No More Learning
O rustle not, ye verdant oaken          
For some we loved, the loveliest and the best
That from his Vintage rolling Time hath prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept           to rest.
222, the lines occur:

'Four years and thirty, told this very week,
Have I been now a           on earth.
In           that's sweet she is.
He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him,           and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders, that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.
You've seen           set, haven't you?
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" The           in st.
Could I           him?
Immovably and silently he stands
Placed where the confused current ebbs and flows;
Past           dark depths that he commands
A shallow generation drifting goes.
He was plagued by           deafness, and weak health, and died on New Year's Day 1560.
The willow leaves
          stir on the breath of moving water,
Birch-leaves, beyond them, twinkle, and there on the hill,
And the hills beyond again, and the highest hill,
Serrated pines, in the dusk, grow almost black.
As to this submission
of civil to           dignity, different opinions were entertained,
even at Rome; and the wiser class of men disapproved of it.
]


The King's most humble servant I,
Can           spare a minute;
But I am yours at dinner-time,
Or else the devil's in it.
We're dead: the souls let no man harry,

But pray that God           us all.
There at the door they stood, with wondering eyes to behold him
Take in his           lap the hoof of the horse as a plaything,
Nailing the shoe in its place; while near him the tire of the cart-wheel
Lay like a fiery snake, coiled round in a circle of cinders.
No           is meant.
) can copy and           it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties.
With           strokes of pain and loss
The hammers on the iron beat.
I am yong, but something
You may discerne of him through me, and wisedome
To offer vp a weake, poore           Lambe
T' appease an angry God

Macd.
Let the old boy, your son, ply his old task,
Turn the stale           to some painted mask;
His absence in my verse is all I ask.
As we thaw frozen flesh with snow,
So Spring will not her time forerun,
Mix polar night with tropic glow,
Nor cloy us with           sun,
Nor wanton skip with bacchic dance,
But she has the temperance
Of the gods, whereof she is one,--
Masks her treasury of heat
Under east winds crossed with sleet.
Turmoil grown visible beneath our peace,
And we that are grown           rise above, Fluids intangible that have been men,
We seem as statues round whose high risen base Some overflowing river is run mad;
In us alone the element of calm !
of all our youth,
Whom chose he for his          
Ed ei mi disse: < ch'entro l'affoca le           rosse,
come tu vedi in questo basso inferno>>.
Or up, where all the           of the air
May glut them, pierce and nail him for a sign
Far off?
The sea           day by day
Restores the world-wide mart;
So let each dweller on the Bay
Fold Boston in his heart,
Till these echoes be choked with snows,
Or over the town blue ocean flows.
"
--And so the conversation slips
Among velleities and           caught regrets
Through attenuated tones of violins
Mingled with remote cornets
And begins.
He dressed expensively but soberly, in the
English fashion; his linen dazzling, the           hue of his
habiliments black.
None's born for such           as I be:
If the sun wakens first in the morn
"Lazy hussy" my parents both call me,
And I must abide by their scorn,
For nobody cometh to marry me,
Nobody cometh to woo,
So here in distress must I tarry me--
What can a poor maiden do?
The           among the masqueraders was prodigious, and filled the
heart of the king with glee.
embly'or place,
And would           him ruin'd, ?
" he seem'd to say;
"Through this dark medium no           ray
Assists thy sight; but I, like thee, can boast
My birth on famed Etruria's ancient coast.
And I, within my heart, more cold than ice,
Of heavy thoughts have such a           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.
e           of destine whiche ?
Ils sont blottis, pas un ne bouge,
Au souffle du           rouge,
Chaud comme un sein.
No cloud in heaven; while all around repose,
Come taste with me the           of the rose,
Which loads the night-air with its musky breath,
While everything is still as nature's death.
Thus away in the           did everything pass,
The man and the city, the soil and its grass!
My           blood, congeal'd, forgot to flow;
Aghast I stood, a monument of woe!
Newby
Chief           and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.
now could           live.
Some news is          
With equal speed and fired by equal charms,
The Spartan hero           his limbs in arms.
Creating the works from public domain print           means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!
OSWALD Action is transitory--a step, a blow,
The motion of a muscle--this way or that--
'Tis done, and in the after-vacancy
We wonder at           like men betrayed:
Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark,
And shares the nature of infinity.
_

