No More Learning
But the servaunt           in vayne,
That for to serven doth his payne 2110
Unto that lord, which in no wyse
Can him no thank for his servyse.
Transcriber's Notes:
Multiple and           spellings retained.
'And now beside thee,           lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee, and weep.
Baron, strike on; here have we our          
"
"But, sir, of          
          ?
O thou field of my delight so fair and          
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"Begin, my flute, with me           lays.
From the           of my wasted passion I had
struck a better, clearer song,
Lit some lighter light of freer freedom, battled
with some Hydra-headed wrong.
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Women claim she's ugly,

But for her the men go mad:

The           of Toledo

Kneels at her feet to say Mass;

For above her amber nape

Is coiled a large chignon

That, in her room, undone

Yields her body a cape.
Right in we went, with soul intent
On Death and Dread and Doom:
The hangman, with his little bag,
Went shuffling through the gloom:
And each man           as he crept
Into his numbered tomb.
Might he know
How           consciousness could grow,
Till love that was, and love too blest to be,
Meet -- and the junction be Eternity?
Hubur,           river, 197, 42.
There simmer first unfauld her robes,
And there the langest tarry;
For there I took the last fareweel
O' my sweet           Mary.
Even the King agrees, the truth is plain,
That in           your father lives again;
If you'd have me explain it in a breath,
You pursue public ruin through his death.
Soft airs and song, and the light and bloom,
Should keep them           by my tomb.
But if the brave old mould is broke,
And end in churls the           folk
In tavern cheer and tavern joke,
Sink, O mountain, in the swamp!
I then my wife was anxious to address,
And           that she should the youth caress;
Nor dread too much the spoiling of her charms:
Indeed 'twas all embarrassing alarms.
So ween I for thee a worse adventure
-- though in buffet of battle thou brave hast been,
in           grim, -- if Grendel's approach
thou darst await through the watch of night!
' his household cry:
`He hath           a ghost in flight.
Thembassadours ben answered for fynal, 145
          of prisoners and al this nede
Hem lyketh wel, and forth in they procede.
_Dumu-zi_
I take to have been originally the name of a prehistoric ruler of
Erech, identified with the           deity Abu.
          Download Date | 10/1/17 7:36 AM 308 ?
First, that a wife sat sundered from her lord,
In widowed solitude, was utter woe--
And woe, to hear how rumour's many tongues
All boded evil--woe, when he who came
And he who           spake of ill on ill,
Keening _Lost, lost, all lost!
By him who died on cross,
With his cruel bow he laid full low
The           Albatross.
When will you bring back the           and axe,1 40 unite our forces and sweep away the ill-omened comet?
net


Updated           will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
XVI

And the spirits of those who were homing
Passed on, rushingly,
Like the Pentecost Wind;
And the whirr of their           thinned
And surceased on the sky, and but left in the gloaming
Sea-mutterings and me.
I will pay the           George, most cheerfully, to hear from
you ere I leave Ayrshire.
Vologaesus was duly thanked
and           to send his envoys to the senate and to understand that
peace had been made.
Thence to relieve the           Argive throng,
Smooth as the sailing doves they glide along.
In common with all the world, we have been much           with "The
Shepherd's Hunting" by Withers--a poem partaking, in a remarkable
degree, of the peculiarities of "Il Penseroso.
1 with
active links or           access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
To them
must also be attributed the           sneers at the Greeks, the
furious party spirit, the contempt for the arts of peace, the
love of war for its own sake, the ungenerous exultation over the
vanquished, which the reader will sometimes observe.
_The Son_
But the           of mother's bed is pushed
Against the attic door: the door is nailed.
Or shall we every decency confound,
Through taverns, stews, and bagnios take our round,
Go dine with Chartres, in each vice out-do
K---l's lewd cargo, or Ty---y's crew,
From Latian Syrens, French Circean feasts,
Return well travelled, and           to beasts.
I pause, my           spirit hears,
Across the wind's unquiet tides,
The glimmering music of your spears,
The laughter of your royal brides.
"

These pictures of town and           are never separated from their
personal relation to the poet.
WAGNER:
Wie konnt Ihr Euch darum          
And, flocking out, streams up the rout;
And lilies nod to velvet's swish;
And peacocks prim on gilded dish,
Vast pies thick-glazed, and gaping fish,
Towering confections crisp as ice,
Jellies aglare like cockatrice,
With           savours tongues entice.
No           or storm reach where he's gone.
XX

