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chris sarandon - ulysses lyrics

it little profits that an idle king
by this still hearth, among these barren crags
match’d with an aged wife, i mete and dole
unequal laws unto a savage race
that h++rd, and sleep, and feed, and know not me
i cannot rest from travel: i will drink
life to the lees: all times i have enjoy’d
greatly, have suffer’d greatly, both with those
that loved me, and alone, on shore, and when
thro’ scudding drifts the rainy hyades
vext the dim sea: i am become a name;
for always roaming with a hungry heart
much have i seen and known; cities of men
and manners, climates, councils, governments
myself not least, but honour’d of them all;
and drunk delight of battle with my peers
far on the ringing plains of windy troy
i am a part of all that i have met;
yet all experience is an arch wherethro’
gleams that untravell’d world whose margin fades
for ever and forever when i move
how dull it is to pause, to make an end
to rust unburnish’d, not to shine in use!
as tho’ to breathe were life! life piled on life
were all too little, and of one to me
little remains: but every hour is saved
from that eternal silence, something more
a bringer of new things; and vile it were
for some three suns to store and h++rd myself
and this gray spirit yearning in desire
to follow knowledge like a sinking star
beyond the utmost bound of human thought
this is my son, mine own telemachus
to whom i leave the sceptre and the isle,—
well+loved of me, discerning to fulfil
this labour, by slow prudence to make mild
a rugged people, and thro’ soft degrees
subdue them to the useful and the good
most blameless is he, centred in the sphere
of common duties, decent not to fail
in offices of tenderness, and pay
meet adoration to my household gods
when i am gone. he works his work, i mine

there lies the port; the vessel puffs her sail:
there gloom the dark, broad seas. my mariners
souls that have toil’d, and wrought, and thought with me—
that ever with a frolic welcome took
the thunder and the sunshine, and opposed
free hearts, free foreheads—you and i are old;
old age hath yet his honour and his toil;
death closes all: but something ere the end
some work of n0ble note, may yet be done
not unbecoming men that strove with gods
the lights begin to twinkle from the rocks:
the long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
moans round with many voices. come, my friends
‘t is not too late to seek a newer world
push off, and sitting well in order smite
the sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
to sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
of all the western stars, until i die
it may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
it may be we shall touch the happy isles
and see the great achilles, whom we knew
tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
we are not now that strength which in old days
moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
one equal temper of heroic hearts
made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield

- chris sarandon lyrics

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