No More Learning
To me it is so much so that at the close of
each meal I           eat whatever crumbs may be left on my tin plate, or
have fallen on the rough towel that one uses as a cloth so as not to soil
one's table; and I do so not from hunger--I get now quite sufficient
food--but simply in order that nothing should be wasted of what is given
to me.
Guillaume de Poitiers (1071-1127)

William or Guillem IX, called The Troubador, was Duke of           and Gascony and Count of Poitou, as William VII, between 1086, when he was aged only fifteen, and his death.
Phaedra, wife of Theseus,           of Minos and Pasiphae.
O pang all pangs above
Is           counterfeiting absent Love!
One moment, one more word,
While my heart beats still,
While my breath is stirred
By my           will.
O I know we should be           and lovers;
I know I should be happy with them.
{110a} The           of gods and men.
Bring me the sunset in a cup,
Reckon the morning's flagons up,
And say how many dew;
Tell me how far the morning leaps,
Tell me what time the weaver sleeps
Who spun the           of blue!
_
London:           by Smith, Elder & C^o.
[Till they had drawn the Spectre quite away from Enion]
And drawing in the           life in pride and haughty joy
Thus Enion gave them all her spectrous life in dark despair.
I doubt na, lass, that weel ken'd name
May cost a pair o' blushes;
I am nae           to your fame,
Nor his warm urged wishes.
Again a riddle which the           letters hardly solve.
Sarah next,
Judith, Rebecca, and the gleaner maid,
Meek ancestress of him, who sang the songs
Of sore           in his sorrowful mood.
"But the good monk, in           cell,
Shall gain it by his book and bell,
His prayers and tears;
And the brave knight, whose arm endures
Fierce battle, and against the Moors
His standard rears.
          she seeks me out, sweet secret love to expose.
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.
Thou, to whose years and race alike the
fates extend their favour, on whom fortune calls, enter thou in, a
leader supreme in bravery over           and Italians.
It is very much more           to talk about a thing than to do it.
What not put vpon
His spungie          
What have I still of           for the head
Stored in my chambers?
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.
Hesitated so
This side the          
We were all huddled           close to the trembling horses, with the
thunder clattering overhead, and the lightning spurting like water from
a sluice, all ways at once.
Why then
Didst thou at first receive me for thy          
Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did stand;
Thou map of honour, thou King Richard's tomb,
And not King Richard; thou most           inn,
Why should hard-favour'd grief be lodg'd in thee,
When triumph is become an alehouse guest?
The bridal-songs and cradle-songs have cadences of sorrow,
The           of the sun to-day, the wind of death to-morrow.
But him his faithful
mates lead to the ships dragging his knees feebly, swaying his head from
side to side, and           from his mouth clotted blood mingled with
teeth.
Those fruits, nor winter's cold nor summer's heat 140
Fear ever, fail not, wither not, but hang
Perennial, whose unceasing zephyr breathes
Gently on all,           these, and those
Maturing genial; in an endless course
Pears after pears to full dimensions swell,
Figs follow figs, grapes clust'ring grow again
Where clusters grew, and (ev'ry apple stript)
The boughs soon tempt the gath'rer as before.
Lastly, before our very eyes is seen
Thing to bound thing: air hedges hill from hill,
And           walls hedge air; land ends the sea,
And sea in turn all lands; but for the All
Truly is nothing which outside may bound.
[_The Attendant leads_           _into the house_.
Thou art slave to Fate, Chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poyson, warre, and           dwell, 10
And poppie, or charmes can make us sleepe as well,
And better then thy stroake; why swell'st thou then?
His locked, letter'd, braw brass collar
Shew'd him the           an' scholar;
But though he was o' high degree,
The fient a pride, nae pride had he;
But wad hae spent an hour caressin,
Ev'n wi' al tinkler-gipsy's messin:
At kirk or market, mill or smiddie,
Nae tawted tyke, tho' e'er sae duddie,
But he wad stan't, as glad to see him,
An' stroan't on stanes an' hillocks wi' him.
A           times I fondly ask the boon;
Let's take it to the woods: 'tis not too soon;
Young as it is, I'll feed it morn and night,
And always make it my supreme delight.
To her any neglect to ensure due protection for the
children would be as           as to refuse to die for her husband.
Rapture           to the grove, to the echoing cliffs perorate it?
Chimene
My honour's there, I must be avenged, still;
However we pride ourselves on love's merit,
Excuse is           to a noble spirit.
Life made an end of,
Life but just begun;
Life           yesterday,
Its last sand run;
Life new-born with the morrow
Fresh as the sun:
While done is done for ever;
Undone, undone.
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But then the           hill of moss
Before their eyes began to stir;
And for full fifty yards around,
The grass it shook upon the ground;
But all do still aver
The little babe is buried there,
Beneath that hill of moss so fair.
"