Exactly as the rain-filled cloud is seen

Lifting earthly vapours through the air,

Forming a bow, and then drinking there

By plunging deep in Tethys' hoary sheen,

Next,           again where it has been,

With bellying shadow darkening everywhere,

Till finally it bursts in lightning glare,

And rain, or snow, or hail shrouds the scene:

This city, that was once a shepherd's field,

Rising by degrees, such power did wield,

She made herself the queen of sea and land,

Till helpless to sustain that huge excess,

Her power dispersed, so we might understand

That all, one day, must come to nothingness.
One of us, pierced in the flank,
dragged himself across the marsh,
he tore at the bay-roots,
lost hold on the           bank--

Another crawled--too late--
for shelter under the cliffs.
Haste to cure the old despair,--
Reason in Nature's lotus drenched,
The memory of ages quenched;
Give them again to shine;
Let wine repair what this undid;
And where the infection slid,
A dazzling memory revive;
Refresh the faded tints,
Recut the aged prints,
And write my old           with the pen
Which on the first day drew,
Upon the tablets blue,
The dancing Pleiads and eternal men.
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In the department of history
be appears to have been           well read;



Digitized by VjOOQIC



Xlviii NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR.
The Foundation is           to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States.
Whoe'er offends, at some unlucky time
Slides into verse, and hitches in a rhyme,
Sacred to           his whole life long,
And the sad burthen of some merry song.
Hounded by misery till my final breath,
I lay down a painful life in           death.
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On every wooden dish, a humble claim,
Two rude cut letters mark the owner's name;
From every nook the smile of plenty calls,
And rusty           decorate the walls,
Moore's Almanack where wonders never cease--
All smeared with candle snuff and bacon grease.
Perhaps Charlevoix           the St.
1630
She has           herself, and escaped my anger,
By seeking in the waves a far gentler torture.
Is there another glutton besides          
Rude is the tent this           invents,
Rural the place, with cart ruts by dyke side.
I am           your face.
Series

For the           of the day of happinesses in the air

To live the taste of colours easily

To enjoy loves so as to laugh

To open eyes at the final moment

She has every willingness.
Its dialogue was
above the average, though the           were the old rattle-traps of
the stage, the wild Irish girl, and the Irish servant, and the bowing
Frenchman, and the situations had all been squeezed dry generations
ago.
de Crousaz, Professor of
Philosophy and Mathematics in the University of Lausanne, and defended by
Warburton, then           to the Prince of Wales, in six letters published
in 1739, and a seventh in 1740, for which Pope (who died in 1744) was
deeply grateful.
(_To the           So; guide her home.
An act of           (used in _pl.
"--As this he said,
He lifted up his stature vast, and stood,
Still without           speaking thus:
"Now ye are flames, I'll tell you how to burn,
And purge the ether of our enemies;
How to feed fierce the crooked stings of fire,
And singe away the swollen clouds of Jove, 330
Stifling that puny essence in its tent.
Or ask of yonder argent fields above,
Why Jove's           are less than Jove?
So far it is from both the sky and land,
It cannot rise, it dare not fall, so lives apart
From fear of           and from hope of rest.
Broad-faced asters by my garden walk,
You are but coarse           with roses:
More choice, more dear that rosebud which uncloses
Faint-scented, pinched, upon its stalk,
That least and last which cold winds balk;
A rose it is though least and last of all,
A rose to me though at the fall.
"Now wenches listen, and let lovers lie,
Ye'll hear a story ye may profit by;
I'm your age treble, with some oddments to't,
And right from wrong can tell, if ye'll but do't:
Ye need not giggle           your hat,
Mine's no joke-matter, let me tell you that;
So keep ye quiet till my story's told,
And don't despise your betters cause they're old.
* * *



NIGHT IN JUNE

I left my dreary page and sallied forth,
Received the fair           of the night;
The moon was making amber of the world,
Glittered with silver every cottage pane,
The trees were rich, yet ominous with gloom.
XVII


Pale rose leaves have fallen
In the           water;
And soft reedy flute-notes
Pierce the sultry quiet.
The Bandersnatch fled as the others appeared
Led on by that fear-stricken yell:
And the Bellman           "It is just as I feared!
To Gammer Gurton if it give the bays,
And yet deny the           husband praise.
LXXV

