literature

11d

<p>Reformation of science</p><p>Protestantism didn’t hold back science – it revolutionised its methods, its theoretical content and its social significance</p><p>by Peter Harrison</p><p><a href="https://aeon.co/essays/how-protestantism-influenced-the-making-of-modern-science?utm_source=Aeon+Newsletter&utm_campaign=72289caf52-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2026_03_06_COPY_01&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_-4ef8a26106-72664972" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="aeon.co/essays/how-protestantism-influenced-the-making-of-modern-science?utm_source=Aeon+Newsletter&utm_campaign=72289caf52-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2026_03_06_COPY_01&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_-4ef8a26106-72664972"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">aeon.co/essays/how-protestanti</span><span class="invisible">sm-influenced-the-making-of-modern-science?utm_source=Aeon+Newsletter&utm_campaign=72289caf52-EMAIL_CAMPAIGN_2026_03_06_COPY_01&utm_medium=email&utm_term=0_-4ef8a26106-72664972</span></a></p><p>Protestantism at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/subject/4381" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/subject/4381"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/subje</span><span class="invisible">ct/4381</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/science/" rel="tag">#science</a></p>

The Garden of Eden with the Fall of Man (c1615) by Jan Brueghel the Elder and Peter Paul Rubens. Early supporters of the Royal Society, founded in 1660, commonly spoke in theological terms about the new science recapturing a lost, pre-Fall human dominion over nature.

At centre-left, Eve reaches up to take the forbidden fruit from the coiled serpent in the Tree of Knowledge while Adam receives it from her hand.

Identifiable creatures include macaws and a blue-and-gold macaw in the branches, peacock, ostrich, turkey, heron, ducks, swans, rabbit, white lapdog, deer, lion, tiger, leopard, horse, elephant glimpsed in the distance, monkey, and many more.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Garden_of_Eden_with_the_Fall_of_Man#/media/File:Jan_Brueghel_de_Oude_en_Peter_Paul_Rubens_-_Het_aards_paradijs_met_de_zondeval_van_Adam_en_Eva.jpg

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12d

<p>Why Is the Aeneid Important? Key Lessons and Impact of the Ancient Epic</p><p>"Virgil’s Aeneid is one of the most famous and influential pieces of literature from the Roman world. What was its purpose, and what are the key lessons it conveys?"</p><p><a href="https://www.thecollector.com/aeneid-importance-founding-rome/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.thecollector.com/aeneid-importance-founding-rome/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.thecollector.com/aeneid-im</span><span class="invisible">portance-founding-rome/</span></a></p><p>The Aeneid at PG:</p><p><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=Aeneid" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=Aeneid"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/searc</span><span class="invisible">h/?query=Aeneid</span></a></p><p>Virgil Reading the Aeneid to Augustus and Octavia</p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a></p>

Virgil Reading the Aeneid to Augustus and Octavia. Oil painting by Angelica Kauffman. "It depicts a legend in Macrobius that Octavia the Younger fainted whilst Virgil was reading to her and Augustus a passage about her son Marcellus in the Book VI of his Aeneid." - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Virgil_Reading_the_Aeneid_to_Augustus_and_Octavia#:~:text=Virgil%20Reading%20the%20Aeneid%20to%20Augustus%20and%20Octavia%20is%20an,is%20in%20the%20Royal%20Collection.

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9d

<p>Silence: a brief literary history</p><p>by Kate McLoughlin</p><p>Without silences, we wouldn’t have the exquisite hush of medieval lullabies, the suspenseful secrets of the realist novel, or jagged modernist poetry.</p><p><a href="https://theconversation.com/silence-a-brief-literary-history-277903?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Latest%20from%20The%20Conversation%20for%20April%201%202026%20-%203724038096&utm_content=Latest%20from%20The%20Conversation%20for%20April%201%202026%20-%203724038096+CID_11bc9538c61be32abbf7da8bc43f3be9&utm_source=campaign_monitor_uk" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="theconversation.com/silence-a-brief-literary-history-277903?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Latest%20from%20The%20Conversation%20for%20April%201%202026%20-%203724038096&utm_content=Latest%20from%20The%20Conversation%20for%20April%201%202026%20-%203724038096+CID_11bc9538c61be32abbf7da8bc43f3be9&utm_source=campaign_monitor_uk"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">theconversation.com/silence-a-</span><span class="invisible">brief-literary-history-277903?utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=Latest%20from%20The%20Conversation%20for%20April%201%202026%20-%203724038096&utm_content=Latest%20from%20The%20Conversation%20for%20April%201%202026%20-%203724038096+CID_11bc9538c61be32abbf7da8bc43f3be9&utm_source=campaign_monitor_uk</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a></p>

When Children Are Asleep by Thomas Faed (1885).

