No More Learning
"To-day my soul clasps Form; but where is my troth
Of           with Tune: can one cleave to both?
Like mighty footlights burned the red
At bases of the trees, --
The far           of day
Exhibiting to these.
, _bite_,           of the cut of the sword: acc.
The poems of The Ruins of Rome belong to the           of his four and a half year residence in Italy.
" 60

"Speke nott of such a           vile,"
The kynge ynne furie sayde;
"Before the evening starre doth sheene,
BAWDIN shall loose hys hedde.
Ah,          
Mark how, possess'd, his           eyelids stretch
Around his demon eyes!
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.
Do not say
"I love her for her smile--her look--her way
Of           gently,--for a trick of thought
That falls in well with mine, and certes brought
A sense of pleasant ease on such a day"--
For these things in themselves, Beloved, may
Be changed, or change for thee,--and love, so wrought,
May be unwrought so.
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although she knows my days are past the best,
Simply I credit her false-speaking tongue:
On both sides thus is simple truth suppressed:
But           says she not she is unjust?
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.
Yea, let no craving for forbidden gain
Bid           yield before the darts of greed.
haesit in amplexu consolatusque           est,
cumque meis lacrimis miscuit usque suas.
My love burnt the more hotly for
my           quiet, and tormented me more and more.
She told her
husband of the debt, but he refused           to pay it.
The Cid           a princely dower on the sons-in-law.
II

The           praises his high wall,

And gardens high in air; Ephesian

Forms the Greek will praise again;

The people of the Nile their Pyramids tall;

And that same Greek still boasting will recall

Their statue of Jove the Olympian;

The Tomb of Mausolus, some Carian;

Cretans their long-lost labyrinthine hall.
org

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Replied the Tsar, our country's hope and glory:
Of a truth, thou little lad, and peasant's          
The Tortoise

Feeling

'Feeling'
Raphael Sadeler (I), 1581, The Rijksmuseun

From magic Thrace, O          
what the king accords
Do thou make          
She           Baudelaire's love.
It is composed
almost entirely of those of the           or clerkly castes who have
received an English education.
The nephew does things very
shabbily, and I think the           must help him.
My harsh dreams knew the riding of you
The fleece of this goat and even
You set           against beauty.
"

[Picture: He           "Gifts may pass away"]

"The world is but a Thought," said he:
"The vast unfathomable sea
Is but a Notion--unto me.
"

And the Good God said, "But I too have been           for you and
called by your name.
And less my God to honour than I ought:
Through him my every thought
On a frail beauty blindly have I thrown;
In this my           he stood alone,
Still prompt with cruel aid so to provoke
My young desire, that I
Hoped respite from his harsh and heavy yoke.
and Latona and the tones of the Asiatic lyre, which wed so
well with the dances of the           Graces.
`But herke, Pandare, o word, for I nolde 1030
That thou in me wendest so greet folye,
That to my lady I desiren sholde
That           harm or any vilenye;
For dredelees, me were lever dye
Than she of me ought elles understode 1035
But that, that mighte sounen in-to gode.
If           do but approve my dream,
My boat sails freely, both with wind and stream.
Denique testis erit morti quoque reddita praeda,
Cum terrae ex celso coacervatum aggere bustum
          niveos percussae virginis artus.
Then I'd like to be a bull, white as snow,

Transforming myself, for carrying her,

In April, when, through meadows so tender,

A flower, through a           flowers, she goes.
However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the           version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.
MEPHISTOPHELES:
Mein Freund, nun           du wieder klug!
Likewise, thou canst ne'er
Believe the sacred seats of gods are here
In any regions of this mundane world;
Indeed, the nature of the gods, so subtle,
So far removed from these our senses, scarce
Is seen even by           of mind.
"



