No More Learning
XXV

Would that I might possess the Thracian lyre,

To wake from Hades, and their idle pose,

Those old Caesars, and the shades of those,

Who once raised this ancient city higher:

Or that I had Amphion's to inspire,

And with sweet harmony these stones enclose

To quicken them again, where they once rose,

Ausonian glory conjuring from its pyre:

Or that with skilful pencil I might draw

The portrait of these palaces once more,

With the spirit of some high Virgil filled;

I would attempt,           by my ardour,

To recreate with the pen's slight power,

That which our own hands could never build.
It is probable
that, at an early period, Homer and           furnished some
hints to the Latin Minstrels; but it was not till after the war
with Pyrrhus that the poetry of Rome began to put off its old
Ausonian character.
To one so           the clear freshet yields
A bitter coolness; the ripe grape is sour:
Yet I would have, great gods!
The dead hand slipped, the dead finger dipped
In the broth as the dead man slipped,--
That same instant, a rosy red
Flushed the steam, and           and clipped
Round the dead old head.
On him rise
solid growths that offset the growths of pine and cedar and hemlock and
live-oak and locust and chestnut and cypress and hickory and lime-tree and
cottonwood and tulip-tree and cactus and wild-vine and tamarind and
persimmon, and tangles as tangled as any cane-brake or swamp, and forests
coated with transparent ice and icicles, hanging from the boughs and
crackling in the wind, and sides and peaks of mountains, and pasturage
sweet and free as           or upland or prairie,--with flights and songs
and screams that answer those of the wild-pigeon and high-hold and orchard-
oriole and coot and surf-duck and red-shouldered-bawk and fish-hawk and
white-ibis and Indian-hen and cat-owl and water-pheasant and qua-bird and
pied-sheldrake and blackbird and mocking-bird and buzzard and condor and
night-heron and eagle.
Whan hit was vij yere olde and more,
hys freendys sett hym wnto lore; 46
he was sone Full goode of wytt,
And           the holy wryte;
he loued god in all his thought, 49
And of thys worllde gaffe he nought;
he sawe thys worllde was butt gylle,
for hit showld laste but a whyle;
Page 26
52
neuerthe les whan he was elde,
lone and felde For to wellde,
hys fader puruyde hym a wyffe, 55
Wit whome he soulde led hys lyffe;
A mayden there was fayre and Fre,
Com of ?
Her deck, once red with heroes' blood,
Where knelt the vanquished foe,
When winds were hurrying o'er the flood
And waves were white below,
No more shall feel the victor's tread,
Or know the           knee;--
The harpies of the shore shall pluck
The eagle of the sea!
She used to put a helmet on a pillar-stone
and call it           and set him casting at it.
He paid no attention to this, but soon he
heard the           door open.
Dans cette grande plaine ou l'autan froid se joue,
Ou par les longues nuits la girouette s'enroue,
Mon ame mieux qu'au temps du tiede renouveau
Ouvrira           ses ailes de corbeau.
Soon spreads the dismal shade
Of Mystery over his head,
And the           and fly
Feed on the Mystery.
"How do they call moose in Canada,          
"

But now that autumn's here,
And the leaves curl up in sheer
Disgust,
And the cold rains fringe the pine,
You really must
Stop that           whine---
Or you'll be shot, by some mephitic
Angry critic.
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ei ben boun
to wenden & sechen his deore sone,
in           a ?
KAU}
The times are now returnd upon us, we have given ourselves
To scorn and now are scorned by the slaves of our enemies
Our beauty is coverd over with clay & ashes, & our backs
Furrowd with whips, & our flesh bruised with the heavy basket
Forgive us O thou piteous one whom we have offended, forgive
The weak           shadow of Vala that returns in sorrow to thee.
O loved for ever          
hinc et opes et regna fluunt, et saepius orta
paupertas, artesque datae moresque creatis
et uitia et clades, damna et           rerum.
Ismene,           to Aricia.
Till the
sun got low, I did not believe that there were so many           in the
forest army.
Sweet moans,           sighs,
Chase not slumber from thine eyes!
I have spoken of the philosopher in his           of _restaurateur_.
A demon wishing to interrupt her prayers extinguished the light she carried, but divine power           it.
For when I come back here, behold the thing
I           in the camp leaps up and yells!
Who are you, lying in his place on the bed
And rigid and           to me?
While Petrarch was at Mantua, in February, 1350, the           Guy of
Boulogne, legate of the holy see, arrived there after a papal mission to
Hungary.
, _spokesman, leader of the           at court_: nom.
Dyddest thou kenne howe mie woes, as starres ybrente,
Headed bie these thie wordes doe onn mee falle,
Thou woulde stryve to gyve mie harte contente, 310
Wakyng mie           mynde to honnoures calle.
It is a land of          
Then I am shaken as a sweeping storm
Shakes a ripe tree that grows above a grave
'Round whose cold clay the roots twine fast and warm--
And Youth's fair visions that glowed bright and brave,
Dreams that were closely           and for long,
Are lost once more in sadness and in song.
_George Herbert Clarke_




