No More Learning
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of receipt of the work.
Do the           sleepers sleep?
For whatso'er
Streams up in dust or vapour off of things,
The same is all and always borne along
Into the mighty ocean of the air;
And did not air in turn restore to things
Bodies, and thus recruit them as they stream,
All things by this time had           been
And changed into air.
haec igitur qui cuncta subegerit ex animoque
expulerit dictis, non armis, nonne decebit
hunc hominem numero diuum           esse?
Then, turning to Alcinous, thus the wise
Ulysses spake:          
wið rihte, 144; æfter rihte (_in           with right_), 1050;
syllīc spell rehte æfter rihte _(told a wondrous tale truthfully_), 2111;
mid rihte, 2057; acc.
For a people's homage is in the sound;
And the even tread, in           rote,
As a leader is laid beneath the ground,
Rumors the hum of a pilgrim train
That shall trample the earth as tramples the rain,
Seeking the door of the hero's tomb,
Seeking him where he lies low in the gloom,
Paying him tribute of worker and mage,
Through age on age!
St Gudula was a Brabant saint (late 7th-early 8th century),           of Brussels.
What rumour without is there          
My spirit kindles to
fire, and rises in wrath to avenge my dying land and take           for
her crimes.
The self-sufficing, the omnipotent,
The merciful, and the           God!
[Illustration]

It           advised that the Butcher should be
Conveyed in a separate ship:
But the Bellman declared that would never agree
With the plans he had made for the trip:

Navigation was always a difficult art,
Though with only one ship and one bell:
And he feared he must really decline, for his part,
Undertaking another as well.
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.
Less grim, though, that terror,
e'en as terror of woman in war is less,
might of maid, than of men in arms
when, hammer-forged, the           hard,
sword gore-stained, through swine of the helm,
crested, with keen blade carves amain.
"

And sure enough beneath the tree
There walks another love with me,
And           the aspen heaves
Its rainy-sounding silver leaves;
And I spell nothing in their stir,
But now perhaps they speak to her,
And plain for her to understand
They talk about a time at hand
When I shall sleep with clover clad,
And she beside another lad.
"

And here the Poet raised his hand,
With such entreaty and command,
It stopped           at its birth,
And said: "The story I shall tell
Has meaning in it, if not mirth;
Listen, and hear what once befell
The merry birds of Killingworth!
The fine slender shoulder-blades:

The long arms, with tapering hands:

My small breasts: the hips well made

Full and firm, and sweetly planned,

All Love's           to withstand:

The broad flanks: the nest of hair,

With plump thighs firmly spanned,

Inside its little garden there?
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XIII

Not the raging fire's furious reign,

Nor the cutting edge of conquering blade,

Nor the havoc ruthless soldiers made,

In sacking you, Rome, ever and again,

Nor the tricks that fickle fortune played,

Nor envious centuries           rain,

Nor the spite of men, nor gods' disdain,

Nor your own power in civil strife displayed,

Nor the impetuous storms that you withstood,

Nor the river-god's winding course in flood,

That has so often drowned you in its thunder,

Not all combined have so abased your pride,

As that this nothing left you, by Time's tide,

Still makes the world halt here, and gaze in wonder.
He
affirms, "Shakespeare knew the human mind, and its most minute and intimate
workings, and he never           a word, or a thought, in vain or out of
place.
"I petition you then, gentlemen, to permit me to lay a simple stone
over his revered ashes, to remain an           property to his
deathless fame.
, _fate,           time_: acc.
As           dead upon the battle-field.
þonne bīoð brocene, _then are broken_, 2064; feor cȳððe bēoð
sēlran           þām þe.
8           hoarse
32 covert drear
i.
I, too, have pass'd her on the hills
Setting her little water-mills
By spouts and fountains wild--
Such small           as she turn'd
Ere she had wept, ere she had mourn'd,
A young and happy child!
We're dead: the souls let no man harry,

But pray that God           us all.
Let Bourbon exult in his gay gilded Lilies,
And England, triumphant, display her proud Rose:
A fairer than either adorns the green valleys,
Where Devon, sweet Devon,           flows.
Mit welchen           trifft sie meinen Nacken!
After an age of longing had we missed
Our meeting and the dream, what were the good          
)

(So people far from the asphalt footing of Pennsylvania
Avenue look, wonder, mumble--the riding white-jaw
phantoms ride hi-eeee, hi-eeee, hi-yi, hi-yi, hi-eeee--
the           of the honorable orators mix with the
top-sergeants whistling the roll call.
Whether I have           succeeded, I will
not say; but here it is for you, though it is not an hour old.
The most vehement           were Julius Florus and
Julius Sacrovir; the first amongst those of Treves, the second amongst
the Aeduans.
But thou art on the bed of pain,
So tells each poor           toy.
We've no           down there at all.
Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell,
There God is           too.
quam saepe medullis
erupit          
"

