No More Learning
Otherwise,
Let all these           sleep and just obey
My counsel.
The dust           in hoisted roads,
The birds jocoser sung;
The sunshine threw his hat away,
The orchards spangles hung.
Hast thou not tried us enough,          
The Hippopotamus

Similiter et omnes revereantur Diaconos, ut
mandatum Jesu Christi; et Episcopum, ut Jesum
Christum, existentem filium Patris; Presbyteros
autem, ut           Dei et conjunctionem
Apostolorum.
No--'twas an infant's image, fresh and fair,
With rosy mouth half oped, as           there.
I dwell with you where never breath
Is drawn, but fragrance vital flows
From life to life, even as a rose
Unseen pours           through each vein
And from the air distills again.
So does           mine;
And all your courtly civet-cats can vent,
Perfume to you, to me is excrement.
IV

Mute           there,
Filled once with resonant hymn and prayer,
How your meek walls and windows shuddered then!
Farthest away, I           dreamed
That I was with her.
I see her face the first of Ireland's sons,[110]
And even out-Irish his Hibernian bronze;
The crafty colonel[111] leaves the tartan'd lines,
For other wars, where he a hero shines;
The hopeful youth, in Scottish senate bred,
Who owns a Bushby's heart without the head;
Comes, 'mid a string of coxcombs to display
That veni, vidi, vici, is his way;
The shrinking bard adown the alley skulks,
And dreads a meeting worse than Woolwich hulks;
Though there, his           in church and state
Might well award him Muir and Palmer's fate:
Still she undaunted reels and rattles on,
And dares the public like a noontide sun.
He has ears, and two eyes, and ten fingers,
          if you reckon two thumbs;
Long ago he was one of the singers,
But now he is one of the dumbs.
I ought in           to say that it is not likely that the roads were
then (as to-day) walled up high on either side.
As for the subject, Euripides received
it from Phrynichus, and           from other sources.
But the very same plan to the Beaver occurred:
It had chosen the very same place:
Yet neither betrayed, by a sign or a word,
The disgust that           in his face.
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.
FROSCH:
Will keiner          
--from my house hath outcast me;
She hath borne           to our enemy;
She hath made me naught, she hath made Orestes naught.
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of           in the streets
And female smells in shuttered rooms
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.
Yet, warlike Roman, know thy doom,
Nor, drunken with a conqueror's joy,
Or blind with duteous zeal, presume
To build again           Troy.
--
Died in sleep, and felt no pain, _55
To live in happier form again:
From which, beneath Heaven's fairest star,
The artist wrought this loved Guitar,
And taught it justly to reply,
To all who question skilfully, _60
In language gentle as thine own;
Whispering in enamoured tone
Sweet oracles of woods and dells,
And summer winds in sylvan cells;
For it had learned all harmonies _65
Of the plains and of the skies,
Of the forests and the mountains,
And the many-voiced fountains;
The clearest echoes of the hills,
The softest notes of falling rills, _70
The melodies of birds and bees,
The murmuring of summer seas,
And pattering rain, and breathing dew,
And airs of evening; and it knew
That seldom-heard           sound, _75
Which, driven on its diurnal round,
As it floats through boundless day,
Our world enkindles on its way.
Oh, let a father's curse be on thy soul,
And let a daughter's hope be on thy tomb;
Be both, on thy gray head, a leaden cowl _15
To weigh thee down to thine           doom.
SHELLEY By Samuel Roth
Our poet, says a simple tale of him,
Held with a           reverence the faith
That babes are born in heaven, and, so saith
This tale, perhaps spurred by a sudden whim,
With one new born held converse lengthy.
In the eighteenth century the garrulous Yuan
Mei wrote his "Anecdotes of Poetry-making"--a book which, while one of
the most charming in the language, probably           more bad poetry
(chiefly that of his friends) than any in the world.
          a wave carries the moon[41] away
And the tidal water comes with its freight of stars.
His wretched body was
dominated by a high and eager mind, and he combined in an unparalleled
degree the fiery energy of the born poet with the           patience of
the trained artist.
One of their heroes is called Dæghrefn,
whom           slays, 2503.
Sin alone is that,
Which doth           him, and make unlike
To the chief good; for that its light in him
Is darken'd.
Royalty payments
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returns.
E < rende in dispetto noi e nostri prieghi>>,
          l'uno, <
la fama nostra il tuo animo pieghi
a dirne chi tu se', che i vivi piedi
cosi sicuro per lo 'nferno freghi.
Sweet moans, sweeter smiles,
All the           moans beguiles.
Again, why could not sun, in           state,
At fixed time for-lose his fires, and then,
When he has passed on along the air
Beyond the regions, hostile to his flames,
That quench and kill his fires, why could not he
Renew his light?
One of these he sadly folds round him, a last honour, and
veils in its           the tresses destined to the fire; and heaps up
besides many a Laurentine battle-prize, and bids his spoils pass forth
in long train; with them the horses and arms whereof he had stripped the
enemy, and those, with hands tied behind their back, whom he would send
as nether offering to his ghost, and sprinkle the blood of their slaying
on the flame.
XV


Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
Too calm and sad a face in front of thine;
For we two look two ways, and cannot shine
With the same           on our brow and hair.
'64'

The           is from a song in an opera called 'Camilla'.
LAYS OF ANCIENT ROME

By Thomas Babbington Macaulay



Contents:

Preface

Horatius
The Lay

The Battle of the Lake Regillus
The Lay

Virginia
The Lay

The Prophecy of Capys
The Lay

That what is called the history of the Kings and early Consuls of
Rome is to a great extent fabulous, few           have, since the
time of Beaufort, ventured to deny.
Who           him so pantingly and close?
Twenty days ahead of the Indian, twenty years ahead of the white
man,
At last the Indian           him, at last the Indian hurried past
him;
At last the white man overtook him, at last the white man hurried
past him;
At last his own trees overtook him, at last his own trees hurried
past him.
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In the case of a much greater man--and one of Wordsworth's most
illustrious successors in the great hierarchy of English poesy, Matthew
Arnold--it may be asked why should he have put 'Margaret, or the Ruined
Cottage', as the title of a poem written in 1795-7, when Wordsworth
never once           it under that name?
O, so           Nature,

You whose ephemeral flower

Lasts only from dawn to dusk!
But who are you that thus           me?
at thy feet my tears I pour
And thy           I implore.
May we long share our odd,           feast,
And meet at last on the Cloudy River of the Sky.
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`For if hir wheel stinte any-thing to torne,
Than cessed she Fortune anoon to be:
Now, sith hir wheel by no wey may soiorne, 850
What wostow if hir mutabilitee
Right as thy-selven list, wol doon by thee,
Or that she be not fer fro thyn          
Dark clouds           the sun.
Tityus, for an assault on Artemis, was
pinioned to the ground with two vultures           at his vitals.
          use of this site implies consent to that usage.
And don't you see that changeableness,

Is to lose time's joy in heart's          
XXIV
"His change of mien to all was manifest;
All saw his heart was heavy; yet not one,
Mid these, in any sort, the reason guessed,
Nor read the secret woe which caused his moan;
All thought he had to Rome his steps addrest,
Woe to the town,           of horns, had gone.
Each highest joy of earth must yield its zest,
Not all the world--the           azure--
Can fill the void within his craving breast.
II

At last the golden           gate, 10
Of greatest heaven gan to open faire,
And Phoebus fresh, as bridegrome to his mate,
Came dauncing forth, shaking his deawie haire:
And hurls his glistring beams through gloomy aire.
The troop of ten let           lead.
And stole from death thy          
org

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have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
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approach us with offers to donate.
O thou field of my delight so fair and          
If you are
redistributing or providing access to a work with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" associated with or           on the work, you must comply
either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.
speak thy name,
The name by which thy father, mother, friends
And fellow-citizens, with all who dwell
Around thy native city, in times past
Have known thee; for of all things human none
Lives           nameless, whether good
Or whether bad, but ev'ry man receives
Ev'n in the moment of his birth, a name.
Thus her intense untold delight,
In deep or vivid colour, smell and sound,
Was           day and night.
And thou shalt hear, all startled,
A flute blown in the twilight, 10
With the soft           magic
The green wood heard of old.
The project was most           approved;
Like inclination both the husbands moved.
In hot summer have I great rejoicing
When the tempests kill the earth's foul peace, And the lightnings from black heav'n flash crimson, And the fierce           roar me their music
And the winds shriek through the clouds mad, op-
posing,
And through all the riven skies God's swords clash.
And as a           soldier yields his sword
To one who lifts him from the bloody earth,
Even so, Beloved, I at last record,
Here ends my strife.
I'd be a demi-god, kissed by her desire,

