swans complain);
Each verse so swells expressive of her woes,
And every tear in lines so mournful flows;
We, spite of fame, her fate revers'd believe,
O'erlook her crimes, and think she ought to live.
Let joy salute fair Rosamonda's shade,
And wreaths of myrtle crown the lovely maid.
While now perhaps with Dido's ghost she roves,
And hears and tells the story of their loves,

Alike they mourn, alike they bless their fate,
Since Love, which made them wretched, makes them great.
Nor longer that relentless doom bemoan,
Which gain'd a Virgil, and an Addison.
Accept, great monarch of the British lays,
The tribute song an humble subject pays.
So tries the artless lark her early flight,
And soars, to hail the god of verse and light.
Unrivall'd, as unmatch'd, be still thy fame,
And thy own laurels shade thy envy'd name:

Thy name, the boast of all the tuneful quire,
Shall tremble on the strings of every lyre;
While the charm'd reader with thythought complies,
Feels corresponding joys or sorrows rise,
And views thy Rosamond with Henry's eyes.

To Mr. Addison on His Tragedy of Cato

Too long hath love engross'd Britannia's stage,
And sunk to softness all our tragic rage:
By that alone did empires fall or rise,
And fate depended on a fair-one's eyes:
The sweet infection, mixt with dangerous art,
Debas'd our manhood, while it sooth'd the heart.
You scorn to raise a grief thyself must blame,
Nor from our weakness steal a vulgar fame:
A patriot's fall may justly melt the mind,
And tears flow nobly, shed for all mankind.

How do our souls with generous pleasure glow!
Our hearts exulting, while our eyes o'erflow,
When thy firm hero stands beneath the weight
Of all his sufferings venerably great;
Rome's poor remains still sheltering by his side,
With conscious virtue, and becoming pride!
The aged oak thus rears his head in air,
His sap exhausted, and his branches bare;
'Midst storms and earthquakes, he maintains his state,
Fixt deep in earth, and fasten'd by his weight

His naked boughs still lend the shepherds aid,
And his old trunk projects an awful shade.
Amidst the joys triumphant peace bestows,
Our patriots sadden at his glorious woes;
Awhile they let the world's great business wait,
Anxious for Rome, and sigh for Cato's fate.
Here taught how ancient heroes rose to fame,
Our Britons crowd, and catch the Roman flame,
Where states and senates well might lend an ear,
And kings and priests without a blush appear.

France boasts no more, but, fearful to engage,
Now first pays homage to her rival's stage,
Hastes to learn thee, and learning shall submit
Alike to British arms, and British wit:
No more she'll wonder, forc'd to do us right,
Who think like Romans, could like Romans fight.
Thy Oxford smiles this glorious work to see,
And fondly triumphs in a son like thee.
The senates, consuls, and the gods of Rome,
Like old acquaintance at their native home,

In thee we find: each deed, each word exprest,
And every thought that swell'd a Roman breast,
We trace each hint that could thy soul inspire
With Virgil's judgement, and with Lucan's fire;
We know thy worth, and, give us leave to boast,
We most admire, because we know thee most.

To the Earl of Warwick, on the Death of Mr. Addison

If, dumb too long, the drooping Muse hath stay'd,
And left her debt to Addison unpaid;
Blame not her silence, Warwick, but bemoan,
And judge, oh judge, my bosom by your own.
What mourner ever felt poetic fires!
Slow comes the verse that real woe inspires:
Grief unaffected suits but ill with art,
Or flowing numbers with a bleeding heart.

Can I forget the dismal night, that gave
My soul's best part for ever to the grave!
How silent did his old companions tread,
By midnight lamps, the mansions of the dead,
Through breathing statues then unheeded things
Through rows of warriors, and through walks of kings!
What awe did the slow solemn knell inspire;
The pealing organ, and the pausing choir;
The duties by the lawn-rob'd prelate pay'd,
And the last words that dust to dust convey'd!
While speechless o'er thy closing grave we bend,
Accept these tears, thou dear departed friend.
Oh gone forever, take this long adieu;
And sleep in peace, next thy lov'd Montagu!