A young mother or nursemaid sits by a fireside absorbed in reading a book. She wears a white cap, yellow neckerchief, grey bodice and green skirt. Through the half-open door behind her, a child lies sleeping in a box bed, cheek resting on folded hands.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Thomas_Faed_(1825-1900)_-_When_Children_Are_Asleep_-_WAG_2816_-_Walker_Art_Gallery.jpg

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11d

<p>CFP<br>A Kingdom in Perplexity: Voices of Seventeenth-Century Scotland Symposium<br>11 June, University of Glasgow</p><p>Postgraduate & Early Career Researchers specialising in any aspect of early modern Scottish history, literature & culture are invited to participate in the University of Glasgow’s new interdisciplinary research symposium. Contact scot17thcenturyresearch@gmail.com for details.</p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/history/" rel="tag">#history</a> <a href="/tags/culture/" rel="tag">#culture</a> <a href="/tags/celticstudies/" rel="tag">#celticstudies</a> <a href="/tags/callforpapers/" rel="tag">#callforpapers</a> <a href="/tags/gaelic/" rel="tag">#Gaelic</a> <a href="/tags/gaidhlig/" rel="tag">#Gaidhlig</a></p>

A map of Scotland from a 17th-century pocket atlas of Great Britain, drawn by John Speed and engraved by Peter Van Den Keere (Petrus Kaerius): 1627. Drawn in black on paper browned with age, labelled THE KINGDOME OF SCOTLAND

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9d

<p>George MacDonald Fraser (1925–2008) – author, historian, journalist, screenwriter – was born <a href="/tags/otd/" rel="tag">#OTD</a>, 2 April, 1925</p><p>“His dedication to strongly researched stories, built firmly on a bedrock of historical fact, but always with an eye to the humour of a situation, was the core of what appealed to me”</p><p>Historical novelist Michael Jecks discusses MacDonald Fraser’s writing for the Royal Literary Fund</p><p>@bookstodon </p><p>1/6</p><p><a href="https://www.rlf.org.uk/showcase/not-a-serious-writer/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.rlf.org.uk/showcase/not-a-serious-writer/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.rlf.org.uk/showcase/not-a-</span><span class="invisible">serious-writer/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/historicalfiction/" rel="tag">#historicalfiction</a></p>

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8d

<p>Thirty previously unpublished verses by Empedocles discovered on a papyrus from Cairo</p><p>by University de Liege</p><p>edited by Stephanie Baum, reviewed by Robert Egan</p><p><a href="https://phys.org/news/2026-04-previously-unpublished-verses-empedocles-papyrus.html" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="phys.org/news/2026-04-previously-unpublished-verses-empedocles-papyrus.html"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">phys.org/news/2026-04-previous</span><span class="invisible">ly-unpublished-verses-empedocles-papyrus.html</span></a></p><p>Empedocles at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=Empedocles" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=Empedocles"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/searc</span><span class="invisible">h/?query=Empedocles</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/old_manuscripts/" rel="tag">#old_manuscripts</a></p>

The Strasbourg Empedocles papyrus contained over 50 lines from Empedocles' work On Nature that were not published until 1999.

Multiple torn, irregular fragments of ancient papyrus, dark brown with age, bearing neat columns of Greek uncial script in black ink.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Empedocles#/media/File:Empedokles_fragment_Physika_I_262%E2%80%93300.jpg

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8d

<p>The cold Roman eye, hand on seal.<br>Vale. Take the thief away.</p><p>“You carry your own tree, Jimmy…”<br>Another gallowsbird behind.<br>One ahead, burdened, a bruised brightness…</p><p>—George Mackay Brown, “Stations of the Cross: The Good Thief”<br>published in CARVE THE RUNES: Selected Poems (Birlinn, 2021)</p><p><a href="https://birlinn.co.uk/product/carve-the-runes/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="birlinn.co.uk/product/carve-the-runes/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">birlinn.co.uk/product/carve-th</span><span class="invisible">e-runes/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/easter/" rel="tag">#Easter</a> <a href="/tags/goodfriday/" rel="tag">#GoodFriday</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/orkney/" rel="tag">#Orkney</a></p>

Stations of the Cross: The Good Thief
George Mackay Brown

The cold Roman eye, hand on seal.
Vale. Take the thief away.

‘You carry your own tree, Jimmy . . .’
Another gallowsbird behind.
One ahead, burdened, a bruised brightness.

I’ve carried millstones, wine-vats, a mast.
That one was a carpenter.
His knees buckle under the heavy baulk.

My mother, poor woman, is dead.
His mother is here. Poor woman. Poor woman.

