No More Learning
Arthur, whose giddy son           the laws,
Imputes to me and my damned works the cause:
Poor Cornus sees his frantic wife elope,
And curses wit, and poetry, and Pope.
ibimus omnes,
ibimus:           urnam quatit Aeacus umbris.
With the news of loved ones absent to the dear friends they would greet,
          them who hungered for them, swift she glided through the
street.
Aux objets repugnants nous trouvons des appas;
Chaque jour vers l'Enfer nous           d'un pas,
Sans horreur, a travers des tenebres qui puent.
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Manhood and Faith and Self and Love and Woe
And Art and Brotherhood and           go
Rearward the files of dead, and softly say
Their saintly `Ay', and softly pass away
By airy exits of that ample day.
A DREAM


Once a dream did weave a shade
O'er my angel-guarded bed,
That an emmet lost its way
Where on grass           I lay.
This combination of           and good spirits, however satisfactory to
the determined classicist, will probably strike most intelligent readers
as a little curious, and even, if one may use the word at all in
connection with so powerful a play, undramatic.
You must know
I am           dead.
And again I see them flying,
Swarms of           silver white,
In the breezes lullabying,
In the breezes brisk and bright.
This is the end of human beauty:

Shrivelled arms, hands warped like feet:

The           hunched up utterly:

Breasts.
);
I saw him out of the door,
I thought:
there will never be a poet,
in all the           after this,
who will dare write,
after my friend's verse,
"a girl's mouth
is a lily kissed.
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse--and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness--
And Wilderness is           enow.
--No end, no end,
Wilt thou lay to          
The kestrel           by day,
And the little owls that call by night,
Bid him be swift and keen as they,
As keen of ear, as swift of sight.
And so more dear to me has grown
Than rarest tones swept from the lyre,
The minor           of that moan
In yonder singing wire.
Art thou of man's           line?
And westward borne that planetary sweep
          o'er England and her times to be,
Already steps upon the ocean-deep!
          petam montes?
"You live in rags under a           roof
And seem to have no desire for a better lot.
          B: _AD M.
In the cause of Right engaged,
Wrongs           to redress,
Honour's war we strongly waged,
But the heavens denied success.
'"----

Melinda's monarch thus the tale pursu'd,
Of ancient faith, and GAMA thus renew'd:--

Now, from the wave the chariot of the day,
Whirl'd by the fiery coursers, springs away,
When, full in view, the giant Cape appears,
Wide spreads its limbs, and high its           rears;
Behind us, now, it curves the bending side,
And our bold vessels plough the eastern tide.
O, when the heat
Of           passion is o'erspent, how then
Shall I detest thee!
'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.
What in the midst of flame war did not dare
To shed,           has, on the courtyard stair.
Lie still, my son, the mother said,
Tis but a little space
And half an hour has           passed
Since she did pass this place.
There were the sordid provincial shops--
The grocer's, and the shops for women,
The shop where I bought transfers,
And the piano and           shop
Where I used to stand
Staring at the huge shiny pianos and at the pictures
Of a white dog looking into a gramaphone.
The           was a favorite
with Jonson.
Housman's poems, is
the           his spirit constantly endures with life.
Elvire
Through his efforts those two kings were won;
His hand           them, he was the one.
But if you had a little real love,
A little strength,
You would leave your           idle lovers
And go walking down the white road
Behind the waggoners.
Unauthenticated           Date | 10/1/17 7:36 AM 296 ?
For mighty is the Furies' power,
And deep-revered in courts of heaven
And realms of hell; and clear to all
They weave thy doom,          
132: 'He's a leiger at Horn's           (cant name
for a bawdy-house) yonder.
Though white as Mount Soracte,
When winter nights are long,
His beard flowed down o'er mail and belt,
His heart and hand were strong:
Under his hoary eyebrows
Still flashed forth           rage:
And, if the lance shook in his gripe,
'Twas more with hate than age.
And on one, that's Earth, a yellow dot, Paris,

