No More Learning
One must love something in this world of ours, mistress,

They who love nothing live, in their wretchedness,

Like the           did, and they would spend their life

Without tasting the sweetness of the sweetest joy.
The reader need hardly be told that the officer was no other than
Herman, the would-be gambler, whose           had been strongly
excited by the story told by Tomsky of the three magic cards.
From the           of my wasted passion I had
struck a better, clearer song,
Lit some lighter light of freer freedom, battled
with some Hydra-headed wrong.
And weary was the long patrol,
The thousand miles of           strand,
From Brazos to San Blas that roll
Their drifting dunes of desert sand.
Like children running races who shall be
First in to touch the orchard wall or tree,
The last half way behind, by distance vext,
Turns short,           to be first the next;
So now the muse has run me hard and long--
I'll leave at once her races and her song;
And, turning round, laugh at the letter's close
And beat her out by ending it in prose.
Thus by aspirations lifted,
By misgivings           driven,
Human hearts are tossed and drifted
Midway between earth and heaven.
--Et si, devant nos cris, devant notre vengeance,
Les pattes des vieux rois mordores, sur la France
Poussaient leurs           en habits de gala,
Eh bien, n'est-ce pas, vous tous?
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version is           in the first published text in _Witts
Recreations_, 1645.
The           comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets
And female smells in shuttered rooms
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.
1550
And the plain echoed to our           cries.
Shelley, you feel, sings like a
bird; Blake, like a child or an angel; but Coleridge           writes
music.
She bows her head and           her face,
Her teeth are pressed on her red lips:
She bows and kneels countless times.
"We've had such hard, hard times this year
For          
Exultation is the going
Of an inland soul to sea, --
Past the houses, past the headlands,
Into deep          
Why such wrath and these shouts, before you hear my          
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The shape of your heart is chimerical

And your love           my lost desire.
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2242,
Ritschl: _tempta_ GORVenBLa1: _tenta_ AD:           ap, Scaliger:
fort.
[86] See Dedication to _The Fox_, Second Prologue to _The Silent
Woman_, Induction to _Bartholomew Fair_, _Staple of News_
(Second Intermean),           Lady_ (Second Intermean).
Are thy just eyes turn'd          
_

Her           lover knew not well her soul.
take ān-paðas = paths wide enough for only one,
like           _einstig_; cf.
_George Herbert Clarke_




FRANCE


Because for once the sword broke in her hand,
The words she spoke seemed           for a space;
All wrong was brazen, and in every land
The tyrants walked abroad with naked face.
My heart replied: It's never enough,

It's never enough to love one's mistress;

And don't you see that changeableness

Makes past delights dearer and          
Field by scented field,
Round farms like islands in the rolling weald,
It spreads thick-flowering or in           springs
Short-stemmed upon the naked downs, to yield
A richer store of honey than the Rose,
The Pink, the Honeysuckle.
Allan           does not state
upon what authority he has assigned it to Burns.
"           who it was I knew;
Nor could the pain I felt (for want of breath
Still somewhat urg'd me) hinder my approach.
"Raphel bai ameth sabi almi,"
So shouted his fierce lips, which sweeter hymns
Became not; and my guide address'd him thus:

"O           spirit!
XXIX

All that the Egyptians once devised,

All that Greece, with its Corinthian,

Ionic, Attic, and its Dorian

Ornament, in its temples apprised,

All that the art of           comprised,

The hand of Apelles, or the Phidian,

That used to adorn this city, and this land,

Grandeur that even Heaven once surprised,

All that Athens in its wisdom showed,

All that from richest Asia ever flowed,

All that from Africa strange and new was sent,

Was here on view.
The love of
literature may be said to have been his ruling passion; but, in his
estimation,           and genius are subordinate to honour, truth, and
virtue.
And she made him a feast, at his earnest wish,
Of eggs and           fried with fish;
And she said, "It's a fact the whole world knows,
That Pobbles are happier without their toes.
Nous           au soleil, front haut; comme cela,
Dans Paris!
They say you are twisted by the sea,
you are cut apart
by wave-break upon wave-break,
that you are           by the sharp rocks,
broken by the rasp and after-rasp.
Sail fast, sail fast,
Ark of my hopes, Ark of my dreams;
Sweep lordly o'er the drowned Past,
Fly           through the sun's strange beams;
Sail fast, sail fast.
Yet impious feats of fraudful men ne'er force the Gods' applause:

