Wicked Temptations: An Erotic Collection (Erotika Anthologies (m m, group, oral, f f) Book 1)

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Since doom'd to passion, let thy flame bum on; Of her thou'rt worthy, and of her alone: New is thy love, so prosp'rous may it bet And let this nsrmph be every nymph to thee. Before whose gates all prostrate Greece had lain; Not such a crowd Menander's Thais drew, [ax] Whose charms th' Athenian people fafd to woo; Nor the, who could the Theban towers rebuild. When hosts of suitors had their coffers fill'd. Nay— by false kinsmen are thy lips carest; By sanctioned simulated kisses prest The forma of youths and beauteous gods, that rise Around thy pictured roof, offend mine eyes.

The tender lisping babe, by thee carest Within its cradle, wounds my jealous breast I fear thy mother's kiss, thy sister dread; Suspect the virgin partner of her bed: All wakes my spleen, a very coward grown: Forgive the fears that spring from thee alone. Wretched in jealous terror, to my eyes Beneath each female robe a lover lies. Blest was Admetus' spouse, and blest the dame Who shared Ulsrsses' couch in modest fame: Oht ever happy shall the fair-one prove. Who by her husband's threshold bounds her love.

Aht why should Modestjr's pure fane ascend? Why at her shrine the blushing maiden bend? If, when she weds, her passions spurn control; If the bold matron sates her wishful soul? The hand, that first in naked colours traced Groups of loose loves, on walls that once were chaste: And full exposed, broad burning on the light. The shapes and postures that abash the sight; Made artless minds in crime's refinements wise. And flash'd enlightening vice on virgin eyes. Woe to the wretch t who thus insidious wove Mute rapture's veil o'er wrath and tears of love I Not thus the roofs were decked in olden time Nor the stain'd walls were painted with a crime: Then, for some cause, the desert fanes of Rome Wave with rank grass, while spiders veil the dome.

What guards, O Cynthial shall thy path confine? What threshold bound that wilful foot of thine? Weak is constraint, if women loth obey, And she is safe, who, blushing, fears to stray. Wonder not thou that meaner nymphs invite: They less defame me: are the causes light? Shell now a fan of peacock's plumes demand; And now a oTstal ball to cool her hand: Tease me to death for ivory dice, and pray For glittering baubles of the sacred way.

Thon feeTst no blush, thus charming as thou art: Scarce two short nights in tender joys are sped. And I am called intruder on thy bed. Yet wouldst thou praise my person; read my lay: Has this thy love then flown so swift away? The race of genius may my rival run: Bat let him learn from me to love but one. WhatI he forsooth will Lema's snake enfold; Snatch from th' Hesperian dragon fruits of gold; Drain poisonous juice; or shlpwreck'd gulp the sea; And from no miseries shrink for sake of thee?

Ahl would, my life! Skulk his mean head among the coward crowd. Let the vain braggart vaunt his puffed success; One short year shall divorce your tenderness. No Sibyl's years, Herculean toils, avail. Brief time for Ariadne Thesus burned: Demopho5n from his PhiUis ingrate turned: In Jason's bark the sea Medea braved, Tet, lone abandon'd, cursed the man she saved: Hard too the woman's heart, whose f eign'd desire For many lovers fans the ready fire.

Not to the suitors, vain of noble race. While breathing soft repose the lovely maid 1 On her fair hand reclined her bending head; When I, well drunk through the too narrow street Dragged home at midnight my unfaithful feet; But as she appeared so charming to my view. Gently I pressed the bed, and near her drew. Thinking for so much sense I still retained The Fort of Love might by surprise be gained. Yet though commanded by a double fire. Both by the flames of wine, and hot desire; Though my lewd hand would naughtily have strayed.

And I would fain my arms have ready made; I durst not in the soft assault engage, Dreading to wake her well experienced rage; But so my greedy eyes surveyed her o'er. The waking Argus watched not lo more; Sometimes I loosed the chaplet from my brow. And tried how sweetly 'twould on Cynthia show.

Sometimes corrected her disordered hair. That loosely wantoned with the sportive air. And when she sighed, I credulously feared. Some frightful vision to my love appeared. Till the bright moon thro' the window shone, The moon that would not suddenly be gone; She with her subtile tsys unclosed her eyes. Kicked out of doors, you're forced into my bed; For where is it you spend your nights? S o me tim es, I with my needle sleep deceive. Then with my lute my weariness relieve. Then do I weep, and curse your tedious stay. While in some other's arms you melt away; Tin sleep's soft wings my willing eyelids dose.

Translated by John Dryden. Met Bk. He falls in love with a Statue of bis own making, which is dianged into a Maid, whom he marries. Were she to work; but in her own Defence, Must take her Pattern here, and copy hence. Pleased with his Idol, he commends, admires. Adores; and last, the Thing adored, desires. A very Virgin in her Face was seen. And had she moved, a living Maid had been: One would have thought she could have stirred; but strove With Modesty, and was ashamed to move. And stin the more he knows it, loves the more: The Flesh, or what so seems, he touches oft, Which feds so smooth, that he believes it soft Fired with this Thought, at once he strained the Breast, And on the Lips a burning Kiss impressed.

And an embroidered Zone surrounds her slender Waist Thus like a Queen arrayed, so richly dressed. Beauteous she shewed, but naked shewed the best. Slaughtered before the sacred Altars, bled: Pygmalion offering, first approached the Shrine, And then with Pray'rs implored the Powers Divine: Almighty Gods, if all we Mortals want, If all we can require, be yours to grant; Make this fair Statue mine, he would have said. But changed his Words for shame; and only prajred. Give me the Likeness of my Ivory Maid. The Youth, returning to his Mistress, hies.

And, impudent in Hope, with ardent Eyes, And beating breast, by the dear Statue liok [a6] He kisses her white Lips, renews the Bliss, And looks and thinks they redden at the Kiss: He thought them warm before: Nor longer stajrs. Bat next his Hand on her hard Bosom lajrs: Hard as it was, beginning to relent, It seemed, the Breast beneath his Fingers bent; He felt again, his Fingers made a Print, Twas Flesh, but Flesh so firm, it rose against the Dint: The pleasing Task he fails not to renew; Soft, and more soft at every Touch it grew; Like pliant Wax, when chafing Hands reduce The former Mass to Form, and frame for Use He would believe, but yet is still in pain.

And tries his Argument of Sense again. Presses the Pulse, and feels the leaping Vein. The Goddess present at the Match she made. So blessed the Bed, such Fruitfulness conveyed. I, Elegy IV. Only to see, while he may touch the Fair? Assailed the Bridegroom, and would force the Bride. When e're you think upon our last Embrace, With your Fore-iinger gently touch your Face. If you are pleased with what I do or say. Handle your Rings, or with your Fingers play. When he fiUs for you, never touch the Cup; But bid th' officious Cuckold drink it up.

The Waiter on those Services employ. Drink you, and I will snatch it from the Boy: Watching the part where your sweet Mouth hath been. And thence, with eager Lips, will suck it in. If he, with Clownish Manners, thinks it fit To taste, and offer you the nasty bit. Reject his greazy Kindness, and restore Th' unsavory Morsel he had chewed before.

I shall thrust in betwixt, and void of Fear The manifest Adulf rer will appear. These things are plain to Sight; but more I doubt What you conceal beneath your Petticoat. How many Love-Inventions I deplore. Which I, myself, have practised all before? Yon to your Husband shall not be so kind; But, lest you should, your Mantle leave beUnd.

Encourage him to Tope; but Kiss him not. Be sure to mix among the thickest Crowd. Just to secure a short and transient Joyt For Night must part us: and when Night is corner Tucked underneath his Arm he leads you Home. He locks you in; I follow to the Door, His Fortune envy, and my own deplore. He kisses you, he more than kisses too; Th' outrageous Cuckold thinks it all his due. But, add not to his Joy, by your consent. And let it not be given, but only lent. And what e're Fortune shall this Night befall. Coax me to-morrow, by forswearing all. And prized on earth, while Saturn filled the throne; When rocks a bleak and scanty shelter gave.

When sleep and shepherds thronged one common cave. And when the mountain wife her couch bestrewed With skins of beasts, joint tenants of the wood. Unfathered, from the soil or opening oak, I Lived most unlike the men of later times, The puling brood of follies and of crimes. While Jove, but Jove as yet unbearded, reigned: j Before the Greek bound, by another's head. His doubtful faith; or men, of theft in dread, i Had learned their herbs and fruitage to inunure.