Look, Simon’s come into town
With an ox to sell.
They’ve laid another yoke on Simon.

Veronica, seamstress. No napkin ever
Soaked up such blood and sweat.

I stagger but I don’t fall.
The sneak-thief plods like a mule.
The bright one, he’s down again.

Those women! Miriam, Judith, Esther
Go home, sing over your cradles.
Sing among looms and pots.

Below, cornfields and vineyards.
A third time, fallen.
He tastes golden dust.

The soldiers won’t bother, I think,
Haggling over my coat.
No scarecrow would wear a rag like that.

Silence – curses – from cross and cross.
From the mid-ark
A dove wings out into the blackest storm.

Thrust of lance into heart-root.
The soldiers are coming with mallets
To break the legs of the thieves.

The eyes of the mother
Drown all the world in pity and love.
The hammer beats on my knee.

That the hands of such a woman
Fold me gravewards.
Bear me and all men in her folds of light.

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8d

<p>Three o’clock. The bus lurches<br>round into the sun. “D’s this go –”<br>he flops beside me – “right along Bath Street?<br>– Oh tha’s, tha’s all right, see I’ve<br>got to get some Easter eggs for the kiddies…</p><p>—Edwin Morgan, “Good Friday”<br>from CENTENARY SELECTED POEMS, @carcanet.bsky.social 2020</p><p><a href="https://www.carcanet.co.uk/9781784109967/centenary-selected-poems/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.carcanet.co.uk/9781784109967/centenary-selected-poems/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.carcanet.co.uk/97817841099</span><span class="invisible">67/centenary-selected-poems/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/easter/" rel="tag">#Easter</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/goodfriday/" rel="tag">#GoodFriday</a> <a href="/tags/glasgow/" rel="tag">#Glasgow</a></p>

Good Friday
Edwin Morgan

Three o’clock. The bus lurches
round into the sun. “D’s this go –”
he flops beside me – “right along Bath Street?
– Oh tha’s, tha’s all right, see I’ve
got to get some Easter eggs for the kiddies.
I’ve had a wee drink, ye understand –
ye’ll maybe think it’s a – funny day
to be celebrating – well, no, but ye see
I wasny working, and I like to celebrate
when I’m no working – I don’t say it’s right
I’m no saying it’s right, ye understand – ye understand?
But anyway tha’s the way I look at it –
I’m no boring you, eh? – ye see today,
take today, I don’t know what today’s in aid of,
whether Christ was – crucified or was he –
rose fae the dead like, see what I mean?
You’re an educatit man, you can tell me –
– Aye, well. There ye are. It’s been seen
time and again, the working man
has nae education, he jist canny – jist
hasny got it, know what I mean,
he’s jist bliddy ignorant – Christ aye,
bliddy ignorant. Well –” The bus brakes violently,
he lunges for the stair, swings down – off,
into the sun for his Easter eggs,
on very‍‍
‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ nearly‍‍
‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ steady‍‍
‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍ ‍‍‍‍‍‍ legs.

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8d

<p>Three o’clock. Yer hot cross buns ur in the oven<br>fur another nine minutes. The soup will be tested at some point<br>the mora, or maybe oan Sunday…</p><p>—Charles Lang, “Good Friday (After Edwin Morgan)”<br>from NOBODY REMEMBERS THE BIRDMAN: New Writing Scotland 40 (ASL, 2022)</p><p><a href="https://asls.org.uk/publications/books/newwriting/nws40/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="asls.org.uk/publications/books/newwriting/nws40/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">asls.org.uk/publications/books</span><span class="invisible">/newwriting/nws40/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/easter/" rel="tag">#Easter</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/goodfriday/" rel="tag">#GoodFriday</a></p>

Charles Lang
Good Friday

After Edwin Morgan

Three o’clock. Yer hot cross buns ur in the oven
fur another nine minutes. The soup will be tested at some point
the mora, or maybe oan Sunday. The world is oor oyster!
There’ll be nae eggs this year fur a few reasons.

I press play oan the telly: a recordin ae Tuesday night’s Eastenders
preceded by the last minute n a hof ae Tuesday night’s news.
That feels like such a long time ago. The days aw feel the same
but everythin is movin quickly. I fast forward through the theme tune.

lan is feelin guilty fur the part he played in Dennis’s death.
Blackmail is a wonderful thing. Dotty is usin it tae take control ae the Arches.
Will Sharon ever find oot? Will Mick sell the Queen Vic?
Did Carole Baskin kill her disappeared husband n feed him tae her lucrative tigers?

