Le roi d'Ys is an opera in three acts by the French composer Édouard Lalo, to a libretto by Édouard Blau. It is based on the old Breton legend of the drowned city of Ys, which was according to the legend the capital of the kingdom of Cornouaille. The opera includes a noteworthy aubade for tenor in act 3, titled "Vainement, ma bien-aimée" (In vain, my beloved). Le roi d'Ys premiered on 7 May 1888 at the Théâtre Lyrique in Paris, in a production by the Opéra-Comique. Within France, the opera was regarded as Lalo's most recognized work. This poster was produced by Auguste François-Marie Gorguet for the 1888 premiere of Le roi d'Ys, and depicts the final scene of the opera.Poster credit: Auguste François-Marie Gorguet; restored by Adam Cuerden
... that the traditional Rapa Nui tattoos of Viriamo(pictured) included motifs similar to an adze and a paddle?
... that in the Littlehampton libels, Edith Swan fooled three juries and two judges, had another woman sent to prison twice, and was declared not guilty before finally being convicted?
... that American stage actress Verna Mersereau performed her traditional classical dances before royalty in Calcutta?
... that the 48th Hong Kong International Film Festival canceled the screening of a politically themed film due to the "inability to locate suitable copies", despite the film having been showcased three years earlier?
... that the owners of Jumbo's claimed it became the first white-owned restaurant in Miami to serve and employ black people in the late 1960s?
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It is so terribly sad that I have to explain that the above is a JOKE
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you,
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you
But make allowance for their doubting too,
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise:
If you can dream--and not make dreams your master,
If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools:
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much,
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son!