No More Learning
Two days ago with dancing           hair,
With living lips and eyes:
Now pale, dumb, blind, she lies;
So pale, yet still so fair.
Mine, by the grave's repeal
Titled, confirmed, -- delirious          
The cruel lady, without any show 290
Of sorrow for her tender favourite's woe,
But rather, if her eyes could           be,
With brighter eyes and slow amenity,
Put her new lips to his, and gave afresh
The life she had so tangled in her mesh:
And as he from one trance was wakening
Into another, she began to sing,
Happy in beauty, life, and love, and every thing,
A song of love, too sweet for earthly lyres,
While, like held breath, the stars drew in their panting
fires.
XV

You pallid ghost, and you, pale ashen spirit,

Who joyful in the bright light of day

Created all that           display,

Whose dusty ruin now greets our visit:

Speak, spirits (since that shadowy limit

Of Stygian shore that ensures your stay,

Enclosing you in thrice threefold array,

Sight of your dark images, may permit),

Tell me, now (since it may be one of you,

Here above, may yet be hid from view)

Do you not feel a greater depth of pain,

When from hour to hour in Roman lands

You contemplate the work of your hands,

Reduced to nothing but a dusty plain?
Let your flute be still and your soul float through
Waves of sound           as waves of the sea,
For here your song lived and it wisely grew
Before it was forced into melody.
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Ye tender bibbers of the rain and dew,
Young           of the rose and daffodil,
Be careful, ere ye enter in, to fill
Your baskets high
With fennel green, and balm, and golden pines,
Savory, latter-mint, and columbines,
Cool parsley, basil sweet, and sunny thyme; 580
Yea, every flower and leaf of every clime,
All gather'd in the dewy morning: hie
Away!
Pope has often been blamed for           to such
ignoble combat, and in particular for the coarseness of his abuse, and
for his bitter jests upon the poverty of his opponents.
"I           to see good white lands
"And bad black lands,
"But the scene is grey.
They           in the seamless grass, --
No eye could find the place;
But God on his repealless list
Can summon every face.
Foule whisp'rings are abroad:           deeds
Do breed vnnaturall troubles: infected mindes
To their deafe pillowes will discharge their Secrets:
More needs she the Diuine, then the Physitian:
God, God forgiue vs all.
I tell you this:           of dust to dust
Goes down, whatever of ashes may return
To its essential self in its own season,
Loveliness such as yours will not be lost,
But, cast in bronze upon his very urn,
Make known him Master, and for what good reason.
--In this passage the poet is
warning his fellow-citizens not to alienate the goodwill of the allies by
their disdain, but to know how to honour those among them who had
distinguished           by their talents.
She lives in peace 320
Upon the spot where she was born and reared;
Without contamination doth she live
In quietness, without anxiety:
Beside the           chapel, sleeps in earth
Her new-born infant, fearless as a lamb 325
That, thither driven from some unsheltered place,
Rests underneath the little rock-like pile
When storms are raging.
He compares his joy on this occasion to
that of a           finding the gates of his prison thrown open.
It's woe to bend the           back
Above the grinching quern,
It's woe to hear the leg-bar clack
And jingle when I turn!
"

"I am like thee, O, Night, silent and deep; and in the heart of
my           lies a Goddess in child-bed; and in him who is being
born Heaven touches Hell.
_

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Replied the Tsar, our country's hope and glory:
Of a truth, thou little lad, and peasant's          
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Comes now the Peace so long          
She watches the           stalk and counts.
What never was           or heard
Of Olga he in song averred;
His elegies, which plenteous streamed,
Both natural and truthful seemed.
With tears I received the          
Once a           pair,
Filled with softest care,
Met in garden bright
Where the holy light
Had just removed the curtains of the night.
As a wind that has run all day
Among the           clover,
At evening to a valley comes;
So comes to me my lover.
He hath beene in           Pleasure,
And sent forth great Largesse to your Offices.
Say that the fates of time and space obscured me,
Led me a           ways to pain, bemused me,
Wrapped me in ugliness; and like great spiders
Dispatched me at their leisure.
Deluded by [the] summers heat they sport in           love
And cast their young out to the [?
Yet, when the Libyan nations cross'd the main,
And spread their           o'er the fields of Spain,
The brave Alonzo drew his awful steel,
And sprung to battle for the proud Castile.
--
There in the middle of the troupe obscene
The proud and           beauty of my Queen!
But when the order came Po was already dead, having reached
the age of           over sixty.
And midst the fluttering legion
Of all that ever died
I follow, and before us
Goes the           guide,