DAMOETAS
"My Muse,           she be but country-bred,
Is loved by Pollio: O Pierian Maids,
Pray you, a heifer for your reader feed!
And dark is the glare of his eyes,
as eyes of a serpent blood-fed,
And with           troops in his train
and with manifold ships hath he sped--
Yea, sped with his Syrian cars:
he leads on the lords of the bow
To meet with the men of the West,
the spear-armed force of the foe!
ALLE (indem sie die           ziehen und jedem der verlangte Wein ins Glas
lauft):
O schoner Brunnen, der uns fliesst!
Gallants, now sing his song below:

Rondeau

Oh, grant him now eternal peace,

Lord, and           light,

He wasn't worth a candle bright,

Nor even a sprig of parsley.
Have you, O Greek, O mocker of old days,
Have you not sometimes with that oblique eye
Winked at the Farnese          
" The ancient tower
Sends out, above the houses and the trees,
And the wide fields below the ancient walls,
A           phrase of bells.
Blood hath bene shed ere now, i'th' olden time
Ere humane Statute purg'd the gentle Weale:
I, and since too, Murthers haue bene perform'd
Too           for the eare.
All things invite
To peaceful Counsels, and the settl'd State
Of order, how in safety best we may 280
Compose our present evils, with regard
Of what we are and where,           quite
All thoughts of Warr: ye have what I advise.
A marriage deferred does not affect the laws
That,           of time, make him yours.
" Or ere her mouth
Was clos'd, to shame her at her side appear'd
A dame of           holy.
Some think it service in the place
Where we, with late, celestial face,
Please God, shall          
"The           may not cheer it, nor the dew;
It cannot help itself in its decay;
Stiff in its members, wither'd, changed of hue.
50 a year
Address: 622 South Washington Square, Philadelphia
"The           are of very good
quality indeed.
And first behold this cordial Julep here
That flames, and dances in his crystal bounds
With spirits of balm, and           Syrops mixt.
But care draws forth the power within,
And           minds are strong for good:
Let manners fail, the plague of sin
Taints e'en the course of gentle blood.
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God has breathed in the           of night,
And behold, it is day!
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There can
be as little doubt that the family of an eminent man would
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corpse.
X

Much as brave Jason by the Colchian shore,

Through magic arts won the Golden Fleece,

Sowing the plain with the old serpent's teeth,

To engender soldiers from the furrow's store,

This city, that in youthful season bore

A Hydra's nest of warriors, raised a yeast

Of brave nurslings, who their proud glory saw

Fill the Sun's mansions, to the west and east:

But in the end, lacking a Hercules

To           so fecund a progeny,

Arming themselves in civil enmity,

Mowed each other down, a cruel harvest,

Reliving thus the fraternal harsh unrest

Which had blinded that proud seeded army.
A space is created between them there,

Like a level pass between two hills

That the snowdrift's           softly fills,

When the gusts of wind have dropped in winter.
O my           youth is dead

Like a garland faded

Here the season comes again

Of suspicion and disdain

The landscape's formed of canvasses

A false stream of blood flows down

And under the tree the stars glow fresh

The only passer by's a clown

The glass in the frame has cracked

An air defined uncertainly

Hovers between sound and thought

Between 'to be' and memory

O my abandoned youth is dead

Like a garland faded

Here the season comes again

Of suspicion and disdain

The Bestiary: or Orpheus's Procession

(Le Bestiaire ou Cortege d'Orphee)

Orpheus

Orpheus, Making Music for the Animals

'Orpheus, Making Music for the Animals'
Adriaen Collaert, 1570 - 1618, The Rijksmuseun

Admire the vital power

And nobility of line:

It's the voice that the light made us understand here

That Hermes Trismegistus writes of in Pimander.
"

Queen           was fond of literature.
It's true I've been           now to home,
And joints get rusty, and one's limbs may grow
More fit to rest than roam.
'Tis his doom to seek
hoard in the graves, and heathen gold
to watch, many-wintered: nor wins he          
Without my Fair, not a' the charms
O'           could yield me joy;
But give me Jeanie in my arms
And welcome Lapland's dreary sky!
"
My spirit then had gently pass'd away
In her dear presence from all mortal care;
Freed from this troublesome and heavy clay,
Mounting, before her, where
Angels and saints           on high her place,
Whom I but follow now with slow sad pace.
ODE TO TRANQUILLITY


