Elegy

And then over the radio, Carpenter's like, sisters, go.

And so we meet the other two squad mates, Durge and Elegy.

They're actually sisters.

They've been spliced with alligator and octopus DNA.

So now they have to deal with this werebeast, right? Like, Asheron starts blasting with the SMG.

Zarian, like, stabs it within the inner thigh, right? Corporal Peskin dumps, like, half a magazine into it.

Durge and Elegy, they kill the other two guards.

Carneus guns down the other net.

This recording is in the public domain.

An Elegy, Written in Richmond by D. M. Matheson.

Read for LibriVox.org. Low in the eastern sky the breaking light Pales in the vault of heaven the morning star, Presaging me the dying hour of night, And that the twilight gray is not afar.

For night is slowly changing into morn, And through the gloom the forms of ships appear; Across the arm below, the bugle-horn Reveille's call brings to my listening ear.

Imagination with him generally appears clothed in forms of fancy.

Among his contemporaries, take Crashaw's Wishes, Sir J. Beaumont's Elegy on his child Gervase.

Take Bishop King's Surrender.

My once dear love, hapless that I no more must call thee so, The rich affection's store that fed our hopes lies now exhaust and spent, Like sums of treasure unto bankrupts lent.

So what do you make of that, Donald?

I, I read his work as really- Elegaic and, and dark.

Yeah.

And, and, and The Need to Be Whole also I had that experience reading it, where he's writing as a defeated man.

And so this piece is for the singer Phyllis Hyman.

This is Elegy for Phyllis after the premiere episode of TV One's Unsung.

Voice like pound cake soaked in barbiturates and ache, lips full with rounded rubato, contralto, thunder-hunting comfort, delicate, ferocious comfort.

Loved but so tired, lento, stillness then lamentoso, whispers and Apollo in mourning.