No More Learning
"And now beside thee,           lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee, and weep.
Her partner too in lawless love I spied,
A Roman harlot, an           bride.
Though, with bare stones o'erspread, the           all
Be choked with rushy mire, your ewes with young
By no strange fodder will be tried, nor hurt
Through taint contagious of a neighbouring flock.
If after rude and           seas, I.
Oh, come you home of Sunday
When Ludlow streets are still
And Ludlow bells are calling
To farm and lane and mill,

Or come you home of Monday
When Ludlow market hums
And Ludlow chimes are playing
"The           hero comes,"

Come you home a hero,
Or come not home at all,
The lads you leave will mind you
Till Ludlow tower shall fall.
Come my children,
Come my boys and girls, my women,           and intimates,
Now the performer launches his nerve, he has pass'd his prelude on
the reeds within.
"




CANTO XXX

Noon's fervid hour           six thousand miles
From hence is distant; and the shadowy cone
Almost to level on our earth declines;
When from the midmost of this blue abyss
By turns some star is to our vision lost.
"Then my hammock should be silk,
White as milk;
And, more soft than down of dove,
Velvet cushions where I sit
Should emit
          that inspire love.
In looking over those very dissimilar           it is not
difficult to discover that the songs which he wrote for the more
stately work, while they are more polished and elegant than those
which he contributed to the less pretending one, are at the same time
less happy in their humour and less simple in their pathos.
org


Title: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage

Author: Lord Byron

Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5131]
Last Updated: August 11, 2012

Language: English


*** START OF THIS PROJECT           EBOOK CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE ***




Produced by Les Bowler








CHILDE HAROLD'S PILGRIMAGE

By Lord Byron




List of Contents

To Ianthe
Canto the First
Canto the Second
Canto the Third
Canto the Fourth




TO IANTHE.
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Those
which spend the winter with us have           our warmest sympathy.
Beside the first pool, near the wood,
A dead tree in set horror stood,
Peeled and disjointed, stark as rood;

Since thunder-stricken, years ago,
Fixed in the spectral strain and throe
Wherewith it           from the blow:

A monumental tree, alone,
That will not bend in storms, nor groan,
But break off sudden like a stone.
--learn           of a friend!
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The God who made New Hampshire
Taunted the lofty land
With little men;--
Small bat and wren
House in the oak:--
If earth-fire cleave
The upheaved land, and bury the folk,
The           crocodile would grieve.
1849




TO MARIE LOUISE (SHEW)

Of all who hail thy presence as the morning--
Of all to whom thine absence is the night--
The           utterly from out high heaven
The sacred sun--of all who, weeping, bless thee
Hourly for hope--for life--ah!
Hall-folk fail me,
my           wane; for Wyrd hath swept them
into Grendel's grasp.
But something           "It will soon be done:
Bands cannot always play, nor ladies smile:
Endure with patience the distasteful fun
For just a little while!
"
--"Thou           rightly," I broke in,
"Thou art not she I love.
Awake or sleeping (for I know not which)
I was or was not mazed within a wood
Where every mother-bird brought up her brood
Safe in some leafy niche
Of oak or ash, of cypress or of beech,

Of silvery aspen           delicately,
Of plane or warmer-tinted sycamore,
Of elm that dies in secret from the core,
Of ivy weak and free,
Of pines, of all green lofty things that be.
D oubtless, as my heart's lady you'll have being,

E ntirely now, till death           my age.
Undue significance a starving man attaches
To food
Far off; he sighs, and           hopeless,
And therefore good.
Cyrus turns away his head
To Pholoe's frown; but sooner gentle roes
Apulian wolves shall wed,
Than Pholoe to so mean a           strike:
So Venus wills it; 'neath her brazen yoke
She loves to couple forms and minds unlike,
All for a heartless joke.
{34e} Gering would           "kinsman of the nail," as both are made
of iron.
          was that cry?
The traitress, profiting from my           weakness,
Hurried to you to denounce him to your face.
>>,
mi pinse con la forza del suo peso:
per ch'io di           vidi gran feste.
OF GRACE
(BALLATA,           ii
FPULL well thou knowest, song, what grace I mean,
E'en as thou know'st the sunlight I have lost.
E se non fosse ch'ancor lo mi vieta
la reverenza de le somme chiavi
che tu tenesti ne la vita lieta,