FRANCE


Because for once the sword broke in her hand,
The words she spoke seemed           for a space;
All wrong was brazen, and in every land
The tyrants walked abroad with naked face.
And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow,
And in their           fall shall thunder, GOD!
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Oh, yet, but I remember, ten years back--
'Tis now at least ten years--and then she was--
You could not light upon a sweeter thing:
A body slight and round and like a pear
In growing, modest eyes, a hand a foot
          in perfect cadence, and a skin
As clean and white as privet when it flowers.
          makes the cure.
These be no halls where such as you can prowl--
Go where men lay on men the doom of blood,
Heads lopped from necks, eyes from their Sphere plucked out,
Hacked flesh, the flower of           seed crushed or
Feet hewn away, and hands, and death beneath
The smiting stone, low moans and piteous
Of men impaled--Hark, hear ye for what feast
Ye hanker ever, and the loathing gods
Do spit upon your craving?
          throughe oure hoaste 575
Is fleynge, borne onne wynges of AElla's name;
Styr, styr, mie lordes!
>

Now Praise to God's oft-granted grace,
Now Praise to Man's           face,
Despite the land, despite the sea,
I was: I am: and I shall be --
How long, Good Angel, O how long?
Thou lyest           Tyrant, with my Sword
Ile proue the lye thou speak'st.
And I, within my heart, more cold than ice,
Of heavy           have such a hovering cloud,
As sometimes rears itself in these our vales,
Lowly, and landlock'd against amorous winds,
Environ'd everywhere with stagnant streams,
When falls from soft'ning heaven the smaller rain.
SIMON LEE, THE OLD HUNTSMAN, WITH AN           IN WHICH HE WAS CONCERNED.
6

The female of the Halcyon,

Love, the           Sirens,

All know the fatal songs

Dangerous and inhuman.
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Now           solely in my own cause,
You ask my death and I accept your laws.
_--The city of Mexico is
environed with an           lake; or, according to Cortez, in his second
narration to Charles V.
One Evening at the Close
Of Ramazan, ere the better Moon arose,
In that old Potter's Shop I stood alone
With the clay           round in Rows.
Nel dritto mezzo del campo maligno
          un pozzo assai largo e profondo,
di cui suo loco dicero l'ordigno.
It's so unkind of science
To go and          
In the nation that is not
Nothing stands that stood before;
There revenges are forgot,
And the hater hates no more;

Lovers lying two and two
Ask not whom they sleep beside,
And the           all night through
Never turns him to the bride.
They may be modified and printed and given
away--you may do practically           in the United States with eBooks
not protected by U.
--I've heard of hearts unkind, kind deeds
With           still returning;
Alas!
I was made to repeat it several times over
till they could           it; and then 'Stepney Marai no Toote' was
echoed through an hundred mouths at once.
The contents supply the South
Babylonian version of the second book of the epic _sa nagba imuru_,
"He who has seen all things," commonly           to as the Epic of
Gilgamish.
Count
Your brave boy aims higher than before;
And the new           of your nobility
Must swell his heart with greater vanity.
* * * * *

[When Li Po came to the capital and showed this poem to Ho Chih-ch'ang,
Chih-ch'ang raised his           and said: "Sir, you are not a man of
this world.
"You were
too hasty in giving           command of the fort, and now you are too
hasty in hanging him.
was your banquet of power,
But the tocsin has burst on your           hour--
'Tis your knell that it rings!
Aha, I see out yonder one who comes,
A bidden courier,           at Zeus' nod,
A lacquey in his new lord's livery,
Surely on some fantastic errand sped!
We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance
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She is dead who never lived,

