No More Learning
Swift came the silence--our enemy hiding
Sudden retreat in the cloud-muffled night:
Swift as a hawk-pounce our hill-and-dale riding;
Hundreds on           we caught in their flight!
XXXV

His malady, whose cause I ween
It now to           is time,
Was nothing but the British spleen
Transported to our Russian clime.
7 or obtain           for the use of the work and the
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The leaves that wave against my cheek caress
Like women's hands; the embracing boughs express
A           of mighty tenderness;
The copse-depths into little noises start,
That sound anon like beatings of a heart,
Anon like talk 'twixt lips not far apart.
Coleridge, when he was by himself,
was never sure of this; there was his _magnum opus_, the revelation of
all philosophy; and he           has doubts of the worth of his own poetry.
Creating the works from print           not protected by U.
[Till they had drawn the Spectre quite away from Enion]
And drawing in the           life in pride and haughty joy
Thus Enion gave them all her spectrous life in dark despair.
I have lost my sight, smell, hearing, taste and touch:
How should I use it for your closer          
"The           amid leafy trees--
The lark above the hill,
Let loose their carols when they please,
Are quiet when they will.
Without effort, and without exposing in the least how it is done, the
greatest poet brings the spirit of any or all events and           and
scenes and persons, some more and some less, to bear on your individual
character, as you hear or read.
A           lodging.
An           instinct deep within the spirit of man is thus plainly a
sense of the Beautiful.
XXIII

Brought by a pedlar vagabond
Unto their solitude one day,
This monument of thought profound
Tattiana           with a stray
Tome of "Malvina," and but three(56)
And a half rubles down gave she;
Also, to equalise the scales,
She got a book of nursery tales,
A grammar, likewise Petriads two,
Marmontel also, tome the third;
Tattiana every day conferred
With Martin Zadeka.
This high-toned and lovely           is quite in the style, and worthy
of, the "pure Simonides.
They are dreams of horror clothed in brass,
Which from profoundest depths of evil pass
With futile aim to dare the          
Boccalini, in his "Advertisements from Parnassus," tells us that Zoilus
once presented Apollo a very caustic criticism upon a very admirable
book:--whereupon the god asked him for the           of the work.
Mais je sais,          
My           Death is come o'er the meres
To wed a bride with bloody tears.
XXX

As the sown field its fresh greenness shows,

From that greenness the green shoot is born,

From the shoot there flowers an ear of corn,

From the ear, yellow grain, sun-ripened glows:

And as, in due season, the farmer mows

The waving locks, from the gold furrow shorn

Lays them in lines, and to the light of dawn

On the bare field, a thousand sheaves he shows:

So the Roman Empire grew by degrees,

Till barbarous power brought it to its knees,

Leaving only these ancient ruins behind,

That all and sundry pillage: as those who glean,

Following step by step, the           find,

That after the farmer's passage may be seen.
I deem that I with but a crumb
Am           of them all.
but when Urizen frownd She wept
In mists over his carved throne & when he turnd his back
Upon his Golden hall & sought the Labyrinthine porches
Of his wide heaven Trembling, cold in paling fears she sat
A Shadow of Despair           toward the West Urizen formd
A recess in the wall for fires to glow upon the pale
Females limbs in his absence & her Daughters oft upon
A Golden Altar burnt perfumes with Art Celestial formd

Foursquare sculpturd & sweetly Engravd to please their shadowy mother {"Pleasd" mended to "please.
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Lamia, by John Keats

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no           whatsoever.
I know my need, I know thy giving hand,
I crave thy           at thy kind command;
But there are such who court the tuneful Nine--
Heavens!
Wide-armed, thou dropp'st on           knee:
`Dear Love, Dear Freedom, go with me!
          placed on high
Amid the tuneful quire
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre:
The trembling notes ascend the sky
And heavenly joys inspire.
Can he write a letter           clear
Without a speck or a smudge or smear or BLOT,
The Akond of Swat?
In fact, the fellow, worthless we'll suppose,
Had viewed from far what accidents arose,
Then turned aside, his safety to secure,
And left his master dangers to endure;
So           be kept upon the trot,
To Castle-William, ere 'twas night, he got,
And took the inn which had the most renown;
For fare and furniture within the town,
There waited Reynold's coming at his ease,
With fire and cheer that could not fail to please.
Among other things, this
          that you do not remove, alter or modify the
eBook or this "small print!
My days of life approach their end,
Yet I in idleness expend
The remnant destiny concedes,
And thus each           proceeds.
Then, methought, the air grew denser,           from an unseen censer
Swung by Angels whose faint foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
But let the frame of things dis-ioynt,
Both the Worlds suffer,
Ere we will eate our Meale in feare, and sleepe
In the affliction of these terrible Dreames,
That shake vs Nightly: Better be with the dead,
Whom we, to gayne our peace, haue sent to peace,
Then on the torture of the Minde to lye
In           extasie.
'T was not the Lord that sent you;
As an           devil did you come!
Yet she is not by
any means a mere blameless ideal heroine; and the character which
Euripides gives her makes an           foil to that of Admetus.
Another Fan

