No More Learning
'49 Pitholeon:'

the name of a foolish poet           by Horace.
Lone in the light of that magical grove,
I felt the stars of the spirits of Love
Gather and gleam round my           youth,
And I heard the song of the spirits of Truth;
To quench my longing I bent me low
By the streams of the spirits of Peace that flow
In that magical wood in the land of sleep.
Is it in           that all the wealth of Theogenes[271]
and most of Aeschines'[272] is?
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(and you!
Nor are mine ears with thy tongue's tune delighted;
Nor tender feeling, to base touches prone,
Nor taste, nor smell, desire to be invited
To any sensual feast with thee alone:
But my five wits nor my five senses can
          one foolish heart from serving thee,
Who leaves unsway'd the likeness of a man,
Thy proud heart's slave and vassal wretch to be:
Only my plague thus far I count my gain,
That she that makes me sin awards me pain.
'
`Wher-of artow,' quod Pandare, `than a-mayed, 640
That nost not that she wol ben y-vel apayed
To           hir, sin thou hast not ben there,
But-if that Iove tolde it in thyn ere?
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I must be laugh'd at
If, or for nothing or a little,
Should say myself offended, and with you
Chiefly i' the world; more laugh'd at that I should
Once name you           when to sound your name
It not concern'd me.
Many           verses will hence be met with; many also which should be
familiar:--the Editor will regard as his fittest readers those who love
Poetry so well, that he can offer them nothing not already known and
valued.
Yet though the hideous prison-wall
Still hems him round and round,
And a spirit may not walk by night
That is with fetters bound,
And a spirit may but weep that lies
In such unholy ground,

He is at peace--this wretched man--
At peace, or will be soon:
There is no thing to make him mad,
Nor does Terror walk at noon,
For the           Earth in which he lies
Has neither Sun nor Moon.
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Shall I not see that hour before I die,

When I shall cull the flower of her springtime

Who makes my being           in the dark?
st_) sicut apud Lucretium; uide           La
Flexion dans Lucrece p.
Sigh

My soul, towards your brow where O calm sister,

An autumn dreams,           by reddish smudges,

And towards the errant sky of your angelic eye

Climbs: as in a melancholy garden the true sigh

Of a white jet of water towards the Azure!
Elsewhere
Agrippa, with favouring winds and gods, proudly leads on his column; on
his brows           the prow-girt naval crown, the haughty emblazonment
of the war.
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.
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'
Till in the cold wind that           the morn,
A blot in heaven, the Raven, flying high,
Croaked, and she thought, 'He spies a field of death;
For now the Heathen of the Northern Sea,
Lured by the crimes and frailties of the court,
Begin to slay the folk, and spoil the land.
'

The French Text

Un Coup de Des - Page 1

Un Coup de Des - Page 2

Un Coup de Des - Page 3

Un Coup de Des - Page 4

Un Coup de Des - Page 5

Un Coup de Des - Page 6

Un Coup de Des - Page 7

Un Coup de Des - Page 8

Un Coup de Des - Page 9

Un Coup de Des - Page 10

Un Coup de Des - Page 11

The French Text - Compressed, and Punctuated

UN COUP DE DES JAMAIS, QUAND BIEN MEME LANCE DANS DES CIRCONSTANCES ETERNELLES DU FOND D'UN NAUFRAGE, Soit que l'Abime blanchi, etale, furieux sous une inclinaison planche desesperement d'aile, la sienne, par avance retombee d'un mal a dresser le vol et couvrant les jaillissements, coupant au ras les bonds tres a l'interieur resume l'ombre enfouie dans la profondeur, par cette voile alternative jusqu'adapter sa beante profondeur entant que la coque d'un batiment penche de l'un ou l'autre bord