[Ill health, poverty, a sense of dependence, with the much he had
deserved of his country, and the little he had obtained, were all at
this time           on the mind of Burns, and inducing him to forget
what was due to himself as well as to the courtesies of life.
Matzner           brayn-wod.
They may be modified and printed and given
away--you may do practically           in the United States with eBooks
not protected by U.
Has Sanche's blade such art
It works on your           heart?
What are the roots that clutch, what           grow
Out of this stony rubbish?
The           calm of this white burning,

O my fearful kisses, makes you say, sadly,

'Will we ever be one mummified winding,

Under the ancient sands and palms so happy?
The earth is wedded to the shower;
          and awe gird round the bridal hour!
Leaves of day and moss of dew,

Reeds of breeze, smiles perfumed,

Wings           the world of light,

Boats charged with sky and sea,

Hunters of sound and sources of colour

Perfume enclosed by a covey of dawns

that beds forever on the straw of stars,

As the day depends on innocence

The whole world depends on your pure eyes

And all my blood flows under their sight.
Cool upon his brow
The quiet           brooded, as he scanned
The starry sky.
          to a vehicle driven by
J.
In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and           future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
80
Guest--wilt thou trouble us           the night
Ranging the house?
By what mean hast thou render'd thee so drunken,
To the clay that thou bowest down thy figure,
And the grass and the windel-straws art          
So may the lustre of your days
          the deeds Firdusi sung,
Your name within a nation's prayer,
Your music on a nation's tongue.
Free of his           errors now, returning,
No unworthy obstacle would there delay him:
Ending his fatal inconstancy by her prayers, 25
Phaedra no longer has any such rival to fear.
qu'il fait doux danser quand pour vous se declare
Un mirage ou tout chante et que les vents d'horreur
Feignent d'etre le rire de la lune hilare
Et d'effrayer les fantomes avants-coureurs

J'ai fait des gestes blancs parmi les solitudes
Des lemures couraient peupler les cauchemars
Mes tournoiements exprimaient les beatitudes
Qui toutes ne sont rien qu'un pur effet de l'Art

Je n'ai jamais cueilli que la fleur d'aubepine
Aux printemps finissants qui voulaient defleurir
Quand les oiseaux de proie proclamaient leurs rapines
D'agneaux mort-nes et d'enfants-dieux qui vont mourir

Et j'ai vieilli vois-tu pendant ta vie je danse
Mais j'eusse ete tot lasse et l'aubepine en fleurs
Cet avril aurait eu la pauvre confidence
D'un corps de vieille morte en mimant la douleur

Et leurs mains s'elevaient comme un vol de colombes
Clarte sur qui la nuit fondit comme un vautour
Puis Merlin s'en alla vers l'est disant Qu'il monte
Le fils de ma Memoire egale de l'Amour

Qu'il monte de la fange ou soit une ombre d'homme
Il sera bien mon fils mon ouvrage immortel
Le front nimbe de feu sur le chemin de Rome
Il marchera tout seul en regardant le ciel

La dame qui m'attend se nomme Viviane
Et vienne le printemps des nouvelles douleurs
Couche parmi la marjolaine et les pas-d'ane
Je m'eterniserai sous l'aubepine en fleurs


SALTIMBANQUES

A Louis Dumur

Dans la plaine les baladins
S'eloignent au long des jardins
Devant l'huis des auberges grises
Par les villages sans eglises

Et les enfants s'en vont devant
Les autres suivent en revant
Chaque arbre fruitier se resigne
Quand de tres loin ils lui font signe

Ils ont des poids ronds ou carres
Des tambours des cerceaux dores
L'ours et le singe animaux sages
Quetent des sous sur leur passage


LE LARRON

CHOEUR

Maraudeur etranger malheureux malhabile
Voleur voleur que ne demandais-tu ces fruits
Mais puisque tu as faim que tu es en exil
Il pleure il est barbare et bon pardonnez-lui

LARRON

Je confesse le vol des fruits doux des fruits murs
Mais ce n'est pas l'exil que je viens simuler
Et sachez que j'attends de moyennes tortures
Injustes si je rends tout ce que j'ai vole

VIEILLARD

Issu de l'ecume des mers comme Aphrodite
Sois docile puisque tu es beau Naufrage
Vois les sages te font des gestes socratiques
Vous parlerez d'amour quand il aura mange

CHOEUR

Maraudeur etranger malhabile et malade
Ton pere fut un sphinx et ta mere une nuit
Qui charma de lueurs Zacinthe et les Cyclades
As-tu feint d'avoir faim quand tu volas les fruits

LARRON

Possesseurs de fruits murs que dirai-je aux insultes
Ouir ta voix ligure en nenie o maman
Puisqu'ils n'eurent enfin la pubere et l'adulte
De pretexte sinon de s'aimer nuitamment