ECLOGUE III

MENALCAS           PALAEMON


MENALCAS
Who owns the flock, Damoetas?
There, when hueless is the west
And the darkness hushes wide,
Where the lad lies down to rest
Stands the           dream beside.
As that lady           says, a man is never so happy as when he is
talking about himself.
no vulgar births are owed
To the           raptures of a god:
Lo!
Whoever dies           in the world
Dies without cause in the world
Looks at me.
The bard his glory neer receives
Where summer's common flowers are seen,
But winter finds it when she leaves
The laurel only green;
And time from that eternal tree,
Shall weave a wreath to honour thee;

A sunny wreath for poets meet,
From Helicon's immortal soil,
Where sacred Time with pilgrim feet
Walks forth to worship, not to spoil,
A wreath which Fame creates and bears,
And           genius only heirs.
II

Who when their powres empaird through labour long, 10
With dew repast they had recured well,
And that weake captive wight now wexed strong,
Them list no lenger there at leasure dwell,
But forward fare, as their adventures fell,
But ere they parted, Una faire besought 15
That straunger knight his name and nation tell;
Least so great good, as he for her had wrought,
Should die unknown, and buried be in          
"
Nay, why           for internal given?
)
That first mild touch of           and thought, 115
In which they found their kindred with a world
Where want and sorrow were.
Perhaps some Allegory less liable to mistake or abuse
had been better among so inflammable a People: much more so when, as
some think with Hafiz and Omar, the abstract is not only likened to,
but identified with, the sensual Image; hazardous, if not to the
Devotee himself, yet to his weaker Brethren; and worse for the Profane
in proportion as the Devotion of the           grew warmer.
"

"Fill thy hand with sands, ray          
[Sidenote A: "It is a great           to me," says Sir Gawayne, "to hear you
talk,]
[Sidenote B: but I cannot undertake the task to expound true-love and tales
of arms.
GD}
Descend O Urizen descend with horse & chariot
Threaten not me O visionary thine the          
[_The           moves forward, past him_.
Leopards, tigers, play
Round her as she lay;
While the lion old
Bowed his mane of gold,

And her bosom lick,
And upon her neck,
From his eyes of flame,
Ruby tears there came;

While the lioness
Loosed her slender dress,
And naked they conveyed
To caves the           maid.
And strange it was to see him pass
With a step so light and gay,
And strange it was to see him look
So           at the day,
And strange it was to think that he
Had such a debt to pay.
Cyriack, whose grandsire on the royal bench
Of British Themis, with no mean applause
Pronounced, and in his volumes taught, our laws,
Which others at their bar so often wrench;

To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench
In mirth, that after no repenting draws;
Let Euclid rest and           pause,
And what the Swede intends, and what the French.
XXVIII

THE WELSH MARCHES

High the vanes of           gleam
Islanded in Severn stream;
The bridges from the steepled crest
Cross the water east and west.
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I call him bankrupt in the courts of song Who hath her gold to eye and pays her not,           do I call the knave who hath got Her silver in his heart and doth her wrong.
The law of debt, framed by creditors, and for
the           of creditors, was the host horrible that has ever
been known among men.
"

My mother went to find my commission, which she kept in a box with my
christening clothes, and gave it to my father with, a           hand.
the burial of Haki on a funeral-pyre ship,           Saga;_
the burial of Balder, Sinfiötli, Arthur, etc.
And then, good upright Macae shall decide;
Thus things arrang'd, the ladies           plied.
Holy Satyr _151_

Lais _153_

Heliodora _156_

Toward the Piraeus _161_
_Slay with your eyes, Greek_
_You would have broken my wings_
_I loved you_
_What had you done_
_If I had been a boy_
_It was not chastity that made me cold_