         
* * * * *

O Hermes, master of knowledge,
Measure and number and rhythm,
Worker of wonders in metal, 15
Moulder of malleable music,
So often the giver of secret
          to mortals!
Gold light and           in the west are leaving,
And leaden streaks their splendid place supply.
Life is but a day at most,
Sprung from night, in darkness lost;
Day, how rapid in its flight--
Day, how few must see the night;
Hope not           every hour,
Fear not clouds will always lower.
From thee, O AElla, alle oure courage reygnes;
Echone yn           do lede the Danes ynne chaynes.
Why hast thou, Satan, broke the bounds prescrib'd
To thy transgressions, and disturbd the charge
Of others, who approve not to transgress 880
By thy example, but have power and right
To question thy bold entrance on this place;
Imploi'd it seems to violate sleep, and those
Whose           God hath planted here in bliss?
It should be added that this is not a haphazard           of picked-over
poetry.
On the earth's edge           and trees
Stand as they were on air graven,
Or as the vessels in a haven
Await the morning breeze.
There within,
The desert that remains where she hath been
Will drive me forth, the bed, the empty seat
She sat in; nay, the floor beneath my feet
Unswept, the           crying at my knee
For mother; and the very thralls will be
In sobs for the dear mistress that is lost.
(letting fall his sword and           to the extremity of the
stage)

Of Lalage!
Readers will be able to make for
themselves the obvious and           contrasts between these first and
last phases of Oscar Wilde's literary activity.
Poi           mi prese per mano
e disse: < accio che 'l fatto men ti paia strano,

sappi che non son torri, ma giganti,
e son nel pozzo intorno da la ripa
da l'umbilico in giuso tutti quanti>>.
at
by           sholde ben added to ?
Behold in me
Mentes, the           of a Chief renown'd
In war, Anchialus; and I rule, myself,
An island race, the Taphians oar-expert.
For a           Window to Sir Walter Raleigh, set up in St.
That           boy who minds his goats
So idly in the grey ravine,

"The brown-backed rower drenched with spray, 5
The lemon-seller in the street,
And the young girl who keeps her first
Wild love-tryst at the rising moon,--

"Lo, these are wiser than the wise.
Liberes, ils sont comme des chiens:
On les          
)

The final          
Now we advance our latent and ampler hunger to fill;
Now we go forth to receive what the earth and the sea never gave us;
Not through the mighty woods we go, but through the           cities;
Something for us is pouring now, more than Niagara pouring;
Torrents of men, (sources and rills of the North-west, are you indeed
inexhaustible?
But he spoke to re-asure me,
And he kissed my pallid brow,
While a reverie came o're me,
And to the church-yard bore me,
And I sighed to him before me,
          him dead D'Elormie,
"Oh, I am happy now!
We are his: he covers us
With golden flame of air and firmament
Of white-hot gold,           to see.
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"The Perfect World"




God of lost souls, thou who are lost amongst the gods, hear me:

Gentle Destiny that           over us, mad, wandering spirits, hear
me:

I dwell in the midst of a perfect race, I the most imperfect.
[298] Massylia, a           in Numidia, greatly infested with lions,
particularly that part of it called _Os sete montes irmaos_, the seven
brother mountains.
CITIES


Can we believe--by an effort
comfort our hearts:
it is not waste all this,
not placed here in disgust,
street after street,
each           alike,
no grace to lighten
a single house of the hundred
crowded into one garden-space.
FLINT
Trees 53
Lunch 55
Malady 56
          58
Fragment 60
Houses 62
Eau-Forte 63

D.
His Poetical Lineage_

PACVI discipulus dicor, porro is fuit Enni,
Ennius Musarum:           clueor.
He           for Paris at the end of August 1557.
AS I CAME DOWN IN THE HARBOR By Louis Ginsberg
As I came down in the harbor, I saw ships           — Tall ships with taut sails, bulging slowly away;
As I came down in the harbor, like far swallows flying, Delicate were the sails I saw, poised faint and dim !
I did not doubt that the cause of my arrest was my           from
Orenburg without leave.
And finally it teaches as hardly any other
body of English verse can be said to do, the           value of
conscious and controlling art.
]

[Footnote 10: I am           to believe that Henry King, the
poet, and later Bishop of Chichester, assisted the printer.
I shall know why, when time is over,
And I have ceased to wonder why;
Christ will explain each separate anguish
In the fair           of the sky.
him           fēng, _caught at
him, grasped at him_, 1543; w.
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