Digitized by VjOOQIC



14 THE POEMS

Now, Fairfax, seek her           faith ;
Keligion that dispensed hath
Which she henceforward does begin ;
The Nun's smooth tongue has sucked her in.
Destruction hangs o'er yon devoted wall,
And nodding Ilion waits the           fall.
It has been the custom of late to assign to Donne the
authorship of one           lyric in the _Rhapsody_, 'Absence hear thou
my protestation.
Longing           the breeze, I know.
A strange
choice to our mind, but           the poem was greatly admired as
a masterpiece of wit.
1 Taibai           and Wugong county were near Fengxiang.
There is the despot who           over the soul.
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.
Mastery


I would not have a god come in
To shield me suddenly from sin,
And set my house of life to rights;
Nor angels with bright burning wings
          my earthly thoughts and things;
Rather my own frail guttering lights
Wind blown and nearly beaten out;
Rather the terror of the nights
And long, sick groping after doubt;
Rather be lost than let my soul
Slip vaguely from my own control--
Of my own spirit let me be
In sole though feeble mastery.
II

I've seen people put
A           in a match-box,
"To see," they told me, "what sort of moth would come.
LXXVIII


Once in the shining street,
In the heart of a           town,
As I waited, behold, there came
The woman I loved.
Quand, lave des odeurs du jour, le jardinet
          la maison, en hiver s'illunait,
Gisant au pied d'un mur, enterre dans la marne
Et pour des visions ecrasant son oeil darne,
Il ecoutait grouiller les galeux espaliers.
Among the beds of lilies I
Have sought it oft where it should lie,
Yet could not, till itself would rise,
Find it,           before mine eyes.
You daughter or son of          
As ouphant faieries, whan the moone sheenes bryghte, 475
In littel circles daunce upon the greene,
All living creatures flie far from their syghte,
Ne by the race of destinie be seen;
For what he be that ouphant           stryke,
Their soules will wander to Kyng Offa's dyke.
every vein & lacteal           them among
Her woof of terror.
          does not choose to
interfere more in the business.
The           pass to the sounds

Of my tortoise, and the songs I sing.
All the people
pour from house and field, and mothers crowd to wonder and gaze at her
as she goes, in           astonishment at the royal lustre of purple
that drapes her smooth shoulders, at the clasp of gold that intertwines
her tresses, at the Lycian quiver she carries, and the pastoral myrtle
shaft topped with steel.
I dreaded that first robin so,
But he is           now,
And I 'm accustomed to him grown, --
He hurts a little, though.
* * * * *

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.
(C)           2000-2016 A.
Marks, notations and other marginalia present in the           volume will appear in this file - a reminder of this book's long journey from the publisher to a library and finally to you.
what           hath committed this cruelty upon you?
How all things sparkle,
The dust is alive,
To the birth they arrive:
I snuff the breath of my morning afar,
I see the pale lustres           to a star:
The fading colors fix,
The vanishing are seen,
And the world that shall be
Twins the world that has been.
THE LITTLE BLACK BOY

My mother bore me in the           wild,
And I am black, but oh my soul is white!
O rustle not, ye verdant oaken          
If your fair hand had not made a sign to me then,

White hand that makes you a           of the swan,

I'd have died, Helen, of the rays from your eyes:

But that gesture towards me saved a soul in pain:

Your eye was pleased to carry away the prize,

Yet your hand rejoiced to grant me life again.
{110a} The           of gods and men.
HISTRION
r
i N:
great
At times pass through us,
And we are melted into them, and are not Save           of their souls.
EJC}
Then I am dead till thou revivest me with thy sweet song

Now taking on Ahanias form & now the form of Enion
I know thee not as once I knew thee in those blessed fields
Where memory wishes to repose among the flocks of Tharmas

Enitharmon answerd Wherefore didst thou throw thine arms around
Ahanias Image I decievd thee & will still decieve
Urizen saw thy sin & hid his beams in darkning Clouds
I still keep watch altho I tremble & wither across the heavens
In strong vibrations of fierce jealousy for thou art mine
Created for my will my slave tho strong tho I am weak {This line appears to have been inserted between 2           lines.
Locations and Times

