I too can command the wind, sir!

[fonsetorigo]

 I re-watched Elizabeth: The Golden Age. I love it as much as I ever did. The thing I love about it most is the way its filmed. They make use of the architecture that they were filming it. It's not just straight pan shots or blahblahblah. You get these odd angles, through archways or ornate screens of the cloisters, as if you are spying on them. And the shots where they look down on them, in these huge halls, they are just so small, and yet...

It's such a beautifully filmed movie, that you get the idea that they are just pawns to the game as well. The Queen, her bishops, her knights, and her own pawns. I recommend it to all who watch it. I must continue making my tudor dress!

Anyway, I started wiking the Tudors as I am prone, found that this poem was allegedly written by Anne Boleyn, awaiting her execution. It's so pretty and sorrow-full.

Death, rock me asleep,
Bring me to quiet rest,
Let pass my weary guiltless ghost
Out of my careful breast.
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Let thy sound my death tell.
Death doth draw nigh;
There is no remedy.

My pains who can express?
Alas, they are so strong;
My dolour will not suffer strength
My life for to prolong.
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Let thy sound my death tell.
Death doth draw nigh;
There is no remedy.

Alone in prison strong
I wait my destiny.
Woe worth this cruel hap that I
Should taste this misery!
Toll on, thou passing bell;
Ring out my doleful knell;
Let thy sound my death tell.
Death doth draw nigh;
There is no remedy.

Farewell, my pleasures past,
Welcome, my present pain!
I feel my torments so increase
That life cannot remain.
Cease now, thou passing bell;
Rung is my doleful knell;
For the sound my death doth tell.
Death doth draw nigh;
There is no remedy.