Categories > Movies > Queen of the Damned
To Bite Or Not To Bite
1 ReviewsA little poem inspired by the film and book "Queen of the Damned" and the musical "Lestat". Lestat's pov (mostly). Not really that serious *g*
Disclaimer: I don't own the vampires (alas) and the original text is from Shakespeare.
To Bite Ot Not To Bite
To bite, or not to bite: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The pain and torture of outrageous hunger,
Or to take teeth against a sea of mortals,
And by draining end them? To die: to sleep
In daylight; and by that sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, and wake to the night,
Prowling the shadows. To die, to sleep;
Ev'ry day: perchance to dream in the twilight hours.
For in that sleep of death no dreams may come
When we have shuffled off our mortal coil,
Having received the Dark Gift: there's the craving
That makes calamity of so long a life.
But who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he by the receiving of the Dark Gift
Might be born to darkness? What is the motivation,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather chose the darkness
Than the day and certain mortal death?
Thus we turn to the night, take the Devil's Road;
And thus the native hue of our flesh
Is shimmering with the pale cast of marble,
And our fingernails glimmer like crystal
With our pointed teeth protruding our gums,
And this hunger for blood. - Soft you now!
The fair Claudia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.
To Bite Ot Not To Bite
To bite, or not to bite: that is the question:
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The pain and torture of outrageous hunger,
Or to take teeth against a sea of mortals,
And by draining end them? To die: to sleep
In daylight; and by that sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, and wake to the night,
Prowling the shadows. To die, to sleep;
Ev'ry day: perchance to dream in the twilight hours.
For in that sleep of death no dreams may come
When we have shuffled off our mortal coil,
Having received the Dark Gift: there's the craving
That makes calamity of so long a life.
But who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he by the receiving of the Dark Gift
Might be born to darkness? What is the motivation,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather chose the darkness
Than the day and certain mortal death?
Thus we turn to the night, take the Devil's Road;
And thus the native hue of our flesh
Is shimmering with the pale cast of marble,
And our fingernails glimmer like crystal
With our pointed teeth protruding our gums,
And this hunger for blood. - Soft you now!
The fair Claudia! Nymph, in thy orisons
Be all my sins remember'd.
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