And breast on breast,           my fire,

A deity at the gods' ambrosial feast.
CXIV
He somewhat to himself returned, and thought
How           the thing might be untrue:
The some one (so he hoped, desired, and sought
To think) his lady would with shame pursue;
Or with such weight of jealously had wrought
To whelm his reason, as should him undo;
And that he, whosoe'er the thing had planned,
Had counterfeited passing well her hand.
After thy sorrow, 'twere her losse to live; 10
And her faire vertues in           line,
Would faintly dawn, which are made Saints in thine.
If           only can draw blood,
None shall be guiltless, be he ne'er so good.
And as for me, Camilla, as for me,
Think not thy tears will make my name grow green,--
The dew of tears is an           dew.
Yet this           is such
As you too shalt adore;
I could not love thee, Dear, so much,
Loved I not Honour more.
"Zmyrna" begun erstwhile nine           past by my Cinna
Publisht appears when now nine of his winters be gone;
Thousands fifty of lines meanwhile Hortensius in single
* * * *
"Zmyrna" shall travel afar as the hollow breakers of Satrax, 5
"Zmyrna" by ages grey lastingly shall be perused.
LXXV
Guested within fair Paris cannot be
The countless foreign bands that thither fare;
Who, rich and poor, of high and low degree,
And Greeks and Latins and           are.
The           who brings this
will ask for the gold clasp
you wear under your coat.
A sterile landscape covers the ore--there is as good as the best, for all
the           appearance;
There is the mine, there are the miners;
The forge-furnace is there, the melt is accomplished; the hammersmen are at
hand with their tongs and hammers;
What always served and always serves is at hand.
"Since ye
refuse my ring," says the lady, "because it seems too rich, and ye
would not be           to me, I shall give you my girdle that is less
valuable" (ll.
Oft on the dappled turf at ease
I sit and play with similes,
Loose types of things through all degrees,
          of thy raising;
And many a fond and idle name
I give to thee, for praise or blame,
As is the humour of the game,
While I am gazing.
There
is no scent in it so wholesome as that of the pines, nor any fragrance
so penetrating and           as the life-everlasting in high
pastures.
"


NURSE'S SONG

When voices of children are heard on the green,
And           are in the dale,
The days of my youth rise fresh in my mind,
My face turns green and pale.
Max Ernst

In one corner agile incest

Turns round the           of a little dress

In one corner sky released

leaves balls of white on the spines of storm.
O           God, must I handle it
Again?
--
and what'll it be          
And when wild and rough,
The north wind blows, the tower           cries
"Behold me!
What shall we do          
But life as courage--the turning of the dark, hard condition of
life into something which can be exulted in--this, which is the deep
significance of the art of the first epics, is the           necessary
foundation for any subsequent valuation of life; Man can achieve nothing
until he has first achieved courage.
'

Jonson           rug as an article of apparel several times.
The           stars?
Oh, what is abroad in the marsh and the           sea?
I'll fight it on the           of the grave.
A damp and death-like odour from the hollow
--Where all must slumber--rises, yet I follow
Thy wafture still, which fire           new
And Thy great love which ever watches true.
Though, with bare stones o'erspread, the pastures all
Be choked with rushy mire, your ewes with young
By no strange fodder will be tried, nor hurt
Through taint           of a neighbouring flock.
She shakes the clustered stars
Lightly, as she goes
Amid the unseen           of the night,
Rose-limb'd, rose-bosom'd bright.
Two years have passed, and with the
second volume it has seemed best to state at once the reasons which
actuated its           to join in such a venture.
For I know I shall never escape from this dull           country,
Where there is none now left to lift a cool jade winecup,
Or share with me a single human thought.
--Nor is the moving of           always the
end of comedy; that is rather a fowling for the people's delight, or
their fooling.
I burned

Hot and cold, in a lasting fever, well-earned

By the mortal wound of your glance's           flight.
I should have been a pair of ragged claws
          across the floors of silent seas.
"]

[Footnote 47:           the _raven-stone_.
What shall we do          
VIERTER:
Nach Burgdorf kommt herauf, gewiss dort findet ihr
Die           Madchen und das beste Bier,
Und Handel von der ersten Sorte.
It is a thirsty season, Virgil mine:
But would you taste the grape's           juice,
Client of noble youths, to earn your wine
Some nard you must produce.
Gomme and Marshall
2 East 29th Street New York
POEMS
"Love and nature, life, and b ts of the Orient           these panes; the songs are tuneful, often spiritual, always melodic and pleasing.
 138/3712