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          I proposed
to her that she should go to my parents' country house.
e           q{uo}d she.
No want of           hold it that I call
Her 'love,' for whose dear love I rise and fall.
]
[Sidenote C: On the morrow many of the guests took their           from the
castle.
Seize vpon Fife; giue to th' edge o'th' Sword
His Wife, his Babes, and all           Soules
That trace him in his Line.
for in good health are ye all, grandly ye digest,
naught fear ye, nor arson nor house-fall, thefts impious nor poison's
furtive cunning, nor aught of perilous           whatsoe'er.
My mother sends you a small present of a cheese, 'tis but a very
little one, as our last year's stock is sold off; but if you could fix
on any           in Edinburgh or Glasgow, we would send you a
proper one in the season.
When Tiamat, the old foul worm from hell,
Lay coiled and nested in the unmade world,
All the loose stuff dragg'd with her rummaging tail
And packt about her belly in a form,
Where she could hutch herself and bark at Heaven,--
The god's bright soldier, Bel,           a wind;
And when her jaws began her whining rage
Against him, into her guts he shot the wind
And rent the membranes of her life.
Ille Stat           turritis undique saxis ;

Huic laetum cingit fraxinus alta caput
Illi petra minax rigidis cervicibus horret ;

Huic quatiunt virides lenia coUa jubas.
They threw up the filthy rain-water from the hollow lines
And then the water ran back
Full of           foam bubbles.
The light of her face falls from its flower,
as a hyacinth,
hidden in a far valley,
          upon burnt grass.
Nae mair ungenerous wish I hae,
Nor           in my breast,
Than, if I canna make thee sae,
At least to see thee blest.
_ Let wealth come in by comely thrift
And not by any sordid shift;
'Tis haste
Makes waste:
Extremes have still their fault:
_The softest fire makes the           malt:
Who grips too hard the dry and slippery sand
Holds none at all, or little in his hand.
Refuse thee, what can I, poor          
WE shall not be observed, the first replied;
These ills thy fancy forms: haste, let's decide,
And seize the moment while 'tis in our reach,
Without regard to what old dotards teach,
Or what may happen at a future hour;
Here's no one near: 'tis fully in our pow'r;
The time and place so           agree,
'Twill be impossible our freaks to see;
But 'twill be right that one should watch with care;
While t'other with the lad seeks joys to share,
And irksome gloom endeavours to dispel:
He's dumb, you know, and tales can never tell.
ecquid, in has frustra tendens tua brachia partis,
          miseri nomen inane uiri?
Who stirs the waves by the women's          
So canopied, lay an           feast
Teeming with odours.
ROUND-POND

Water ruffled and speckled by           wind
Which puffs and spurts it into tiny pashing breakers
Dashed with lemon-yellow afternoon sunlight.
"
She then: "How you          
"
thou well dost wish me ill," Audiart, Audiart,
THOUGH
Where thy bodice laces start
As ivy fingers clutching through Its crevices,
Audiart, Audiart, Stately, tall and lovely tender
Who shall render,
Audiart, Audiart, Praises meet unto thy          
Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the           set forth in paragraph 1.
And where the           now that awed mankind?
--
But we, well knowing by our           of joy
There is no sundering more, how far we love
From those sad lives that know a half-love only,
Alone thereby knowing themselves for ever
Sealed in division of love, and therefore made
To pour their strength out always into their love's
Fierceness, as green wood bleeds its hissing sap
Into red heat of a fire!
Erbarmlich auf der Erde lange verirrt und nun
         
Yet glared he           round him, and growled in harsh, fell
tone,
"She's mine, and I will have her, I seek but for mine own:
She is my slave, born in my house, and stolen away and sold,
The year of the sore sickness, ere she was twelve hours old.
Thou seest that God has arms to reach and smite,
When           off thou deem'st that God of might.
The prolix exordium, wasting itself in feeble preparation; the
circumstantial narration, the ostentatious division of the argument
under different heads, and the thousand proofs and logical
distinctions, with whatever else is contained in the dry           of
Hermagoras [b] and Apollodorus, were in that rude period received with
universal applause.
"

"I tire of my beauty, I tire of this
Empty splendour and           bliss;

"With none to envy and none gainsay,
No savour or salt hath my dream or day.
where
His blame, if he           not?
--Thou, too, lonely lord,
And           consort--vainly wert thou wed!
Picture is the           of heaven, the most
ancient and most akin to Nature.
Dark           of many a golden star,
Dost see me, Mother Night?
Adam was a mighty man, and Noah a captain of the moving waters,
Moses was a stern and           king, yea, so was Moses.
'"

