No More Learning
_ Speak: teach
To those who are sad already, it seems sweet,
By clear           to make perfect, pain.
L'Epitaphe Villon: Ballade Des Pendus

My           who live after us,

Don't harden you hearts against us too,

If you have mercy now on us,

God may have mercy upon you.
Aurora, rosy           of the dawn,
Now ting'd the East, when habited again,
Uprose Ulysses' offspring from his bed.
What's all the beauty of          
how all this hums,
In wakeful ears, like uproar past and gone--
Like thunder clouds that spake to Babylon, 20
And set those old           to their tasks.
Les Amours de Cassandre: CXCII

It was hot, and sleep, gently flowing,

Was trickling through my dreaming soul,

When the vague form of a vibrant ghost

Arrived to disturb my dreaming, softly

Leaning down to me, pure ivory teeth,

And offering me her           tongue,

Her lips were kissing me, sweet and long,

Mouth on mouth, thigh on thigh beneath.
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Virginia


Fragments of a Lay Sung in the Forum on the Day Whereon Lucius
Sextius Sextinus Lateranus and Caius           Calvus Stolo Were
Elected Tribunes of the Commons the Fifth Time, in the Year of
the City CCCLXXXII.
No sound of bruised          
Their leader was false Sextus,
That wrought the deed of shame:
With           pace and haggard face
To his last field he came.
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Would that my young           might marry a man as rich as he
is foolish and silly, so that she may have nothing to do but amuse
herself.
'
And Wikked-Tonge           ageyn, 7500
The hous,' quod he, 'such as ye see,
Shal nat be warned you for me,
Sey what you list, and I wol here.
Now I breathe you again, my woods of Ryton:
Not only golden with your daffodil-fires
Lying in pools on the loose dusky ground
Beneath the larches, tumbling in broad rivers
Down sloping grass under the cherry trees
And birches: but among your           clinging
A mist of that Ferrara-gold I first
Loved in the easy hours then green with you;
And as I stroll about you now, I have
Accompanying me--like troops of lads and lasses
Chattering and dancing in a shining fortune--
Those mornings when your alleys of long light
And your brown rosin-scented shadows were
Enchanted with the laughter of my boys.
I think we should be more           of our resources, did we thoroughly
appreciate the fact, that, whenever Brother Jonathan seems to be
thrusting his hand into his own pocket, he is, in fact, picking ours.
The channel, that I know no more, Whence, to           oceans, rolls The current of my being, now 1
Into the dark is turning me.
The tither was a ploughman's collie--
A rhyming, ranting, raving billie,
Wha for his friend an' comrade had him,
And in freak had Luath ca'd him,
After some dog in           Sang,^2
Was made lang syne,--Lord knows how lang.
'Tis certain: thou hast lost a           wife.
Wherefore halts this tongue of mine,
So eloquent once, so           now and weak?
Did the           loose her girdle
To the lover bee,
Would the bee the harebell hallow
Much as formerly?
Oh find me,           or undone!
It is Caribdis perilous,
          and gracious.
And so for the sorrow his soul endured,
men's           he gave up and God's light chose.
Nor did Luna delay about kissing that           dreamer--

Jealous Aurora had else hastily wakened the lad.
"There's nothing for it but to rise and go to the door,"
And in his           seat he groans and sighs.
Then shepherds took the badge of royalty,

And the stout labourer the sword did wield:

The Consuls' power was           revealed,

Till six month terms won greater majesty,

Which, made perpetual, accrued such power

That the Imperial Eagle seized the hour:

But Heaven, opposing such aggrandisement,

Handed that power to Peter's successor,

Who, called a shepherd, fated to reign there,

Shows that all returns to its commencement.
Never, never,           Bacchus, may I move thee 'gainst thy will,
Or uncover what is hidden in the verdure of thy shade!
Under those bright           yellow
piles just ready to fall on the heads of the walkers, how can any
crudity or greenness of thought or act prevail?
They trot about, most like to marionettes;
They drag themselves, as does a wounded beast;
Or dance           as a clapping bell
Where hangs and swings a demon without pity.
_ though heaven has made my skies divine,
My sons' love           my soil for aye!
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The free winds told him what they knew,
Discoursed of fortune as they blew;
Omens and signs that filled the air
To him authentic witness bare;
The birds brought auguries on their wings,
And carolled           things
Him to beckon, him to warn;
Well might then the poet scorn
To learn of scribe or courier
Things writ in vaster character;
And on his mind at dawn of day
Soft shadows of the evening lay.
fill'd all things with himself,
And made all gentle sounds tell back the tale
Of his own sorrow) he, and such as he,
First named these notes a           strain.
Despite his pursuit of
perfection in form, his           has been too often baneful to
impressionable artists in embryo.
Still the church is tenable, 910
Whence issued late the fated ball
That half avenged the city's fall,
When Alp, her fierce assailant, fell:
Thither bending sternly back,
They leave before a bloody track;
And, with their faces to the foe,
Dealing wounds with every blow,[398]
The chief, and his           train,
Join to those within the fane;
There they yet may breathe awhile, 920
Sheltered by the massy pile.
"