And crown your doors with garlands, ere she come- But will one man suffice, methinks, you cry. For all her wants and wishes? Will one eyet And yet there runs, 'tis said, a wondrous tale, Of some pure maid, who lives— in some lone vale. There she may live; but let the phoenix, placed At Gabii or Fidenae, prove as chaste As at her father's farm —Yet who will swear. That nought is done in night and silence there?

Time was, when Jupiter and Mars, we're told. With many a nymph in woods and caves made bold; And still, perhaps, they may not be too old. Survey our public places; see you there One woman worthy of your serious care? See you, tiirough all the crowded benches, one. Whom yon might take securely for your own? And in lascivious trances melts away; While rustic Thymele, with curious eye, Marks the quick pant, the lingering, deep-drawn sigh.

And while her cheeks with burning blushes glow. To Egypt with a gladiator fled. While rank Canopus eyed, widi strong disgust. This ranker specimen of Roman lust. She braved the deep, she long had braved her fame; But this is little— to the courtly dame, And, with undaunted breast, the changes bore Of many a sea, the swelling and the roar. Have they an honest call, such ills to bear? Cold shiverings seize them, and they shrink with fear; But set illicit pleasure in their eye, Onward they rush, and every toil defy I Summoned by duty, to attend her lord.

How, cried the lady, can I get on board? How bear the dizzy motion? But— when the adulterer calls her, all is well I She roams the deck, with pleasure ever new. Tugs at the ropes, and messes with the crew; But with her husband — O, how changed the easel Sickt sickt she cries, and vomits in his face. Start you at wrongs that touch a private name.

Turn to the rivals of the immortal Powers, And mark how like their fortunes are to ourst Claudius had scarce begun his eyes to close, Ere from his pillow Messalina rose; Accustomed long the bed of state to slight For the coarse mattress, and the hood of night; And with one maid, and her dark hair concealed Beneath a yellow tire, a strumpet veiled! She slipt into the stews, unseen, unknown. And hired a cell, yet reeking, for her own. There, flinging off her dress, the imperial whore Stood, with bare breasts and gilded, at the door.

And showed, Britannicus, to all who came. The womb tiiat bore thee, in Lycisca's name! And when the hour of business now was spent, And all the trulls dismissed, repining went; Yet what she could, she did; slowly she past, [3X] And saw her man, and shut her cell, the last, — Still raging with the fever of desire.

Her veins all turgid, and her hlood all fire. With joyless pace, the imperial couch she sought, And to her happy spouse yet slumbering brought Cheeks rank with sweat, limbs drenched with poisonous dews. The steam of lamps, and odour of the stews I 'Twere long to tell what philters they provide. What drugs, to set a son-in-law aside. Women, in judgment weak, in feeling strong.

By every gust of passion borne along. Act, in their fits, such crimes, that, to be just. The least pernicious of their sins is lust Some faults, though small, no husband yet can bear: 'Tis now the nauseous cant, that none is fair. In Greek they clasp didr lovers. We allow These fooleries to girls: but thou, O thou.

Who tremblest on the verge of eighty-eight. When an old hag, whose blandishments disgust. Affects the infant lisp, the girlish squeak. But which she trumpets in the public ear. Her wrinkles still employ her favourite's cares; And while she murmurs love, he counts her years! To a fond spouse a wife no mercy shows:— Though warmed with equal fires, she mocks his woes. And triumphs in his spoils: her wajrward will Defeats his bliss, and turns his good to ill! Nought must be given, if she opposes; nought. If she opposes, must be sold or bought; She tells him where to love, and where to hate, Shuts out the ancient friend, whose beard his gate Knew, from its downy to its hoaty state: And when pimps, parasites, of all degrees, Have power to will their fortunes as they please.

She dictates his; and impudently dares To name his very rivals for his heirst [39] ''Go, crucify that slave. Who the accuser? Where the evidence? For when the life of MAN is in debate. My will; let that, sir, for a reason stand. And seeks for new; husband on husband takes, Till of her bridal veil one rent she makes. Again she tires, again for change she burns. And to the bed she lately left returns.

While the fresh garlands, and unfaded boughs. Yet deck the portal of her wondering spouse. Nay more, they Fence I who has not marked their oil. Their purple rugs, for this preposterous toil? Room for the lady— -lol she seeks the list, And fiercely tilts at her antagonist, A post! And bores and batters with repeated strokes; Till all the fencer's art can do she shows.

And the glad master interrupts her blows. O worthy, sure, to head those wanton dames. Who foot it naked at the Floral games; Unless, with nobler daring, she aspire. Who envies our pursuits, and hates her own? Yet would she not, though proud in arms to shine, True woman still, her sex for ours resign; For there's a thing she loves beyond compare. And we, alast have no advantage there- Heavens I with what glee a husband must behold His wife's accoutrements, in public, sold; And auctioneers displaying to the throng Her crest, her belt, her gauntlet, and her thong I Or, if in wider frolics she engage.

And take her private lessons for the stage. Thai three-fold rapture must expand his breast. To see her greaves "a-going," with the rest Yet these are they, the tender souls! Poised on her hams, and every step contests: Then laugh— to see her squat, when all is o'er I Daughters of Lepidus, and Gurges old. And blind Metellus, did ye e'er behold Asylla though a fencer's trull confest Tilt at a stake, thus impudently drestt Tis night; yet hope no slumbers with your wife; The nuptial bed is still the scene of strife: There lives the keen debate, the clamorous brawl, And quiet ''never comes, that comes to aU.

Rage fires her breast, and loosens all her tongue.

When, conscious of her gwlt, she feigns to groan. And chides your loose amours, to hide her own; Storms at the scandal of your baser flames. And weeps her injuries from imagined names. With tears that, marshalled, at their station stand, And flow impassioned, as she gives command. Yott think those showers her true affection prove. And from her eyelids suck the starting tear: —But could you now examine the scrutore Of this most loving, this most jealous whore. What amorous lays, what letters would you see, Proofo, damning proofs, of her sincerity! Now, all the evils of long peace are ours; Luxury, more terrible than hostile powers.

Her baleful influence wide around has hurled. And well avenged the subjugated world I —Since Poverty, our better Genius, fled. Vice, like a deluge, o'er the State has spread. Now, shame to Rome! And froths with imguents her Falemian cups; Who swallows oceans, till the tables rise, [34] And doable lustres dance before her eyest Thus flushed, conceive, as Tullia homeward goes. With what contempt she tosses up her nose At Chastity's hoar fane! The loathsome scene of their licentious play.

Who knows not now, my friend, the secret rites Of the Good Goddess; when the dance excites The boiling blood; when, to distraction wound. By wine, and music's stimulating sound. How the cheek bums! How the strong feeling bursts in eager cries! Maids, mistresses, alike the contest share, And 'tis not always birth that triumphs tiiere. Nothing is feigned in this accursed game: 'Tis genuine all; and such as would inflame The frozen age of Priam, and inspire The ruptured bed-rid Nestor with desire.

Stung with their mimic feats, a hollow groan Of lust breaks forth; the sex, the sex is shown! And one loud yell re-echoes through the den, "Now, now, 'tis lawful! Then scour the street. And bring us quickly here,, the first you meet" There's none abroad. Others there are, who centre all their bliss In the soft eunuch, and the beardless kiss: They need not from his chin avert their face. Nor use abortive drugs, for his embrace. But oh! When his full veins the fire of love has warmed; When every part's to full perfection reared. And nought of manhood wanting, but the beard. Still in her hand his instrument is found.

Thick set with gems, that shed a lustre round; Still o'er his lyre the ivory quill she flings. Still runs divisions on the trembling strings. These still she holds, with these she soothes her woes. And kisses on the dear, dear wire bestows. And wear the oaken crown, the victor's meedt What could she for a husband, more, have done. What for an only, an expiring son? Yes; for a harper, the besotted dame Approached the altar, reckless of her fame. And veiled her head, and, with a pious air. Followed the Aruspez through the form of prayer; And trembled, and turned pale, as he explored The entrails, breathless for the fatal word!

A woman stops at nothing, when she wears Rich emeralds round her neck, and in her ears Pearls of enormous size; these justify Her faults, and make all lawful in her eye Sure, of all ills with which mankind are curst, A wife who brings you money is the worst Behold I her face a spectacle appears. And sticks his lips in the detested glue. She meets the adulterer bathed, perfumed, and drest. But rots in filth at home, a very pest I For him she breathes of nard; for him alone She makes the sweets of Araby her own; For him, at length, she ventures to uncase.