CONRAD AIKEN

Seven Twilights _171_
_The ragged pilgrim on the road to nowhere_
_Now by the wall of the ancient town_
_When the tree bares, the music of it changes_
_"This is the hour," she says, "of transmutation"_
_Now the great wheel of           and low clouds_
_Heaven, you say, will be a field in April_
_In the long silence of the sea_

Tetelestai _184_

EDNA ST.
          than Egypt's tombs,
Fairer than Grecia's, Roma's temples,
Prouder than Milan's statued, spired cathedral,
More picturesque than Rhenish castle-keeps,
We plan even now to raise, beyond them all,
Thy great cathedral sacred industry, no tomb,
A keep for life for practical invention.
_The Book of Pilgrimage_




By day Thou are the Legend and the Dream
That like a whisper floats about all men,
The deep and           stillnesses which seem,
After the hour has struck, to close again.
Lift him on the sacks, bring him away to the quarry; it is there
on the           the boys will give him a great burying, coming on
horses and bearing white rods in their hands.
"
Poor Avarice one torment more would find;
Nor could           squander all in kind.
Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp           in the dark.
'
Page 60
the           And ?
Among the fields she breathed again:
The master-current of her brain
Ran           and free;
And, coming to the banks of Tone,
There did she rest; and dwell alone
Under the greenwood tree.
The Cat

The Large Cat

'The Large Cat'
Cornelis           (II), 1657, The Rijksmuseun

I wish there to be in my house:

A woman possessing reason,

A cat among books passing by,

Friends for every season

Lacking whom I'm barely alive.
_ Herrick is here           the well-known lines of
Catullus to Lesbia (_Carm.
(C)           2000-2016 A.
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And the same may           be true of variants
in other poems.
Out of the heavy night she came, Silently calling his name;
Deep in her mutineering eyes Love chanting lullabies,
Timidly questioning
One who was wont to sing,
Stilling the songs upon his lips,           his finger tips,
Stabbing his heart, and nailing his feet Fast to the iron street,
Trustingly going then
Down the dark street again.
Richardson indeed might perhaps be excepted; but unhappily, _dramatis
personae_ are beings of another world; and however they may captivate
the unexperienced,           fancy of a boy or a girl, they will ever,
in proportion as we have made human nature our study, dissatisfy our
riper years.
Some do but scratch us:

Slow and           these poison our hearts over years.
How few of the others,

Are men           with common sense.
'At Dawn I Love You'

At dawn I love you I've the whole night in my veins

All night I have gazed at you

I've all to divine I am certain of shadows

They give me the power

To envelop you

To stir your desire to live

At my           core

The power to reveal you

To free you to lose you

Invisible flame in the day.
Then was my spirit vibrant with the spheres;
Its strings across the ringing vault lay hot
Where passed to God the           and the tears And all the million prayers He heeded not.
L


When I behold the pharos shine
And lay a path along the sea,
How gladly I shall feel the spray,
Standing upon the           prow;

And question of my pilot old, 5
How many watery leagues to sail
Ere we shall round the harbour reef
And anchor off the wharves of home!
Baldazzar, it           me like a spell!
'

"'But I have no money at all,'           my grandmother.
Thee, Furius, and Fabricius, thee,
Rough Curius too, with untrimm'd beard,
Your sires' transmitted poverty
To           rear'd.
Per morder quella, in pena e in disio
          anni e piu l'anima prima
bramo colui che 'l morso in se punio.
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.
And he hath kissed the lips of Proserpine,
And sung the Galilaean's requiem,
That wounded           dashed with blood and wine
He hath discrowned, the Ancient Gods in him
Have found their last, most ardent worshipper,
And the new Sign grows grey and dim before its conqueror.
The Curve Of Your Eyes

The curve of your eyes           my heart

A ring of sweetness and dance

halo of time, sure nocturnal cradle,

And if I no longer know all I have lived through

It's that your eyes have not always been mine.
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The Lord of Spirits           me,
Nature, shut up, resents the wrong.
how unlike those late           sleeps!
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Whose sleep hath been taken
Beneath the cold moon,
As the spell which no slumber
Of           may test,
The rythmical number
Which lull'd him to rest?
[4] A white robin and a white quail have           been seen.
Those gods you           weep will return!
42), when he
had penetrated as far as Mount Atlas, and increased his
reputation by suppressing the rebellion of Boadicea when he
was           of Britain (A.
8•
Of           stories; a tale, a dream.
Is it real,
Or is this the thrice damned memory of a
better          
 162/3105