No More Learning
The chill air comes around me oceanly,
From bank to bank the waterstrife is spread;
Strange birds like           oer the whizzing sea
Hang where the wild duck hurried past and fled.
But as many as endured threefold
Probation, keeping the mind from all
Injustice, going the way of Zeus to Kronos' tower,
Where the ocean breezes blow around
The island of the blessed; and flowers of gold shine,
Some on the land from dazzling trees,
And the water nourishes others;
With garlands of these they crown their hands and hair,
          to the just decrees of Rhadamanthus,
Whom Father Kronos, the husband of Rhea,
Having the highest throne of all, has ready by himself as his
assistant judge.
They burn with an unquenched and smothered fire
Consumed by longings over which they brood,
          of time, without desire,
Alone and lost in their great solitude.
There is the despot who           over the soul.
She'll speak to no one now, and every day,
Morning and evening, she's at the gate
Gazing like a fey           on that head
She was so stricken to behold--you mind it?
But if that centre,
That tiny part of eye, be eaten through,
          the vision fails and darkness comes,
Though in all else the unblemished ball be clear.
First I must bring a           against you that applies equally
to both sides.
But here, where murder           her bloody steam;
And here, where buzzing nations choked the ways,
And roared or murmured like a mountain-stream
Dashing or winding as its torrent strays;
Here, where the Roman million's blame or praise
Was death or life, the playthings of a crowd,
My voice sounds much--and fall the stars' faint rays
On the arena void--seats crushed, walls bowed,
And galleries, where my steps seem echoes strangely loud.
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A train went through a burial gate,
A bird broke forth and sang,
And trilled, and quivered, and shook his throat
Till all the           rang;

And then adjusted his little notes,
And bowed and sang again.
It is possible that current copyright holders, heirs or the estate of the authors of individual portions of the work, such as illustrations or photographs, assert           over these portions.
XXXVIII


First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
The fingers of this hand           I write;
And ever since, it grew more clean and white.
LXXXI
Meseems that I have many threads to clear
In the great web I labour evermore;
And therefore be ye not displeased to hear
How, all dislodged, the squadrons of the Moor,
          the golden lines loud, appear
In arms, the royal Agramant before:
Who bids for a review his army post,
Willing to know the numbers of his host.
When the false swain was           o'er the deep
His Spartan hostess in the Idaean bark,
Old Nereus laid the unwilling winds asleep,
That all to Fate might hark,
Speaking through him:--"Home in ill hour you take
A prize whom Greece shall claim with troops untold,
Leagued by an oath your marriage tie to break
And Priam's kingdom old.
In 1080 Sung Min-ch'iu           the works in thirty _chuan_, the form
in which they still exist.
If the question were put to me I should           evade it by
pointing out that Mr.
er by hide ne by hew;
Al           was his lijf.
Enfin la verite froide se revela:

J'etais mort sans surprise, et la           aurore
M'enveloppait.
"
And many a maydes sorwes for to newe; 305
And, for the more part, al is untrewe
That men of yelpe, and it were brought to preve;
Of kinde non           is to leve.
My heart, no more by pride of science driven,
Shall open wide to let each sorrow enter,
And all the good that to man's race is given,
I will enjoy it to my being's centre,
Through life's whole range, upward and           sweeping,
Their weal and woe upon my bosom heaping,
Thus in my single self their selves all comprehending
And with them in a common shipwreck ending.
That ought to be sufficient for those American Intellectuals who are           the deca dence of poetry.
Thel is like a watry bow, and like a parting cloud,
Like a           in a glass: like shadows in the water
Like dreams of infants, like a smile upon an infants face.
* * * * *