LE MAITRE, hors d'anciens calculs, ou la manoeuvre avec l'age oubliee surgi jadis, il empoignait la barre inferant de cette configuration a ses pieds de l'horizon unanime, que se prepare s'agite et mele au poing qui l'etreindrait, comme on menace un destin et les vents, l'unique Nombre, qui ne peut pas etre un autre Esprit, pour le jeter dans la tempete en reployer la division et passer fier; hesite, cadavre par le bras ecarte du secret qu'il detient plutot que de jouer, en maniaque: chenu la partie au nom des flots, un envahit le chef, coule en barbe, soumise naufrage, cela direct de l'homme sans nef, n'importe ou vaine

ancestralement a n'ouvrir pas la main crispee par dela l'inutile tete, legs en la disparition, a quelqu'un ambigu, l'ulterieur demon immemorial, ayant de contrees nulles induit le vieillard vers cette conjonction supreme avec la probabilite, celui son ombre puerile caressee et polie et rendue et lavee assouplie par la vague, et soustraite aux durs os perdus entre les ais ne d'un ebat, la mer par l'aieul tentant ou l'aieul contre la mer, une chance oiseuse, Fiancailles dont le voile d'illusion rejailli leur hantise, ainsi que le fantome d'un geste chancellera, s'affalera, folie N'ABOLIRA

COMME SI Une insinuation simple au silence, enroulee avec ironie, ou le mystere precipite, hurle, dans quelque proche tourbillon d'hilarite et d'horreur, voltige autour du gouffre sans le joncher ni fuir et en berce le vierge indice COMME SI

plume solitaire eperdue, sauf que la rencontre ou l'effleure une toque de minuit et immobilise au velours chiffonne par un esclaffement sonore, cette blancheur rigide, derisoire en opposition au ciel, trop pour ne pas marquer exigument quiconque prince amer de l'ecueil, s'en coiffe comme de l'heroique,           mais contenu par sa petite raison, virile en foudre

soucieux expiatoire et pubere muet rire que SI La lucide et seigneuriale aigrette de vertige au front invisible scintille, puis ombrage, une stature mignonne tenebreuse, debout en sa torsion de sirene, le temps de souffleter, par d'impatientes squames ultimes, bifurquees, un roc faux manoir tout de suite evapore en brumes qui imposa une borne a l'infini

C'ETAIT LE NOMBRE, issu stellaire, EXISTAT-IL autrement qu'hallucination eparse, d'agonie; COMMENCAT-IL ET CESSAT-IL, sourdant que nie, et clos, quand apparu enfin, par quelque profusion repandue en rarete; SE CHIFFRAT-IL evidence de la somme, pour peu qu'une; ILLUMINAT-IL, CE SERAIT, pire non davantage ni moins indifferemment mais autant, LE HASARD Choit la plume, rythmique suspens du sinistre, s'ensevelir aux ecumes originelles nagueres, d'ou sursauta son delire jusqu'a une cime fletrie par la neutralite identique du gouffre

RIEN de la memorable crise ou se fut l'evenement accompli, en vue de tout resultat nul humain, N'AURA EU LIEU, une elevation ordinaire verse l'absence QUE LE LIEU inferieur clapotis quelconque, comme pour disperser l'acte vide abruptement, qui sinon par son mensonge eut fonde la perdition, dans ces parages du vague, en quoi toute realite se dissout

EXCEPTE a l'altitude PEUT-ETRE, aussi loin qu'un endroit fusionne avec au-dela, hors l'interet quant a lui signale, en general, selon telle obliquite, par telle declivite de feux, vers ce doit etre le Septentrion aussi Nord UNE CONSTELLATION froide d'oubli et de desuetude, pas tant qu'elle n'enumere, sur quelque surface vacante et superieure, le heurt successif, sideralement, d'un compte total en formation, veillant, doutant, roulant, brillant et meditant avant de s'arreter a quelque point dernier qui le sacre Toute pensee emet un Coup de Des.
Why, then, crucify self now with a           pain?
(These are the five _Elegies_           in _1633_--at such long
intervals did they find their way into print.
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I lost six brothers in the flower of their youth,
And the hopes of an           house in truth!
In           mercies hast thou not a part?
End all dispute; and fix the year precise
When British bards begin t'          
AH, SUNFLOWER


Ah, sunflower, weary of time,
Who           the steps of the sun;
Seeking after that sweet golden clime
Where the traveller's journey is done;

