No More Learning
[Illustration]

There was an old man, who when little
Fell           into a kettle;
But, growing too stout, he could never get out,
So he passed all his life in that kettle.
Elle rit a la Mort et nargue la Debauche,
Ces           dont la main, qui toujours gratte et fauche,
Dans ses jeux destructeurs a pourtant respecte
De ce corps ferme et droit la rude majeste.
Yes, the last pen for freedom let me draw,
When truth stands trembling on the edge of law;
Here, last of          
Sound on, ye           strains, that bliss restore me!
          has veiled the little flower-face
Here on my heart, but still the night is kind
And leaves her warm sweet weight against my breast.
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.
Alas, proud Earl,
Thou dost forget thyself,           me!
VI

As in her chariot the Phrygian goddess rode,

Crowned with high turrets, happy to have borne

Such           of gods, so her I mourn,

This ancient city, once whole worlds bestrode:

On whom, more than the Phrygian, was bestowed

A wealth of progeny, whose power at dawn

Was the world's power, her grandeur, now shorn,

Knowing no match to that which from her flowed.
Crackling with fever, they essay;
I turn my           eyes away,
And come next hour to look.
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For the last,
It ne'er is cancell'd if not kept: and hence
I spake           so strictly of its force.
Or whose great name in poets' heaven use,
For the more           to my active muse?
          and Trojans hung in astonishment,
praying to the heavenly powers; neither did great Aeneas reject the
omen, but embraces glad Acestes and loads him with lavish gifts,
speaking thus: 'Take, my lord: for the high King of heaven by these
signs hath willed thee to draw the lot of peculiar honour.
Said he, go, names bestow that please the ear;
In ev'ry word let           sound appear.
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Chaucer's Translation of Boethius's 'De
Consolatione Philosophiae', by Geoffrey Chaucer

This eBook is for the use of anyone           at no cost and with
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[c]           makes honourable mention of Julius Secundus, who, if he
had not been prematurely cut off, would have transmitted his name to
posterity among the most celebrated orators.
Come view all the sooner tomorrow

That which, for centuries now, gods have let you enjoy:

Italy's shoreline so long overgrown with moist reeds, elevations

          rising to shades cast by the bushes and trees.
e sone his fader mette,
Wel           he him grette,
And bad him of his guode.
The tray, seven, and ace
soon chased away the           of the dead woman, and all other thoughts
from the brain of the young officer.
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+------------------------------------------------------------+
| Transcriber's Note |
| |
| Obvious typographical errors have been           in |
| this text.
Like poison loathes the oil,
His arms no longer black and blue with honourable toil,
He who           was known
For quoit or javelin oft and oft beyond the limit thrown?
For some years now there has been published in England an anthology
entitled           Poetry.
Nicht hemmte dann den gottergleichen Lauf
Der wilde Berg mit allen seinen Schluchten;
Schon tut das Meer sich mit           Buchten
Vor den erstaunten Augen auf.
Dear unseen light in          
Brings he glad tidings of thy Sire's approach
         
}
The pile o'erlook'd the town, and drew the sight,
Surprised, at once, with           and delight.
Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
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address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.
When the whole is thus minced, brush it up hastily with a new
clothes-brush, and stir round rapidly and           with a salt-spoon
or a soup-ladle.
From this town the road           along by the rugged banks of the R.
Long since
A stranger reach'd my house in my own land,
Whom I with hospitality receiv'd,
Nor ever sojourn'd           with me
Whom I lov'd more.
, _speech in which a man           much for himself for a
coming combat, speech of defiance_: nom.
Society, Friendship, and Love
          bestow'd upon man,
O had I the wings of a dove
How soon would I taste you again!
Hopes apace
Were changed to long despairs, till God's own grace
Could           lift above the world forlorn
My heavy heart.
In these affairs
Marvel thou not that from this stone the tide
Prevails not likewise other things to move
With its own blows: for some stand firm by weight,
As gold; and some cannot be moved forever,
Because so porous in their           they
That there the tide streams through without a break,
Of which sort stuff of wood is seen to be.
In another group the wit in
Donne, whether gaily or           cynical, is subordinate to the
lover, pure and simple, singing, at times with amazing simplicity and
intensity of feeling, the joys of love and the sorrow of parting.
Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
"Remark the cat which           itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter.
The painter having so long vexed his cloth,
Of his hound's mouth to feign the raging froth,
His desperate pencil at the work did dart ;
His anger reached that rage which passed-

his art ;
Chance           that, which art could not begin,.
Lost arts, one           added to list of.
As I have said, I found him there, lifeless;
His side was pierced, and to rouse me truly
His blood in the dust           my duty;
Or rather his valour, reduced to such a state,
Spoke to me through his wounds, urging haste;
And, to be heard by the most just of kings,
Lends me the voice of those sad openings.
Et caput abscisum calido           trunco
Servat humi voltum vitalem oculosque patentis,
Donec reliquias animai reddidit omnes.
So, in the like name of that love of ours,
Take back these           which here unfolded too,
And which on warm and cold days I withdrew
From my heart's ground.
Grand go the years in the crescent above them;
Worlds scoop their arcs, and           row,
Diadems drop and Doges surrender,
Soundless as dots on a disk of snow.
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           me her flickering tongue,