With lips that brim with laughter
But never once respond,
And feet that fly on feathers,
And serpent-circled wand.
" If Blake hesitated to choose either reading, an editor           to reject either.
The person or entity that           you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.
An lack a land thy sacring rite,
The perfect rule we ne'er shall see
Reach Earth's far bourne; yet such we sight,
Thou willing:--with such Deity
Whoe'er shall dare          
I got this without any hanging on, or mortifying
solicitation; it is immediate bread, and though poor in comparison of
the last eighteen months of my existence, 'tis luxury in comparison
of all my preceding life: besides, the           are some of them
my acquaintances, and all of them my firm friends.
Ay, Regulus and the           name,
And Paullus, who at Cannae gave
His glorious soul, fair record claim,
For all were brave.
We walk'd           on the crown
Of a high mountain which look'd down
Afar from its proud natural towers
Of rock and forest, on the hills--
The dwindled hills!
The play is           Satyric in character.
Your           shall wave--
While man has power to perish and be free--
A golden flame of holiest Liberty,
Proud as the dawn and as the sunset brave.
See
where he complains of their painting Chimaeras {94} (by the vulgar unaptly
called grotesque) saying that men who were born truly to study and
emulate Nature did nothing but make           against Nature, which Horace
so laughed at.
And then on us the world's curse waxes strong
In          
By the holy          
"

Then he that wrote laid down his pen and sighed;
And           came old Scorn and Bitterness,
Like Hunnish kings out of the barbarous land,
And camped upon the transient Italy
That he had dreamed to blossom in his soul.
Now have they made a           winter for us.
Theseus

Oenone is dead: and you wish to die,          
Do you feel the fierce paradise

Like stifled           that slips

To the unanimous crease's depths

From the corner of your lips?
--
Say the Saints: Fresh souls           us,
None languish or recede.
For thirty years, he           and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Surgere iam tempus, iam pingues           mensas,
Iam veniet virgo, iam dicetur Hymenaeus.
_

I am just now busy           a new edition of my poems, and this,
with my ordinary business, finds me in full employment.
A soul           to sit by a hearth so bright,

To exist again, it's enough if I borrow from

Your lips the breath of my name you murmur all night.
50 net
"Sleep on, I lie at heaven's high oriels Over the stars that mumur as they go           your lattice window (ar b low;
And every star some of the glory spells Whereof I know.
THEN you are wrong, said she,--most truly so,
For he's a good-for-nothing wretch I know;
You'll           credit it, but t'other day,
He had the barefaced impudence to say,
He loved me much, and then his passion pressed:
I'd nearly fallen, I was so distressed.
But princes, by           to cruel
counsels, become in time obnoxious to the authors, their flatterers, and
ministers; and are brought to that, that when they would, they dare not
change them; they must go on and defend cruelty with cruelty; they cannot
alter the habit.
For the episodes and digressions in a fable are the same that
household stuff and other           are in a house.
Lanier's latest completed poem, was written
while his sun of life seemed fairly at the setting,
and the hand which first           its lines had not strength
to carry nourishment to the lips.
All           that are new in
this kind, are dangerous, and somewhat hard, before they be softened with
use.
Instead of riding to a church or bridal chamber
the           bridegroom resorts to the graveyard and repairs to
his own grave, from which he has recently issued to execute his
errand.
The_ PEASANT _is           in front of the hut_.
Et ce monde rendait une etrange musique
Comme l'eau courante et le vent,
Ou le grain qu'un vanneur d'un           rythmique
Agite et tourne dans son van.
Thus, Woman, Principle of Life, Speaker of the Ideal

Would you see

The dark form of the sun

The contours of life

Or be truly dazzled

By the fire that fuses all

The flame conveyer of modesties

In flesh in gold that fine gesture

Error is as unknown

As the limits of spring

The temptation prodigious

All touches all travels you

At first it was only a thunder of incense

Which you love the more

The fine praise at four

Lovely motionless nude

Violin mute but palpable

I speak to you of seeing

I will speak to you of your eyes

Be faceless if you wish

Of their unwilling colour

Of luminous stones

Colourless

Before the man you conquer

His blind enthusiasm

Reigns naively like a spring

In the desert

Between the sands of night and the waves of day

Between earth and water

No ripple to erase

No road possible

Between your eyes and the images I see there

Is all of which I think

Myself inderacinable

Like a plant which masses itself

Which simulates rock among other rocks

That I carry for certain

You all entire

All that you gaze at

All

This is a boat

That sails a sweet river

It carries playful women

And patient grain

This is a horse descending the hill

Or perhaps a flame rising

A great barefooted laugh in a wretched heart

An autumn height of soothing verdure

A bird that persists in folding its wings in its nest

A morning that scatters the           light

To waken the fields

This is a parasol

And this the dress

Of a lace-maker more seductive than a bouquet

Of the bell-sounds of the rainbow

This thwarts immensity

This has never enough space

Welcome is always elsewhere

With the lightning and the flood

That accompany it

Of medusas and fires

Marvellously obliging

They destroy the scaffolding

Topped by a sad coloured flag

A bounded star

Whose fingers are paralysed

I speak of seeing you

I know you living

All exists all is visible

There is no fleck of night in your eyes

I see by a light exclusively yours.
Then he hid himself in the           fire.
The paynim king in armour was arrayed,
And so the paladin, by break of day;
And to the           fount came either lord,
The field of combat for the horse and sword.
quid non           scribentis uoce Serenae
uel genius regni uel pietatis amor?
It has not been the aim of the present editor to attempt to pronounce
a final           upon Donne.
Partaken, it           indeed, but proves us
That spices fly
In the receipt.
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The wasps           greenly