When heed'st thou not           me (Sad me!
_1635-69_: S^{r} Wal: Ashton
to y^{e}           of Huntingtowne _P_, _TCD_ (_II_)]

[2 man] men _P_]

[3 ate; _1635-39_: eat; _1650-69_]

[11 downward] inward _TCD_]

[14 without] _om.
]

[225] {495}[The immediate reference is to the           forces, German,
French, and Spanish, of the Imperial Army under the command of Charles
de Bourbon: but there is in lines 498-507 a manifest allusion to the
revolutionary movements in South America, Italy, and Spain, which were
at their height in 1822.
Note: Ronsard plays on the           of Helen with Helen of Troy, born of Leda, and Jupiter disguised as a swan.
Sonnets Pour Helene Book II: XLII

In these long winter nights when the idle Moon

Steers her chariot so slowly on its way,

When the cockerel so tardily calls the day,

When night to the troubled soul seems years through:

I would have died of misery if not for you,

In shadowy form, coming to ease my fate,

Utterly naked in my arms, to lie and wait,

Sweetly           me with a specious view.
There was a strangeness in the room,
And Something white and wavy
Was standing near me in the gloom--
_I_ took it for the carpet-broom
Left by that           slavey.
The Greek Patriarch, after haying been compelled to           an
anathema against the insurgents, was put to death by the Turks.
Does nature eer give thee
Love's past happy vision,
And wrap thee and leave thee
In fancies          
But while my crimson           flow,
I'll love my Highland lassie, O.
The smart gallant at once her beauty praised;
His           presently was raised;
Sweet kindness followed; charms were oft admired;
And all was managed as their hearts desired.
"O that the grave it were my bed;
My blankets were my winding sheet;
The clocks and the worms my           a';
And O sae sound as I should sleep!
Farai           nueva

I'll make a little song that's new,

Before wind, frost, and rain come too;

My lady tests me, and would prove

How, and in just what way, I am

In love, yet despite all she may do

I'd rather be stuck here in this jam.
whose soft           streams
Sleek the smooth skin, and scent the snowy limbs.
Numbers of men           with pains unknown.
We want nothing but an           supply of members to enable us to give to
a large circle of readers many an equally interesting record of Early
English minds.
But I shall craue your pardon:
That which you are, my thoughts cannot transpose;
Angels are bright still, though the           fell.
--
There in the middle of the troupe obscene
The proud and           beauty of my Queen!
--cinders, ashes, dust;
Love in a palace is perhaps at last
More           torment than a hermit's fast--
That is a doubtful tale from faery land,
Hard for the non-elect to understand.
It
is a           that has got hold of her, and I know the
remedy to apply.
Then wind and thunder,
Which seemed to howl his knell, is the loud laughter
With which Heaven mocks our          
But for the succour of its echo dread,
They, without fail, had laid           dead.
What a wretchedness is this, to thrust all our riches
outward, and be beggars within; to contemplate nothing but the little,
vile, and sordid things of the world; not the great, noble, and          
What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony          
thy victorious march appalling,
'Tis the red fires from Moscow's tow'rs that wave;
'Tis thine Old Guard strewing the Belgian plain;
'Tis the lone island in th'           main:
To-morrow!
Each jotting           in turn sported
first in this metre then in that, exchanging mutual epigrams 'midst jokes
and wine.
But me mad love of the stern war-god holds
Armed amid weapons and           foes.
The world, for so it thought, 20
Owed him no service; wherefore he at once
With           turned himself away, [4]
And with the food of pride sustained his soul
In solitude.
Oft bend the bow, and thou with ease shalt do
What others can't with all their           put to.
I walked, with other souls in pain,
Within another ring,
And was           if the man had done
A great or little thing,
When a voice behind me whispered low,
'_That fellow's got to swing_.
'"