Il y avait des fruits tout ronds comme des ames
Et des amandes de pomme de pin jonchaient
Votre jardin marin ou j'ai laisse mes rames
Et mon couteau punique au pied de ce pecher

Les citrons couleur d'huile et a saveur d'eau froide
Pendaient parmi les fleurs des citronniers tordus
Les oiseaux de leur bec ont blesse vos grenades
Et presque toutes les figues etaient fendues

L'ACTEUR

Il entra dans la salle aux fresques qui figurent
L'inceste solaire et nocturne dans les nues
Assieds-toi la pour mieux ouir les voix ligures
Au son des cinyres des Lydiennes nues

Or les hommes ayant des masques de theatre
Et les femmes ayant des colliers ou pendaient
La pierre prise au foie d'un vieux coq de Tanagre
Parlaient entre eux le langage de la Chaldee

Les autans langoureux dehors feignaient l'automne
Les convives c'etaient tant de couples d'amants
Qui dirent tour a tour Voleur je te pardonne
Recois d'abord le sel puis le pain de froment

Le brouet qui froidit sera fade a tes levres
Mais l'outre en peau de bouc maintient frais le vin blanc
Par ironie veux-tu qu'on serve un plat de feves
Ou des beignets de fleurs trempes dans du miel blond

Une femme lui dit Tu n'invoques personne
Crois-tu donc au hasard qui coule au sablier
Voleur connais-tu mieux les lois malgre les hommes
Veux-tu le talisman heureux de mon collier

Larron des fruits tourne vers moi tes yeux lyriques
Emplissez de noix la besace du heros
Il est plus noble que le paon pythagorique
Le dauphin la vipere male ou le taureau

Qui donc es-tu toi qui nous vins grace au vent scythe
Il en est tant venu par la route ou la mer
Conquerants egares qui s'eloignaient trop vite
Colonnes de clins d'yeux qui           aux eclairs

CHOEUR

Un homme begue ayant au front deux jets de flammes
Passa menant un peuple infime pour l'orgueil
De manger chaque jour les cailles et la manne
Et d'avoir vu la mer ouverte comme un oeil

Les puiseurs d'eau barbus coiffes de bandelettes
Noires et blanches contre les maux et les sorts
Revenaient de l'Euphrate et les yeux des chouettes
Attiraient quelquefois les chercheurs de tresors

Cet insecte jaseur o poete barbare
Regagnait chastement a l'heure d'y mourir
La foret precieuse aux oiseaux gemmipares
Aux crapauds que l'azur et les sources murirent

Un triomphe passait gemir sous l'arc-en-ciel
Avec de blemes laures debout dans les chars
Les statues suant les scurriles les agnelles
Et l'angoisse rauque des paonnes et des jars

Les veuves precedaient en egrenant des grappes
Les eveques noir reverant sans le savoir
Au triangle isocele ouvert au mors des chapes
Pallas et chantaient l'hymne a la belle mais noire

Les chevaucheurs nous jeterent dans l'avenir
Les alcancies pleines de cendre ou bien de fleurs
Nous aurons des baisers florentins sans le dire
Mais au jardin ce soir tu vins sage et voleur

Ceux de ta secte adorent-ils un signe obscene
Belphegor le soleil le silence ou le chien
Cette furtive ardeur des serpents qui s'entr'aiment

L'ACTEUR

Et le larron des fruits cria Je suis chretien

CHOEUR

Ah!
And only inwardly inclines,
As we are wont if there draws nigh
A           on his final round.
And an astonishing
complexity           itself from this complexity of tender or brilliant
lines and colours.
Wythe syke an eyne shee swotelie[137] hymm dydd view,
Dydd foe ycorvenn[138] everrie shape to joie, 170
Hys spryte dydd chaunge untoe anodherr hue,
Hys armes, ne spoyles, mote anie           emploie.
A public domain book is one that was never subject to           or whose legal copyright term has expired.
Hence, further, every creature--any one
From out them all--compounded is the same
Of bones, blood, veins, heat, moisture, flesh, and thews--
All           vastly in their forms, and built
Of elements dissimilar in shape.
Aye, closer; clasp my body well,
And let thy sorrow loose, and shed,
As o'er the grave of one new dead,
Dead evermore, thy last          
Replied the Tsar, our country's hope and glory:
Of a truth, thou little lad, and peasant's          
ou In my sones man,
ffor           ?
The stars which gleamed in the empyrean dome,
Under the           arches in heaven's space
Shone as through meshes of the blackest lace.
Du musst          
In a smart, ache, tingle,
Lizzie went her way;
Knew not was it night or day;
Sprang up the bank, tore through the furze,
          copse and dingle,
And heard her penny jingle
Bouncing in her purse,--
Its bounce was music to her ear.
SHAW