These ur things ye need tae think aboot. The questions
that need tae be answered. Is it possible tae eat mer than three
cream crackers withoot a drink a watter? How many days
will it take me tae complete this 1000-piece New Yorker jigsaw?

TBC. Maybe I’ll dae it the mora, maybe I’ll dae it next week.
Tell ye wit I’ll get most ae it oot the wiy the mora, efter ma soup,
takin a break at aboot three o’clock fur a wee coffee.
The hot cross buns, by the way: outstandin.

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8d

<p>heh jimmy<br>yawright ih<br>stull wayiz urryi<br>ih</p><p>heh jimmy<br>ma right insane yirra pape<br>ma right insane yirwanny us jimmy<br>see it nyir eyes<br>wanny uz</p><p>—Tom Leonard, “The Good Thief”<br>published in THE GOLDEN TREASURY OF SCOTTISH VERSE, <span class="h-card"><a href="https://bookish.community/@canongatebooks" class="u-url mention" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">@<span>canongatebooks</span></a></span> 2021</p><p><a href="https://canongate.co.uk/books/3267-the-golden-treasury-of-scottish-verse/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="canongate.co.uk/books/3267-the-golden-treasury-of-scottish-verse/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">canongate.co.uk/books/3267-the</span><span class="invisible">-golden-treasury-of-scottish-verse/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/easter/" rel="tag">#Easter</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/goodfriday/" rel="tag">#GoodFriday</a> <a href="/tags/glasgow/" rel="tag">#Glasgow</a></p>

Tom Leonard
The Good Thief

heh jimmy
yawright ih
stull wayiz urryi
ih

heh jimmy
ma right insane yirra pape
ma right insane yirwanny us jimmy
see it nyir eyes
wanny uz

heh

heh jimmy
lookslik wirgonny miss thi gemm
gonny miss thi GEMM jimmy
nearly three a cloke thinoo

dork init
good jobe theyve gote the lights

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8d

<p>Her face was thrawed.<br>She wisna aa come.</p><p>In the trams o her airms<br>the wummin held oot her first bairn.<br>It micht hae been a mercat day<br>and him for sale…</p><p>—Alastair Mackie, “Pietà”<br>from The Golden Treasury of Scottish Verse, <span class="h-card"><a href="https://bookish.community/@canongatebooks" class="u-url mention" rel="nofollow noopener noreferrer" target="_blank">@<span>canongatebooks</span></a></span> 2021</p><p><a href="https://canongate.co.uk/books/3267-the-golden-treasury-of-scottish-verse/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="canongate.co.uk/books/3267-the-golden-treasury-of-scottish-verse/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">canongate.co.uk/books/3267-the</span><span class="invisible">-golden-treasury-of-scottish-verse/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/20thcentury/" rel="tag">#20thcentury</a> <a href="/tags/scots/" rel="tag">#Scots</a> <a href="/tags/scotslanguage/" rel="tag">#Scotslanguage</a></p>

Pietà
Alastair Mackie

Her face was thrawed.
She wisna aa come.

In the trams o her airms
the wummin held oot her first bairn.
It micht hae been a mercat day
and him for sale.
Naebody stoppit tae niffer.

His life bluid cled his breast
wi a new reid semmit.
He’d hippens for deid claes.

Aifter the boombers cleck
and the sodgers traik thro the skau
there’s an auld air sterts up –
bubblin and greetin.

It’s a ballant mithers sing
on their hunkers i the stour
for a bairn deid.

They ken it by hert.

It’s the cauldest grue i the universe
yon skelloch.
It niver waukens the deid.

Edited 8d ago

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7d

<p>A Reader’s Guide to Poetry for National Poetry Month</p><p>By The Editors</p><p>Read poems, learn poetic forms, and discover writers in this National Poetry Month roundup.</p><p><a href="https://daily.jstor.org/editors-picks-national-poetry-month/?utm_source=mcae&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=jstordaily_04022026" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="daily.jstor.org/editors-picks-national-poetry-month/?utm_source=mcae&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=jstordaily_04022026"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">daily.jstor.org/editors-picks-</span><span class="invisible">national-poetry-month/?utm_source=mcae&utm_medium=email&utm_campaign=jstordaily_04022026</span></a></p><p>Poetry at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/bookshelf/637" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/bookshelf/637"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/books</span><span class="invisible">helf/637</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a></p>

Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.