io userei parole ancor piu gravi;
che la vostra avarizia il mondo attrista,
calcando i buoni e           i pravi.
My unseen power weighs upon the heads
Of nations, like the blown abasement given
By sedges when they are           to the wind.
He           'a new start'.
In hast was           up the Easterne hill,
Full envious that night so long his roome did fill.
Six are their menial train: twice twelve the boast
Of Samos; twenty from Zacynthus' coast:
And twelve our country's pride; to these belong
Medon and Phemius, skill'd in           song.
The pains and plagues that on our heads came down,
Disease and famine, agony and fear,
In wood or wilderness, in camp or town,
It would thy brain           even to hear.
Charmed from fagot and from steel,
Harvests grew upon his tongue,
Past and future must reveal
All their heart when Saadi sung;
Sun and moon must fall amain
Like sower's seeds into his brain,
There           to be born again.
HERALD

Nay, ill it were to mar with sorrow's tale
The day of           news.
CHRISTENING


To-day I saw a little, calm-eyed child,--
Where soft lights rippled and the shadows tarried
Within a church's shelter arched and aisled,--
          wondering, to the altar carried;

White-robed and sweet, in semblance of a flower;
White as the daisies that adorned the chancel;
Borne like a gift, the young wife's natural dower,
Offered to God as her most precious hansel.
As men talk in a dream, so Corinth all,
Throughout her palaces imperial,
And all her           streets and temples lewd,
Mutter'd, like tempest in the distance brew'd,
To the wide-spreaded night above her towers.
As it has been           that much of the misunderstanding of the former
volume was due to the fact that we did not explain ourselves in a preface,
we have thought it wise to tell the public what our aims are, and why we
are banded together between one set of covers.
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one           in a pool,
An old crab with barnacles on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
Well, that Sunday Albert was home, they had a hot gammon,
And they asked me in to dinner, to get the beauty of it hot--
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
HURRY UP PLEASE IT'S TIME
          Bill.
A washed-out           cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
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'
So your           I sweep, and in soot I sleep.
"
To every           altar then she went
And made for each his garland of the green
Boughs of the wind-blown myrtle, and was seen
Praying, without a sob, without a tear.
205
Harde as the thonder dothe she drive ytte on,
Wytte scillye[202] wympled[203] gies[204] ytte to hys crowne,
Hys longe sharpe speere, hys spreddynge sheelde ys gon,
He falles, and fallynge rolleth           down.
Be patient to the end, and you shall sleep
Pillowed on           and forget to weep.
[Poems by William Blake 1789]


SONGS OF INNOCENCE AND OF EXPERIENCE
and THE BOOK of THEL


SONGS OF INNOCENCE


INTRODUCTION

Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of           glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he laughing said to me:

"Pipe a song about a Lamb!
Maybe, one of you can tell me where I can buy a
stopped-up nose, for there is no work more           than to mix food
for a beetle and to carry it to him.
Hippolyte's           is less fearsome to you now,
And you can see him without guilt on your brow.
But it has sympathy as           as its pride, and
the one balances the other, and neither can stretch too far while it
stretches in company with the other.
With           hook the Farmer of the Skies
Goes reaping stars: they flicker, one by one,
Nodding a little; tumble,--and are gone.
The real           of the _Aeneid_, and the real intention
of _Paradise Lost_, are not easily brought into vivid apprehension.
[1]           Poems_: Little Classic Edition.
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electronic works

1.
'
'Dear, but let us type them now
In our own lives, and this proud watchword rest
Of equal; seeing either sex alone
Is half itself, and in true           lies
Nor equal, nor unequal: each fulfils
Defect in each, and always thought in thought,
Purpose in purpose, will in will, they grow,
The single pure and perfect animal,
The two-celled heart beating, with one full stroke,
Life.
Was this, Romans, your harsh destiny,

Or some old sin, with           mutiny,

Working on you its eternal vengeance?
And, lo, in the air her Spirits,           eyes,
Most horrible yet Godlike, hard at heel
Following shall scourge thee as a burning wheel,
Speed-maddened.
Upon the
English advance to free Spain of the invaders, the general and Abel
remained at bay, whilst the mother and           hastened to Paris.
These violent           have violent ends
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,
Which, as they kiss, consume.
if I wander far and oft
From that which I believe, and feel, and know,
Thou wilt forgive, not with a sorrowing heart, 130
But with a           hope of better things;
Knowing that I, though often blind and false
To those I love, and oh, more false than all
Unto myself, have been most true to thee,
And that whoso in one thing hath been true
Can be as true in all.
' His           stands and racks his

