The Shadow of Great Britain
“Next, we have the most noble recipient of the Order of the Garter, the Grand Cross of Saint Michael and Saint George, the Grand Cross of the Bath, the Victoria Cross and the lower grades of Knighthood, the leader of the anti-colonial movement, the bell-ringer of the East India Company, the hero of the Crimean War, a Fellow of the Royal Society, a lifelong dear friend of literary giants such as Dickens and Great Dumas, a steadfast supporter of scientific luminaries like Faraday and Darwin, having served as assistant under-secretary, deputy under-secretary, and permanent under-secretary in departments of the Home Office and the Navy Department of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland, the inaugural Cabinet Secretary and head of the civil service, the first graduate and most distinguished alumnus of our school. Please welcome Sir Arthur Hastings to deliver a speech on the occasion of the fiftieth anniversary of the founding of the University of London.”
Arthur's gaze swept across the crowd before him, looking at the young faces and murmured, “Agares, what do you think I should say?”
The Red Devil's wraith hovered behind him, saliva almost dribbling from the corner of his mouth, “Look at these ignorant souls; they still worship you as a hero. Why not say something they'd like to hear?”
Arthur took a deep breath and let out a deafening roar, “Oxford is a bunch of whores' bastards!”
“Oh!!!!”
The audience erupted into thunderous applause.
“Cambridge is the same!” he added immediately.
The applause grew even more fervent...
(The protagonist, possessed by a devil, travels through 19th-century Britain in a world without magic)
Chasing Time · Fantasy
Enjoy this translated poem I found: "The shadow" - George Coșbuc Your burnt offspring's smoke will wind Peacefully towards the skies Only if you bear in mind That when you go to the sun, Your dark shadow is behind. Silent slave whom the grim lord Summons by a silent gesture, He takes heed, humble and awed, Of the slightest beckoning, And keeps everything well scored. He's your bondman when your flight Is directed to the sun; He hurts not, he's out of sight; Holy rays surround your forehead, And you do advance in light. But your shadow councils ill When you leave the sun behind; He will cloud your face until Your keen eyes become purblind -- He is nothing but ill-will! Shadow, sun, shrine, smoke, and glow! Useless is my tale, unless You have understood it. So -- You may choose! You are just starting; I have long been on the go.