A small black and white decorative vignette — a quill pen thrust diagonally through a curling scroll or sheet of paper.

https://www.gutenberg.org/files/43224/43224-h/43224-h.htm

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7d

<p>A Poet of Science Who Shook Faith in God</p><p>Biographer Richard Holmes reveals how Tennyson predated Darwin and speaks to us today</p><p>By Kevin Berger</p><p><a href="https://nautil.us/a-poet-of-science-who-shook-faith-in-god-1279489" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="nautil.us/a-poet-of-science-who-shook-faith-in-god-1279489"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">nautil.us/a-poet-of-science-wh</span><span class="invisible">o-shook-faith-in-god-1279489</span></a></p><p>Tennyson at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/2987" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/2987"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/autho</span><span class="invisible">r/2987</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a></p>

Portrait of Alfred Lord Tennyson by Samuel Laurence, 1840.

Tennyson is portrayed with abundant dark chestnut hair swept back from a strong, angular face, gazes slightly to his left. The features are sharply defined — a prominent nose, firm jaw, deep-set eyes — and a loose dark coat with white collar.

https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Alfred_Lord_Tennyson_1840.jpg

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7d

<p><a href="/tags/otd/" rel="tag">#OTD</a> In 1860, George Eliot’s novel The Mill on the Floss is published by John Blackwood in three volumes. </p><p><a href="https://lithub.com/lit-hub-weekly-march-30-april-3-2026/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="lithub.com/lit-hub-weekly-march-30-april-3-2026/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">lithub.com/lit-hub-weekly-marc</span><span class="invisible">h-30-april-3-2026/</span></a></p><p>"The Mill on the Floss" at PG: </p><p><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=Mill+on+the+floss" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=Mill+on+the+floss"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/searc</span><span class="invisible">h/?query=Mill+on+the+floss</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a></p>

Portrait of George Eliot by the Swiss artist Alexandre-Louis-François d'Albert-Durade - picryl.com. She is facing front.

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7d

<p>A girnin, greitin deil wis I –<br>I wis auld, and feelin aulder.<br>Syne the heatin system burst in Hell:<br>It wis cauld – and gettin caulder…</p><p>—James Robertson, “Beelzebub Resurfaces”</p><p><a href="https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/beelzebub-resurfaces/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/beelzebub-resurfaces/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.</span><span class="invisible">uk/poem/beelzebub-resurfaces/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/scots/" rel="tag">#Scots</a> <a href="/tags/scotslanguage/" rel="tag">#Scotslanguage</a></p>

Beelzebub Resurfaces
James Robertson

A girnin, greitin deil wis I –
I wis auld, and feelin aulder.
Syne the heatin system burst in Hell:
It wis cauld – and gettin caulder.

When the fires were doun tae reek and ash,
And the cauldrons fou o ice,
And imps and bogles hunkered roond
Like cowrin, chitterin mice,

And the wretched deid were truly deid,
And had nae pain left tae thole –
I kent that it wis time tae leave
Yon dreich and dowie hole.

I trauchled up the auld stane stair,
Unsnecked the rousty yett,
And hard upon the stoury grund
Ma clootie fit I set.

The Earth wis yince a paradise –
It wis bonnie, bricht and braw,
And a sulky soor-mooth like masel
It didna please at aw.

But noo I fund a different scene,
That gart ma spirits lowp,
For man had made his paradise
A stinkin, scabbit cowp.

The land wis deid, the oceans deid,
The fush and wild beasts gane,
The rainforests were hackit doun,
And the rain wis acid rain;

Deserts had smoored the green fields ower,
The ice-caps were snaw-bree,
Floods had drouned the straths and glens,
And wild winds whipped the sea.

Fires bleezed that made aw Hell’s fires seem
Mere skinkles in the nicht;
And, in their bonnie, beekin lowe,
O whit a glorious sicht!

God’s craitur fechtin wi himsel
For ile and land and food,
For widd and water, graith and gear,
And – best o aw – for God;

Men busy killin ither men
Wi guns and bombs and tanks,
And slauchterin bairns and weemin tae –
And the deid piled up in ranks.

I minded whit I’d read langsyne
And clapped ma hauns wi glee,
For whit I saw looked awfie like
A Judgment Day tae me.

Sae aw ye princes, presidents
And ither heids o state,
Herrie and fyle, oppress, invade,
And dinna be ower blate.

And aw ye haly terrorists,
Be bauld and fou o faith,
And whaur ye ding doun tyranny
Raise misery and daith.

I am a stranger faur frae hame,
But I fairly like yer style,
Sae dinna mind me sittin here –
I dout I’ll bide a while.

A girnin, greitin deil wis I –
A sair-faced auld doom-monger.
But noo I’m happy, and whit’s mair –
I believe I’m gettin younger!