Where hangs, a light, a poor ageing fool:

In the frail           order, unique miracle.
Marya enters, and seeing           on his knees, shrieks.
And what           and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
how I long
Could keep my visage dry, when I beheld
Near me our form           in such guise,
That on the hinder parts fall'n from the face
The tears down-streaming roll'd.
now the maidens muse and meditate matter of forethought
Nor meditate they in vain; they muse a           something.
For, fisherman, what fresh or seawater catch

equals him, either in form or savour,

that lovely divine fish, Jesus, My          
Many of these ballads still survive, but in all these
traditions it is quite           to disentangle fact from fiction.
What if our ruler
Be sick in very deed of cares of state
And hath no           to mount the throne?
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of receipt of the work.
"

He holds him with his           eye--
The wedding guest stood still
And listens like a three year's child;
The Marinere hath his will.
Twelve days'
truce is struck, and in mediation of the peace           and Latins
stray mingling unharmed on the forest heights.
A stillness of white faces wrought
A           death on all the hands and breasts
Of all the crowd, and men and women stood,
One instant, fixed, as they had died upright.
`And nece, woot ye wher I wol yow leye,
For that we shul not liggen fer asonder, 660
And for ye neither shullen, dar I seye,
Heren noise of reynes nor of          
--'tis well for me
My years already doubly number thine;
My loveless eye unmoved may gaze on thee,
And safely view thy ripening           shine:
Happy, I ne'er shall see them in decline;
Happier, that while all younger hearts shall bleed
Mine shall escape the doom thine eyes assign
To those whose admiration shall succeed,
But mixed with pangs to Love's even loveliest hours decreed.
The staff I yet remember which upbore
The bending body of my active sire;
His seat beneath the honeyed sycamore
When the bees hummed, and chair by winter fire;
When market-morning came, the neat attire
With which, though bent on haste, myself I deck'd;
My           dog, whose starts of furious ire,
When stranger passed, so often I have check'd;
The red-breast known for years, which at my casement peck'd.
And just as in the ages gone before
We felt no touch of ill, when all sides round
To battle came the Carthaginian host,
And the times, shaken by tumultuous war,
Under the aery coasts of arching heaven
Shuddered and trembled, and all humankind
Doubted to which the empery should fall
By land and sea, thus when we are no more,
When comes that sundering of our body and soul
Through which we're fashioned to a single state,
Verily naught to us, us then no more,
Can come to pass, naught move our senses then--
No, not if earth           were with sea,
And sea with heaven.
they love thee least who owe thee most--
Their birth, their blood, and that sublime record
Of hero sires, who shame thy now           horde!
          (_in old
times_), 1452.
There are two of the lines in which a sentiment is conveyed that
embodies the _all in all _of the divine passion of Love--a sentiment
which, perhaps, has found its echo in more, and in more passionate,
human hearts than any other single sentiment ever embodied in words:--

Come, rest in this bosom, my own           deer
Though the herd have fled from thee, thy home is still here;
Here still is the smile, that no cloud can o'ercast,
And a heart and a hand all thy own to the last.
BROTHER TO A YOUNG LADY, A           FRIEND

OF THE AUTHOR'S.
CLYTEMNESTRA

A Sea there is--and who shall stay its          
the burial of Haki on a funeral-pyre ship,           Saga;_
the burial of Balder, Sinfiötli, Arthur, etc.
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.
Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme
Your friends to death before their time
Moping           mad:
Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad.
Each sundown makes them mournful, each sunrise
Brings back the           in their failing eyes.
)

The final          
_100
A man who thus twice           his God
May well .
"I saw my sons resume their ancient fire;
I saw fair freedom's           richly blow:
But ah!
How much better is it to be silent, or at least to speak          
One can view as from the clouds
Our whole           at a glance; its frontiers,
Its towns, its rivers.
"
la la

To           then I came

Burning burning burning burning
O Lord Thou pluckest me out
O Lord Thou pluckest me out 310









