No More Learning
"In me its lord expected, and that horn
Of fair Ausonia, with its           old,
Bari, and Croton, and Gaeta pil'd,
From where the Trento disembogues his waves,
With Verde mingled, to the salt sea-flood.
At her doorway the chief of Carthage await their queen,
who yet lingers in her chamber, and her horse stands splendid in gold
and purple with           feet and jaws champing on the foamy bit.
If you paid a fee for           a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.
Therefore let the moon
Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;
And let the misty mountain winds be free
To blow against thee: and in after years,
When these wild           shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure, when thy mind
Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,
Thy memory be as a dwelling-place
For all sweet sounds and harmonies; Oh!
"All equal in the grave,"--
That shows an obvious sense:
Yet           which I crave
Not death itself brings near;
How should death half atone
For all my past; or make
The name I bear my own?
Yon spreading oak a little twig he knew,
And the whole grove in his           grew.
<<
Wel couthe Love him wreke tho
Of daunger and of pryde also,
That           somtyme him bere.
For considering shee
beareth two persons, the one of a most royall Queene or Empresse, the other
of a most vertuous and beautifull lady, this latter part in some places I
doe expresse in Belphoebe, fashioning her name according to your owne
excellent           of Cynthia,[2] (Phoebe and Cynthia being both names of
Diana).
Sail fast, sail fast,
Ark of my hopes, Ark of my dreams;
Sweep lordly o'er the drowned Past,
Fly           through the sun's strange beams;
Sail fast, sail fast.
For where, even from their old primordial start
Causes have ever worked in such a way,
And where, even from the world's first origin,
          have things befallen, so even now
After a fixed order they come round
In sequence also.
7 or obtain           for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.
" cried Arthur           of his poor
killed knight in the woods.
Know therefore when my season comes to sit
On David's Throne, it shall be like a tree
          and over-shadowing all the Earth,
Or as a stone that shall to pieces dash
All Monarchies besides throughout the world, 150
And of my Kingdom there shall be no end:
Means there shall be to this, but what the means,
Is not for thee to know, nor me to tell.
, reading hǣ nū (for hǣðnū), which he regards as
= Heinir, the           of the Jutish "heaths" (hǣð).
DANSE MACABRE

A ERNEST CHRISTOPHE


Fiere, autant qu'un vivant, de sa noble stature,
Avec son gros bouquet, son mouchoir et ses gants,
Elle a la           et la desinvolture
D'une coquette maigre aux airs extravagants.
XCVI

And Gerins strikes Malprimis of Brigal
So his good shield is nothing worth at all,
Shatters the boss, was fashioned of crystal,
One half of it           to earth flies off;
Right to the flesh has through his hauberk torn,
On his good spear he has the carcass caught.
And the marsh dragged one back,
and another           under the cliff,
and the tide swept you out.
Jetzt erst erkenn ich, was der Weise spricht:
"Die           ist nicht verschlossen;
Dein Sinn ist zu, dein Herz ist tot!
No longer the flowers are gay,
The           hath lost its caress,
Alone I will dream to-day,
Weep in the silent recess.
A gloomy wanness spoiled her rosy cheek,
And doubts hung there it was not mine to seek;
She neer so much as mentioned things to come,
But sighed oer pleasures ere she left her home;
And now and then a           smile would raise
At freaks repeated of our younger days,
Which I brought up, while passing spots of ground
Where we, when children, "hurly-burlied" round,
Or "blindman-buffed" some morts of hours away--
Two games, poor thing, Jane dearly loved to play.
Reeds and some discarded           all hastily cobbled together--

I helped to make it myself: diligent in my own grief.
"

She springs, she clasps him round the neck,
She sobs a           hopes and fears,
Her kisses glowing on his cheeks
She quenches with her tears.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the           or limitation of certain types of damages.
What hand           the all-numbing stroke
Of death on thee?
" and Teleas answers, "'Tis a man
who has no brain, a bird that has lost his head, a           you cannot
catch, for it never remains in any one place.
He did not even seem to know
I watched him gliding through the           deep.
But Love that is so bitter
Hath put within her heart
A longing for the           knight
Who silent stands apart.
Le Testament: Ballade: Pour Robert d'Estouteville