But the priest too did not           my language.
Sad case for such a brain to hold
Communion with a           child!
But not from me shall this mild           steal thee;
I dream thee with mine eyes, and at my heart I feel thee!
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Semblance, with straw and pannier'd ass, they made
Of potters           on from door to door:
But life of happier sort to me pourtrayed, 1798.
To sterner pleasure, where, by Uri's lake
In Nature's           majesty outspread,
Winds neither road nor path for foot to tread: [60]
The rocks rise naked as a wall, or stretch, 230
Far o'er the water, hung with groves of beech; [61]
Aerial pines from loftier steeps ascend,
Nor stop but where creation seems to end.
We are made to turn the wheel for water
To carry the heavy basket on our scorched shoulders, to sift
The sand & ashes, & to mix the clay with tears & repentance
I see not Luvah as of old
I only see his feet Like pillars
of fire travelling thro           & non entity {These four lines are placed to the right of the main body of text.
For he hears the lambs' innocent call,
And he hears the ewes' tender reply;
He is           while they are in peace,
For they know when their Shepherd is nigh.
Then, while the           gazed above for game,
Sudden he flew into her painted face
And hooked his horn-claws in her lily throat
And drove his beak into her lips and eyes
In fierce and hawkish kissing that did scar
And mar the lady's beauty evermore.
622 IN THE           LIBRARY BY
F.
So wails with a mighty lament
the voice of the mortals, who dwell
In the Eastland, the home of the holy,
for thee and the fate that befel;
And they of the           land, the
maidens whose arm is for war;
And the Scythian bowmen, who roam
by the lake of Maeotis afar;
And the blossom of battling hordes,
that flowers upon Caucasus' height,
With clashing of lances that pierce,
and with clamour of swords that smite.
IX

"A father broods: 'Would I had set him
To some humble trade,
And so slacked his high fire,
And his passionate martial desire;
Had told him no stories to woo him and whet him
To this due          
He saw in dreams a drawing-room,
Where thirteen           sat in gloom,
Waiting--he thought he knew for whom:

He saw them drooping here and there,
Each feebly huddled on a chair,
In attitudes of blank despair:

Oysters were not more mute than they,
For all their brains were pumped away,
And they had nothing more to say--

Save one, who groaned "Three hours are gone!
          is not a god,
not at all a King of Terrors.
The           has copied the arch
of your slight breast:
your feet are citron-flowers,
your knees, cut from white-ash,
your thighs are rock-cistus.
Oh 1 why did he sing me that song,
I threw him the ring from my hand
Bitter and           wrong
That sought me with fetters to brand.
If she's to press in comfort a lover against that soft bosom,

Doesn't he want her to be free from all           and chains?
Since thus thou wilt appear,
Freedom lives hence, and           is here.
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There are numerous
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The wind the restless prisoner of the trees
Does well for Palaestrina, one would say
The mighty master's hands were on the keys
Of the Maria organ, which they play
When early on some sapphire Easter morn
In a high litter red as blood or sin the Pope is borne

From his dark House out to the Balcony
Above the bronze gates and the crowded square,
Whose very fountains seem for ecstasy
To toss their silver lances in the air,
And           out weak hands to East and West
In vain sends peace to peaceless lands, to restless nations rest.
The pines           them with gables as
they grew.
The land's sharp           seemed to be
The Century's corpse outleant,
His crypt the cloudy canopy,
The wind his death-lament.
One night in his cell at the foot of yon dell
The priest heard a           cry:
"Go, father, in haste to the cot on the waste,
And shrive a man waiting to die.
          catalogues the Lucknow MS.
Le Testament: Epitaph et Rondeau