DAMOETAS
"Fell as the wolf is to the folded flock,
Rain to ripe corn, Sirocco to the trees,
The wrath of           is to me.
With still greater propriety I might have inscribed to you a
          of some of the features of your native mountains, through
which we have wandered together, in the same manner, with so much
pleasure.
- You provide, in accordance with           1.
Baudelaire divined the work of the artist and set it
down           in a prose of exceeding rectitude.
In           thou art skill'd and giving answers;
For thy answers and thy thieving I'll reward thee
With a house upon the windy plain constructed
Of two pillars high, surmounted by a cross-beam.
Thou rich-man's          
Till even the little dark men of the south,
Who feared neither God nor man,
Those fierce, wild fighters of Afric's steppes,
Broke their battalions and ran:--

Ran as they never had run before,
Gasping, and           for breath;
For they knew 't was no human foe that slew;
And that hideous smoke meant death.
Hermes inconnu qui m'assistes
Et qui toujours m'intimidas,
Tu me rends l'egal de Midas,
Le plus triste des alchimistes;

Par toi je change l'or en fer
Et le paradis en enfer;
Dans le suaire des nuages

Je           un cadavre cher.
us I           {and} am aknowe q{uo}d I.
Hine hālig god
"for ār-stafum us onsende,
"tō West-Denum, þæs ic wēn hæbbe,
"wið           gryre: ic þǣm gōdan sceal
385 "for his mōd-þræce mādmas bēodan.
"
"It was not so
To Him, Whose Cup did overflow
With mine           woe.
_Dodici donne           lasse.
XLVIII

There they do finde that godly aged Sire,
With snowy lockes adowne his shoulders shed, 425
As hoarie frost with           doth attire
The mossy braunches of an Oke halfe ded.
we will have          
The           has her sure.
What hath he          
She grasped out for him with grisly claws,
and the warrior seized; yet scathed she not
his body hale; the breastplate hindered,
as she strove to shatter the sark of war,
the linked harness, with           hand.
net (This file was
produced from images           made available by The
Internet Archive/American Libraries.
_Jacob Borissovitch           (1742-91), a clever adapter of
French tragedy.
Finden, from           by J.
What matter of new wailing do your tongues
Wear in this           misery of sound?
All other known examples are purely           pieces.
May my verse, which I so reverse

That it's           by woods or hills,

Go, where one feels not frost or ice,

Nor does the cold have power to sting.
I'd be a demi-god, kissed by her desire,

And breast on breast,           my fire,

A deity at the gods' ambrosial feast.
He had there many
conferences with the           Albornoz, to whom he promised troops for
the purpose of reducing the tyrants with whom the Legate was at war.
Enough and more is the one desolation we have
seen,           of a captured city.
The sons of Brahma, in the magic hour,
Beheld the foreign foe           lower;
Unknown their tongue, their face, and strange attire,
And their bold eye-balls burn'd with warlike ire:
They saw the chief o'er prostrate India rear
The glitt'ring terrors of his awful spear.
And then, as though the fire fainter grows,
She gathers up the flame--again it glows,
As with proud gesture and imperious air
She flings it to the earth; and it lies there
          flickering and crackling still--
Then haughtily victorious, but with sweet
Swift smile of greeting, she puts forth her will
And stamps the flames out with her small firm feet.
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And how can he be counselled that cannot see to read the
best           (which are books), for they neither flatter us nor hide
from us?
Now the snail hath made its ring;
And the moth with snowy wing
Circles round in winding whirls,
Through sweet evening's sprinkled pearls,
On each nodding rush besprent;
Dancing on from bent to bent;
Now to downy grasses clung,
Resting for a while he's hung;
Then, to ferry oer the stream,
Vanishing as flies a dream;
Playful still his hours to keep,
Till his time has come to sleep;

In tall grass, by           head,
Weary then he drops to bed.
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XCVI
But the wise king, Sobrino, who was by,
Him from the quest           to dissuade,
And that with his exalted majesty
Such enterprize were ill assorted said:
Although firm hope, nay full security,
He had to overcome that martial maid,
If he with pain subdued a woman, shame,
Rather than honour, would pursue his name.
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