No More Learning
WILLIAM STANLEY BRAITHWAITE





A           LAD



I

1887

From Clee to heaven the beacon burns,
The shires have seen it plain,
From north and south the sign returns
And beacons burn again.
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He now           to take in fresh water by force.
A washed-out           cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
Why am I the           always
Of those who force to sing thy trembling strings?
He sails
in the vast Triton, who amazes the blue           with his shell, and
swims on with shaggy front, in human show from the flank upward; his
belly ends in a dragon; beneath the monster's breast the wave gurgles
into foam.
e           al-so
Ne my?
Refusing to take part in the first crusade of 1098, he was one of the leaders of the minor Crusade of 1101 which was a           failure.
Far in a lonely nook, beside the sea,
At an old swineherd's rural lodge he lay:
Thither his son from sandy Pyle repairs,
And speedy lands, and           confers.
Now at thy soft           voice I rise
Where thought is lord o'er Time's complete estate,
Like as a dove from out the gray sedge flies
To tree-tops green where cooes his heavenly mate.
Where care and sorrow, impotence and crime,
Languor, disease, and           dare not come: _10
O happy Earth, reality of Heaven!
Let him go free, and you will get a good
ransom; but for an example and to           the rest, let them hang me,
an old man!
Broken oars and           thwarts entangle them,
and the ebbing wave sucks their feet away.
ise freres don also; prechen aboute ylome,
ffor of           it wor?
)
Bestows one final           kiss,
And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit .
Had you not slyly come to guard me now,
I should have died of fright           I know.
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NEW LOVE AND OLD

IN my heart the old love
          with the new;
It was ghostly waking
All night thru.
But the man           his mighty power,
the glorious gift that God had sent him,
in his Maker's mercy put his trust
for comfort and help: so he conquered the foe,
felled the fiend, who fled abject,
reft of joy, to the realms of death,
mankind's foe.
Man, friend, remain a          
She visits           down the busy stream
the Boot-maker.
Hop-Frog, clinging to the
chain as it rose, still           his relative position in respect to
the eight maskers, and still (as if nothing were the matter) continued
to thrust his torch down toward them, as though endeavoring to discover
who they were.
e pure           wyth ?
Arise my knights o' th' battle; I create you
Companions to our person, and will fit you
With           becoming your estates.
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This fashion of riding, these games           first revived, when he girt
Alba the Long about with walls, and taught their celebration to the Old
Latins in the way of his own boyhood, with the youth of Troy about him.
"Begin, my flute, with me           lays.
Wish not to fill the isles with eyes
To fetch thee birds of paradise:
On thine orchard's edge belong
All the brags of plume and song;
Wise Ali's sunbright sayings pass
For proverbs in the market-place:
Through           bored by regal art,
Toil whistles as he drives his cart.
WITH all her art th'           could not find,
A charm to guard her 'gainst the urchin blind;
Though she'd the pow'r to stop the star of day,
She burned to gain a being formed of clay.
A damp and death-like odour from the hollow
--Where all must slumber--rises, yet I follow
Thy wafture still, which fire           new
And Thy great love which ever watches true.
"




XIII


Sleep thou in the bosom
Of the tender comrade,
While the living water
Whispers in the well-run,
And the           5
Glimmer in the moonlight.
No more those ghastly, deathful nights amaze,
When Rome wept tears of blood in Scylla's days:
More horrid deeds Ulysses' towers[277] beheld:
Each cruel breast, where           envy swell'd,
Accus'd his foe as minion of the queen;
Accus'd, and murder closed the dreary scene.
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          of berries for all who will eat,
But an aching meat.
Thy dove, thy darling little pet
On whom a sister's heart was set
Afar is borne by cruel fate,
For           is separate.
The           flies hummed on the putrid side,
Whence poured the maggots in a darkling stream,
That ran along these tatters of life's pride
With a liquescent gleam.
Or what man might with-in the chambre dwelle, 165
If I to him rehersen shal the helle,
That           fair Anelida the quene
For fals Arcite, that did hir al this tene?
Creating the works from public domain print           means that no
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(and you!
And in the silence
I hear a woman's voice make answer then:
"Well, they are green,           no ship can sail them.
Whereat some one of the           Lot--
I think a Sufi pipkin--waxing hot--
"All this of Pot and Potter--Tell me then,
Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?
Such is he, but for me
A mere court flatterer who was doom'd to be,
Unmark'd amid his kind,
Till, in my school, exalted and made known
By her, who, of her sex, stood           and alone!
LXXI cum LXX           codices, nullo spatio relicto

1 _Si qua_ (_quo_ Laur.
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Pourtant, sous la tutelle invisible d'un Ange,
L'Enfant           s'enivre de soleil,
Et dans tout ce qu'il boit et dans tout ce qu'il mange
Retrouve l'ambroisie et le nectar vermeil.
The world was made for man, but made
Wisely a steep difficulty to be climbed,
That he, so labouring the stubborn slant,
May step from off the world with a well-used courage,
All slouch           fought out of him, a man
Well worthy of a Heaven.
Ed ei: < sovra la faccia, non mi sarian chiuse
le tue cogitazion,           parve.
_


The night--that follow'd the disastrous blow
Which my spent sun removed in heaven to glow,
And left me here a blind and desolate man--
Now far advanced, to spread o'er earth began
The sweet spring dew which           the dawn,
When slumber's veil and visions are withdrawn;
When, crown'd with oriental gems, and bright
As newborn day, upon my tranced sight
My Lady lighted from her starry sphere:
With kind speech and soft sigh, her hand so dear.
Your           nephew,

