the news is news that men have heard before

Coworkers are scarce on the ground this week; a number are taking holidays (and I hope the weather is nicer for them than it is for us here in Leeds, for even if we aren't having any hurricanes here, it's still far from cheerful).

A particular wodge of work in an ongoing work package has just come up. I'd been carefully saying "I'll save that bit till the end, because it's going to be particularly nasty", and now here I am at the end, and here it is. Ah well. It had to get here eventually.

Oh - beta signups are open for the upcoming Secret World MMORPG at http://www.thesecretworld.com -- and I've put my name down. You know how curiosity is.

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The Oracles

'Tis mute, the word they went to hear on high Dodona mountain
When winds were in the oakenshaws and all the cauldrons tolled,
And mute's the midland navel-stone beside the singing fountain,
And echoes list to silence now where gods told lies of old.

I took my question to the shrine that has not ceased from speaking,
The heart within, that tells the truth and tells it twice as plain;
And from the cave of oracles I heard the priestess shrieking
That she and I should surely die and never live again.

Oh priestess, what you cry is clear, and sound good sense I think it;
But let the screaming echoes rest, and froth your mouth no more.
'Tis true there's better booze than brine, but he that drowns must drink it;
And oh, my lass, the news is news that men have heard before.

The King with half the East at heel is marched from lands of morning;
Their fighters drink the rivers up, their shafts benight the air,
And he that stands will die for naught, and home there's no returning.
The Spartans on the sea-wet rock sat down and combed their hair.

-- AE Housman