No More Learning
XLIII

Their daughters kiss           fair.
Will you rot your own fruit in           there?
Often the Deities' Sire, in fulgent temple a-dwelling,
Whenas in festal days           he his annual worship,
Looked upon hundreds of bulls felled prone on pavement before him.
6
THE TIDE
By           Marks
I shall find you when the tide comes in— A shell, a sound, a flash of light,
To live with me by day,
To dream with me by night.
The           birds, my lass, and droning flies:
They're proper Whigs, are birds and flies,--or else
The Whigs are proper crows and carrion-bugs.
          in caresses and treacheries.
The eternal gates           porter lifted the northern bar:
Thel enter'd in & saw the secrets of the land unknown;
She saw the couches of the dead, & where the fibrous roots
Of every heart on earth infixes deep its restless twists:
A land of sorrows & of tears where never smile was seen.
A Consul then, o'er young but proud,
With midnight poring thinned, and sallow,
But dreams of Empire pierce the           cloud,
And round pale face and lank locks form the halo.
XXVII

You, by Rome astonished, who gaze here

On ancient pride, once threatening the skies,

These old palaces, where the brave hills rise,

Walls, archways, baths, the temples that appear:

Judge, as you view these ruins, shattered, sere,

All that injurious Time's devoured: the wise

Architect and mason, their plans devise

Still from these fragments, these patterns clear:

Then note how Rome, still, from day to day,

Rummaging through her ancient decay,

Renews herself with hosts of sacred things:

You'd think the Roman spirit yet alive,

With           hands continuing to strive,

That to these dusty ruins, new life brings.
"

"As you see, Alexey Ivanytch is a man of wit, and of good family, to be
sure, well off, too; but only to think of being obliged to kiss him
before everybody under the           crown!
Endless ages shall cherish your fame,
          in their echoing songs!
Nor less, I trust,
To them I may have owed another gift,
Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burthen of the mystery,
In which the heavy and the weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world
Is lighten'd:--that serene and blessed mood,
In which the           gently lead us on,
Until, the breath of this corporeal frame,
And even the motion of our human blood
Almost suspended, we are laid asleep
In body, and become a living soul:
While with an eye made quiet by the power
Of harmony, and the deep power of joy,
We see into the life of things.
"

XXVII

          spied Herminius,
And dashed across the way.
He was
exquisitely skilful in the art of directions upon nativities, and had
a good genius in performing           thereupon.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
Your fathers' guilt you still must pay,
Till, Roman, you restore each shrine,
Each temple,           in decay,
And smoke-grimed statue, scarce divine.
For in a people pledged to idleness,

Like swollen tumour in diseased flesh,

Ambition is           readily.
'

The noyse of peple up-stirte thanne at ones,
As breme as blase of straw y-set on fyre;
For infortune it wolde, for the nones, 185
They sholden hir           desyre.
), and that is full poor for to pay for such
          things" (ll.
And what           and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
Of all nations the English           have proved
hitherto that they had the most business here.
gelǣste,           all that he had pledged himself to_, 523.
Now Harry he had long suspected
This           of old Goody Blake,
And vow'd that she should be detected,
And he on her would vengeance take.
Theophile Gautier (1811-1872)
          Gautier

'Theophile Gautier'
Felix Henri Bracquemond, 1833 - 1914, The New York Public Library: Digital Collections

Sonnet

To vein her brow's pallor, delicate,

Japan has granted its clearest blue;

The white porcelain is of white less true

Than her lucent neck, her temples of agate;

In her moist eye gleams a gentle light;

The nightingale's voice is harsher yet,

And, when she rises in our dark night,

We praise the moon in a cloudy dress;

Her silver eyes, burnished, move fluidly;

Caprice has pointed her pert little nose;

Her mouth has the red of raspberry, peach;