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6d

<p>Why the Temple of Artemis Was the Greatest Wonder of the World</p><p>The Temple of Artemis at Ephesus was so magnificent that it was considered one of the seven wonders of the ancient world.</p><p>by Kieren Johns</p><p><a href="https://www.thecollector.com/ephesus-temple-of-artemis/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.thecollector.com/ephesus-temple-of-artemis/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.thecollector.com/ephesus-t</span><span class="invisible">emple-of-artemis/</span></a></p><p>Temple of Artemis at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=temple+of+artemis" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=temple+of+artemis"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/searc</span><span class="invisible">h/?query=temple+of+artemis</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/history/" rel="tag">#history</a></p>

From the 1572 Octo Mundi Miracula, the earliest known representation of the temple in modern times. The engraving was by Martin Heemskerck.

The temple of Artemis is represented by a colonnaded façade richly decorated with relief sculpture, statues in niches, a pediment with figural groups, and a long stepped platform.

Workers, architects and figures labour in the foreground: cutting stone, rolling columns, consulting plans.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Temple_of_Artemis#/media/File:Philips_Galle,_Dianatemplet_i_Efesos,_1572,_KKSgb10001-5,_Statens_Museum_for_Kunst_(cropped).jpg

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6d

<p>Done is a battell on the dragon blak,<br>Our campioun Chryst confoundit hes his force;<br>The ȝettis of hell ar brokin with a crak,<br>The signe triumphall rasit is of the croce…</p><p>—William Dunbar, c.1460–1520. The poem was most likely written when Dunbar was at James IV’s court</p><p>1/2</p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/medieval/" rel="tag">#medieval</a> <a href="/tags/medievalliterature/" rel="tag">#medievalliterature</a> <a href="/tags/easter/" rel="tag">#Easter</a> <a href="/tags/scots/" rel="tag">#Scots</a> <a href="/tags/scotslanguage/" rel="tag">#Scotslanguage</a></p>

Done is a battell on the dragon blak
William Dunbar (c. 1460–1520)

Done is a battell on the dragon blak,
Our campioun Chryst confoundit hes his force;
The ȝettis of hell ar brokin with a crak,
The signe triumphall rasit is of the croce;
The diuillis trymmillis with hiddous voce,
The saulis ar borrowit and to the blis can go,
Chryst with his blud our ransonis dois indoce:
Surrexit dominus de sepulchro.

Dungin is the deidly dragon Lucifer,
The crewall serpent with the mortall stang;
The auld kene tegir, with his teith on char
Quhilk in a wait hes lyne for us so lang,
Thinking to grip us in his clowis strang;
The mercifull lord wald nocht that it wer so.
He maid him for to felȝe of that fang:
Surrexit dominus de sepulchro.

He for our saik that sufferit to be slane
And lyk a lamb in sacrifice wes dicht,
Is lyk a lyone rissin vp agane
And as a gyane raxit him on hicht;
Sprungin is Aurora radius and bricht,
On loft is gone the glorius Appollo,
The blisfull day departit fro the nycht:
Surrexit dominus de sepulchro.

The grit victour agane is rissin on hicht,
That for our querrell to the deth wes woundit:
The sone that wox all paill now schynis bricht,
And, dirknes clerit, our fayth is now refoundit;
The knell of mercy fra the hevin is soundit,
The Cristin ar deliverit of thair wo,
The Iowis and thair errour ar confoundit:
Surrexit dominus de sepulchro.

The fo is chasit, the battell is done ceis,
The presone brokin, the jevellouris fleit and flemit;
The weir is gon, confermit is the peis,
The fetteris lowsit and the dungeoun temit;
The ransoun maid, the presoneris redemit,
The feild is win, ourcumin is the fo,
Dispulit of the tresur that he ȝemit:
Surrexit dominus de sepulchro.

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6d

<p>“This poem was written when my father was very ill, dying of cancer, & I was coming home from the hospital. Suddenly this line ‘I am the resurrection & the life’ came into my head & then the poem began to emerge from the line.”</p><p>—Edwin Morgan on “Message Clear”</p><p>1/3</p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/easter/" rel="tag">#Easter</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/concretepoetry/" rel="tag">#concretepoetry</a></p>

“Message Clear”, by Edwin Morgan. A concrete poem where the lines are created by taking the phrase “i am the resurrection and the life” and, by selectively deleting letters from each line, building up the following text:

am i
if
i am he
hero
hurt
there and
here and
here and
there
i am rife
in sion and
i die
a mere sect
a mere section
of
the life
of
men
sure
the die
is set and
i am the surd
at rest
o life
i am here
i act
i run
i meet
i tie
i stand
i am thoth
i am ra
i am the sun
i am the son
i am the erect one if
i am rent
i am safe
i am sent
i heed
i test
i read
a thread
a stone
a tread
a throne
i resurrect
a life
i am in life
i am resurrection
i am the resurrection and
i am
i am the resurrection and the life