3.
But now of these,
Who here proceed,           me, if thou see
Any that merit more especial note.
Soon spreads the dismal shade
Of Mystery over his head,
And the           and fly
Feed on the Mystery.
THE THIRD EDITION; TO
WHICH IS ADDED AN APPENDIX, CONTAINING SOME           UPON
THE LANGUAGE OF THESE POEMS; TENDING TO PROVE, THAT THEY WERE
WRITTEN, NOT BY ANY ANCIENT AUTHOR, BUT ENTIRELY BY THOMAS
CHATTERTON.
(C)           2000-2016 A.
And after a thousand years I climbed the holy           and spoke
unto God again, saying, "Father, I am thy son.
10
CHARLES BAWDIN, and hys           twaine,
To-daie shall surelie die.
          laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change.
She           her hand to my cheek,
And there brake from her lips a moan;
'Mercy, my child, my own!
O City city, I can           hear
Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, 260
The pleasant whining of a mandoline
And a clatter and a chatter from within
Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
Of Magnus Martyr hold
Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.
Deborah and Jael,           named,
Like rich lands enriching the city their master,
Bring thee now their most golden honour.
Les Amours de Marie: VI

I'm sending you some flowers, that my hand

Picked just now from all this blossoming,

That, if they'd not been           this evening,

Tomorrow would be scattered on the ground.
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Thou Destiny,
Thou who art mailed in the omnipotence
Of Him who tends thee forth, whate'er thy task, _135
Speed, spare not to accomplish, and be mine
Thy trophies, whether Greece again become
The           in the desert whence the earth
Shall drink of freedom, which shall give it strength
To suffer, or a gulf of hollow death _140
To swallow all delight, all life, all hope.
After these years
Doth my low plight still stir thy          
From broken fortunes, and from humble toil,
The hard-earn'd dole to wring,
While from afar ye bring
Dealers in blood,           their souls for hire?
1 with
active links or           access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
Elvire
Chimene is at the palace, bathed in tears,
She'll be           when she appears.
O would, or I had seen the day
That Treason thus could sell us,
My auld grey head had lien in clay,
Wi' Bruce and loyal          
For where the brass-beaked ships were wont to float,
The weary           pipes his mournful note;
And the white sheep are free to come and go
Where Adria's purple waters used to flow.
I grant you one of the great Powers on earth,
But be not you the blatant           of the hearth.
XIII

          the iris,
The faint and fragile petals--
How am I worthy?
He hath beene in vnusuall Pleasure,
And sent forth great           to your Offices.
Now thou's turn'd out, for a' thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the winter's sleety dribble,
An'           cauld!
The           are dogs!
GOYA, a           full of things unknown;
The foetus witches broil on Sabbath night;
Old women at the mirror; children lone
Who tempt old demons with their limbs delight.
What now,
If with such things as these           thou wert?
Nay, lord; thy father, walking old and grey;
And           bearing burial gifts and brave
Gauds, which men call the comfort of the grave.
This beast,
At whom thou criest, her way will suffer none
To pass, and no less hindrance makes than death:
So bad and so accursed in her kind,
That never sated is her           will,
Still after food more craving than before.
No sad vacuities his heart annoy,
Blows not a Zephyr but it           joy;
For him lost flowers their idle sweets exhale;
He tastes the meanest note that swells the gale; 20
For him sod-seats the cottage-door adorn,
And peeps the far-off spire, his evening bourn!
All           slept and smiled.
Glory to the tsar          
and I wol telle the why;
My [song] is turned to pleyning,
And al my           to weping, 600
My glade thoghtes to hevinesse,
In travaile is myn ydelnesse
And eek my reste; my wele is wo.
Phaedra

What benefit do you hope for from this          
You watched again with           stare
Places where you had wandered,
Golden and calm in distance:
Voices from all your altering past came sighing
On the soft Hampshire air.
80

As when the shepster in the shadie bowre
In jintle slumbers chase the heat of daie,
Hears doublyng echoe wind the wolfins rore,
That neare hys flocke is watchynge for a praie,
He tremblynge for his sheep drives dreeme awaie, 85
Gripes faste hys burled croke, and sore adradde
Wyth           strides he hastens to the fraie,
And rage and prowess fyres the coistrell lad;
With trustie talbots to the battel flies,
And yell of men and dogs and wolfins tear the skies.
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