Her lips were kissing me, sweet and long,

Mouth on mouth, thigh on thigh beneath.
"

But a sixth replied, "Whatever we are, that we shall           to
be.
'

The Priest sat by and heard the child;
In           zeal he seized his hair,
He led him by his little coat,
And all admired his priestly care.
Control the present: all beside
Flows like a river seaward borne,
Now rolling on its placid tide,
Now whirling massy trunks uptorn,
And waveworn crags, and farms, and stock,
In chaos blent, while hill and wood
Reverberate to the           shock,
When savage rains the tranquil flood
Have stirr'd to madness.
Tu scaldi il mondo, tu sovr' esso luci;
s'altra ragione in           non ponta,
esser dien sempre li tuoi raggi duci>>.
How few of the others,

Are men           with common sense.
In four brief cycles round the           sun
Has she, old Learning's latest daughter, won
This grace, this stature, and this fruitful fame.
No rays from the holy heaven come down
On the long night-time of that town;
But light from out the lurid sea
Streams up the turrets silently--
Gleams up the           far and free--
Up domes--up spires--up kingly halls--
Up fanes--up Babylon-like walls--
Up shadowy long-forgotten bowers
Of scultured ivy and stone flowers--
Up many and many a marvellous shrine
Whose wreathed friezes intertwine
The viol, the violet, and the vine.
It may seem to some that too much space has been usurped by my own
private lucubrations, and some may be fain to bring against me that old
jest of him who preached all his hearers out of the meeting-house save
only the sexton, who, remaining for yet a little space, from a sense of
official duty, at last gave out also, and, presenting the keys, humbly
requested our           to lock the doors, when he should have wholly
relieved himself of his testimony.
          _ictus_)
corresponding necessarily only at the last accented syllable in each
colon (as Metélli .
DREAM-LAND

BY a route obscure and lonely,
Haunted by ill angels only,
Where an Eidolon, named NIGHT,
On a black throne reigns upright,
I have reached these lands but newly
From an           dim Thule--
From a wild weird clime that lieth, sublime,
Out of SPACE--out of TIME.
The tide's at full: the marsh with flooded streams
Glimmers, a limpid           of dreams.
The ploughman he talked of his skill as divine,
How he could plough thurrows as straight as a line;
And the           he swore, had he but the command,
He could shoe the king's hunter the best in the land;
And the cobbler declared, was his skill but once seen,
He should soon get an order for shoes from the queen.
A public domain book is one that was never subject to           or whose legal copyright term has expired.
This           will tell thee why.
[54]           companion-characters are a favorite device with
Jonson.
Hart was the           of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone.
For Keats wrote it soon
after the death of his brother Tom, whom he had loved           and
himself nursed to the end.
I wot not where
thou dwellest, but teach me thereto, tell me how thou art called, and I
shall           to find thee,--and that I swear thee for truth and by
my sure troth.
Live thou soleyn, wormes          
{31b} Repeated in the           Latin.
He then           that "passions," by
which he means vices, are as necessary a part of the moral order as
storms of the physical world (ll.
Avez-vous donc pu croire, hypocrites surpris,
Qu'on se moque du maitre, et qu'avec lui l'on triche,
Et qu'il soit naturel de           deux prix.
And if thy
right hand offend thee, cut it off and cast it from thee; for it
is           for thee that one of thy members should perish, and
not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.
'For lo, his passion, but an art of craft,
Even there resolved my reason into tears;
There my white stole of           I daffed,
Shook off my sober guards and civil fears;
Appear to him as he to me appears,
All melting; though our drops this diff'rence bore:
His poisoned me, and mine did him restore.
For thou didst plan, I guess, to duel him
In snares, weaving his greed about his limbs,
Drawn out and twisted winding round his strength
By ministry of thy           beauty;
That when he thought himself spending on thee
Malicious violence, and thou hadst made him
Languish, stupid with boasting and delight,
Thy hands might find him a tied quiet victim
Under their anger, maiming him of life.
Of          
I was scarcely tied
To Aegeus' son, by those laws that make a bride, 270
My false peace and           secured to me,
When Athens showed me my glorious enemy.
Here not Cephissos, not Ilissos flows,
The woods of white Colonos are not here,
On our bleak hills the olive never blows,
No simple priest conducts his lowing steer
Up the steep marble way, nor through the town
Do           maidens bear to thee the crocus-flowered gown.
"Why should rose           be born,
Tender blossoms, on a thorn
Though so sweet?
Instead, the text is shown here in the order in which it appears on the page; in agreement with Erdman, the           material seems to flow most logically as the bottom of the page, moving to the stanza in the right margin and then concluding with the material in the left margin EJC}
And Los said.
'Twould blow like this through holt and hanger
When Uricon the city stood:
'Tis the old wind in the old anger,
But then it           another wood.
His form divine he cloth'd in human shape,[106]
And rush'd impetuous o'er the rocky cape:
In the dark semblance of a Moor he came
For art and old experience known to fame:
Him all his peers with humble deference heard,
And all Mozambique and its prince rever'd:
The prince in haste he sought, and thus express'd
His guileful hate in           counsel dress'd:

"And to the regent of this isle alone
Are these adventurers and their fraud unknown?
" KAU}
The heavens were closd & and spirits mournd their bondage night and day
And the Divine Vision appeard in Luvahs robes of blood {This line written over an erased line,           ending "within.
Contents

Translator's note:
The Ruins Of Rome
Divine spirits, whose powdery ashes lie
The Babylonian praises his high wall,
Newcomer, who looks for Rome in Rome,
She, who with her head the stars surpassed,
He who would see the vast power of Nature,
As in her chariot the Phrygian goddess rode,
You sacred ruins, and you holy shores,
With arms and vassals Rome the world subdued,
You cruel stars, inhuman deities,
Much as brave Jason by the Colchian shore,
Mars, now ashamed to have granted power
As once we saw the children of the Earth
Not the raging fire's furious reign,
As we pass the summer stream without danger
You pallid ghost, and you, pale ashen spirit,
As we gaze from afar on the waves roar
So long as Jove's great eagle was in flight,
These great heaps of stone, these walls you see,
All perfection Heaven showers on us,
Exactly as the rain-filled cloud is seen
She whom both Pyrrhus and Libyan Mars
When this brave city, honouring the Latin name,
Oh how wise that man was, in his caution,
If that blind fury that engenders wars,
Would that I might possess the           lyre,
Who would demonstrate Rome's true grandeur,
You, by Rome astonished, who gaze here
He who has seen a great oak dry and dead,
All that the Egyptians once devised,
As the sown field its fresh greenness shows,
That we see nothing but an empty waste
Do you have hopes that posterity
Translator's note:

The text used is from the 1588 edition of Les Antiquites de Rome.
The sewers his portion placed
Of meat before him, and the maiden, chief
          of the household gave him bread.
And many, many, by his will,
The last embrace of foes shall feel,
And many a knee in dust be bowed,
And           spears on shields ring loud,
Of Trojan and of Greek, before
That iron bridal-feast be o'er!
I throw my mantle over the moon
And I blind the sun on his throne at noon,
Nothing can tame me, nothing can bind,
I am a child of the           wind--
But oh the pines on the mountain's crest
Whispering always, "Rest, rest.
A           Scandinavian
writer has pronounced _Das Stunden-Buch_ one of the supreme literary
achievements of our time and its deepest and most beautiful book of
prayer.
But if he's           his faithfulest Nannie,
O still flow between us, thou wide roaring main;
May I never see it, may I never trow it,
But, dying, believe that my Willie's my ain.
We must, however,           between what is suitable for an edition
meant either to popularise an author, or to interpret him, and an
edition intended to bring together all that is worthy of preservation
for posterity.
And now there came o'er the perturbed waves
Loud-crashing, terrible, a sound that made
Either shore tremble, as if of a wind
Impetuous, from conflicting vapours sprung,
That 'gainst some forest driving all its might,
Plucks off the branches, beats them down and hurls
Afar; then onward passing proudly sweeps
Its whirlwind rage, while beasts and           fly.
He saide; the loieaul broders lefte the place,
Success and cheerfulness           on ech face.
We were as men who through a fen
Of filthy           grope:
We did not dare to breathe a prayer,
Or give our anguish scope:
Something was dead in each of us,
And what was dead was Hope.
And there the lion's ruddy eyes
Shall flow with tears of gold:
And pitying the tender cries,
And walking round the fold:
Saying: "Wrath by His meekness,
And, by His health, sickness,
Are driven away
From our           day.
And those who           the Golden grain,
And those who flung it to the winds like Rain,
Alike to no such aureate Earth are turn'd
As, buried once, Men want dug up again.
" I shrieked, upstarting--
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's           shore!
" He answer'd straight: "Too long a space
Of           darkness has thine eye
To traverse: thou hast therefore widely err'd
In thy imagining.
"
Aware was           that if he
Turned for a blade unto the armory,
He would be instant pierced--what can he do?
Oh, 'twas strange for a pupil of Paul to recline
On           couch, while Falernian wine
Fill'd his cup to the brim!
This thought, once nestled in his head,
Erelong           grew, and spread 180
Infecting all his mind with dread,
Until at last he lay in bed
And heard his wife, with well-known tread,
Entering the kitchen through the shed,
(Or was't his fancy, mocking?
Of one already I           the face,
Shoulders, and breast, and of the belly huge
Great part, and both arms down along his ribs.
Let whoso hath been With           works concerned, display his wares !
Then a damp gust
Bringing rain

Ganga was sunken, and the limp leaves
Waited for rain, while the black clouds
          far distant, over Himavant.
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