Scales the first layer of roughcast from her face. And, while the maids to know her now begin. Clears, with that precious milk, her frowzy skin. For which, though exiled to the frozen main. She'd lead a drove of asses in her train! But tell me yet; this thing, thus daubed and oiled. In vain I Nor fancy strikes, nor memory knows. The little springs from whence those jojrs arose.

Til teU. Bright rose the mom, and bright remained the day; The mead was spangled with the bloom of May: We on the bank of a sweet stream were laid. With blushing rose and lowly violets spread; Fast by our ride a spreading plane-tree grew. And waved its head, that shone with morning dew. Trees with their ripened stores glowed all around. The loaded branches bowed upon the ground; Sure the fair virgins of Pomona's train In those glad orchards hold their fertile reign. Aloft each elm slow waved its dusky top.

The willing vine embraced the sturdy lyrop: And while we strayed the ropened grape to find. And oft rejected what we'd praised before; This would my love accept, and this refuse, j For varied plenty puzzled us to choose. Unheeded learn to blush, and swell secure; In richer garb yon turgid clusters stand. And glowing purple tempts the plundering hand. M And cuU, with daintiest hand, the best of each.

Pleased I obeyed, and gave my love— whilst she Returned sweet thanks, and picked the best for me:. Or teach the infant vine to know its prop. And haply too some aged sire is there. To check disputes, and give to each his share; With feeble voice their little work he cheers, Snules at their toil, and half forgets his years.

In fosfring straw defy the winter's cold; The hardier russet here will safely keep, And dusky rennet with its crimson cheek; But mind, my boys, the mellow pear to place In soft enclosure, with divided space; And mindful most how lies the purple plum. Nor soil, with heedless touch, its native bloom. And splash alternate in the new-bom wine. Nor far the lab'ring train, whose care supplies The trodden press, and bids fresh plenty rise. The teeming boughs that bend beneath their freight, One busy peasant eases of the weight; One climbs to where the aspiring summits shoot; Beneath, a hoary sire receives the fruit.

Pleased we admired the jovial bustling throng. For calmer joys we left the busy scene. Soon gentle breezes, freshened from the wave. Our temples fanned, and whispered us to lave. The stream itself seem'd murm'ring at our feet Sweet invitation from the noon-day heat. We bathed — and while we swam, so clear it flowed. That every limb the crystal mirror showed. But my love's bosom oft deceived my eye.

Resembling those fair fruits that glided by; For which I thought her swelling breast to clasp. An apple met my disappointed grasp. Delightful was the stream itself — I swear, By those glad nymphs who make the founts their care. It was delightful: — but more pleasing still.

When sweet Limona sported in the rill: For her soft blush such sweet reflection gave. It tinged with rosy hues the pallid wave. Thus, thus delicious was the murm'ring spring. Nor less delicious the cool zephyr's wing; Which mild allayed the sun's meridian power. And swept the fragrant scent from every flower; A scent, that feasted my transported sense. Like that Limona's sweet perfumes dispense: But still, my Love, superior thine, I swear— At least thy partial lover thinks they are.

Near where we sat, full many a gladd'ning sound. Beside the rustling breeze, was heard around: The little grasshopper essayed its song. As if 'twould emulate the feathered throng: Still lisped it uniform— yet now and then It something chirped, and skipped upon the green. Listen— Another pleasure I display, That helped delightfully the time away. From distant vales, where bubbles from its source A cnrstal rill, they dug a winding course: Seet through the grove a narrow lake extends. Crosses each plot, to each plantation bends; And while the fount in new meanders glides.

The forest brightens with refreshing tides. Towards us they taught the new-bom stream to flow. Towards us it crept irresolute and slow: Scarce had the infant current trickled by. When lot a wondrous fleet attracts our eye: Laden with draughts might greet a monarch's tongue. The mimic navigation swam along. Hasten, ye ship-like goblets, down the vale. Your freight a flagon, and a leaf your safl. Oh may no envious rush thy course impede. Or floating apple stop thy tide-borne speed. His mildest breath a gentle zephsrr gave; The little vessels trimly stemmed the wave; Their precious merchandise to land they bore.

And one by one resigned the balmy store. Stretch but a hand, we boarded them, and quaft With native luxury the tempered draught For where they loaded the nectareous fleet. The goblet flowed with too intense a heat; Cooled by degrees in these convivial ships. With nicest taste it met our thirsty lips. Thus in delight the flowery path we trod To Venus sacred, and the rosy god: [40] Here might we kiss, here Love secure might reign.

And revel free, with all his am'rous train. And smoothed the mstic couch that held my fair. Like a spring-mead with scented blossoms crowned. Her head with choicest wreaths Limona bound: Bot Love, sweet Lovel his sacred torch so bright Had fanned, that, glowing from the rosy light, A Uush the print of a connubial kiss, The conscious tattler of consummate bliss Still flushed upon her cheek; and well might show The choicest wreaths she'd made, how they should glow; Might every flower with kindred bloom o'erspread.

And tinge the vernal rose with deeper red. But come, my friend, and share my happy lot: The bounteous PhyUicHi owns this blissful spot; Phyllion, whose gen'rous care to all extends, And most is blest while he can bless his friends. Then come, and quickly come; but with thee bring The nymph, whose praises oft I've heard thee sing— The blooming Myrtala; she'll not refuse To tread the solitude her swain shall choose.

Thy sight will all my busy schemes destroy, dedicate another day to joy. When social converse shall the scene improve. And sympathy bestow new charms on love. Translated by Clauda C. And I hear the fountain spring [41] Murmur on the graveOing, Then young love holds ine in thrallt Which has never healing: If relief come not at all I must bide death's ''I am dark and fair to see, Young in my virginity, Rose my colour is and white.

Pretty mouth and green mine eyes; And my breast it pricks me so I may not endure it, For I meddle me to know Love, and naught can cure it ''Certes, if I met a man Who stood in the way I ran, Predy would I love, for none Should I ever leave that one. Often have I heard relate And for truth to tell. No one has a joy paiiaite But comes of loving well. And her look was debonaire. Nor did she a whit forget Any word I spake her. Now without delay or let For her love I prayed her. Wherefore now are you afraid? For you do not know a mite How this is a merry life. Mother did not for it die.

That yon know right truly, [42] Nor win ywi the daughter, why Do you fear unduly? And upon her feet the stood. Translated by Claude C. Near to an abbey, by a green wood side, A little space I heard sweet voice confide: "I fed the sweet pains 'neath my girdle run; Cursed of God be thQr who made me nuni Who made me nun, by Jesu cursed be I Vespers, complines, I speak unwillingly; For better far love I good company Which knows of dalliance and jollity.

I feel the sweet pains 'neath my girdle run; Cursed of God be they who made me nun I" She spoke aloud: ''my heart is sick with fear; Ah God I who mewed me in this abbey drear? But by our Lady I will out from here, Nor gown nor surplice will I ever wear. I feel the sweet pains 'neath my girdle run. Cursed of God be they who made me nun! I will command my own dear love that he Come seek me in this abbey speedily.

We will to Paris, live right merrily, For I am young, a comely man is he. Cursed of God be they who made me nunr When her lover had this her speaking heard. He leapt for joy, the heart within him stirred, Towards the abbey gate straightway he sparred. And drew his dear love forth without a word. Abbott ON Saturday at eve, the long week done' Gaiete and Oriour, blood-sisters, come Small hand in hand, to bathe where waters run.

Whispering wind and brandies meet. Spied Gaiete stood beside the fountain spring. Took her between his arms, softly they ding. Whoso love limb to limb sleep sweet Now Oriour is pale, and sad her eyes. From them she goes a-weeping, and she sighs When dster Gale with her no longer hies.

Whispering wind and branches meet. Whoso love limb to limb deep sweet [44] Why was I bom, weeps Oriour, woe's mel I Uit my sister in the deep valley. Yomig Gerairt takes her to his own conntry. Right straight toward his city took their way: No sooner come than there he married Gaie. Whispering wind and branches meet, Whoso love limb to limb sleep sweet ''Sweet lover mine, I cannot make believe. God, how the name of love is sweet. Ne'er thought I to have dole of it" Her lover takes her in his arms' reach.