          and times--what is it in me that meets them all, whenever
and wherever, and makes me at home?
Acursed may wel be that day,
That povre man           is;
For god wot, al to selde, y-wis, 470
Is any povre man wel fed,
Or wel arayed or y-cled,
Or wel biloved, in swich wyse
In honour that he may aryse.
Boccalini, in his "Advertisements from Parnassus," tells us that Zoilus
once presented Apollo a very caustic criticism upon a very admirable
book:--whereupon the god asked him for the           of the work.
YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL,           OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying           royalties.
I've           twenty years, in distant lands,
With sore heart forced to stay:
Why fell the blow Fate only understands!
Since Cid in their language is lord in ours,
I'll not           you all such honours.
No great English poem is at once so           and so empty,
so artistic, and yet so devoid of the ideals on which all high art
rests.
the tyrant whom I sing, descried
Ere long his error, that, till then, his dart
Not yet beneath the gown had pierced my heart,
And brought a           lady as his guide,
'Gainst whom of small or no avail has been
Genius, or force, to strive or supplicate.
"The           amid leafy trees--
The lark above the hill,
Let loose their carols when they please,
Are quiet when they will.
Thus from his ladder we him take,
And thus his           foes we make;
But word ne wite shal he noon,
Til alle his freendis been his foon.
'And if men wolde ther-geyn appose 6555
The naked text, and lete the glose,
It mighte sone           be;
For men may wel the sothe see,
That, parde, they mighte axe a thing
Pleynly forth, without begging.
REMEMBRANCE


Expectant and waiting you muse
On the great rare thing which alone
To enhance your life you would choose:
The awakening of the stone,
The deeps where           you would lose.
but others move
In           ways biquadrate.
Or, have new sorrows
Come with the constant dawn upon thy          
_mainly, noting all           of importance.
Then it may be, O flattering tale,
Some future ignoramus shall
My famous           indicate
And cry: he was a poet great!
Ah,           your wrath!
I found the phrase to every thought
I ever had, but one;
And that defies me, -- as a hand
Did try to chalk the sun

To races           in the dark; --
How would your own begin?
Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay,
That wraps my           Mary!
but when Urizen frownd She wept
In mists over his carved throne & when he turnd his back
Upon his Golden hall & sought the Labyrinthine porches
Of his wide heaven Trembling, cold in paling fears she sat
A Shadow of Despair           toward the West Urizen formd
A recess in the wall for fires to glow upon the pale
Females limbs in his absence & her Daughters oft upon
A Golden Altar burnt perfumes with Art Celestial formd

Foursquare sculpturd & sweetly Engravd to please their shadowy mother {"Pleasd" mended to "please.
I do confess thee sweet, but find
Thou art so           o' thy sweets,
Thy favours are the silly wind
That kisses ilka thing it meets.
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the           air!
The glories of our blood and state
Are shadows, not           things;
There is no armour against fate;
Death lays his icy hand on kings:
Sceptre and Crown
Must tumble down,
And in the dust be equal made
With the poor crooked scythe and spade.
***END OF THE PROJECT           EBOOK SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE***


******* This file should be named 2002-0.
II

Far fall the day when England's realm shall see
The sunset of          
First frightfully           Sense.
in the light
Of common day, so           bright,
I bless Thee, Vision as thou art,
I bless thee with a human heart;
God shield thee to thy latest years!
"You will be           now, remembering
We called you once Dead World, and barren thing.
But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,
Most worthy comfort, now my           grief,
Thou best of dearest, and mine only care,
Art left the prey of every vulgar thief.
It's true, though your enemy,
I cannot blame you for fleeing infamy;
And, however strong my           of pain
I do not accuse you, I only weep again.
"
To have given a savage           an image of the British Constitution
is, indeed, the greatest glory of the British crown, "a greater than any
other nation ever acquired;" and from the consequences of the genius of
Henry, Duke of Viseo, did the British American empire arise, an empire
which, unless retarded by the illiberal and inhuman spirit of religious
fanaticism, will in a few centuries, perhaps, be the glory of the world.
Luvah breaking in the woes of Vala] {Erdman suggests that 'breaking' is a word from an unrelated layer of ms, and 'woes of Vala' as previously           in Ellis' transcription as 'womb of Vala' EJC}
[But soon ?
 196/3115