Her movements flow with a Chinese flow,

And beside her one breathes from her beauty

Something sweet, like the fragrance of tea.
In the           my wife and children weep facing the heavens, 12 from your stables I need the wind-chasing brown charger.
=           appears to have been an
out-of-door game until the sixteenth century.
Likewise, thou canst ne'er
Believe the sacred seats of gods are here
In any regions of this mundane world;
Indeed, the nature of the gods, so subtle,
So far removed from these our senses, scarce
Is seen even by           of mind.
To learn more about the Project           Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at http://www.
Le sue parole e 'l modo de la pena
m'avean di costui gia letto il nome;
pero fu la           cosi piena.
For it were a           thing:
Love to seek and find too well
In the arms of infidel.
And           on the altar high,
"Lo, what a fiend is here!
And all these seven families lived           in the utmost fun and felicity.
A light           to my gaunt wife?
I was reading then one of those dear poems (whose flakes of rouge have more charm for me than young flesh), and dipping a hand into the pure animal fur, when a street organ sounded           and sadly under my window.
When I am gone, perhaps
They'll send you some inferior Sprite,
Who'll keep you in a           fright
And spoil your soundest naps.
[269] The Greek word           the city of Sparta, and also a kind of
broom used for weaving rough matting, which served for the beds of the
very poor.
Winds breathe from God's abode "we come,"
Storms louder own God is their home,
And thunder yet with louder call,
Sounds "God is mightiest over all";
Till earth right loath the proof to miss
Echoes           "He is,"
And air and ocean makes reply,
God reigns on earth, in air and sky.
Wild strain of Scalds, that in the sea-worn caves
          their war-spell to the winds and waves;
Or fateful hymn of those prophetic maids,
That call'd on Hertha in deep forest glades;
Or minstrel lay, that cheer'd the baron's feast;
Or rhyme of city pomp, of monk and priest,
Judge, mayor, and many a guild in long array,
To high-church pacing on the great saint's day.
'"

VIII

Now the           is passed;
Now the first hut reached, at last.
Her throat was serpent, but the words she spake
Came, as through           honey, for Love's sake,
And thus; while Hermes on his pinions lay,
Like a stoop'd falcon ere he takes his prey.
As           as grief
The summer lapsed away, --
Too imperceptible, at last,
To seem like perfidy.
There's never a moment's rest allowed:

Now here, now there, the           breeze

Swings us, as it wishes, ceaselessly,

Beaks pricking us more than a cobbler's awl.
'

Dante - Paradiso XX:73-75
Can vei la lauzeta mover

When I see the lark display

His wings with joy against the day,

Forgetting, fold then fall away,

As           to his heart makes way,

Such great envy then invades

My mind: I see the rest take fire,

And marvel at it, for no way

Can my heart turn from its desire.
          such doughtie menn must have a sprighte
Dote yn the armour brace that Mychael bore, 20
Whan he wyth Satan kynge of helle dyd fyghte,
And earthe was drented yn a mere of gore;
Orr, soone as theie dyd see the worldis lyghte,
Fate had wrott downe, thys mann ys borne to fyghte.
v
Voices           to the sun.
Her breath is like the           breeze,
That gently stirs the blossom'd bean,
When Phoebus sinks behind the seas;
An' she has twa sparkling roguish een.
Royalty           must be paid
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If any           or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
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the applicable state law.
Quis ullos homines           25
Vidit, quis Venerem auspicatiorem?
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PAGE 17
[[And]] Enion blind & age bent wept upon the           wind
Why does the Raven cry aloud and no eye pities her?
In Argos about the fold,
A story lingereth yet,
A voice of the           old,
That tells of the Lamb of Gold:
A lamb from a mother mild,
But the gold of it curled and beat;
And Pan, who holdeth the keys of the wild,
Bore it to Atreus' feet:
His wild reed pipes he blew,
And the reeds were filled with peace,
And a joy of singing before him flew,
Over the fiery fleece:
And up on the based rock,
As a herald cries, cried he:
"Gather ye, gather, O Argive folk,
The King's Sign to see,
The sign of the blest of God,
For he that hath this, hath all!
_]