In a fine bed they lay them, each to each: Bele Yoland kisses him as clings a leech. And they lie bedded as their bodies tesch. Attraction strong I all-powerful cause. And ev'ry swelling note inspire; So shall the warmth my strains ejqjiress Thy rapture-giving pow'r confess. U To those, who own your gentle sway. Without the kiss that waits on lovel Youth first to thee its homage pays. Becomes enlighten'd from thy rays; And, hast'ning by your fosf ring fires The birth of all the gay desires.

From youthful lips you soon receive The richest harvests lips can give. Ill Far from the world's more glaring eye. What crowds of wretched beings lie; Who seem in dull oblivion doom'd For ever to remain entomb'dl To them no zephjrr's balmy wing Refreshing gales, or sweets can bring; No rip'ning crops of golden grain For them adorn the waving plain: Yet, thy persuasive magic binds To this terrestrial orb their minds; And bids them, in their gloomy state.

Smile, nor regret their piteous fate. IV The flow'rs, that in yon meadow grow, To thee their bloom, their fragrance owe; The blossom'd shrubs, in gaudy dress. Thy genial warmth, thy pow'r confess; The stream, that winds along the grove. And courts the shore with waves of love. Is taught by thee the fond embrace. By thee is taught each rural grace: On gently-parted lips, say, why Is plac'd the rose's beauteous dye? Let rigid scruple furl her brow.

See, threatening Caesar momits his car. And, e'en beneath his laurel's shade. Caresses many a Roman maid. VI Could Mahomet, whose dauntless soul Superior rose to all control. Who thought that ignorance and crime Were destin'd o'er this globe f have reign'd; Could that stem victor have sustain'd The harsh, fatiguing toil of arms; Had not his houris' soothing charms, And tender kisses, lull'd to rest The martial tumults of his breast; If the seraglio of this earth Had not to those sweet joys giv'n birth. Which, in the paradise of love. The prophet hop'd to taste above?

VII But tow'ring domes, that strike the ores With outward grandeur, you despise; There stormy passions govern sense. And banish tender feelings thence. Say, couldst thou weU-contented lie On Iqm with shrivell'd coldness dry. On lips, that no bright purple wearl But pal'd by sickness, or by care? The gilded ceilings, beds of state.

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Must fright the gentle kiss away. Thy am'rous secrets are displayed; There, on the hay-mow, or the grass. Sport the fond youth, and fonder lass; There, unconstrain'd in frolic play, A kiss they lend, a kiss repay; Pleasures so numerous round them flow. Envy can ne'er the number know; Nor are the lips' sweet joys deny'd By prudes, affecting virtuous pride. IX Tho' tempted hence your flight to take.

My humble mansion ne'er forsake; To you if constant I remain. Let kindness recompense my painl Around my youth fresh fiow'rets shed. Till age shall silver o'er my head; Then softly fan my drooping fires. And wake the half -extinct desires: So majrst thou, in thy wand'rings, meet Young innocence, who smiles so sweet I And may she all-submissive prove. To thee, the guiltless guest of love I So may the nymph of gay fifteen.

By strict maternal eyes unseen. To some sequester'd grove retire; There, reading, nurse her infant fire; Free from a parent's stem control. Explore her newly-op'ning soul; And riot o'er my am'rous page. What is this ill for which I know no cure? The star of night whose rays should give my soul repose by heralding the advent of him for whom I wait, has not yet risen. Unhappy that I am, he for whom my heart is watching, whom my lips desire, from whom my parched bosom longs to receive life, will not come. I said to myself: I will tread the lotus-bordered path. But Blast I have found there the serpent of love and his cruel tooth.

Can it be that the moon's rays, so cold by nature and so sweet to mortals, have lit the fire which consumes me within? The night-breeze, cool, and heavy with the scent of flow- ers, seems to me now like a scorching flame. He alone occu- pies an my thoughts and I have no will but his. The Lover Sweet one, I am here, and scarcely yet does the moon, whose shining orb should be the signal of my coming, begin to show herself. And see, yon fair planet whose brightness is revealed in thy dear face, now is veiled by clouds, like thy face when shaded with the tresses of thy hair.

Her disc stands forth like a bow in the heavens and resembles the gleaming gold which decks thy neck. The streams of water which fall from the clouds are as slender and graceful as thy limbs. On the dark background of the clouds a long line of swans advances rivalled in whiteness by thy dassling teeth. The voung and lovely Nourmah complied with thia custom. To tnis invocation succeeded a love song sustained by two voicei.

A second dancing girl appeared; her office it was, disguised as a youth, to reply to Nounnan in uternate straina. Monrmah commenced the song. The Lover I thhrst for thy kiaaea; let me lay my lipa on thine which are aa freah and ruddy aa the pomegranate. The Maid Ahl I die within thine arms. The Lover No, thou wilt not die; 'tis life which m long wavea aurgea into thine entraila athirst for pleasure.

The Lover Still let me embrace thee. The Maid I am one with thee; ahl preas me tighter in thhie anna and let an amorous embrace unite us like the tree and bark. The Lover I fear leat I may hurt thy fair breasts or bruise thy delicate limbs. The Lover Nay, rather live, in order that we may repeat theae houra ol maddeat paaaion.

The Maid OhI kin me rather than forget me. The Lover. Forget theel forget theel ahl read in mine eyea the wfld pleaaore which thou giveat me. The Maid Ahl what ia thia atrange quivering. The Lover Tia the pleaaore of love. The Lover Nol for a new life begina to circulate in thy womb.

The Lover Fear naught, for I am near thee. The Maid I am afraid. The Lover What canst thou dread within thy lover's arms? The Maid Ahy I remember. The Maid The horrid Pisatchas may play me some evil trick. The Maid And it is the strongest which overcomes the others in the forest glade. And so thou hast made me yield to thee on this bed of dried leaves. The Maid Yet believe me, my loved one, that love I0 willing to find itself tuned and subdued by force.

At sight of the stormy sky, the peacocks loudly voice their joy, uttering shrill cries and gathering together; they rear aloft their tail heavy and shapeless with the rain, and prancing beside their companions, imitate the movements of a dancer. Some, under the shelter of the terraces, stalk proudly and display the varied colours of their brilliant plumage; while others, caught by the storm on the tops of the trees, gather the treasures of their plumage beneath their moistened wings, and, their fair body all quivering, descend to the green carpet of the ground.

What would autumn be, deprived of this beneficent breeze? No, there is nothing to be preferred to this perfumed wind which comes to disturb the calm of our tnterconrse, and, after the sweet fatigue of love, gentiiy re- freshes our burning limbs. The Maid Ohl sing again. The Lover See, my sweetest, the heaven laden with clouds, like some deep lake hung above our heads whose waters threaten each instant to break their banks; see too these clouds which the moon encircles with a silvern girdle; they bring coolness to this parched earth.

The Maid Ohl my dearest, my sweetest, who are to my soul as the doud to the tiiirsty earth, this season has one defect, for with a damp and gloomy vdl it hides from our gaze that moon which shines like thy fair face. When that planet, the world's sweet torch, is revealed between the clouds, the fascinated watcher seems to see a friend come back from the far-off land.

The moon is the witness of the groans of the maid separated from her lover. The Maid Ahl I need to hear thine oadis; swear that thou wilt never leave me. The Lover I swear to love thee always, and may my soul take life again in the body of a vampire, whose only food is the bodies of those whom he drags from their tombs, if I ever fail to my oath. The Maid I believe thee, beloved one. The Lover Come let us enter again this shady ddl and seal our vows with fresh kisses.

Your master you know is a Fool, and a Sot, And minds nothing else but the Pipe and the Pot Till twelve or till one he will never come home, And then he's so drunk that he lies like a Mome: Such usage as this would make any one mad. But a Woman will have it if 'tis to be had. TSs true forsooth, mistris, the case is but hard. That a woman should be of her pleasure debarred: Bat 'tis the sad fate of a thousand beside, Or else the whole City is fouly belied: There is not a man amoung twenty that thrives.

Not ten in fifteen that do lie with their Wives: Yet still you had better be merry than sad. And take it wherever it is to be had. But John, 'tis a difficult matter to find, A man that is trusty and constantly kind: An Inns-of-Court Gallant he cringes and bows. He's presently known by his Oaths and his Vows, And though both his doaths and his speeches be gay. Yet he loves you but only a night and away: Such usage as this would nuke any one mad.

With stones that are precious and twenty fine things; Or if you are not for the Court nor the Town, What think you forsooth of a man with a Gown? You must have a gaUant, a good or a bad, And take it where ever it is to be had. Had ever the power my fancy to please; [55] I like no such blades for a trick that I know.