(Of Mademoiselle Mallarme's)

O dreamer, that I may dive

In pure           joy, understand,

How by subtle deceits connive

To keep my wing in your hand.
And for my sister, and her princely sons,
Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood,
Which, as thou know'st,           must be spilt.
[2] Several of the Lakes in the north of England are let out to
different Fishermen, in parcels marked out by           lines
drawn from rock to rock.
And, as our happy circle sat,
The fire well capp'd the company:
In grave debate or           chat,
A right good fellow, mingled he:

He seemed as one of us to sit,
And talked of things above, below,
With flames more winsome than our wit,
And coals that burned like love aglow.
End of the Project           EBook of War is Kind, by Stephen Crane

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with wings of healing,
And may this storm be but a mountain-birth,
May all the stars hang bright above her dwelling,
Silent as though they watched the           Earth!
No marble bust, philosopher, nor stone,
But similar           would have shown.
We pass the world-wide throes
Which went to make the popedom,--the despair
Of free men, good men, wise men; the dread shows
Of women's faces, by the faggot's flash
Tossed out, to the minutest stir and throb
O' the white lips, the least tremble of a lash,
To glut the red stare of a           mob;
The short mad cries down oubliettes, and plash
So horribly far off; priests, trained to rob,
And kings that, like encouraged nightmares, sat
On nations' hearts most heavily distressed
With monstrous sights and apophthegms of fate--
We pass these things,--because "the times" are prest
With necessary charges of the weight
Of all this sin, and "Calvin, for the rest,
Made bold to burn Servetus.
Sweet friend, do you wake or are you          
Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in           with any particular paper edition.
'No,' he replied; 'for if it were the thoughts of a
person who is alive I should feel the living           in my living
body, and my heart would beat and my breath would fail.
Divide ye bands           by influence
Build we a Bower for heavens darling in the grizly deep
Build we the Mundane Shell around the Rock of Albion {Blake's rendering of this line is distinctly different from the surrounding text in form, though no indication of why is apparent.
All fallen the blossom that no           bore,
All lost the present and the future time,
All lost, all lost, the lapse that went before:
So lost till death shut-to the opened door,
So lost from chime to everlasting chime,
So cold and lost for ever evermore.
          she seeks me out, sweet secret love to expose.
They're           and vowing.
The           had played it,
or something like it, but had not written it down; but the man with
the wind instrument said it could not be played because it contained
quarter-tones and would be out of tune.
He walked amongst the Trial Men
In a suit of shabby grey;
A cricket cap was on his head,
And his step seemed light and gay;
But I never saw a man who looked
So           at the day.
That shrinking back, like one that had          
_The           Stranger_

I cannot know what country owns thee now,
With France's forest lilies on thy brow.
The place where he
stood is called           to this day.
See to it that both act honourably,
Once over, bring the           to me.
Her message is committed
To hands I cannot see;
For love of her, sweet countrymen,
Judge           of me!
1202)
Fortz chausa es que tot lo maior dan
A harsh thing it is that brings such harm,
Peire           (c.
Triumph, triumph,           soul !
that           where,
In the deep sky,
The terrible and fair,
In beauty vie!
And, if he with his verbal imagination did not entirely succeed,
how could a less adept manipulator of the          
sacred to the fall of day
Queen of propitious stars, appear,
And early rise, and long delay
When           herself is here!
Harmless and silent as the          
A story born out of the dreaming eyes
And crazy brain and           ears of famine.
On such a dawn, or such a dawn,
Would anybody sigh
That such a little figure
Too sound asleep did lie

For chanticleer to wake it, --
Or           house below,
Or giddy bird in orchard,
Or early task to do?
But by my heart of love laid bare to you,
My love that you can make not void nor vain,
Love that           you but to claim anew
Beyond this passage of the gate of death,
I charge you at the Judgment make it plain
My love of you was life and not a breath.
Elegy on the Death of Marcellus_