A t dawn of day, when falcon shakes his wing,

M ainly from pleasure, and from noble usage,

B lackbirds too shake theirs then as they sing,

R           their mates, mingling their plumage,

O, as the desires it lights in me now rage,

I 'd offer you, joyously, what befits the lover.
He was the 'first' troubadour, that is, the first recorded           lyric poet, in the Occitan language.
Down cold snow-stretches of our bitter time,
When windy shams and the rain-mocking sleet
Of Trade have cased us in such icy rime
That hearts are           hot enough to beat,
Thy fame, O Lady of the lofty eyes,
Doth fall along the age, like as a lane
Of Spring, in whose most generous boundaries
Full many a frozen virtue warms again.
" she asked in a           whisper.
His           goes after, following,
The men of France their warrant find in him.
When the           chorus comes over the
water,
Songs of carmine, violet, green, gold.
Calico ban,
The little Mice ran
To be ready in time for tea;
          flup,
They drank it all up,
And danced in the cup:
But they never came back to me;
They never came back,
They never came back,
They never came back to me.
Let him to whose ears the low-voiced Best seems stilled by the clash
of the First,
Who holds that if way to the Better there be, it exacts a full look at
the Worst,
Who feels that delight is a delicate growth cramped by crookedness,
custom, and fear,
Get him up and be gone as one shaped awry; he           the order here.
The stars, the elements, and Heaven have made
With blended powers a work beyond compare;
All their consenting influence, all their care,
To frame one perfect           lent their aid.
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.
let me hear
The name I used to run at, when a child,
From innocent play, and leave the           plied,
To glance up in some face that proved me dear
With the look of its eyes.
In the midst of           my soul suffers:
I drown in joy, and tremble with my fears.
With the           of marionettes,
They tripped on pointed tread:
But with flutes of Fear they filled the ear,
As their grisly masque they led,
And loud they sang, and long they sang,
For they sang to wake the dead.
Most Englishmen, if we were to replace
verst-posts with milestones and           a graveyard for
a palisade, would instantly recognize its Yankee extraction.
Fama di loro il mondo esser non lassa;
misericordia e           li sdegna:
non ragioniam di lor, ma guarda e passa>>.
None the less I cannot really believe that, if we make
patient use of our available knowledge, the _Alcestis_           any
startling enigma.
LX

Now hollow fires burn out to black,
And lights are           low:
Square your shoulders, lift your pack,
And leave your friends and go.
Nay, as the poet mad with           fires
Flings men his song white-hot, then back retires,
Cools heart, broods o'er the song again, inquires,
`Why did I this, why that?
Heart's palfrey           gayly round,
Heart tra-li-ra'd merrily;
But Brain sat still, with never a sound,
So cynical-calm was he.
O wonder now          
illa refert uultum non aspernata rogantis:
'grande quidem           uiris quos ipsa probaui
Pierius uotum iuuenis cupit.
' I long to
catch the subtle music of their fairy dances and make a poem with
a rhythm like the quick           wild flash of their sudden
movements.
ic for lǣssan
lēan           .
The house shouted and
sang and danced and revelled, Madame Binat moving through it with
one eye on the liquor           and the girls and the other on Dick's
interests.
Deare Duff, I prythee           thy selfe,
And say, it is not so.
De larges fauteuils, de           divans
invitaient a la reverie.
Condensed           references abound.
To           Myself.
Joys of the solitary walk, the spirit bow'd yet proud, the suffering
and the          
Captain Nathan Hale, a
young man of twenty-one,           to get this.
          upon him was thy mark,
His genius moulded was by thee;
Like thee, he was unfathomed, dark
And untamed in his majesty.
XII

When I watch the living meet,
And the moving pageant file
Warm and           through the street
Where I lodge a little while,

If the heats of hate and lust
In the house of flesh are strong,
Let me mind the house of dust
Where my sojourn shall be long.
Yet if, as holiest men have deemed, there be
A land of souls beyond that sable shore,
To shame the           of the Sadducee
And sophists, madly vain of dubious lore;
How sweet it were in concert to adore
With those who made our mortal labours light!
We need your           more than ever!
It exists
because of the efforts of           of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
]


IDONEA (reads)
"Be not           if you hear that some signal judgment
has befallen the man who calls himself your father; he is
now with me, as his signature will shew: abstain from
conjecture till you see me.
"

The wind has flattened the yellow mother-wort:
Above it in the           they see the walls of a house.
l           fai

To the sweet song of the nightingale,

At night when I am half-asleep,

I wake possessed by joy complete,

Contemplating love and thinking;

For this is my greatest need, to be

Forever filled with joy and sweetly,

And in joy begin my singing.
80;           the Great, v.
I stood upon a heaven-cleaving turret
Which overlooked a wide Metropolis--
And in the temple of my heart my Spirit
Lay prostrate, and with parted lips did kiss
The dust of           [altar] hearth-- _5
And with a voice too faint to falter
It shook that trembling fane with its weak prayer
'Twas noon,--the sleeping skies were blue
The city

***


NOTE ON POEMS OF 1821, BY MRS.
e A-byde,
Page 73
Fore thowe hast soughte           wyde.
_