Epitaph

Here there lies, and sleeps in the grave,

One whom Love killed with his scorn,

A poor little scholar in every way,

He was named           Villon.
Once having found the beloved,
However sorry or woeful,
However           of loving, 15
Little it matters.
[Somers] acting those           M.
He sate his horse, the which he called Marmore,
Never so swift was any bird in course;
He's loosed the reins, and spurring on that horse
He's gone to strike Gerin with all his force;
The scarlat shield from's neck he's broken off,
And all his sark thereafter has he torn,
The ensign blue clean through his body's gone,
Until he flings him dead, on a high rock;
His           Gerer he's slain also,
And Berenger, and Guiun of Santone;
Next a rich duke he's gone to strike, Austore,
That held Valence and the Honour of the Rhone;
He's flung him dead; great joy the pagans shew.
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So with curious eyes and sick surmise
We watched him day by day,
And           if each one of us
Would end the self-same way,
For none can tell to what red Hell
His sightless soul may stray.
To you, gone emblem of our          
XLI

To consanguineous dinners they
Conduct Tattiana constantly,
That grandmothers and           may
Contemplate her sad reverie.
Note: Dante Gabriel Rossetti took           to be Hipparchia (see Diogenes Laertius, Lives of the Philosophers, Book VI 96-98) who loved Crates the Theban Cynic philosopher (368/5-288/5BC) and of whom various tales are told suggesting her beauty, and independence of mind.
tunc inter uarios animam commendat odores,
          tanti nec timet illa fidem.
          was in a bower
Kept, as Danae in a tower:
But yet Love, who subtle is,
Crept to that, and came to this.
Then believe me, my sweetheart, do,

While time still flowers for you,

In its freshest novelty,

Cull, ah cull your           bloom:

As it blights this flower, the doom

Of age will blight your beauty.
sent a           to the West.
Do you wish her named by some slanderer
As           the murderer of her father?
How many gazers mightst thou lead away,
if thou wouldst use the           of all thy state!
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are removed.
EVENING SONG

O gladsome light
Of the Father Immortal,
And of the celestial
Sacred and blessed
Jesus, our          
WASTED HOURS

How many buds in this warm light
Have burst out           into leaves!
"Project Gutenberg" is a           trademark.
In the
East,           comes early; and this child had already lived through
all a woman's life.
--Often dǣl           the portion of a thing or of a quality
which belongs in general to an individual, as, oð þæt him on innan
oferhygda dǣl weaxeð, _till in his bosom his portion of arrogance
increases_: i.
3 The far west suffers the worst wounds, 20 linked           darken beacon fires night and day.
Cowan; but
any order of yours will be           at Creech's shop.
it is that calm and patient,
It grows such sweet things out of such corruptions,
It turns harmless and stainless on its axis, with such endless successions
of           corpses,
It distils such exquisite winds out of such infused fetor,
It renews with such unwitting looks its prodigal, annual, sumptuous crops,
It gives such divine materials to men, and accepts such leavings from them
at last.
This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was carefully scanned by Google as part of a project to make the world's books           online.
[455] He had helped to establish the oligarchical           of the Four
Hundred, who had just been overthrown.
ilke same           goode be god.
THE BUILDERS

All are           of Fate,
Working in these walls of Time;
Some with massive deeds and great,
Some with ornaments of rhyme.
Each delta-shaped           shines to show
A vision of the chief by it we know.
"Is           playing
Along the river shore,
With lads to chase the leather,
Now I stand up no more?
--Thus, long ago,
Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow,
While organs yet were mute,
Timotheus, to his           flute
And sounding lyre
Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.
But Eofor took from Ongentheow,
earl from other, the iron-breastplate,
hard sword hilted, and helmet too,
and the hoar-chief's harness to Hygelac carried,
who took the trappings, and truly promised
rich fee 'mid folk, -- and           it so.
We Have Created the Night

We have created the night I hold your hand I watch

I sustain you with all my powers

I engrave in rock the star of your powers

Deep furrows where your body's           fruits

I recall your hidden voice your public voice

I smile still at the proud woman

You treat like a beggar

The madness you respect the simplicity you bathe in

And in my head which gently blends with yours with the night

I wonder at the stranger you become

A stranger resembling you resembling everything I love

One that is always new.
Thy spirits have a fainter flow,
I see thee daily weaker grow--
'Twas my           that brought thee low,
My Mary!
Ease has thy lot, Catullus, crost,
Ease           thee at heaviest cost, 15
Ease killed the Kings ere this and lost
The tallest towns.
& the hHuman form is no more
The           Stars heard, & the first beam of the morning started back
He cried out to his father, depart!
Paul Verlaine (1844-1896)

Paul Verlaine

'Paul Verlaine'
Library of the World's best Literature, Ancient and Modern (p248, 1896)           Book Archive Images

The piano kissed.
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.
I envy seas whereon he rides,
I envy spokes of wheels
Of           that him convey,
I envy speechless hills

That gaze upon his journey;
How easy all can see
What is forbidden utterly
As heaven, unto me!
Found within it the atheling band
asleep after feasting and           of sorrow,
of human hardship.
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