To strew fresh laurels let the task be mine,
A frequent pilgrim, at thy sacred shrine;
Mine with true sighs thy absence to bemoan,
And grave with faithful epitaphs thy stone.
If e'er from me thy lov'd memorial part,
May shame afflict this alienated heart;
Of thee forgetful if I form a song,
My lyre be broken, and untun'd my tongue,
My griefs be doubled, from thy image free,
And mirth a torment, unchastis'd by thee.

Oft let me range the gloomy aisles alone,
(Sad luxury! to vulgar minds unknown)
Along the walls where speaking marbles show
What worthies form the hallow'd mould below:
Proud names, who once the reins of empire held;
In arms who triumph'd; or in arts excell'd;
Chiefs, grac'd with scars, and prodigal of blood;
Stern patriots, who for sacred freedom stood;
Just men, by whom impartial laws were given;
And saints, who taught, and led, the way to Heaven.
Ne'er to these chambers, where the mighty rest,
Since their foundation, came a nobler guest;
Nor e'er was to the bowers of bliss convey'd
A fairer spirit, or more welcome shade.

In what new region, to the just assign'd,
What new employments please th' unbodied mind?
A winged Virtue, through th' ethereal sky,
From world to world unwearied does he fly?
Or curious trace the long laborious maze
Of Heaven's decrees, where wond'ring angels gaze?
Does he delight to hear bold Seraphs tell
How Michael battled, and the Dragon fell;
Or, mix'd with milder Cherubim, to glow
In hymns of love, not ill essay'd below?
Or dost thou warn poor mortals left behind,
A task well-suited to thy gentle mind?
Oh, if sometimes thy spotless form descend,
To me thy aid, thou guardian Genius, lend!
When rage misguides me, or when fear alarms,
When pain distresses, or when pleasure charms,
In silent whisperings purer thoughts impart,
And turn from ill a frail and feeble heart;
Lead through the paths thy virtue trod before,
Till bliss shall join, nor death can part us more.

That awful form (which, so ye Heavens decree,
Must still be lov'd and still deplor'd by me),
In nightly visions seldom fails to rise,
Or, rous'd by fancy, meets my waking eyes.
If business calls, or crowded courts invite,
Th' unblemish'd statesman seems to strike my sight;
If in the stage I seek to soothe my care,
I meet his soul, which breathes in Cato there;
If pensive to the rural shades I rove,
His shape o'ertakes me in the lonely grove;
'Twas there of just and good he reason'd strong,
Clear'd some great truth, or rais'd some serious song;
There patient show'd us the wise course to steer,
A candid censor, and a friend severe;
There taught us how to live; and (oh! too high
The price for knowledge) taught us how to die.

Thou Hill, whose brow the antique structures grace,
Rear'd by bold chiefs of Warwick's noble race,
Why, once so lov'd, whene'er thy bower appears,
O'er my dim eyeballs glance the sudden tears!
How sweet were once thy prospects fresh and fair,
Thy sloping walks, and unpolluted air!
How sweet the glooms beneath thy aged trees,
90 Thy noon-tide shadow, and thy evening breeze!
His image thy forsaken bowers restore;
Thy walks and airy prospects charm no more;
No more the summer in thy glooms allay'd,
Thy evening breezes, and thy noon-day shade.

From other ills, however fortune frown'd;
Some refuge in the Muse's art I found;
Reluctant now I touch the trembling string,
Bereft of him, who taught me how to sing;
And these sad accents, murmur'd o'er his urn,
Betray that absence they attempt to mourn.
Oh! must I then (now fresh my bosom bleeds,
And Craggs in death to Addison succeeds)
The verse, begun to one lost friend, prolong,
And weep a second in th' unfinish'd song!

These works divine, which, on his death-bed laid,
To thee, O Craggs, th' expiring sage convey'd,
Great, but ill-omen'd monument of fame,
Nor he surviv'd to give, nor thou to claim.
Swift after him thy social spirit flies,
And close to his, how soon! thy coffin lies.
Blest pair! whose union future bards shall tell
In future tongues: each other's boast! farewell,
Farewell! whom join'd in fame, in friendship tried,
No chance could sever, nor the grave divide.