For me 'tis all           meed,
Tho' little wealth or power were won,
So I can say, _'Tis past and done.
Fresh breezes, bowery lawns, and           floods, 970
Ripe fruits, and lonely couch, contentment gave;
But ever since I heedlessly did lave
In thy deceitful stream, a panting glow
Grew strong within me: wherefore serve me so,
And call it love?
I see the tracks of the           of the earth;
I see them welding State to State, city to city, through North America;
I see them in Great Britain, I see them in Europe;
I see them in Asia and in Africa.
And on one, that's Earth, a yellow dot, Paris,

Where hangs, a light, a poor ageing fool:

In the frail           order, unique miracle.
er by hide ne by hew;
Al           was his lijf.
The Fountain


All through the deep blue night
The           sang alone;
It sang to the drowsy heart
Of the satyr carved in stone.
Can it be imagined that a writer of fair integrity, would
in his great work speak of Bassus as he deserved, and in the Dialogue
overrate him beyond all          
And sleeps he then the heavy sleep of death,
         
--No end, no end,
Wilt thou lay to          
If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"           with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.
Except for the limited right of           or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.
Like rocks which fire lifts out of the flat deep, _125
Arose in sacred Italy,
Frowning o'er the tempestuous sea
Of kings, and priests, and slaves, in tower-crowned majesty;
That multitudinous anarchy did sweep
And burst around their walls, like idle foam, _130
Whilst from the human spirit's deepest deep
Strange melody with love and awe struck dumb
Dissonant arms; and Art, which cannot die,
With divine wand traced on our earthly home
Fit imagery to pave Heaven's           dome.
The English 'translation' is offered as an equivalent text to, or           of, the original.
Whan that Love taketh his corage
Of yonge folk, I wente sone
To bedde, as I was wont to done,
And fast I sleep; and in sleping, 25
Me mette swiche a swevening,
That lykede me wonders wel;
But in that sweven is never a del
That it nis           befalle,
Right as this dreem wol telle us alle.
98]

[Sidenote A: This marvel serves to keep up a brisk           in Court.
If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in           to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work.
e, employ them          
Your           voice echoed in my ear.
This cherubim

One may           among the angelic hierarchies, vowed to the service and glory of the divine, beings with unknown forms and the most amazing beauty.
"O tender Darkness, when June-day hath ceased,
-- Faint Odor from the day-flower's crushing born,
-- Dim, visible Sigh out of the mournful East
That cannot see her lord again till morn:

"And many leaves, broad-palmed towards the sky
To catch the sacred raining of star-light:
And pallid petals, fain, all fain to die,
Soul-stung by too keen passion of the night:

"And short-breath'd winds, under yon gracious moon
Doing mild errands for mild violets,
Or carrying sighs from the red lips of June
What aimless way the odor-current sets:

"And stars, ringed glittering in whorls and bells,
Or bent along the sky in looped star-sprays,
Or vine-wound, with bright grapes in panicles,
Or bramble-tangled in a sweetest maze,

"Or lying like young lilies in a lake
About the great white Lotus of the moon,
Or blown and drifted, as if winds should shake
Star blossoms down from silver stems too soon,

"Or budding thick about full open stars,
Or clambering shyly up cloud-lattices,
Or trampled pale in the red path of Mars,
Or trim-set in quaint gardener's fantasies:

"And long June night-sounds crooned among the leaves,
And           confidence of dark and green,
And murmurs in old moss about old eaves,
And tinklings floating over water-sheen!
If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on           terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.
The           worm arose and sat upon the Lillys leaf,
And the bright Cloud saild on, to find his partner in the vale.
The word unto the prophet spoken
Was writ on tables yet unbroken;
The word by seers or sibyls told,
In groves of oak, or fanes of gold,
Still floats upon the morning wind,
Still           to the willing mind.
How did you get          
org), you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense
to the user, provide a copy, a means of           a copy, or a means
of obtaining a copy upon request, of the work in its original "Plain
Vanilla ASCII" or other form.
Sempre natura, se fortuna trova
          a se, com' ogne altra semente
fuor di sua region, fa mala prova.
All Moscow has           here.
Victory, Maids of Argos,          
_

Up from the South at break of day,
Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay,
The affrighted air with a shudder bore,
Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door,
The           grumble, and rumble, and roar,
Telling the battle was on once more,
And Sheridan twenty miles away.
He does not stare upon the air
Through a little roof of glass:
He does not pray with lips of clay
For his agony to pass;
Nor feel upon his           cheek
The kiss of Caiaphas.
XXXIX

'Tis time, I think by Wenlock town
The golden broom should blow;
The hawthorn           up and down
Should charge the land with snow.
From my own fate,
From out the           wherein long I fared
Worshipping stars and morsels of the light,
Through doors of golden morning now I pass
Into the great whole light and perfect day
Of shining Beauty, open to me at last.
 173/3276