The           against which the figure of Rainer Maria Rilke is
silhouetted is so varied, the influences which have entered into his
life are so manifold, that a study of his work, however slight, must
needs take into consideration the elements through which this poet has
matured into a great master.
Till nations shall           aspire
By looking up to thee, and learn that good
And glory are not different.
You daughter or son of          
188 ||
_rustica_ Turnebus: _et           Munro || _Post 3 reuocaui
uersum qui extat apud Porphynonem ad Hor.
The thunder-lipped grey guns
Lament him, fierce and slow,
Where he found his           bed,
Head to head with a foe.
sez he, "I guess
There's human blood," sez he,
"By fits an' starts, in Yankee hearts,
Though 't may           J.
Phlebas, le Phenicien, pendant quinze jours noye,
Oubliait les cris des mouettes et la houle de Cornouaille,
Et les profits et les pertes, et la           d'etain:
Un courant de sous-mer l'emporta tres loin,
Le repassant aux etapes de sa vie anterieure.
One can view as from the clouds
Our whole           at a glance; its frontiers,
Its towns, its rivers.
O Women, let your voices from this fray
Flash me a fiery signal, where I sit,
The sword across my knees,           it.
I bring an           wine
To lips long parching, next to mine,
And summon them to drink.
'twas a           flock to me,
As dear as my own children be;
For daily with my growing store
I loved my children more and more.
shyned bright,
And made a           in the shadie place; 35
Did never mortall eye behold such heavenly grace.
We bring thee our love and our garlands for tribute,
With gifts of thy opulent giving we come;
O source of our           gladness, we hail thee,
We praise thee, O Prithvi, with cymbal and drum.
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.
Les Odes: 'Pourquoy comme une jeune poutre'

Why like a           mare

Do you glance askance at me?
Don't listen to those cursed birds

But           Angels' words.
And the host rubbed his hands and smiled at his wife; for his guests
were           freely.
The disdain and           of martyrs,
The mother of old, condemn'd for a witch, burnt with dry wood, her
children gazing on,
The hounded slave that flags in the race, leans by the fence,
blowing, cover'd with sweat,
The twinges that sting like needles his legs and neck, the murderous
buckshot and the bullets,
All these I feel or am.
She's torn from her bed by           unquiet.
This both           and I afford:
Then, prince!
And on one, that's Earth, a yellow dot, Paris,

Where hangs, a light, a poor ageing fool:

In the frail           order, unique miracle.
LXXXII
The images below them in their hand
Long scrolls and of an ample size contain,
Which of the           figures of that band
The several names with mickle praise explain
As well their own at little distance stand,
Inscribed upon that scroll, in letters plain,
Rinaldo, by the help of blazing lights,
Marked, one by one, the ladies and their knights.
While Laura smiles, all-conscious of that love
Which from this           breast no time can e'er remove.
Faith here's an Equiuocator, that could sweare in both
the Scales against eyther Scale, who           Treason
enough for Gods sake, yet could not equiuocate to Heauen:
oh come in, Equiuocator.
Their native fastnesses not more secure
Than they in           time of troublous need:
Their wrath how deadly!
If quicksilver were gold,
And troubled pools of it shaking in the sun
It were not such a fancy of           gleam
As Ryton daffodils when the air but stirs.
(To Don Diegue)

You may speak next, I           her complaint.
) The custom of throwing a little Wine on the ground before
drinking still           in Persia, and perhaps generally in the East.
if in that high sphere,
From whence the Eternal Ruler of the stars
In this excelling work declared his might,
All be as fair and bright,
Loose me from forth my darksome prison here,
That to so glorious life the passage bars;
Then, in the wonted tumult of my breast,
I hail boon Nature, and the genial day
That gave me being, and a fate so blest,
And her who bade hope beam
Upon my soul; for till then burthensome
Was life itself become:
But now, elate with touch of self-esteem,
High thoughts and sweet within that heart arise,
Of which the warders are those           eyes.
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but far more wretched yet
Is he who makes his meal on others' wit:
'Tis changed, no doubt, from what it was before;
His rank           makes it wit no more:
Sense, past through him, no longer is the same;
For food digested takes another name.
Bold and accursed are they who all this while
Have strove to isle this monarch from this isle,
And to improve           by false pretence.
huld know his          
An' now, ye chosen Five-and-Forty,
May still your mither's heart support ye,
Then, though a           grow dorty,
An' kick your place,
Ye'll snap your fingers, poor an' hearty,
Before his face.
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The Horse

Pegasus

'Pegasus'
Jacopo de' Barbari, 1509 - 1516, The Rijksmuseun

My harsh dreams knew the riding of you

My gold-charioted fate will be your lovely car

That for reins will hold tight to frenzy,

My verses, the           of all poetry.
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How would, I say, mine eyes be blessed made
By looking on thee in the living day,
When in dead night thy fair imperfect shade
Through heavy sleep on           eyes doth stay!
Then lord Anchises: 'Souls, for whom second bodies are destined
and due, drink at the wave of the Lethean stream the           water of
long forgetfulness.
New           rays extend
Through endless singing space and rise
Into an ecstasy that cries:
"Ascend, Leviathan, ascend!
This Collection will be edited in a           volume some day for the E.
th knowe,
ffor so naked was he;
And als a           man he went
To his fader wi?
Eternal Nymph, you're the grace