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6d

<p>There’s a boulder by the forest path,<br>left by the ice ten thousand years ago,<br>it waits, patterned with lichen…</p><p>—Antonia Kearton, “A Benediction”<br>published in Break in Case of Silence: New Writing Scotland 39 (ASL, 2021)</p><p><a href="https://asls.org.uk/publications/books/newwriting/nws39/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="asls.org.uk/publications/books/newwriting/nws39/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">asls.org.uk/publications/books</span><span class="invisible">/newwriting/nws39/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/easter/" rel="tag">#Easter</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a></p>

Antonia Kearton
A Benediction

There’s a boulder by the forest path,
left by the ice ten thousand years ago,
it waits, patterned with lichen

the quietest blue, yellow soft as cream,
knee-high, flat-topped, so wide
I cannot wrap my arms around it –

small hands of moss patter up its side.
It’s nothing like my grandmother’s table
at Easter, but that’s what comes to mind,

dark brown and shining under the white cloth,
bearing the feast, eggs dyed with onion skins
and at the centre, sweet pashka

a resurrection of butter, eggs, and cream,
radiant with bright sugared fruits –
moss green, rowan red, the sun’s strong yellow.

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5d

<p>The Loneliness of A Room of One’s Own</p><p>Virginia Woolf put forward an enduring vision of women with the space and financial stability to write. But it’s also a sad vision—of isolated writers, cut off from peers or mentors.</p><p>by Joanna Scutts</p><p><a href="https://newrepublic.com/article/206731/loneliness-room-one-virginia-woolf-hold-up" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="newrepublic.com/article/206731/loneliness-room-one-virginia-woolf-hold-up"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">newrepublic.com/article/206731</span><span class="invisible">/loneliness-room-one-virginia-woolf-hold-up</span></a></p><p>Virginia Wooldf at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/89" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/89"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/autho</span><span class="invisible">r/89</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/literarycriticism/" rel="tag">#literarycriticism</a></p>

First edition cover of A Room of One's Own by Vanessa Bell..

The central image shows a clock on a stepped mantelpiece or plinth, framed within a dark arched alcove, bordered by a dotted semicircle and a decorative repeating pattern of small arches along the base.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:ARoomOfOnesOwn.jpg

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5d

<p>B-Sides: Thomas De Quincey’s “The English Mail-Coach”</p><p><a href="https://www.publicbooks.org/b-sides-thomas-de-quinceys-the-english-mail-coach/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.publicbooks.org/b-sides-thomas-de-quinceys-the-english-mail-coach/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.publicbooks.org/b-sides-th</span><span class="invisible">omas-de-quinceys-the-english-mail-coach/</span></a></p><p>The essay at PG:</p><p><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=The+English+Mail-Coach" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/search/?query=The+English+Mail-Coach"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/searc</span><span class="invisible">h/?query=The+English+Mail-Coach</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/essays/" rel="tag">#essays</a></p>

An engraving of Thomas De Quincey. He is looking towards his left.

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5d

<p>Your carolan’s blythe, bricht bird i the blackthorn bou,<br>this braw Voar morn, wi trill eftir spirlan trill,<br>tho you only ken the warld as it liggs the nou,<br>an nocht but a glisk concerns your chatteran bill…</p><p>—Maurice Lindsay, “On Hearin a Merle Singan (Arbroath Day, April 6th, 1946)”<br>published in A KIST O SKINKLAN THINGS (ASL 2016)</p><p><a href="https://asls.org.uk/publications/books/volumes/a-kist-o-skinlan-things/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="asls.org.uk/publications/books/volumes/a-kist-o-skinlan-things/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">asls.org.uk/publications/books</span><span class="invisible">/volumes/a-kist-o-skinlan-things/</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/poem/" rel="tag">#poem</a> <a href="/tags/poetry/" rel="tag">#poetry</a> <a href="/tags/scots/" rel="tag">#Scots</a> <a href="/tags/scotslanguage/" rel="tag">#Scotslanguage</a></p>

Maurice Lindsay
On Hearin a Merle Singan
(Arbroath Day, April 6th, 1946)

Your carolan’s blythe, bricht bird i the blackthorn bou,
this braw Voar morn, wi trill eftir spirlan trill,
tho you only ken the warld as it liggs the nou,
an nocht but a glisk concerns your chatteran bill.

You feel the warm sun kissan your sparklan breist,
sea-green it glints as you dirl your feathered thrapple,
naithin mindit o things afore or neist
wi whilk, on this day o days, I try tae grapple.

Tae you, the Simmer’s come, sin the blue-gers glitters,
an spinnan-Maggies stoiter aboot the lawn.
It micht be sae, sin for days there’s no been a spitter
o rain tae sloke the drouth o the yird’s dry pawn.