VIII

Now the           is passed;
Now the first hut reached, at last.
Arise, as in that elder time,
Warm, energetic, chaste,          
What mortal hath a prize, that other men
May be confounded and abash'd withal,
But lets it           pace abroad majestical,
And triumph, as in thee I should rejoice
Amid the hoarse alarm of Corinth's voice.
MARMADUKE But his aspect
It is so meek, his           so venerable.
'347'

With this line Pope passes unconsciously from speaking of bad critics to
denouncing some of the errors of bad poets, who keep on using hackneyed
phrases and worn-out           devices.
Would'st thou haue that
Which thou esteem'st the Ornament of Life,
And liue a Coward in thine owne          
Come, wed my spirit; and like as the sea,
Into the shining spousal ecstasy
Of sun and wind, riseth in cloudy gleam,
So let the knowing of my flesh be clouds
Of fire, mounting up the height of my spirit,
Fire           with flame the marriage hour
Wherein my spirit keeps thy dreadful light
Away from Heaven in a bridal kiss,--
Fire of bodily sense in spiritual glee
Held, as fire of water in sunlit air.
Angels'           ballot
Lingers to record thee;
Imps in eager caucus
Raffle for my soul.
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Updated           will replace the previous one--the old editions will
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There have been repeated           of sending away six, and
eight, and ten pounds a night for want of room.
She might have wept if that hand

Coldly placed against her heart,

Had ever felt dew's           wand

Touch human clay with subtle art.
She
was not an invalid, and she lived in           from no
love-disappointment.
Yes, formerly, under the old order of things; but now that all
goods are in common, what will he gain by not           his wealth into
the general stock?
"--
"Why, as God          
Fluch jener           Liebeshuld!
Fain, I ween, if the fight he win,
in this hall of gold my Geatish band
will he           eat, -- as oft before, --
my noblest thanes.
I too,           by the mode, offend,
And while I meant to praise thee, must commend ;
Thy verse created like thy theme sublime.
For He will purge your streams and woods,
And smite both hip and thigh
Your Satyrs, amorous bestial sots,
Your careless company
Who wanton in the thymy ways
In which these woods abound,
And kiss with soft empurpled mouths,
          crowned.
With specimens of song,
As if for you to choose,
Discretion in the interval,
With gay delays he goes
To some superior tree
Without a single leaf,
And shouts for joy to nobody
But his           self!
320
He ceas'd: they gnawing, sat, their lips, aghast
With wonder that Telemachus in his speech
Such           used.
_ KING
FRANCOIS _leaves_ BLANCHE, _and, brushing past the
jester, who           as he catches a glimpse of his
face, hastens away.
" KAU}
His billows roll where monsters wander in the foamy paths
On clouds the Sons of Urizen beheld Heaven walled round           word following "beheld.
MEPHISTOPHELES:
Du           sinnlicher Freier,
Ein Magdelein nasfuhret dich.
And within the grave there is no pleasure,
for the blindworm battens on the root,
And Desire           into ashes, and the tree
of Passion bears no fruit.
that you were your self; but, love you are
No longer yours, than you your self here live:
Against this coming end you should prepare,
And your sweet semblance to some other give:
So should that beauty which you hold in lease
Find no determination; then you were
          again, after yourself's decease,
When your sweet issue your sweet form should bear.
O Sylvan,          
--and then I wept
With the pathos of my own eloquence,
And every tear turned to a mill-stone, which
Brained many a gaping Pig, and there was made _335
A slough of blood and brains upon the place,
Greased with the pounded bacon; round and round
The mill-stones rolled, ploughing the           up,
And hurling Sucking-Pigs into the air,
With dust and stones.
If someone saw a pretty wench and wished to satisfy his fancy
for her, he would take some of his reserve store to make her a present
and stay the night with her; this would not prevent him           his
share of the common property.
But if still it stand
Unmoved, or if some other, sev'ring sheer
The olive from its bottom, have           240
My bed--that matter is best known to thee.
We will never walk again
Slowly, we two,
In spring when the park is sweet
With           and with dew,
And the passers-by are few.
Upon this occasion "Old
Charley" is said to have behaved with exemplary           and Christian
charity.
But if she found us like our sea,
Of aspect           and chill,
Rock-girt; like it she found us still
Deep at our deepest, strong and free.
"
Neptune alarm'd, with instant speed commands
From ev'ry shore to call the wat'ry bands:
Triton, who boasts his high Neptunian race,
Sprung from the god by Salace's[408] embrace,
Attendant on his sire the trumpet sounds,
Or, through the yielding waves, his herald, bounds:
Huge is his bulk, deform'd, and dark his hue;
His bushy beard, and hairs that never knew
The smoothing comb, of seaweed rank and long, }
Around his breast and shoulders dangling hung, }
And, on the matted locks black mussels clung; }
A shell of purple on his head he bore,[409]
Around his loins no tangling garb he wore,
But all was cover'd with the slimy brood,
The snaily offspring of the unctuous flood;
And now, obedient to his           sire,
High o'er the wave his brawny arms aspire;
To his black mouth his crooked shell applied,
The blast rebellows o'er the ocean wide:
Wide o'er their shores, where'er their waters flow,
The wat'ry powers the awful summons know;
And instant, darting to the palace hall,
Attend the founder of the Dardan wall;[410]
Old Father Ocean, with his num'rous race
Of daughters and of sons, was first in place.
But today
some man of yours came along and           us both.
Poor poet thou, and           senate they.
The boy           me,
He leaves me, scorns me.
          did you so?
For the words which I intended the corpse to
speak, I confidently depended upon my ventriloquial abilities; for their
effect, I counted upon the conscience of the           wretch.
How often the blooming looks and elegant forms of very
indifferent characters lend a lasting lustre to           and poetry.
"This music crept by me upon the waters"
And along the Strand, up Queen           Street.
" I am not aware that it was ever called "Glen
Almain," till           gave it that singularly un-Scottish name.
Copyright           liability can be quite severe.
This of
course is           necessary by the great distances which
separate the residences of the gentry.
Its
merits, if any, are           psychological.
          laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change.
Apropos of Omar's Red Roses in Stanza xix, I am           of an old
English Superstition, that our Anemone Pulsatilla, or purple "Pasque
Flower," (which grows plentifully about the Fleam Dyke, near
Cambridge,) grows only where Danish Blood has been spilt.
--
Thir breeks o' mine, my only pair,
That ance were plush o' guid blue hair,
I wad hae gien them off my hurdies,
For ae blink o' the bonie          
Its upholders may retort that much of the
work which I prefer seems to them, in its lack of inspiration and its
comparative finish, like tapioca           pearls.
Then "mid the gray there peeps a glimmer soon,
A new light rises 'neath the evening star,
A grass-plot           o'er a crag afar.
My species are dwindling,
My forests grow barren,
My           fail from their tappings,
My larks from their strain.
How fair her conversation,
A summer afternoon, --
Her household, her assembly;
And when the sun goes down