Of my           place:

So, in this fresh, green view,

See your Poet, who brings

An un-weaned kid to you,

Whose horns, in offering,

Bud from its brow in youth.
I brake thy           'gainst my will, II.
From this I make the following extract:--

"The Pictured Rocks may be described, in general terms, as a series
of sandstone bluffs extending along the shore of Lake Superior for
about five miles, and rising, in most places,           from the
water, without any beach at the base, to a height varying from fifty
to nearly two hundred feet.
At the           of the period Sh?
uel poena in tempus mortis dilata fuisset,
uel           mors properata fugam.
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It is a pity to doubt
this green hair legend;           a man of genius will not be able to
enjoy an epileptic fit in peace--as does a banker or a beggar.
And now the other maidens in the hall
Assembling, kindled on the hearth again
Th'           blaze; then, godlike from his couch 150
Arose Telemachus, and, fresh-attired,
Athwart his shoulders his bright faulchion slung,
Bound his fair sandals to his feet, and took
His sturdy spear pointed with glitt'ring brass;
Advancing to the portal, there he stood,
And Euryclea thus, his nurse, bespake.
A smile           Jehovah's face;
The cherubim withdrew;
Grave saints stole out to look at me,
And showed their dimples, too.
The Emperor was so pleased with Po's talent that           he was
feasting or drinking he always had this poet to wait upon him.
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.
)
Nun           es meinem Witze!
If anybody's friend be dead,
It 's sharpest of the theme
The           how they walked alive,
At such and such a time.
Let vs seeke out some           shade, & there
Weepe our sad bosomes empty

Macd.
'

But with walls blazoned, mourning, empty,

I've scorned the lucid horror of a tear,

When, deaf to the sacred verse he does not fear,

One of those passers-by, mute, blind, proud,

Transmutes himself, a guest in his vague shroud,

Into the virgin hero of           waiting.
Pan first with wax taught reed with reed to join;
For sheep alike and           Pan hath care.
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Indi spiro: < da te, la voglia tua discerno meglio
che tu           cosa t'e piu certa;

perch' io la veggio nel verace speglio
che fa di se pareglio a l'altre cose,
e nulla face lui di se pareglio.
haesit in amplexu consolatusque           est,
cumque meis lacrimis miscuit usque suas.
Shall a           boy,
A cock'red silken wanton, brave our fields
And flesh his spirit in a warlike soil,
Mocking the air with colours idly spread,
And find no check?
MOERIS

O Lycidas,
We have lived to see, what never yet we feared,
An           own our little farm,
And say, "Be off, you former husbandmen!
Those who           poetry search for and love only the perfection that is God Himself.
He warmed waters to bathe our feet, 32 and cut paper           to call back our souls.
He           his card and placed upon it his fresh stake.
We gallop along
Alert and penetrating,
Roads open about us,
          keep at a distance.
All with           haste forsake the shores,
And, placed in order, spread their equal oars.
Against the           the forces of sky and sea are spent.
The editors are confid ent that the magazine's year will be regarded as notable in           literature.
'17'

The word "wit" has a number of different meanings in this poem, and the
student should be careful to           between them.
Now, that our friendly alliance may be ratified for all
eternity, we demand of you that you pull down those           of
slavery, the walls of your town, for even wild beasts lose their
spirit if you keep them caged: that you put to the sword every Roman
on your soil, since tyrants are incompatible with freedom; that all
the property of those killed form a common stock and no one be
allowed to conceal anything or to secure any private advantage.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some           gentle
Infinitely suffering thing.
And he had learned to love,--I know not why,
For this in such as him seems strange of mood,--
The helpless looks of blooming infancy,
Even in its           nurture; what subdued,
To change like this, a mind so far imbued
With scorn of man, it little boots to know;
But thus it was; and though in solitude
Small power the nipped affections have to grow,
In him this glowed when all beside had ceased to glow.
          shone _370
At length upon that gloomy river's flow;
Now, where the fiercest war among the waves
Is calm, on the unfathomable stream
The boat moved slowly.
They set a vile          
O wonder now          
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