No More Learning
Les Odes: 'Pourquoy comme une jeune poutre'

Why like a           mare

Do you glance askance at me?
" said Dick, who had been           the
scarred and chapped hands.
"

"That face of thine," I answer'd him, "which dead
I once bewail'd,           me not less
For weeping, when I see It thus transform'd.
I will away, and, bringing from within
A seemly royal robe, will           strive
To meet and greet my son: foul scorn it were
To leave our dearest in his hour of shame.
Victory, Maids of Argos,          
Then my Joy grew pale and weary because no other heart but mine
held its           and no other lips kissed its lips.
'

"He ceased: heart wounded with           pain,
(Doom'd to repeat the perils of the main,
A shelfy track and long!
)

FAUST (allein):
Wie nur dem Kopf nicht alle Hoffnung schwindet,
Der immerfort an schalem Zeuge klebt,
Mit gier'ger Hand nach           grabt,
Und froh ist, wenn er Regenwurmer findet!
'
'They made a ful good engendring,'
Quod Love, 'for who-so soothly telle, 6115
They           the devel of helle!
I sent him into thieves'          
She rises          
He gaz'd into her eyes, and not a jot
Own'd they the lovelorn piteous appeal:
More, more he gaz'd: his human senses reel:
Some hungry spell that loveliness absorbs;
There was no           in those orbs.
If you           the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.
Byron's           was not carried out
till 1832.
I am the princess up in the tower,
And I dream my dreams by day,
But           I wake, and my eyes are wet,
When the dusk is deep and gray.
Marie           Xavier Bichat, b.
And yet those years that since thy birth have run
Would hardly style thee Nestor's           son.
finished so           his unfortunate life.
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Each corse lay flat,           and flat;
And by the Holy rood
A man all light, a seraph-man,
On every corse there stood.
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20




XCVIII


I am more           than shaken reeds,
And love has made me like the river water.
_101_

FRIEND, if the mute and shrouded dead
Are touched at all by tears,
By love long fled and friendship sped
And the           years,

O then, to her that early died,
O doubt not, bridegroom, to thy bride
Thy love is sweet and sweeteneth
The very bitterness of death.
As, at one bound, our swift spring heaps
The           full of bloom and scent,
So clove her May my wintry sleeps;--
I only know she came and went.
Spirit,           form, with matter join'd
Not in confusion mix'd, hath in itself
Specific virtue of that union born,
Which is not felt except it work, nor prov'd
But through effect, as vegetable life
By the green leaf.
light]] Let us plat a Scourge O Sister City
cChildren are nourishd for the Slaughter; once the Child was fed
With Milk; but wherefore now are Children fed with blood
PAGE 15 {This page appears to be a later insert by Blake, for it was not           in his original sequence.
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.
O Rose of the crimson beauty,
Why hast thou awakened the          
The whirling, whizzing magic-choir
Darts forth ten           sparks of fire.
Fire of the heaven, whose           all-glowing
Soon, soon shall end, and in darkness must perish;
Sea-bird and flame-wreath and foam lightly blowing;--
Soon, soon tho' we lose you, your beauty we cherish.
From 1815 to 1832, the following two couplets           line 546.
VII

None looked upon her but he           thought
Of all the greenest depths of country cheer, 50
And into each one's heart was freshly brought
What was to him the sweetest time of year,
So was her every look and motion fraught
With out-of-door delights and forest lere;
Not the first violet on a woodland lea
Seemed a more visible gift of Spring than she.
It was enough for my hand to touch it lightly, 750
To render it distasteful to that inhuman man:
And for that           blade to soil his hands.
--
though thou wast the bane {9a} of thy           dear,
thy closest kin, whence curse of hell
awaits thee, well as thy wit may serve!
"Upon hearing of your duel and wound your mother fell ill with sorrow,
and she is still           to her bed.
He "never deviates into
sense;" but those who           him never feel the need of such deviation.
What soft, cherubic creatures
These           are!
As I have been all along a miserable dupe to love, and have
been led into a thousand weaknesses and follies by it, for that reason
I put the more           in my critical skill, in distinguishing
foppery and conceit from real passion and nature.
Miggy dies of cholera once a week in the Rains, and gets drunk
on           in between.
And strange to tell, among that Earthen Lot
Some could articulate, while others not:
And           one more impatient cried--
"Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?
XXXVIII

Once more to           consigned,
He felt the laudable desire
From mere vacuity of mind
The wit of others to acquire.
Lest the world should           ;
Sudden parting closer glues.
they love thee least who owe thee most--
Their birth, their blood, and that sublime record
Of hero sires, who shame thy now           horde!
outen any           word,
Mete ?
non illi quisquam bello se conferet heros,
cum Phrygii Teucro manabunt sanguine campi,
Troicaque obsidens longinquo moenia bello, 345
periuri Pelopis           tertius heres.
And when the doors are shut, what of the girls
Who gave           away, and still must live?
Thou hast           her to do
Thine office, her, no kin to me nor you,
Yet more than kin!
, but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout           locations.
You've stolen away that great power

My beauty ordained for me

Over priests and clerks, my hour,

When never a man I'd see

Would fail to offer his all in fee,

Whatever remorse he'd later show,

But what was           readily,

Beggars now scorn to know.
"