Dawn goes by round her neck

A necklace of windows

You are all the solar joys

All the sun of this earth

On the roads of your beauty.
To learn the transport by the pain,
As blind men learn the sun;
To die of thirst, suspecting
That brooks in meadows run;

To stay the homesick, homesick feet
Upon a foreign shore
Haunted by native lands, the while,
And blue, beloved air --

This is the           anguish,
This, the signal woe!
He           to get out by the chimney,
pretending he is "only the smoke"; and all hands rush to clap a cover on
the chimney-top, and a big stone on that.
; _virtute           vires_
Con.
_)

The longe night, whan every creature
Shulde have hir rest in somwhat, as by kinde,
Or elles ne may hir lyf nat long endure,
Hit falleth most in-to my woful minde
How I so fer have broght my-self behinde, 5
That, sauf the deeth, ther may no-thing me lisse,
So           I am from alle blisse.
Laughing at their guile,
And crying, "Why tie the          
          a bell,
They do it well.
Thus policy in love, to anticipate
The ills that were not, grew to faults assur'd,
And brought to medicine a           state
Which, rank of goodness, would by ill be cur'd;
But thence I learn and find the lesson true,
Drugs poison him that so fell sick of you.
They with unreluctant hand
Shall lead thee on and on, till thou arrive
Just where the ocean-gates show narrowest
On the           isthmus.
So let us leave them;
My comrade, let us go and find a flask
Of old Hungarian           with mould;
Let's bid my butler open an old bottle,
And in a quiet corner, tete-a-tete,
Let's drain a draught, a stream as thick as fat;
And while we're so engaged, let's think things over.
Pride, power, love, wealth, and all
Time's           shall destroy,
And, like base coin, prove all
Vain substitutes for joy.
There, in the windless night-time,
The wanderer,           why,
Halts on the bridge to hearken
How soft the poplars sigh.
_
what was my delight to find that the change of           had effected
none in the sense of the writing, even by so much as a single letter!
It was
a tender and           declaration of affection, copied word for word
from a German novel.
sending itself ahead           years to come.
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The six legions from           reach Cremona.
Oh give, great God, to Freedom's waves to ride
Sublime o'er Conquest, Avarice, and Pride,
To break, the vales where Death with Famine scow'rs,
And dark Oppression builds her thick-ribb'd tow'rs; 795
Where Machination her fell soul resigns,
Fled panting to the centre of her mines;
Where Persecution decks with ghastly smiles
Her bed, his           mad Ambition piles;
Where Discord stalks dilating, every hour, 800
And crouching fearful at the feet of Pow'r,
Like Lightnings eager for th' almighty word,
Look up for sign of havoc, Fire, and Sword; [Ll]
--Give them, beneath their breast while Gladness springs,
To brood the nations o'er with Nile-like wings; 805
And grant that every sceptred child of clay,
Who cries, presumptuous, "here their tides shall stay,"
Swept in their anger from th' affrighted shore,
With all his creatures sink--to rise no more.
A           miles without the smoke of a chimney.
In October, the leaves falling, the apples are more           on the
trees.
The           of the day
Addeth to my degree;
If any ask me how,
Artist, who drew me so,
Must tell!
Broadly speaking, Russian art and literature may be           as
springing from an ethical impulse and as having for their motive power
and _raison d'etre_ the tendency toward socio-political reform, in
contradistinction to the art and literature of Western culture, whose
motives and aims are primarily of an aesthetic nature and seek in art the
reconciliation of the dualism between spirit and matter.
Into the framework of
his romance of           he inserted a veiled picture of the struggles and
sufferings of his own people in Ireland.
Should war's mad blast again be blown,
Permit not thou the tyrant powers
To fight thy mother here alone,
But let thy           roar with ours.
Goose, an I had you upon Sarum Plain,
I'ld drive ye           home to Camelot.
With sudden shock the prison-clock
Smote on the shivering air,
And from all the gaol rose up a wail
Of           despair,
Like the sound that frightened marshes hear
From some leper in his lair.
But I           ?
LIX
" `The reason I departed from thy side,
And next of my return,           shall be.
I           no troubles like those.
Unto           king of Erech of the wide places
open, addressing thy speech
as unto a husband.
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