For as toon as they've trod tfaey are given to crow; Plain dealing is best, and I like a man well. That when he has kissed will be hanged ere hell tell: My meaning is honest, and thou art the Lad, Then give it and take it where 'tis to be had. Alasl my dear mistris, it never can be. That you can affect such a fellow as me: Yet heaven forbid, since I am but your man, I should ever refuse to do all I can; But then if my master should know what we've done. We both should be blown up as sure as a Gun: For after our joys, he would make us sad.

For taking it where it ought not to be had. But how should he know it, thou scrupulous Elf, Do'st think I'm so silly to tell him my self? If we are but so wise our own counsel to keep. We may laugh and lye down while the sot is asleep: Some hundreds I know in the city that use To give to their men what their masters refuse; The man is the master, the Prentice the Dad, For women must take it where 'tis to be had.

Some Prentices use it, forsooth, I allow. For to tell you the truth I am somewhat asham'd; I know how to carry your Bible to church. But to play with my mistris I'm left in the lurch: Yet if you can shew me the way good or bad, promise you all that there is to be had. Alas, pritty mistris, the pleasure is such. And thus Oh thusi that we fell in a swoun: Such sport to refuse who was ever so mad, take it where ever it is to be had.

Now, Johnny, you talk like an ignorant mome. You can have such pleasures no where but at home. Here's fifty broad pieces for what you have done. To lose all the pleasure that once she has had. A mistris so noble I never will leave, Twere a sin and a shame such a friend to deceive; For my Master's shop no more will I care, Tis pleasanter handling my mistris's ware: A fig for Indentures, for now I am made Free of a Gentler and pleasanter trade: I know when Tm well, I was never so mad. To forsake a good thing when 'tis to be had. From Bagiord BMmda. In my mind I have kept it this many a day; Your master, you Imow, is a fool and a sot.

And nothing he minds but the pipe and the pot: And if they pursue us to the garret well fly pull off my pateens, and on my back lie. Till twelve or till one he seldom comes home. And then he's so drunk that he lies like a drone; Such usage as this would make anyone mad, And a woman must have it where 'tis to be had: And if they pursue us, etc.

O my dearest Mistress, this never can be. That you should affect such a fellow as me; But heaven forbid, though I am but your man. Your master's diseased with gout and with And nothing he can do but pull down his breeches; And then he stands shaking as though he was dead. For I find msrself able your wants to supply; And if you'll support me with coin and with caah.

In pocket and placket to thee I'll be just; Keep touch with your master, and then you shall see. My wife at our pleasure will grumble and gmtch; She hath a quick eye, and her passion is strong. If thou dost; Billy, tfiou canst not love me; For I never knew it all the dajrs of my life. Yet my brave Billy will take my part still; And I will do with him as long as I can.

So long as I know he's a lusty young man: And if they pursue us, etc 1 diank thee now, Billy, for my flat fish And long did I think it ere I had my wish; And if we do meet at the Birdmin'Hand door. Well call for a room, and well dance on the floor: And if they pursue us, etc Then Billy's wife she looked in at the door. What a devil, quoth she, do you down on the floor? A dressing of flounders which you sent me last What a devil, quoth she, do you make sauce with your arse? As for the small Hobnails, I have had none of those. To spoil my cold face, nor to hurt my red nose; The great ones are they which I most do fear.

For why? Who, cause she was her fathers heire, FuU well she was y-tought the leire Of micUe courtesie. In colour like the Columbine, T-wrought full featuously. This Maiden in a mome betime. Went forth when May was in her prime. And as she romed here, and tiiere, Y-picking of the bloomed brier, She chanced to espie A Shepheard sitting on a bank, Like Chantideere— he crowed crank. And piped with merry glee. He leerd his Sheep as he him list. When he would whistle in his fist. To feed about him round, Whilst he f uU many a CaroU sung. That all the fields, and meadowes rung. And made the woods resound.

His Cap of Minivere. XX And piping he did spend the day. As merry as a Popinjay, Which lik'd faire Dowsabell, That wod she ought, or wod she nought, The Shepheard would not from her thought. But then the Shepheard pip'd a good. That all his Sheep forsook their food. To heare his melody. IS Thy Sheep quoth she cannot be lean. Fanfic is pointless.

You want to write? Create your own characters and worlds…truly express your artistic potential and your unique voice. In my real life job, I have learned not to be prissy about people taking my words, because if I was prissy about that, I woud spend my days in a world of pain and life is just too short.

To an extent, all writing is pointless and none more so than fiction. This is plainly bunk- writing fanfiction is not causing physical or mental harm to anyone well, good fanfiction anyway. And you think mpreg is bad? Us GAFFers have seen a lot more and a lot worse. Mind you, this is rapidly turning into a debate of Anne-Rice-like infamy. Mr Goldberg, you seem to be addressing more than one issue in your article. First of all the plagarism claim — which is, after all, the legal term that you appear to be describing. As we have stated, numerous times.

We do not make profit from fanfiction. This leads writers to develop ideas and come up with scenarios of their own, involving the characters of the show. I am a good, original writer. I have worked on characters to the point of lavishness, and my worlds. I began writing fanfiction when I was twelve. As JK has done for reading, fanfiction is a similar story for writing. Yes, you have met a particularly bad example of the lower end of the slash genre.

However, you have not seen a writer grow from a new, immature and faulty writer into someone who can wield words with confidence. I am loathe to suggest that you, someone who makes their way with words, would criticise a system that encourages development of talent, and better writing, but this is the conclusion I am drawing. I am a slash writer, though not of the hideous concotions above. Writing slash has helped me, personally, to have a sensitivity toward relationships in my writing, and to go slowly in development. Is my learning to write a bad thing?

Mine is this. When writing your own characters, you have to have an awareness of -how- to do this. How to give distinct personalities to characters, how to develop them. The VERY site you have so scathingly turned up on, and proceeded to slough on disdain for, is one such site that.. If you are working in a preconceived universe, you learn that there have to be limits on power in order to create adversity.

Writing fanfiction means also that you are met with -harsh- critique. Fanfiction similarly works like that. We fans are incredibly protective of the characters. Fanfiction is a living community. For example — a good friend of mine.

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This has been a long-winded examination of some of the reasons for fanfiction. However, I felt it necessary. You are entitled, most certainly to your opinions on fanfiction. Anne Rice has expressed hers, as has Anne McCaffrey. Grammar has been phased out of schools. Writing and reading has been replaced by television, sex and movies. Fanfiction might hold thousands of bored people who churn out revolting examples like those above.

But it also contains dozens of the next generation of writers; who will have learnt to accept criticism, to address problems in their writing efficently, and to take on ideas and originality. Art — in this sense, a book or TV show — is packaged fantasy in the same way as Tesco sells biscuits, or Coca Cola, or cucumbers. No wonder fans want to take it into their own hands and do something with it. And anyone who fancies themselves an artist or even a creative person should realize this. Why should fiction be different?

Why is this such a hard principle for people to understand? It boggles my mind that anyone would want to waste their creative energies writing such derivative stories. Can anyone really be so obsessed with a television show? I know why people write fanfic. What I want to know is why you bother arguing with the producers and authors. I never sent Rick Berman anything I wrote. Why would I? The wise course of action would be to let it slide.

Quit pretending otherwise. You write fanfic for only one reason: Shits and giggles. Or is that two reasons? I won awards at it. There will be no critical studies of it. So, am I kicked off DorothyL now without having subscribed? The Romantic Times magazine featured an article this month on fanfic, covering both sides of the debate, though largely favorable towards the practice. But many fanfic writers are either unaware of or unconcerned with this fact. But the 9th Circuit and the 2nd Circuit — both leading courts with regard to intellectual property law — have found protection for the characters themselves under certain judicially defined parameters.

Published authors reactions to fan fiction vary…. Laurell Hamilton, Anne Rice and Diana Gabaldon firmly believe this practice is both legally and morally repugnant and have, in some cases, hired attorneys to fight fan fiction sites with cease-and-desist actions. You could see how that would be disturbing and put you off writing anything for a while.

If I wrote a story about an American detective called James Bond, people might be a bit suspicious, but how derivative it would be would depend on the plot. The claim that the copyright holder would have against the writer would depend, as I understand it in UK law on proving 1 that the work was so derivative that, stripped of its disclaimer, the public might be fooled into believing it to be by the original creator, and b that he has thereby suffered a loss. There is an alternative view that it is morally suspect to prevent creativity, whatever form that takes.