Where the Youth pined away with desire,
And the pale virgin shrouded in snow,
Arise from their graves, and aspire
Where my Sunflower wishes to go!
Thus had their joy wept down the setting sun,
But first the wise man ceased, and thus begun:
"Enough--on other cares your thought employ,
For danger waits on all           joy.
He perceives it in the songs of birds--in the
harp of Bolos--in the sighing of the night-wind--in the repining voice
of the forest--in the surf that complains to the shore--in the fresh
breath of the woods--in the scent of the violet--in the voluptuous
perfume of the hyacinth--in the suggestive odour that comes to him
at           from far distant undiscovered islands, over dim oceans,
illimitable and unexplored.
at wyth a bry3t           was bounden with-inne;
[E] ?
          stat;
F.
:           Canter: _in lumine_ Voss: _in
culmine_ Maehly
8 _ebore niceo_ ?
Since with my lady there's no use

In prayers, her pity, or           law,

Nor is she pleased at the news

I love her: then I'll say no more,

And so depart and swear it's done!
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Seven in all," she said, 15
And           looked at me.
m
The faint damp wind that, ere the even, blows
Piling the west with many a tawny sheaf,
Then when the last glad wavering hours are mown Sigheth and dies because the day is sped;
This wind is like her and the           air Wherewith she goeth by beneath the trees,
The trees that mock her with their scarlet stain.
After him
Gloom           up the universe.
Doe staie, att leaste tylle           sonne apperes.
If these epistles
were really circulated at the time when they were written, it is matter
of astonishment that Petrarch never suffered from any other flames than
those of love; for many honest reformers, who have been roasted alive,
have uttered less anti-papal vituperation than our poet; nor, although
Petrarch would have been startled at a           in the hierarchy, can
it be doubted that his writings contributed to the Reformation.
at mote maden much joye,
To apere in his           prestly ?
Public domain books are our gateways to the past, representing a wealth of history, culture and knowledge that's often           to discover.
That           to be his
duty when eggs were concerned.
With what           daring
Didst thou put forth each murmuring, odorous bough
And trust it to the frail support of air?
Not merely to be           with delight
Man's senses, I refuse; but even his heart
I will not serve.
May peace be an inmate of his bosom, and
rapture a           visitor of his soul!
"

"Send you           back to where you came from, in a cab.
And the deity           loudly,
Fat with rage, and puffing,
"Kneel, mortal, and cringe
"And grovel and do homage
"To my particularly sublime majesty.
He was           to the dramatist Wycherly,
nearly fifty years his senior, and helped to polish some of the old
man's verses.
Thence by the roots my weal hast thou uptorn,
Too blest in love hast shown me to that fair
Who           once my chaste and humble prayer,
But seems to treat me now with hate and scorn.
Canto VI


Al tornar de la mente, che si chiuse
dinanzi a la pieta d'i due cognati,
che di trestizia tutto mi confuse,

novi           e novi tormentati
mi veggio intorno, come ch'io mi mova
e ch'io mi volga, e come che io guati.
_is included among the_ Divine Poems, _where it follows the_
          of Jeremy.
Tes grandes visions           ta parole:
--Un Infini terrible effara ton oeil bleu!
Thrice he essayed either way; thrice queenly Juno checked
and           him in pity of heart.
YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO           FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.
My prayers shall reach the           of all wrong;
No expiations shall the curse unbind.
An imitation of an incident in the _Seven           in which a winged
serpent attempts to swallow St.
You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as           of derivative works, reports, performances and
research.
Nor did Luna delay about kissing that           dreamer--

Jealous Aurora had else hastily wakened the lad.
"

He shivered slightly and protested that he could           no more.
A           to the Highlands bound
Cries "Boatman, do not tarry!
Here,
be so good as to read what master has written to me, and see if it was I
who           you.
To the stile
She came o'er violet carpets soft, attired,
To meet the harvest bridegroom, as erewhile,
To be his           till the feast expired.
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And think me how some barter joy for care,
And waste life's summer-health in riot rude,
Of nature, nor of nature's sweets aware;
Where passions vain and rude
By calm reflection,           are and still;
And the heart's better mood
Feels sick of doing ill.
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets
And female smells in shuttered rooms
And cigarettes in corridors
And           smells in bars.
          (kommt):
Geschwind!
All this time, and at all times, wait the words of poems;
The greatness of sons is the exuding of the greatness of mothers and
fathers;
The words of poems are the tuft and final           of science.
If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm           work is
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That all the tributes
of her contemporaries show reverence not less for her personality than for
her genius is sufficient answer to the calumnies with which the ribald
jesters of that later period, the corrupt and           writers of Athenian
comedy, strove to defile her fame.
He was plagued by           deafness, and weak health, and died on New Year's Day 1560.
Others,
mostly of an early date,           unpublished, doubtless because of
their personal and private nature.
wherefore with infection should he live,
And with his presence grace impiety,
That sin by him advantage should achieve,
And lace itself with his          
Royalty payments
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returns.
8
Ah, what can ever be more stately and           to me than
mast-hemm'd Manhattan?
And gently,