Yet, fegs, the sun’s made you luik gey gilliegawky!
Gin ye only kennt, there’s snaw i the heich hills yet.
Ye’re no faur-seean, bird, lik the leathern baukie
wha although he’s blin’s nae perturbed by the cauld or the het.

As I hear you singan, merle, aa the thwartit flames
o my luve for Scotland loup i my waefu hert,
an six-hunnert-years-auld bluid reenges roun my veins
till my stangit heid’s agley wi an orra smert . . .

But maist folk in Scotland noo hae the baukie’s een,
caran for nocht that isnae smoorit in derk:
an tho they wad praise your sang for its happy shein,
at the thocht o the snaw i the hills their sauls aye lerk!

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5d

<p>“It is in truth not for glory, nor riches, nor honours, that we are fighting, but for freedom – for that alone, which no honest man gives up but with life itself”</p><p>The Declaration of Arbroath – a letter from the Community of the Realm of Scotland to Pope John XXII, asserting Scotland’s independence & supporting Robert I as the rightful king – was signed <a href="/tags/otd/" rel="tag">#OTD</a>, 6 April, 1320</p><p><a href="https://unesco.org.uk/our-sites/memory-of-the-world/the-declaration-of-arbroath" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="unesco.org.uk/our-sites/memory-of-the-world/the-declaration-of-arbroath"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">unesco.org.uk/our-sites/memory</span><span class="invisible">-of-the-world/the-declaration-of-arbroath</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/history/" rel="tag">#history</a> <a href="/tags/medievalhistory/" rel="tag">#medievalhistory</a> <a href="/tags/14thcentury/" rel="tag">#14thcentury</a></p>

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5d

<p>Today, 6 April, is Tartan Day – a principally North American day of celebration of Scottish heritage, although it’s also marked, unofficially, in Argentina. 6 April was chosen as it’s the date of the signing of the Declaration of Arbroath in 1320.</p><p>1/4</p><p><a href="/tags/scottish/" rel="tag">#Scottish</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/culture/" rel="tag">#culture</a> <a href="/tags/history/" rel="tag">#history</a> <a href="/tags/tartan/" rel="tag">#tartan</a> <a href="/tags/tartanday/" rel="tag">#TartanDay</a></p>

A square of red, green, blue, yellow and white tartan. Superimposed on the tartan are white letters, reading:

Once you can accept the universe as being something expanding into an infinite nothing which is something, wearing stripes with plaid is easy.
—Albert Einstein

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4d

<p>Apollonius of Rhodes: The Man Who Changed Ancient Greek Literature for Ever</p><p>Few figures in Ancient Greek literature have been as consequential and enigmatic as Apollonius of Rhodes.</p><p>By Nick Kampouris</p><p><a href="https://greekreporter.com/2026/04/05/apollonius-rhodes-man-change-greek-literature/" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="greekreporter.com/2026/04/05/apollonius-rhodes-man-change-greek-literature/"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">greekreporter.com/2026/04/05/a</span><span class="invisible">pollonius-rhodes-man-change-greek-literature/</span></a></p><p>Rhodius Apollonius at PG:<br><a href="https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/433" rel="nofollow" class="ellipsis" title="www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/author/433"><span class="invisible">https://</span><span class="ellipsis">www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/autho</span><span class="invisible">r/433</span></a></p><p><a href="/tags/books/" rel="tag">#books</a> <a href="/tags/literature/" rel="tag">#literature</a> <a href="/tags/philosophy/" rel="tag">#philosophy</a></p>

This is a fanciful portrait of one "Apollonius" - a name shared by several illustrious ancient Greek men. Among those, most prominent are (1) the epic poet, Apollonius of Rhodes (3rd century BCE); (2) the mathematician, Apollonius of Perga (2nd century BCE); (3) the philosopher, Apollonius of Tyana (1st century CE).

While every effort has been taken (by going through digital editions of the original work which are available on the Internet), I haven't succeeded in ascertaining the identity of this Apollonius. However, the most likely candidate seems to be no. (1) - notice the laurel crown, surely more fitting to his role as an epic poet - a second possibility could be no. (3), while I'd surely rule out no. (2).

https://el.wikipedia.org/wiki/%CE%91%CF%80%CE%BF%CE%BB%CE%BB%CF%8E%CE%BD%CE%B9%CE%BF%CF%82_%CE%BF_%CE%A1%CF%8C%CE%B4%CE%B9%CE%BF%CF%82#/media/%CE%91%CF%81%CF%87%CE%B5%CE%AF%CE%BF:Apollonius.png

Edited 4d ago

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