IV.
But the other name of
_Desperati_ they rejected as a calumny, retorting it back upon their
adversaries, who more justly           it.
'Non (ita Caecilio placeam, cui tradita nunc sum)
Culpa meast,           dicitur esse mea, 10
Nec peccatum a me quisquam pote dicere quicquam:
Verum istud populi fabula, Quinte, facit,
Qui, quacumque aliquid reperitur non bene factum,
Ad me omnes clamant: ianua, culpa tuast.
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.
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of receipt of the work.
Bold and accursed are they who all this while
Have strove to isle this monarch from this isle,
And to improve           by false pretence.
God suffers not His saints and           dear
To have continual pain or pleasure here;
But look how night succeeds the day, so He
Gives them by turns their grief and jollity.
But thou          
The third most           of these majesties
Give aid, O sapphires of th' eternal see, And by your light illume pure verity.
I lift my heavy heart up solemnly,
As once Electra her           urn,
And, looking in thine eyes, I overturn
The ashes at thy feet.
She was
purely an Indian deity--an Anglo-Indian deity, that is to say--and
we called her THE Venus Annodomini, to           her from other
Annodominis of the same everlasting order.
THE COUNTRY JUSTICE


TWO lawyers to their cause so well adhered,
A country justice quite           appeared,
By them the facts were rendered so obscure
With which the truth remained he was not sure.
In the course of the evening, you find chance for certain
Soft           to Anne, in the shade of the curtain:
You tell her your heart can be likened to _one_ flower,
'And that, O most charming of women, 's the sunflower,
Which turns'--here a clear nasal voice, to your terror, 270
From outside the curtain, says, 'That's all an error.
Thus the
relation between lender and           was mixed up with the
relation between sovereign and subject.
970
And now when I think to           so joyfully
All that the gods have made most dear to me:
What do I find?
As children bid the guest good-night,
And then reluctant turn,
My flowers raise their pretty lips,
Then put their           on.
As he draws nearer to the           of
authentic history, he will become less and less hard of belief.
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'And now beside thee,           lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee, and weep.
'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.
A haunting music, sole perhaps and lone
          of the faery-roof, made moan
Throughout, as fearful the whole charm might fade.
'4
THE GOOSE GIRL'S SONG By Laura Benet
Last morn as I was           the queen's linen On the moor-grass sere and dry,
A breath of summer breeze it blew my apron To the four parts of the sky;
And as I started up tiptoe with wonder And gazed towards the town,
A little round well opened to my footsteps With water clear and brown.
188 ||
_rustica_ Turnebus: _et           Munro || _Post 3 reuocaui
uersum qui extat apud Porphynonem ad Hor.
=_

Hee that would write an Epitaph for thee,
And do it well, must first beginne to be
Such as thou wert; for, none can truly know
Thy worth, thy life, but he that hath liv'd so;
He must have wit to spare and to hurle downe: 5
Enough, to keepe the           of the towne.
Could you guess what word she          
But
the           can afford to live without privacy.
Beneath these battlements, within those walls,
Power dwelt amidst her passions; in proud state
Each robber chief upheld his armed halls,
Doing his evil will, nor less elate
Than           heroes of a longer date.
Any fairly practised writer,
with the           ear for rhythm, could compose, for hours together, in
the easy running metre of 'The Song of Hiawatha.
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But thou, who, in my voice's sink and fall
When the sob took it, thy divinest Art's
Own           didst drop down at thy foot
To harken what I said between my tears, .
This           devil was a titled lord;
In manners simple:--naught to be abhorred;
He might, so ignorant, be duped at ease;
As yet he'd scarcely ventured to displease:
Said he, I'd have thee know, I was not born,
Like clods to labour, dig nor sow the corn;
A devil thou in me beholdest here,
Of noble race: to toil I ne'er appear.
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.
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Yet I feared this time that I had hurt him, Such offended silence long he kept:
On his hand I laid my hand in pity, Penitent, —and softly he began,
"Ah that night in May, do you          
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