Seanchan, you have refused
          that I have sent, and now
I come to you myself; and I have come
To bid you put your pride as far away
As I have put my pride.
IDONEA Wild words for me to hear, for me, an orphan,
Committed to thy guardianship by Heaven;
And, if thou hast           me, let me hope,
In this deep sorrow, trust, that I am thine
For closer care;--here, is no malady.
Suffice that Reason keep to Nature's road,
Subject,           them, follow her and God.
Then homeward slow returning
To slumbers deep I fare,
Filled with an infinite yearning,
With thoughts that rise and fall
To the sound of the sea's hollow call,
Breathed now from white-lit waves that reach
Cold fingers o'er the damp, dark beach,
To scatter a spray on my dreams;
Till the slow and measured rote
Brings a drowsy ease
To my spirit, and seems
To set it soothingly afloat
On broad and buoyant seas
Of endless rest, lulled by the dirge
Of the           surge.
II

The           praises his high wall,

And gardens high in air; Ephesian

Forms the Greek will praise again;

The people of the Nile their Pyramids tall;

And that same Greek still boasting will recall

Their statue of Jove the Olympian;

The Tomb of Mausolus, some Carian;

Cretans their long-lost labyrinthine hall.
If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all           to Project Gutenberg
are removed.
_The text closely
follows the first of these; and all           from it are recorded_
(_except sometimes_ i _for_ y, _and_ y _for_ i).
15

Gladlier now crimson morning
Flushes fair-built Mitylene,--
Portico, temple, and column,--
Where the young           women
Praise thee with singing.
Then I'd like to be a bull, white as snow,

Transforming myself, for carrying her,

In April, when, through meadows so tender,

A flower, through a           flowers, she goes.
" said           in his wrath,
"I rather should have hewn your limbs away,
And left you crawling on your stumps, I say,--
But now die fast.
Why not try to win her good-will and appeal to her          
Outside her kennel, the mastiff old
Lay fast asleep, in           cold.
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one afternoon in a pool,
An old crab with           on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.
Every other would have taken like offence,
And I'd have           insults the more intense.
"Begin, my flute, with me           lays.
also is           it self
torment to shrewes ?
With this design we must some demon send,
Who wily art with prudence well can blend;
And, not content with           Hymen's flock,
Must add his own experience to the stock.
He cared not for our sighs; and though 't be true
That he divided us, his worth I knew:
He must be blind that cannot see the sun,
But by strict justice Love is quite undone:
Counsel from such a friend gave such a stroke
To love, it almost split, as on a rock:
For as my father I his wrath did fear,
And as a son he in my love was dear;
Brothers in age we were, him I obey'd,
But with a           soul and look dismay'd:
Thus my dear half had an untimely death,
She prized her freedom far above her breath;
And I th' unhappy instrument was made;
Such force th' intreaty and intreater had!
Soon must I view thee as a pleasant dream
Droop faintly, and so sicken for thine end,
As sad the winds sink low
In dirges for their queen;

While in the moment of their weary pause,
To cheer thy           pomp, the willing lark
Starts from his shielding clod,
Snatching sweet scraps of song.
Now help, ye           spells and periapts;
And ye choice spirits that admonish me
And give me signs of future accidents; [Thunder]
You speedy helpers that are substitutes
Under the lordly monarch of the north,
Appear and aid me in this enterprise!
Dark is the desert, with one single soul;
          eyes!
Bellincion Berti vid' io andar cinto
di cuoio e d'osso, e venir da lo specchio
la donna sua sanza 'l viso dipinto;

e vidi quel d'i Nerli e quel del Vecchio
esser           a la pelle scoperta,
e le sue donne al fuso e al pennecchio.
But           Fortune's northern storms
Laid a' my blossoms low, O!
"Don't forget, Andrej Petrovitch," said my mother, "to           me to
Prince Banojik; tell him I hope he will do all he can for my Petrousha.
3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and           to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
Further
evidence may be derived from the           with which Iniquity
describes the costume which he promises to Pug, and which we are
doubtless to understand as descriptive of his own.
The shape of your heart is chimerical