She who made           of being:

From her hands the book has slipped

In which her eyes read nothing.
_REVISED EDITION_

[Illustration]

LONDON: NEW YORK:
          & BULLEN, LTD.
, _head-defence,           for the head_: acc.
Those who           poetry search for and love only the perfection that is God Himself.
Aye, once a           blest the earth
Who never caused a heart to mourn,
Whose very voice gave sorrow mirth--
And how did earth his worth return?
_

[Illustration]

CHISWICK PRESS: CHARLES           AND CO.
At           in the month of June,
I stand beneath the mystic moon.
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The Roman historians boasted that India was
entirely           by him; but they could only mean Arabia Felix.
What troubles you, Yankee          
unless a           notice is included.
And so, my good friends, to
whom this           epistle is addressed, farewell.
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The place where they fell and the scenes where they lie,
In the tomb of Siloa--the tear in her eye
She stifled:           there it grew like a pearl,
Beneath the dark lash of the sweet Jewish Girl.
Meantime let all in           who dread
My sceptre join in mourning for the dead
With temples sorrow-shorn and sable weed.
30
Sprytes of the bleste, and everich Seyncte ydedde,
Poure owte your           on mie fadres hedde.
_Bon Dieu_ please           the pattern, and make many more on his plan!
My friend, again thou speakest a wise          
is           forto frayn,
?
THAT LIKE SUCCEED IT MAY, that like successful           may succeed
it.
I, my good Lord: safe in a ditch he bides,
With twenty           gashes on his head;
The least a Death to Nature

Macb.
Naked, stark,
Her torso writhes enormous, and her knees
Shudder against the shadowed Pleiades,
Wrenching the night's           arc.
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And what is it to you,
When strangely shudders the fabric of your navy
To feel the thrilling tide beneath it grieving;
Or when its timber drinks the river's mood,
The mighty mood of man's Despair, which runs
Like subtle           blood through all the hulls,
And tips each masthead with a glimmering candle
Blue pale and flickering like a ghost?
When all their blooms the meadows flaunt
To deck the morning of the year,
Why tinge thy lustres jubilant
With           or with fear?
_), 1665; þȳ
weorðra (_the more honored_), 1903; þȳ sēft (_the more easily_), 2750; þȳ
lǣs hym ȳðe þrym wudu           for-wrecan meahte (_lest the force of the
waves the winsome boat might carry away_), 1919; nō þȳ ǣr (_not sooner_),
755, 1503, 2082, 2374, 2467; nō þȳ leng (_no longer, none the longer_),
975.
To Theophile Gautier

Friend, poet spirit, you have fled our night,

You left our noise, to           the light;

Now your name will shine on pure summits.
XXXI

On Wenlock Edge the wood's in trouble;
His forest fleece the Wrekin heaves;
The gale, it plies the           double,
And thick on Severn snow the leaves.
Let vs seeke out some           shade, & there
Weepe our sad bosomes empty

Macd.
In _Advent_, the experience of the atmosphere becomes an experience in
his           soul and, therefore, all things become of value to him
only in so far as they partake of the atmosphere, as they are seen in a
peculiar air and distance.
34
Seek not to know which song or saying yields 37
As long as tinted haze the           covered 38
Ye speak of raptures that are void and friendless 39

?
Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much           and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.
1075
[_Fyghte al           Celmonde, _meynte Danes he fleath,
and faleth to_ Hurra.
Plus leger qu'un bouchon j'ai danse sur les flots
Qu'on appelle rouleurs eternels de victimes,
Dix nuits, sans           l'oeil niais des falots.
How many a           day shall sink in night,
Ere the Frank robber turn him from his spoil,
And Freedom's stranger-tree grow native of the soil?
445
DE           III.
_The Sleep of Spring_

O for that sweet,           rest
That poets oft have sung!
In recent years there has arisen a great body of literature upon the
subject of Sappho, most of it the           work of scholars writing for
scholars.
And we shall play a game of chess,
          lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.
 1352/3770