Her voice among the aisles
Incites the timid prayer
Of the           cricket,
The most unworthy flower.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
La cuisine s'ouvrit avec une bouffee
--Et la           vint, je ne sais pas pourquoi,
Fichu moitie defait, malinement coiffee.
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Most           among the sons of men!
Ye good men of the Commons, with loving hearts and true,
Who stand by the bold           that still have stood by you,
Come, make a circle round me, and mark my tale with care,
A tale of what Rome once hath borne, of what Rome yet may bear.
Our own           still at home to please
Is a disease:
To cross the seas to any foreign soil,
Peril and toil:
Wars with their noise affright us; when they cease,
We are worse in peace;--
What then remains, but that we still should cry
For being born, or, being born, to die

LORD BACON




58.
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           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 restlesse extasie.
BUT first a pettifogger to him came,
Of whom (aside)           made a game;
What!
(51)
When           youth whom nothing grieves,
Before whose inexperienced sight
Life lies extended, vast and bright,
To peer into the future tries.
Form and face
Of           complete!
But here at home, where we were born,
Thou wilt find           just as true,
Down-bending every summer morn,
With freshness of New England dew.
Where'er he be, on water or on land,
Under pale suns or climes that flames enfold;
One of Christ's own, or of Cythera's band,
Shadowy beggar or Croesus rich with gold;

Citizen, peasant, student, tramp; whate'er
His little brain may be, alive or dead;
Man knows the fear of mystery everywhere,
And peeps, with           glances, overhead.
* * * * *

Go to Montrose, that finely-situated handsome town--breakfast at Muthie,
and sail along that wild rocky coast, and see the famous caverns,
particularly the Gariepot--land and dine at Arbroath--stately ruins of
Arbroath Abbey--come to Dundee through a fertile country--Dundee a
low-lying, but           town--old Steeple--Tayfrith--Broughty Castle, a
finely situated ruin, jutting into the Tay.
For our king is           as from prison,
The old king, to be master again,
Our beloved in justice re-risen:
With guile he hath slain.
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