The modern business model surrounding creative work, after all, is not that old and one day will be gone. Give me a break. It teaches laziness and stupidity.

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It teaches you to take the ideas of others rather than come up with something original of your own. Kirk and Mr. Spock have anal sex is an example of a dying art? Spare me. What we write is not canon. Are you grasping my point? We write what we think could have happened. Copyright laws exist to to prevent someone getting the money you earned by your idea. The story belongs to itself. You have been granted the privilage of communicating it to the rest of the world.

And to have a story of mine spark some sort of inspiration in another… I can think of no greater honor. I am just a medium. Let me put it this way — in my world, writers serve stories, and stories serve the human race. You seem to think the stories serve the writer. You were probably posting at the same time. You might as well not even bother. If creators do find it a violation, then often sites like Fanfiction.

This is more of a grey area legally than something set in stone. Virgil himself was added, as well as Dante. This was not considered plagarism, but a compliment to the writer.. I learnt about an issue, explored it, moved on. Yes, Anne Rice and co have made their point. If you look at fanfiction.

If it were illegal, it would be shut down by the service provider. I wrote Mary Sues and so forth when I was starting out. Some will stay at that point before getting bored, others will move on.

Slash — separate category, gentlemen. If you want fanfiction to stop, there are a number of ways. Then your work will be free from nasty people daring to find it a creative startpoint to develop themselves. JK Rowling has her own website in which, funnily enough, she awards -prizes- to fansites. Anne Rice and McCaffrey have supported you. Fanfiction is FUN. You do know what a hobby is, right? To quote Stephen King, you learn to write by writing a lot. You can learn how to write something interesting within an existing framework setting, characters, time etc which YOU had to know for writing parts of Diagnostic Murder and a useful skill to know if setting stuff in, say, the past.

You can improve how you handle characters, your plotting, etc etc… And the Mona Lisa analogy is a flawed one. As a former college professor who saw this all too often, I can state with certainty that this is a concept of which far too many people are ignorant. Are we going in circles yet? Believe me, I have more than enough of an answer. And find a whole host of picky editors who demand grammar, spelling, and characterisation to be spot on.

Who will make you re-check and re-check. You are uninformed. What fanfiction does is use the original as a -basis- for further exploration. It allows you to become familar with the medium of writing before you develop your own original writings. When you are learning to write fantasy, for example, having established characters to work with allows you to strengthen how you -deal- with characterisation, ie, allows you to learn how to use motifs in characterisation, how to make characters recognisable, how to look at speech patterns and so forth.

Because fanfiction is NOT plagarism. Which is not, sir, plagarism. Because writing needs to be taught. Or, how about this? That, I consider an art. That, I consider a tribute to the original artist, and also a way of developing that dying art. Anal sex between two characters, taken out of context and thrown aside in some attempt to make a disparaging repost, no. But then, you -did- take my quotation out of context. And the mpreg writers. I admire the passion that so many fanfic writers have for their efforts. As a professional reviewer and someone who makes his living writing , I admire writing of nearly every sort.

I would have much greater respect for these would-be writers were they to create their own material. I also think they would be so much better off. Please, folks, give it a try. I think ultimately you will be much happier, more satisfied and eventually rewarded. Well, seeing it as unworthy is your right and all. On the original works- well, writing original works is always preferable to fanfiction, unless said works are crap.

No argument on that. The sheer facetiousness of that remark is staggering. As you feel the need to qualify every statement with your profession, I shall do the same. I -write- original. I find it satisfying. But being frankly derogatory about something which aids better writing, and helps people TO move on to original is ridiculous. First of all, your argument is woolly. Second of all, you refuse to address the points made by your opposition — a serious flaw in your rebuttal.

Thirdly, by patronising said writers, your ignorance shows. I may be Learn a little more about that which you criticise, or please, stop attempting to condescend to me. Several people have said or implied that they write both fanfiction -and- original work. I do myself. I just re-painted my office, so all my reference books are boxed up. It would be interesting to browse through that book again in light of this discussion.

Do you know how much thought and creativity and sweat goes into creating characters? Actually, yes. Fanfiction helps you get a grasp of basic characterization and plot structure as well as the technical aspects of writing. In fact, many fanfic writers aspire to be published or are published, as you would know if you pulled your head out of your ass and did some goddamn research. And of the three, the plot is the least likely. You do. And clearly, your argument has lost its thread. We seem to have proved, time and again, that fanfiction serves a useful purpose.

As it is, your debate skills are sorely lacking. Did Tolkien possibly spend a while in the conception of his universe? Basis of fanfiction — some people pay homage to the original writer. Some people learn the basics of writing and the nuances of expression through fanfiction. Some people write awful trash that reads like poorly written romance novels. And some — some make facetious remarks and come across like those that do not know their subject matter.. How is it worse? I -have- put in the blood, sweat and tears.

But then, the idea of those characters being realistic enough to appeal to an audience is that which spurs me on. And fanfiction is proof that such a thing has been accomplished — as seen in the inspiration it gives? Sticking close to the original character, following the ideas of that character that are set down in canon.. Hermione will never rate appearance over intelligence.

She will never be stunning, she will always be bossy, and irritating, and have firmly defined opinions. Similarly, Draco is a weaselly-faced, cowardly bully. Such things can be followed on logically to a different manifestation of behaviour — bullying can be a character trait that one grows out of, but the inherent traits remain the same. Fanfiction writers work -hard- to maintain the characterisation given to them. If a writer had read, say, Harry Potter, and liked the characterisation of Hermione. They then trot off, and write a piece of original writing, which has a character that IS Hermione, to a tee, and place it, low and behold, in a magic world and so on and so forth — but with enough difference from HP that it treads the bare line between plagarism and original.

Now is that better than using preconceived characters respectfully? Now this is something GAFF loathes and condemns. Where the characterisation of the original is warped beyond belief. Where Hermione becomes a slut. When binges of angst are indulged in, when Snape becomes a fluffy-puppy — we do NOT like this, I am certainly not defending it.

Here, I cringe at the idea of the author meeting the piece of tripe in shape and form, at the desecration to the original characters. But fanfiction is not that. Fanfiction can pay homage to the original characters — and at risk of repeating myself — Can explore angles not studied in canon. Scenes that got cut from manuscripts.

A character that almost existed. If this was made original, it would be equally dull. Boundaries have to be learnt, and a feel for them given. In order to create suspension of disbelief in writing, there has to be some guidelines for people to follow. Before you can create them, you have to learn how to go along with them.

Nobody would like it, nobody would tell me what was wrong because I have not created guidelines to follow. Working within the original bounds teaches you to respect them — or you are met with criticism. Working with these characters gives you an idea of how to create them. To characterise properly, you have to -de-construct what the original writer has done, examine the pieces, and put it back together properly. You learn by doing, and fanfiction allows you to learn efficently. If I have failed to convince you, I personally believe it a lack of consideration on the part of the opposition, but that is as it may be.

As far as it goes, this is what it is — a silly debate on the blog of someone who should know better than to embroil themselves in an argument with those considerably better informed. Paddle in our pool, Mr Goldberg, and you will be regarded with bemusement if you then try to tell us where to swim. How hard is this to grasp? Fanfic is stealing an authors characters and using them as YOU see fit, without the authors consent. Whether you like it or not, those writers are reflecting the creative desires of the owners of the work.

End of story. And yes, I write original poetry too. As a college teacher Mr. Montgomery must be well aware that this is standard practice and in fact, no quality philosophy, sociology or other work can be written without it. What good fanfiction writers do is little different. I would like to object here to the constant making of sweeping judgements about fanfiction while pointing only at the bad examples.

Creating strawmen does not seem like the most proper form of argumentation to me. As has already been repeatedly pointed out: there are serious character pieces, well thought out plots, good poetry… Frankly, I am quite puzzled at how any of this is inherently worthless or unimaginative. Contrary to Mr. What was the character X thinking when…? Building upon already existing stories is a long established literary tradition, it is nothing new under the sun.

I know of a very talented poet in J. Last time I checked, nobody accuses Ovid of being an unoriginal plagiarist for basing his Metamorphosis on Greek mythology. They can be widely understood, and can be sold. Fanfiction is something obscure because the fanbase is often not very large, and thus only few people can relate to the story. It is true that a lot of fanfiction is low quality.