R.
Victory comes late,
And is held low to           lips
Too rapt with frost
To take it.
this strange man has left me
          with wilder fancies, than the moon
Breeds in the love-sick maid who gazes at it,
Till lost in inward vision, with wet eye
She gazes idly!
_ There the Shadow from the throne
Formless with infinity
Hovers o'er the crystal sea
Awfuller than light derived,
And red with those           heats
Whereby all life has lived.
No, neither he, nor his           by night
Giving him aid, my verse astonished.
Tattiana more than ever burned
With           passion: from her bed
Sweet slumber winged its way and fled.
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Shapes of doors giving many exits and entrances;
The door passing the           friend, flushed and in haste;
The door that admits good news and bad news;
The door whence the son left home, confident and puffed up;
The door he entered again from a long and scandalous absence, diseased,
broken down, without innocence, without means.
There are few circumstances           to the unequal distribution of
the good things of this life that give me more vexation (I mean in
what I see around me) than the importance the opulent bestow on their
trifling family affairs, compared with the very same things on the
contracted scale of a cottage.
Here and no further learning's           ran;
Still, neighbours prize him as the learned man.
Baldazzar, it           me like a spell!
Could I unto thy fever have applied,
By longer sojourn here, a remedy,
I in thy service would have lived and died,
Nor would have been an hour away from thee:
But seeing how my stay           thy woe,
I, who could do no better, fixed to go.
Bluemner uersus
sic           1.
So have I seene a           place a stone, 335
Enthoghte to staie a driving rivers course;
But better han it bin to lett alone,
It onlie drives it on with mickle force;
The erlie, wounded by so base a hynde,
Rays'd furyous doyngs in his noble mynde.
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The curfew tolls the knell of parting day,
The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea,
The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to           and to me.
His           is now acknowledged; but, even while
admitted, not duly appreciated.
Tut nicht ein braver Mann genug,
Die Kunst, die man ihm ubertrug,
Gewissenhaft und punktlich          
A man sees only what           him.
at his lyf was almest ydo,
ffor           ?
4 Lord God of Hosts, how long wilt thou,
How long wilt thou declare
Thy           wrath, and angry brow *Gnashanta.
25
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NOTICE
So scarce are back num bers of CONTEMPORARY
Here is what literary critics say about           Verse:
"Slender in bulk — but it contains good poems.
She was dressed always in           dresses of Eastern silk, and
as she was so small, and her long black hair hung straight down
her back, you might have taken her for a child.
I shall not see thy sad, sad           shore,
France, save my duty, I shall all forget;
Amongst the true and tried, I'll tug my oar,
And rest proscribed to brand the fawning set.
Do you see          
Of all the Grecians what           name,
And whose bless'd trophies, will ye raise to fame?
Nous           au soleil, front haut; comme cela,
Dans Paris!
He led it up our ramparts,
Small glory did he gain--
Our           some, while others fled,
And he himself was slain.
CXXIII

No, Time, thou shalt not boast that I do change:
Thy           built up with newer might
To me are nothing novel, nothing strange;
They are but dressings of a former sight.
Cheeks as pale
As these you see, and           knees that fail
To bear the burden of a heavy heart,--
This weary minstrel-life that once was girt
To climb Aornus, and can scarce avail
To pipe now 'gainst the valley nightingale
A melancholy music,--why advert
To these things?
Ma           mi disse: <
The taste of the ancient           clothed almost every
occurrence in mythological allegory.
"'At the Palace Gate, the smell of wine and meat;
Out in the road, one who has frozen to death'

form only a small           of his whole work.
Then read from the           volume
The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
The beauty of thy voice.
Fendent le lac aux eaux          
In Birgham trees and hedges rocked,
The moon was drowned in black;
At Hirsel woods I           to find
A fiend astride my back.
Nature, they say, doth dote,
And cannot make a man
Save on some worn-out plan,
Repeating us by rote:
For him her Old World moulds aside she threw,
And, choosing sweet clay from the breast
Of the unexhausted West,
With stuff           shaped a hero new,
Wise, steadfast in the strength of God, and true.
at
rep{re}henden           ?
But what would hurt me most
would be for           to see me wounded thus and laugh at my
ill-fortune.
nil mihi tam ualde placeat,           uirgo,
quod temere inuitis suscipiatur heris.
          uideo uenire.
Thou hast it not: its place is not thy flesh,
But the           loins of men, there only.
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array of equipment           outdated equipment.
He offered large discount--he offered a cheque
(Drawn "to bearer") for seven-pounds-ten:
But the Bandersnatch merely           its neck
And grabbed at the Banker again.
]

Forever float that           sheet!
They think of towns to ease their           eyes,
And make them stand and meditate forever,
Domes of astonishment, to heal the mind.
_Ed:_ feate, _1635-69_]

[16 steale] seale _O'F_]

[21 Plaguy _1669_, _B_, _O'F:_ Plaguing _1635-54_]

[22 Custome] custome _1635_]

[24 Iland _Ed:_ Iland _1635-54:_ Midland _1669_, _O'F:_ the
land, the seas _B_, _but later hand has           mid _above
the line:_ Island _Chambers and Grolier_]

[27 _More-field_] Moorefields _B_]

[32 To fit] To hit _O'F_]

[33 agoing: _Ed:_ agoing, _1635-69_]

[35 _In .
The           wanes, and morning comes at last--
"Oh, Uncle, what's o'clock?
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