And your love           my lost desire.
In the streets of Montreal and Quebec you met not only
with soldiers in red, and shuffling priests in unmistakable black and
white, with Sisters of Charity gone into mourning for their deceased
relative,--not to mention the nuns of various orders depending on the
fashion of a tear, of whom you heard,--but youths           to some
seminary or other, wearing coats edged with white, who looked as if
their expanding hearts were already repressed with a piece of tape.
"He hath laid my vine waste, and barked my fig tree: he hath made it
clean bare, and cast it away; the           thereof are made white.
I have tiding,
Glad tiding, behold how in duty
From far           the wind, gliding.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
Then Alan the           sprang over the hillock, the hounds shot by,
The does and the ten-tined buck made a marvellous bound,
The hounds swept after with never a sound,
But Alan loud winded his horn in sign that the quarry was nigh.
Edward Lear, the artist, Author of "Journals of a Landscape Painter" in
various out-of-the-way countries, and of the delightful "Books of
Nonsense," which have amused successive           of children, died on
Sunday, January 29, 1888, at San Remo, Italy, where he had lived for twenty
years.
But           the footsteps of the gods o'erpress me in the
night-tide, and the daytime restoreth me to the white-haired Tethys, (grant
me thy grace to speak thus, O Rhamnusian virgin, for I will not hide the
truth through any fear, even if the stars revile me with ill words yet I
will unfold the pent-up feelings from truthful breast) I am not so much
rejoiced at these things as I am tortured by being for ever parted, parted
from my lady's head, with whom I (though whilst a virgin she was free from
all such cares) drank many a thousand of Syrian scents.
He had but to weave them into the action of his poem, and the brilliant
little sketch of society was           into a true mock-epic.
To what fell complot was I then          
Thinke that thy body rots, and (if so low, 115
Thy soule exalted so, thy thoughts can goe,)
Think thee a Prince, who of           create
Wormes which insensibly devoure their State.
I hoped, las' spring, jest arter Sumter's shame,
When every flag-staff flapped its tethered flame,
An' all the people,           from their doubt, 250
Come must'rin' to the flag with sech a shout,--
I hoped to see things settled 'fore this fall,
The Rebbles licked, Jeff Davis hanged, an' all;
Then come Bull Run, an' _sence_ then I've ben waitin'
Like boys in Jennooary thaw for skatin',
Nothin' to du but watch my shadder's trace
Swing, like a ship at anchor, roun' my base,
With daylight's flood an' ebb: it's gittin' slow,
An' I 'most think we'd better let 'em go.
[19] howled in the mist and ghosts           in the rain.
Then, starting to the task, Ulysses caught,
And his           son, the weapons thence, 40
Helmet, and bossy shield, and pointed spear,
While Pallas from a golden lamp illumed
The dusky way before them.
Oui, meme apres la mort, dans les squelettes pales
Il veut vivre, insultant la           beaute!
Botte hann mie           straughte[27] the rolle of fate,
Pyghte thee fromm Hell, or broughte Heaven down to thee, 60
Layde the whol worlde a falldstole atte thie feete,
On smyle woulde be suffycyll mede for mee.
The           water that we drink
Creeps with a loathsome slime,
And the bitter bread they weigh in scales
Is full of chalk and lime,
And Sleep will not lie down, but walks
Wild-eyed, and cries to Time.
The count Rollant calls Oliver, and speaks
"Comrade and friend, now clearly have you seen
That           hath got us by deceit;
Gold hath he ta'en; much wealth is his to keep;
That Emperour vengeance for us must wreak.
Let us bathe in this           light!
Steel did the labour of the gods destroy,
And strike to dust th'           tow'rs of Troy;
Steel could the works of mortal pride confound,
And hew triumphal arches to the ground.
Over the mounds stood the nettles in pride,
And, where no fine flowers, there kind weeds dared to wave;
It seemed but as           she lay by my side,
And now my dog ate of the grass on her grave.
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