However, I would argue that this is not something inherent to the form of fanfiction itself i. It might be worth consideration that published works go through editorial control, while internet is a free medium. There is a lot of awful original fiction, too. It is easy to refuse to acknowledge the existence of good fanfiction, point at things like mpreg and say: see those sickos? If you feel writing fanfiction is immoral simply because it happens without the consent of the original writers and because it alters their creative vision without their supervision, I would have to ask you how it is that you find writing fanfiction in the public domain morally allright, as you have stated above?

What does it matter whether the author and his immediate heirs are dead or not? We still alter their creative vision. English is my second language and I apologize in advance for any mistakes or blunders I might have made. Montgomery must be well aware that this is standard practice. I saw students thrown out of school for doing exactly that. Doing it with fiction is no less wrong.

Gerald Richman's Annotated Bibliography of Fiction Set in Boston (working draft)

A disclaimer does NOT absolve the writer of responsibility. This is a very clear legal and, I think, ethical point. Clearly, she has wrapped up the matter far better than I could. To Mr Goldberg — when you decide to refute actual argument with objectivity, I will deign to answer your points.

Perhaps my working with words from an early age has leant me a confidence with which to express my argument, free from the het-up emotion you so clearly indicate yourself suffering from. Look at our argument. Read it when you are once again calm. And then laugh at yourself for entering in an argument with a bunch of fanfiction authors, and losing.

Thank you for your reply. I understand your position as an author, however I would be still glad if you addressed the Shakespeare — Stoppard comparison, and answered my question about fanfiction in the public domain. If not, what is the difference? Neither do fanfiction writers. I forgot to address sharing fanfiction with others in my previous post; my apologies. In my opinion, sharing fanfiction is little different that talking about your ideas about a show or a book, or inspired by the show or a book, with friends.

I can hardly see something immoral in it, as long as the author is credited. A fanfic writer, as any other writer, writes primarily for his own enjoyment. They shown me other possible interpretations, details I did not notice, perspectives I did not know were possible. It did not replace the original novel, it did not erase my original perception of the novel, it opened a new point of view. Before I do so, though, I wish to argue against a point made by David Montgomery. If I was writing, say, a fact sheet on creating polymers, would it be plagiarism if I started that sheet with a credited quote from the OED defining a polymer?

Some of them then write a story in which they do so. These kind of stories tend to be badly written. One thing I learnt in that is that it actually increased my enjoyment of the books. In attempting to write about dragons, I had to visualise them better, which meant that when I re-read the original works, I could see what was happening better, giving it more of an impact. Whee, long paragraphs… losing track… onto reason 2, methinks. I started writing this a couple of years back, and that fact really shows.

I just skipped from plot point to plot point, hardly building up my characters at all. In the middle of writing this, I took a long break from it — in fact, I got stuck. So I wrote more fanfic. I then proceeded to post this on the internet. People then proceeded to tell me that my characters were flat, 2D, and pretty boring, all told. I looked at them, and lo and behold, it was true! I had never noticed this, because no one had actually pointed it out. And they will point out if your main character is Too Perfect — if everyone adores her, she can do anything, etcetera etcetera.

People tend to believe their own work is good until people tell them otherwise. Erm… right. Reason 3, then. If you enjoy writing, then yes, you could create your own universe from scratch. If you enjoy football, you could kill a pig and inflate its bladder. If you enjoy walking, you could learn to be a cobbler and make yourself some boots.

Alternately, you could buy a football, or buy a pair of walking boots. What do you do if you enjoy writing? You buy some material to start from. Okay, so maybe you, personally, have the ability to create universes quickly and easily. Yes, it may even be pointless.

Because that is even more pointless — it provides enjoyment only to yourself, whereas fanfic provides it to other readers too. So what do we do? We write it for each other. Tolkien, for example, is dead. There will be no more Canon written in Middle-earth and Valinor.

But we want to know. But they are not everyone. This is all unneccessary. Also, fanfic is written by fans who use their time to expand upon the given story. One writer has written an amazing story about the first meeting of Celeborn and Galadriel. She expresses and explores this very well. And before anyone goes into what we learn in school, let me tell you a little story. We then have to write a word story about it. How does it expand our writing skills? I explored her feelings, how she coped with her grief and how the event affected her family.

I nearly failed. I would have failed had I not made a single grammatical or spelling error a trick I picked up from writing fanfic. The person who got the highest mark in the class? It was a Mary-sue suicide note, full of errors. But if this is getting me no-where and you want to see some of the horrors of one-handed typing, e-mail me. My e-mail is above. Kings success or stature! Not once. Not ever. As I said in a comment to another post, writing is more than just laying down words.

You learn by painting on a blank canvas. Anyone can use it. In a way, yes, I suppose it is. You are writing about a character and a setting that already exists and, in most cases, mimicing the authors voice as well. When a work becomes public domain, the author is dead. He or she no longer exists to create new works or protect his artistic rights. No, because the work still belongs to the author. Do I think writing short stories about Sherlock Holmes is useful way to learn writing… or do I put it on the same level as fanfic? As a learning tool, yes, I put it on the same level as fanfic. I think so, yeah.

I have nothing against people writing novels or movies or anything else using characters in the public domain. Fanfic infringes on the authors creative, ethical, and legal rights to his work. Would I be railing against people who write Sherlock Holmes stories on the net or elsewhere? But what if they were writing Sherlock Holmes male birthing stories… with Watson as his bedmate?

Goldberg, You have sickened me several times with your round arguing. But the points that I want to make are these: 1. You were once a ficwriter, not in the sense that you would immediately recognize. Several times you said that you wrote for a TV show. How is that not like fanfic? First of all, you are given the characters, the plot, the setting, and the laws of the continuum. You are not even allowed to take any artistic licence in the writing.

By writing for a TV show, you gained plenty of writing experience. This experience is what we are trying to achieve when we write fanfiction. I have to say, by your constant snide remarks to us, fans and potential fans, I have been turned off by you. I have never read any of your book, and I have to say, if I had a choice right now, I would never read anything written by you again. So I guess you can say that you have started to complete your goal and stop fanfiction by killing your fan base.

Montgomery, I have a hard time believing that you are a professor. The reason for this is that you said that you have seen the amount of people being thrown out of university for plagiarism. Yes plagiarism is a huge deal in the university setting I know as I am a uni student , but is it not your job to teach us how to cite and make a proper bibliography?

And how have I not been kicked out of uni by using a sentence of two ver battem in a report or paper, after properly citing the resources? Your argument falls under this heading. We are saying that we lay no claim to the original works. And generally if we do use a passage out of the original works, we usually indicate it by having it double indented or in a different font. If you truly are a professor, and not someone masquerading as one, you must have done citing and be able to recognize it on sight.

Often, you are all in a room together, cracking the stories. We go as far creatively, or to put it in your terms, we take as much creative license, as the showrunner allows us. Many times, I have been that showrunner Diagnosis Murder is one example… and now I have been entrusted by the studio with the books as well. Get it? Fanfic writers do not have the consent of the authors or creators of the works they steal. Got that? The thing is, I think you do get it. I think all fanfic writers do. Well, I guess you just lost part of your argument there as several authors, such as Mr.

Are the Discworld fanwriters singing in your heavenly choir now? And stealing? Are we making money from this? Do we get anything out of it save for the joy and experience of writing and having critism made about our writing styles? She learned this through fanfiction. How is this a negitive? I fail to see how so, but here we will probably have to agree to disagree.

I only ask you to realize that not every author feels the way you do. Thus we can say that writing fanfiction is only wrong when it goes against the wishes of the original author, which is what the fanfiction writers here have been saying from the very beginning.

If you feel uncomfortable with D:M fanfiction, if you feel it violates your rights, let the D:M fanwriters and archivists know. Please, do not speak for original authors as a whole, because not all of them feel the same. Nicolas Meyer wrote nothing less and nothing more than a next episode of Sherlock Holmes, yet you see it as a waste, regardless of the enjoyment it gives to other people.

If such is the case, I wish you the best of luck on furthering your career as a novelist. You said it far more eloquently than I ever could! You have his consent. Episodic television is a medium that depends on hundreds of new episodes being written, one each week for years. For most creators, this is an impossible task to do on their own… so they hire other writers to help them execute their visions. Episodic television writing is a unique form of writing.

You are, ultimately, mimicing the voice and the vision of the creator of the show. You are servicing his vision. What you perceive as worthless, other people perceive as fun and fulfilling hobby. I must say, by the way, that I applaud the calm and consistency of your last post, as well as your ability to look at your own position critically.