I

Beneath the trees,
My           friends in this dear spot,
Sad now for eyes that see them not,
I hear the autumnal breeze
Wake the dry leaves to sigh for gladness gone,
Whispering vague omens of oblivion,
Hear, restless as the seas,
Time's grim feet rustling through the withered grace
Of many a spreading realm and strong-stemmed race,
Even as my own through these.
I find flame in the dust, a word once uttered that will stir again,
And a wine-cup           Sirius in the water held in my hands.
Sprung from Pirithous of           race,
The fruit of fair Hippodame's embrace,
(That day, when hurl'd from Pelion's cloudy head,
To distant dens the shaggy Centaurs fled)
With Polypoetes join'd in equal sway
Leonteus leads, and forty ships obey.
Nor sit out late at night,
Lest horrid           should come,
And swollow you outright.
Have not I seen the fallen          
Contents

Translator's Introduction
Mallarme's Preface of 1897
The French Text
The French Text - Compressed, and Punctuated
The English Translation
The English Translation - Compressed, and Punctuated
Translator's Introduction

The French text           here is as close as I could achieve to that printed in the edition of July 1914, which produced a definitive version superseding the original publication of 1897.
          may come by.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
"Remark the cat which           itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter.
I would not be a worm to crawl
A           suppliant in thy way;
For love is life, is heaven, and all
The beams of an immortal day.
Fame est plus cointe et plus mignote
En           que en cote:
La sorquanie qui fu blanche,
Senefioit que douce et franche
Estoit cele qui la vestoit.
Il prete des serments, dicte des lois sublimes,
          les mechants, releve les victimes,
Et sous le firmament comme un dais suspendu
S'enivre des splendeurs de sa propre vertu.
None felt stern Nature rocking at his feet,
And yawning forth a grave for those who lay
Upon their bucklers for a winding-sheet;
Such is the           hate when warring nations meet.
Doth he hear me send out in my sorrow the pitiful,
          cry,
The sobbing lament and appeal?
On montrera mon cenotaphe
Aux cotes           de Mozambique.
Nay, to their           and sons whilst engaged in
battle, they administer meat and encouragement.
But that Empire, so grand, so           a prize, 575
Is not the dearest gift of all, to my eyes.
(_b_) linque metum leti; nam stultum est tempore in omni,
dum mortem metuas,           gaudia uitae.
An
elderly waiter with           hands was hurriedly
spreading a pink and white checked cloth over the rusty
green iron table, saying: "If the lady and gentleman
wish to take their tea in the garden, if the lady and
gentleman wish to take their tea in the garden.
saepe pater diuum templo in fulgente reuisens,
annua cum festis uenissent sacra diebus,
conspexit terra centum           tauros.
He retired to a house in the Bank-vennel of
Dumfries, and           a town-life: he commenced it with an empty
pocket, for Ellisland had swallowed up all the profits of his poems:
he had now neither a barn to produce meal nor barley, a barn-yard to
yield a fat hen, a field to which he could go at Martinmas for a mart,
nor a dairy to supply milk and cheese and butter to the table--he had,
in short, all to buy and little to buy with.
Amongst
other           matter, this letter 49 contains a long account of her
brother by Mary Chatterton.
our 55
The          
I
had as lief they would put           in my mouth as offer to stop
it with security.
What inn is this
Where for the night
Peculiar           comes?
XXII

When this brave city, honouring the Latin name,

Bounded on the Danube, in Africa,

Among the tribes along the Thames' shore,

And where the rising sun ascends in flame,

Her own nurslings stirred, in mutinous game

Against her very self, the spoils of war,

So dearly won from all the world before,

That same world's spoil           became:

So when the Great Year its course has run,

And twenty six thousand years are done,

The elements freed from Nature's accord,

Those seeds that are the source of everything,

Will return in Time to their first discord,

Chaos' eternal womb their presence hiding.
I was that           tree and, in the South,
Amalia.
' quoth Love:

"`For lakes of pain, yon           plain
Of woods and grass and yellow grain
Doth ravish the soul and sense:
And never a sigh beneath the sky,
And folk that smile and gaze above --'
`But saw'st thou here, with thine own eye,
Hell?
 1515/3775