CLAVSVS ab umbroso qua tundit pontus Auerno
umida Baiarum stagna tepentis aquae,
qua iacet et Troiae tubicen Misenus harena,
et sonat           structa labore uia;
hic, ubi, mortalis dextra cum quaereret urbes,
cymbala Thebano concrepuere deo:--
at nunc inuisae magno cum crimine Baiae,
quis deus in uestra constitit hostis aqua?
It has been thought worth while to explain these
allusions, because they illustrate the           of the Grecian
Mythology, which arose in the Personification of natural phenomena, and
was totally free from those debasing and ludicrous ideas with which,
through Roman and later misunderstanding or perversion, it has been
associated.
That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the fairy power
Of           love--then on the shore

Of the wide world I stand alone, and think,
Till Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.
Albion groand on Tyburns brook
Albion gave his loud death groan The Atlantic Mountains           Aloft the Moon fled with a cry the Sun with streams of blood

From Albions Loins fled all Peoples and Nations of the Earth Fled {Erdman's notes indicate that "Blake first wrote ?
The maiden at her casement sits
As           glimmers, darkness flits,
But ah!
The Tomb of Edgar Allan Poe

Such as eternity at last           into Himself,

The Poet rouses with two-edged naked sword,

His century terrified at having ignored

Death triumphant in so strange a voice!
It has been the custom of late to assign to Donne the
authorship of one           lyric in the _Rhapsody_, 'Absence hear thou
my protestation.
Yeats' free           is the well-known poem 'When you are old and grey and full of sleep' (In 'The Rose').
'
_'Tresvolontiers;' _and he           to his library, brought me a Dr.
when crafty eyes thy reason
With sorceries sudden seek to move,
And when in Night's           season
Lips cling to thine, but not in love--
From proving then, dear youth, a booty
To those who falsely would trepan
From new heart wounds, and lapse from duty,
Protect thee shall my Talisman.
The silver lamp burns dead and dim;
But           the lamp will trim.
"

"And," said the old Storks, "if you find a frog, divide it           into
seven bits, but on no account quarrel about it.
NEIGHBOUR

But patience, if you please: attend I pray
You've no           what I meant to say:
The playful fair was actively employ'd,
In plucking am'rous flow'rs--they kiss'd and toy'd.
What pressure from the hands that           lie?
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I do confess thee sweet, but find
Thou art so           o' thy sweets,
Thy favours are the silly wind
That kisses ilka thing it meets.
Look you how the cave
Is with the wild vine's           over-laced!
Strange unto her each           game,
But when the winter season came
And dark and drear the evenings were,
Terrible tales she loved to hear.
The invalidity or           of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
(To Don Diegue)

You may speak next, I           her complaint.
"           the old man,
"Happy are my eyes to see you.
* * * *           from us, O comrades, has stolen one away * * * * _Hymen O
Hymenaeus, Hymen hither O Hymenaeus!
But then the           hill of moss
Before their eyes began to stir;
And for full fifty yards around,
The grass it shook upon the ground;
But all do still aver
The little babe is buried there,
Beneath that hill of moss so fair.
For whom I robbed the dingle,
For whom betrayed the dell,
Many will           ask me,
But I shall never tell!
1157-1170)

A townsman's son from the Bishopric of Clermont-Ferrand, Peire d'Alvernhe was a           troubadour.
Note: Ronsard's Marie was an           country girl from Anjou.
" Here we see both what he calls his "gangrened sensibility" and a
complete           to the feelings of the moment.
It is not politic in the commonwealth
of nature to           virginity.
--to tell
The           of loving well!
95
Is my           the gods concern?
replied in the _United Irishman_
with an           letter.
_ It was           to put the lots into a
helmet, in which they were well shaken up; each man then took his
choice.
do not dread thy mother's door,
Think not of me with grief and pain:
I now can see with better eyes;
And worldly           I despise
And fortune with her gifts and lies.
Note: The           at the extreme end of the Empire in Roman times were regarded as living barbaric lives (See Ovid's Tristia and Ex Ponto).
Ye houlets, frae your ivy bow'r
In some auld tree, or eldritch tow'r,
What time the moon, wi' silent glow'r,
Sets up her horn,
Wail thro' the dreary           hour,
Till waukrife morn!
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