Thank you. I personally find this discussion fascinating. So the underlying issue, I suspect, is really homophobia. For the ladies, actually. There is some excellent slash out there, written by academics and professional writers who happen to like writing gay porn in their spare time. Get over it. Which is usually slash, by the way — the best and the worst fandom has to offer tends to be in that genre. You could, of course, stop fanfic of your own work, but you seem to prefer whining about how fanfic is so terrible and timewasting.

You seem remarkably insecure. In the words of William Shatner: get a life. Traumatised me the first time I discovered mpreg too. Course, labelling people who are against it homophobic is a nice way to ignore them, I guess…. Oh, and just to pick a point to argue with, Mr. No real author can churn out books fast enough to keep their readers constantly occupied, so we write more stories with our favourite characters to fill the time. If the latter — which is what I think it should be — then fanfic is a way of taking something good and extending it so that the consumers get even more pleasure from it.

What of the numerous versions of Faust? Is Geothe a hack? Goldberg— I disagree with you whoelheartly on most, if not all of what you say. Fanfiction is NOT plagarism. On several books I have read for class, an assignment has been to make up a different story, based on that book. I also know for a fact that not all fanfiction is bad. I am a fanfiction writer myself, and have published eleven fanfictions in various fandoms.

I also write original, and have published three stories on the internet. The review systems give eneryone critsism, which is good, as it helps polish writing. I personally love her stories, and I think that reading just ONE of her stories will change your mind. Unless you really are the close-minded dumbass you appear to be here. If you really read ONE of her stories, and then tell me that you still think the same way, think I will agree to disagree. Tamsin, As you are currently reading English Lit at Cambridge, I think you must know how disingenuous it is to claim Jane Austen as a parallell for fanfic simply because her family paid to publish her first works.

It is not the equivalent of a vanity press today. And while fanficcers for some reason seem to feel this is splitting hairs, I do believe that there is a huge difference between basing works on current or recent copyright books and drawing on the vast well of human culture, which is what Shakespeare, Ovid, and, yes, Tom Stoppard have all done.

It was decided that copyright should belong to the author or his heirs for a certain number of years, in order to allow him to enjoy the fruit of his creation, but then, if the work still existed, it was to be considered part of our collective consciousness. Unfortunately, due to corporate lobbying, that timespan has grown ridiculously over the past few years — most because Disney is terrified of seeing Mickey and Pooh lapse into the public domain. You want to write Hamlet fanfic? Go ahead. You want to dabble in Middle Earth? Why not do yourself and the world a favor and create your own world?

Disney is terrified of seeing Mickey and Pooh lapse into the public domain Pooh was originally the property of A A Milne. I have never forgiven Disney for the mess they made of those books. Bloody fanficcers, can never leave anything alone. We will! Would you prefer me to write an almost-exact clone of Middle-earth, or to write a story set in Middle-earth?

If you want, I can go and change a few names, and send you one of my fanfics as an original…. History for 5. Regrettably, I did see students on several occasions receive varying degrees of sanction as a result of plagiarism, including being expelled. I never saw a student get into serious trouble for doing that.

I certainly never punished students for making honest mistakes — I also taught them how not to do it. The problem, of course, is that many students deliberately steal from the works of others, whether lifting entire papers, pages or paragraphs, or the less-obvious offense of stealing ideas.

Both, of course, are plagiarism and are a matter of great concern to all teachers. It is, of course, acceptable to quote, say, a sentence or two, if properly cited. Nothing wrong with that, although I still urge students against it. As a fanfiction writer and an aspiring television writer, I find this a very interesting argument. Did you write reams of original fiction until someone discovered your brilliance and hired you? If so, congratulations.

Or did you write spec scripts? Fair enough. But did you show them to people? Did you have others read your work and give you feedback? Did you learn from that? It continues on after the shows Buffy and Angel ended. During this project, I have learned how to work with character arcs and long term story arcs, how to write with others, and many other elements that I believe will be helpful in writing for television. By the way, Joss Whedon creator of Buffy and Angel has expressed his approval of for fanfiction multiple times.

And yes, I do write original fiction as well. If I was taking a class in writing for television, my teacher might expect me to use existing shows for material. No creativity is ever wasted. I think the crucial here is that writers can allow others to use their copyrighted material if they wish, but without that specific approval, no such right exists. In other words, their is a presumptive right of copyright, which needs to be actively waived in order for others to utilize such materials. For those of you interested in reading even more on this topic… Lee Goldberg vs.

Dear Mr. Goldberg and other assorted skeptics : I appreciate completely your horror at stumbling across mpreg and slash fanfiction. But I do think that you are doing the fanfiction community as a whole an injustice. Fanfiction IS writing. Clouter, especially since the young lady took the time to write such polite and well-thought-out arguments. She deserves your respect for that much at least. But when all is said and done, fanfiction does not HARM your interests in any way other than weirdness like mpreg and slash giving you nausea.

To us, your word is law. THAT is the starting point for much fanfiction. But how did you get to be a writer for the show? I am not insulting you. You achieved what the vast majority of us only dream of achieving. Writing and publishing are not the same thing. What Happens Next. You have to sift through a lot of dirt to find the gems, but they are out there.

Each has its benefits. I have no ability to form coherent, fictional, realistic sentences. But I love reading. And a helluva lot inbetween. I have been reading Harry Potter fan fiction for… around six years now. And do you know why? So how is reading something the author made money off of any more worthwhile? Oh well. Oh, and feel free to email me for any fan fiction reccomendations. Imagine the loser who spends his days writing 30, word fanfiction. Scary, huh? This is a guy who is never gonna get laid…. You notice how most of this fanfiction shit is written by science fiction geeks? Maybe if they got their heads out of their asses… and stopped watching so much TV…they would actually function in society like normal people.

Goldberg I think I understand the main problem that you face here. And that is that you are not able to say yes or no to fanfiction of Diagnosis Murder. The reason that I come to this conclusion is that you do not own any of the rights to the ideas in your books or at least on the primary ones. That is because, they belong to the original owners of the TV show, thus you cannot touch them. Now following on this line of thought, it occurred to me that you would have no right to go to the various archives and ban fan fiction of your books and the TV show.

Also, I think you have about as much right to dictate on this as Michael A. Stackpole or Timothy Zhan have to the Star Wars rights on fanfiction. That is right they have none, as do you. While they do write there own works, they also write for other universes as well, writing excellent stories I might add.

So, unless you have bought the entire right to the TV show and all that goes along with it, your entire argument here is for not. And if you are as adamant as you seem to be, go to the owners of the rights and have them do something, either get them to ban writing of fanfiction of you books and the TV shows, or do nothing and stew in your own juices. To Mr. Montgomery, I would love to know how you expected any of your students to write a paper?

Is a paper not an argument of both sides? Is it not supposed to be researched? Plus, it was history, how are we to know what has happened at the time? It is not as if we can hope into our personal time machines, go back and observe what is happening. A good paper has a counter argument that cannot come from the original writer, or why would we read it in the first place, it would be confusing and illogical. Yes this is relevant to this discussion, by how people learn. I is known that people learn anything by imitation. If learning by imitation is not allowed, how are we to learn?

Ah, nice to see a well thought-through response from Mr. To use a term from the horribly heniously evil world of Fanfiction, this is a flame — a personal attack on someone with little-to-no regards for the actual topic in hand. And hey, I spent two years with the name loser. Nor am I big, or fat. And, hey, do you realise that sitting and writing is actually something you do instead of watching TV? Not a single person I know that writes fanfiction would ever attempt to lay claim to anything the original author created.

We abhore that kind of behavior and firmly believe in giving credit where credit is due. If the author or their estate were to ask that all fanfiction cease, we would stop. We believe in being true to the world that was created, and that can often mean digging into materials from the real world that the author drew inspiration from. My friends that write fanfiction and I do not simply rehash the same plot order and dialogue from the same point of views that were presented in the book.

Our writing looks at a situation from the novel through the eyes of a character whose point of view was not presented which sounds like what you do with the DM books ; a scenario that might have resulted had a character made a different choice; a time period not discussed in the novel; or create original characters within the world the author created, not using any of the characters and presenting different views on what occurs throughout the novel.

We are not lazy, nor do we lack creativity. We do not just lay down words. Fanfiction is not merely typing as Mr. Capote would suggest. We take the time to know about the world and characters the author created and pay attention to grammar; spelling; mechanics; plot; and characterization. In writing fanfiction, I have practiced writing good plot and well-developed characters.

I then took those skills and applied them to writing original fiction. Why do I research like this? Because I want to portray Rohan as accurately as possible in what I write. Is this lazy?