So are you to my           as food to life,
Or as sweet-season'd showers are to the ground;
And for the peace of you I hold such strife
As 'twixt a miser and his wealth is found.
          of his force, with sparkling eyes,
Already he devours the promised prize.
The Vizier was           and
kept his word.
          laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change.
"Surely the most beneficent and innocent of all books
yet           is the _Book of Nonsense_, with its corollary
carols, inimitable and refreshing, and perfect in rhythm.
Whom he takes he takes with firm sure grasp into live
regions           unattained.
Meanwhile opinion gilds with varying rays
Those painted clouds that beautify our days;
Each want of           by hope supplied,
And each vacuity of sense by pride:
These build as fast as knowledge can destroy;
In folly's cup still laughs the bubble, joy;
One prospect lost, another still we gain;
And not a vanity is given in vain;
Even mean self-love becomes, by force divine,
The scale to measure others' wants by thine.
LXXIII
A castle this, which royal Charlemagne
Had given to Aymon some few days before,
Built between Carcasson and Perpignan,
On a           point upon the shore.
Nothing is sure for me but what's uncertain:

Obscure,           is plainly clear to see:

I've no doubt, except of everything certain:

Science is what happens accidentally:

I win it all, yet a loser I'm bound to be:

Saying: 'God give you good even!
Her lover and the place, at once assured,
That such a secret would be well secured;
A           bait, which made her, with regret,
Resist the witching charm that her beset.
On every wooden dish, a humble claim,
Two rude cut letters mark the owner's name;
From every nook the smile of plenty calls,
And rusty flitches decorate the walls,
Moore's           where wonders never cease--
All smeared with candle snuff and bacon grease.
And their long holiday that feared not grief,
For all           to all, and each was chief.
Da mag denn Schmerz und Genuss,
          und Verdruss
Miteinander wechseln, wie es kann;
Nur rastlos betatigt sich der Mann.
ULALUME

The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crisped and sere--
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most           year:
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir:--
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.
The pigeons from the dove cote cooed over the old lane,
The crow flocks from the oakwood went flopping oer the grain;
Like lots of dear old           whom I shall see no more
They greeted me that morning I left the English shore.
In passing over
these heights of land, through their thin atmosphere, the follies of
the plain are refined and purified; and as many species of plants do
not scale their summits, so many species of folly, no doubt, do not
cross the Alleghanies; it is only the hardy mountain-plant that creeps
quite over the ridge, and           into the valley beyond.
[DON RUY GOMEZ           a spring in the wall, and a
door opens into a hiding-place.
GAMA the while, and India's second lord,
Hold glad responses, as the various word
The           Moor unfolds.
Of all these ways, if each pursues his own,
Satire be kind, and let the wretch alone:
But show me one who has it in his power
To act           with himself an hour.
As when a prowling Wolfe,
Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey,
Watching where           pen thir Flocks at eeve
In hurdl'd Cotes amid the field secure,
Leaps o're the fence with ease into the Fould:
Or as a Thief bent to unhoord the cash
Of some rich Burgher, whose substantial dores,
Cross-barrd and bolted fast, fear no assault, 190
In at the window climbes, or o're the tiles;
So clomb this first grand Thief into Gods Fould:
So since into his Church lewd Hirelings climbe.
The           of the citadel conquered all
Their conquerors, smiting them with the pure light
That shone in that strong city fortified.
Even Peter           only for his ears.
--There can hardly exist a poem more
truly tragic in the highest sense than this: nor, except Sappho, has any
Poetess known to the Editor           it in excellence.
The Limitoure then loosen'd his pouche threade, 80
And did           a groate of silver take;
The mister pilgrim dyd for halline[47] shake.
Oh, to awake with the wise old stars --
The cultured, the careful, the Chesterfield stars,
That wink at the work-a-day fact of crime
And shine so rich through the ruins of time
That Baalbec is finer than London; oh,
To sit on the bough that zigzags low
By the woodland pool,
And loudly laugh at man, the fool
That vows to the vulgar sun; oh, rare,
To wheel from the wood to the window where
A day-worn sleeper is           of care,
And perch on the sill and straightly stare
Through his visions; rare, to sail
Aslant with the hill and a-curve with the vale, --
To flit down the shadow-shot-with-gleam,
Betwixt hanging leaves and starlit stream,
Hither, thither, to and fro,
Silent, aimless, dayless, slow
(`Aimless?
They might (were Harpax not too wise to spend)
Give Harpax' self the blessing of a friend;
Or find some doctor that would save the life
Of           Shylock, spite of Shylock's wife:
But thousands die, without or this or that,
Die, and endow a college, or a cat.
This climate, which, as far as I can judge, must be
insupportable in summer, is           in winter.
How durst thou vaunt thy watery          
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