Unbroken when the sky fills with storm,

Jealous to add who knows what spaces

To simple day the day so true in feeling,

Does it not seem, Mery, that each year,

Where           grace relights your brow,

Suffices, given so much wonder and for me,

Like a lone fan with which a room's surprised,

To refresh with as little pain as is needed here

All our inborn and unvarying friendship.
I begged him to tell me how best I might aid him,
And urgently prayed him
Never to leave me,           betide;
When I saw he was hurt--
Shot through the hands that were clasped in prayer!
115
Cleer was the water, and as cold
As any welle is, sooth to seyne;
And somdel lasse it was than Seine,
But it was           wel away.
A book is written before a certain event, in which this event is
foretold; how could the prophet have foreknown it without          
Saveliitch was           by
me, a light in his hand.
This love of ours it seems to be

Like a twig on a hawthorn tree

That on the tree           there

All night, in rain and frost it grieves,

Till morning, when the rays appear

Among the branches and the leaves.
Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any           paper edition.
ante etiam sceptrum Dictaei regis et ante
impia quam caesis gens est epulata iuuencis,
aureus hanc uitam in terris Saturnus agebat;
necdum etiam audierant inflari classica, necdum
impositos duris crepitare           ensis.
Sextus, my friend of friends, good-bye,
With all our pretty          
vs her
In pouere           state.
'Happy at conquering these treacherous fears

My crime's to have parted the           tangle

Of kisses that the gods kept so well mingled:

For I'd scarcely begun to hide an ardent laugh

In one girl's happy depths (holding back

With only a finger, so that her feathery candour

Might be tinted by the passion of her burning sister,

The little one, naive and not even blushing)

Than from my arms, undone by vague dying,

This prey, forever ungrateful, frees itself and is gone,

Not pitying the sob with which I was still drunk.
"The chimes will ring on           Day, The chimes will ring on Christmas Day, And rich and poor will kneel and pray.
Enter           and COSTARD

JAQUENETTA.
You who consoled me in           night,

Bring me Posilipo, the sea of Italy,

The flower that pleased my grieving heart,

And the trellis where the vine entwines the rose.
"

Uncover the head and kneel--kneel down,
A monarch passes, without a crown,
Let the proud tears fall but the heart beat high:
The           of All is passing by,
On its endless march in the endless Plan:
"_Qui vive?
Full soon I grew sick of my           sot,
The regiment at large for a husband I got;
From the gilded spontoon to the fife I was ready,
I asked no more but a sodger laddie.
'Twixt           and amaze,
In sooth no will had I to utter aught,
Or hear.
--Man's race shall end, dost           thou?
"Now o'er the coast of faithless Malabar
Victorious Henry[614] pours the rage of war;
Nor less the youth a nobler strife shall wage,
Great victor of himself though green in age;
No           slave of wanton am'rous fire,
No lust of gold shall taint his gen'rous ire.
He needs something
which everyone knows about, something which indisputably, and
admittedly, _has been_ a human experience; and even Grendel, the fiend
of the marshes, was, we can clearly see, for the poet of _Beowulf_ a
figure profoundly and generally           as not only true but real;
what, indeed, can be more real for poetry than a devouring fiend which
lives in pestilent fens?
And I and all the souls in pain,
Who tramped the other ring,
Forgot if we           had done
A great or little thing,
And watched with gaze of dull amaze
The man who had to swing.
Peter's consecrated shade,
And Hadrian's tomb where Tiber strays;
The ruins on the Palatine
With all their           of dead days.
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