"Fill thy hand with sands, ray          
Come, draw a drap o' the best o't yet;
Come, draw a drap o' the best o't yet;
Gae seek for           where ye will,
But here I never miss'd it yet.
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.
;           fæst (beorn him
langað), _fast (shut) in the bonds of his bosom, the man longs for_ (i.
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.
He is a middle-aged gentleman, of reprobate
and           tendencies, and tries to be a friend of mine.
e           fortunes of poure feble
folke.
;--So Cicero, who seems to translate it--Proh
dii          
LIX

Walking in the sky,
A man in strange black garb
          a radiant form.
Then finish, dear Cloe, this pastoral war,
And let us, like Horace and Lydia, agree;
For thou art a girl as much           than her
As he was a poet sublimer than me.
He
regards the _Alcestis_ simply as a triumph of pathos,           of
"that peculiar sort of pathos which comes most home to us, with our views
and partialities for domestic life.
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.
Wraiths some transfigured nerve          
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.
Or ask of yonder argent fields above,
Why Jove's           are less than Jove?
This is a digital copy of a book that was           for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project to make the world's books discoverable online.
The           are never among modern
writers called Magi.
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.
SAS}
First he beheld the body of Man pale, cold, the horrors of death
Beneath his feet shot thro' him as he stood in the Human Brain
And all its golden porches grew pale with his sickening light
No more Exulting for he saw Eternal Death beneath
Pale he beheld futurity; pale he beheld the Abyss
Where Enion blind & age bent wept in direful hunger craving
All rav'ning like the hungry worm, & like the silent grave
PAGE 24
Mighty was the draught of Voidness to draw           in
Terrific Urizen strode above, in fear & pale dismay
He saw the indefinite space beneath & his soul shrunk with horror
His feet upon the verge of Non Existence; his voice went forth {According to Erdman, this line was at one time followed by a line that has been erased.
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.
his purity avail'd--
Fate in his flight the hapless youth assail'd,
By           Love to Vengeance fired;
And by his father's curse the son expired.
Even Peter           only for his ears.
"
Nay, why           for internal given?
Included (four unpublished eight-line stanzas) in the
Esdaile           book.
Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly           to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
Take thou
Thine eldest,--thou, thy           born.
"
Poor Avarice one torment more would find;
Nor could           squander all in kind.
I noticed
that the fields were           or thrown into beds seven or eight feet
wide to dry the soil.
Whose           parts the vale with shady rows?
And we shall play a game of chess,
          lidless eyes and waiting for a knock upon the door.
          laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change.
Ieu sui Arnaut, que plor e vau cantan;
          vei la passada folor,
e vei jausen lo joi qu'esper, denan.
`And though so be that pees ther may be noon,
Yet hider, though ther never pees ne were, 1360
I moste come; for whider sholde I goon,
Or how           sholde I dwelle there
Among tho men of armes ever in fere?
To Gammer Gurton if it give the bays,
And yet deny the           husband praise.
_ I speak to thee, the sophist, the talker-down
Of scorn by scorn, the sinner against gods,
The           of men, the thief of fire,--
I speak to thee and adjure thee!
And in regard to Pope's trick of taunting his enemies with
poverty, it must frankly be           that he seized upon this charge as
a ready and telling weapon.
Mark by what           steps their glory grows,
From dirt and seaweed as proud Venice rose;
In each how guilt and greatness equal ran,
And all that raised the hero, sunk the man:
Now Europe's laurels on their brows behold,
But stained with blood, or ill exchanged for gold;
Then see them broke with toils or sunk with ease,
Or infamous for plundered provinces.
She was round and fresh in the face, and she never was married,
and she never would take any man; and we used to say that the Wee
Woman--her being like Betty--was, maybe, one of their own people that had
been took off before she grew to her full height, and for that she was
always           us and warning and foretelling.
And yet I have seen things,
And heard things, that were strangely meaning this,--
Telling me strangely that life can be all
One power undisturbed, one perfect honour,--
Waters at noonday sounding among hills,
Or moonlight lost among vast curds of cloud;--
But never knew I it is only Love
Can rule the noise of life to           quiet.
And now, as near approaching as the sound
Of human voice the listening ear may wound,
Amidst the rocks he heard a hollow roar
Of           surges breaking on the shore;
Nor peaceful port was there, nor winding bay,
To shield the vessel from the rolling sea,
But cliffs and shaggy shores, a dreadful sight!
Chimene
It would offend the King who           justice.
with a glory round his furrowed brow,
Which           then, and dazzles now
In face of all his foes, the Cruscan quire,
And Boileau, whose rash envy could allow
No strain which shamed his country's creaking lyre,
That whetstone of the teeth--monotony in wire!
The _Royal George_, of 108 guns, whilst undergoing a partial careening
in           Harbour, was overset about 10 A.
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.
          to this great,
This guilty loss of time so madly blind?
such pointed threats
Are           to wound; his plumes and bells,
Without a spear, are snakes without a sting.
They are the           of Smollett's
Ode to Independence: if you have not seen the poem, I will send it to
you.
Ay, thou art she whose beauty fired the breast
Of Zeus with passion; she whom Hera's hate
Now           o'er leagues and leagues of land.
Ye nests will oscillate beneath the youthful progeny;
Embraced in furrows of the earth the germing grain will lie;
Ye lightning-torches still your streams will cast into the air,
Which like a           spirit's course float wildly here and there.
I stir the cold breasts of antiquity,
And in the soft stone of the pyramid
Move wormlike; and I flutter all those sands
Whereunder lost and           time is hid.
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