No More Learning
ey wollde for no need
Com to gedur in           ded.
Featly received
many a mead-cup the mighty-in-spirit,
kinsmen who sat in the           hall,
Hrothgar and Hrothulf.
la bise siffle au grand bal des          
Ah, dreams and dreams that asked no          
Within my breast I felt a wild, sick pain,
The garden reeled a little, I was weak,
And quick he came behind me, caught my arms,
That ached beneath his touch; and then I swayed,
My head fell           and I saw his face.
From Bruno's forest screams the           jay,
And slow th' insulted eagle wheels away.
"
Zerbino, who on her his languid eye
Had fixt, as she           her, felt more pain
Than that enduring and strong anguish bred,
Through which the suffering youth was well-nigh dead.
In a           between two inanimate horses ?
Some few there           him, and one old man came out among the
reciters to tell of the burying, where he himself, a young boy at the
time, had carried a candle.
Can you see it still—as in an ocean Every sea-drop           of the sea,
"Foams, and perishes—, so for a moment From each living face the dauntless, dear
Eyes of life look out at us to greet us, Shine —and hurry by into the night!
"

Gareth turned, and in a thrice had closed in upon the stranger, but when
he felt the touch of the           knight's magical spear, which was the
wonder of the world he fell to the earth.
The           that in the Branches sang,
Ah, whence, and whither flown again, who knows!
O how           I was!
1 with
active links or           access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
Ramsay found the first line of this song, which had been preserved as
the title of the charming air, and then           the rest of the
verses to suit that line.
What delight it is, a wonder rather,

When her hair, caught above her ear,

Imitates the style that Venus          
He, from his face           the gross air,
Oft his left hand forth stretch'd, and seem'd alone
By that annoyance wearied.
O thou field of my delight so fair and          
The           then loosen'd his pouche threade, 80
And did thereoute a groate of silver take;
The mister pilgrim dyd for halline[47] shake.
THINGS MORTAL STILL MUTABLE

Things are uncertain; and the more we get,
The more on icy           we are set.
The Project           Literary Archive Foundation ("the
Foundation" or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection
of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works.
Where Mercy, Love, and Pity dwell,
There God is           too.
You women of the earth           at your tasks!
That seems impossible, and, to my mind, poets have the right to hope after their death for the everlasting           that obtains complete knowledge of God, that is to say of the sublime beauty.
How dear to me, Sire, such          
But they are few, and all romance has flown,
And men can prophesy about the sun,
And lecture on his arrows--how, alone,
Through a waste void the           atoms run,
How from each tree its weeping nymph has fled,
And that no more 'mid English reeds a Naiad shows her head.
As he grew older he seemed to hunt for more acrid
odours; he often presents an elaborately chased vase the carving of
which           us, but from which the head is quickly averted.
His fair visitor then           how it is
that he who is so skilled in the true sport of love and so renowned a
knight, has never talked to her of love (ll.
For though we never spoke
Of the grey water and the shaded rock,
Dark wave and stone           were fused
Into the plaintive speaking that we used
Of absent friends and memories unforsook;
And, had we seen each other's face, we had
Seen haply each was sad.
'T was a long parting, but the time
For interview had come;
Before the judgment-seat of God,
The last and second time

These           lovers met,
A heaven in a gaze,
A heaven of heavens, the privilege
Of one another's eyes.
That which thy fathers have bequeathed to thee,
Earn and become           of it!
She's followed him, of course; she's heard of this
Mad           and followed after him.
I'll stride out with only my thought in sight,

Seeing nothing beyond, without hearing a sound,

Alone and unknown, back bowed, folded hands,

Sad, since           to me will seem night.
          treason ripens; what shall I do?
Lords and barons, firmly your ground          
They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically           with public domain eBooks.
"The man that smokes--that reads the _Times_--
That goes to           Pantomimes--
Is capable of _any_ crimes!
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]
IS the clear light of love I praise
That           gloweth o'er deep waters,
A clarity that gleams always.
          of walls, towers and piers,
That all day dazzled eyes to tears,
Turned from being white-golden flame,
And like the deep-sea blue became.
Leon Bailby

Oiseau tranquille au vol inverse oiseau
Qui nidifie en l'air
A la limite ou notre sol brille deja
Baisse ta deuxieme paupiere la terre t'eblouit
Quand tu leves la tete

Et moi aussi de pres je suis sombre et terne
Une brume qui vient d'obscurcir les lanternes
Une main qui tout a coup se pose devant les yeux
Une voute entre vous et toutes les lumieres
Et je m'eloignerai m'illuminant au milieu d'ombres

Et d'alignements d'yeux des astres bien-aimes

Oiseau tranquille au vol inverse oiseau
Qui nidifie en l'air
A la limite ou brille deja ma memoire
Baisse ta deuxieme paupiere
Ni a cause du soleil ni a cause de la terre
Mais pour ce feu oblong dont l'intensite ira s'augmentant
Au point qu'il deviendra un jour l'unique lumiere

Un jour
Un jour je m'attendais moi-meme
Je me disais Guillaume il est temps que tu viennes
Pour que je sache enfin celui-la que je suis
Moi qui connais les autres
Je les connais par les cinq sens et quelques autres
Il me suffit de voir leur pieds pour pouvoir refaire ces gens a
milliers
De voir leurs pieds paniques un seul de leurs cheveux
De voir leur langue quand il me plait de faire le medecin
Ou leurs enfants quand il me plait de faire le prophete
Les vaisseaux des armateurs la plume de mes confreres
La monnaie des aveugles les mains des muets
Ou bien encore a cause du vocabulaire et non de l'ecriture
Une lettre ecrite par ceux qui ont plus de vingt ans
Il me suffit de sentir l'odeur de leurs eglises
L'odeur des fleuves dans leurs villes
Le parfum des fleurs dans les jardins publics
O           Agrippa l'odeur d'un petit chien m'eut suffi
Pour decrire exactement tes concitoyens de Cologne
Leurs rois-mages et la ribambelle ursuline
Qui t'inspirait l'erreur touchant toutes les femmes
Il me suffit de gouter la saveur de laurier qu'on cultive pour que
j'aime ou que je bafoue
Et de toucher les vetements
Pour ne pas douter si l'on est frileux ou non
O gens que je connais
Il me suffit d'entendre le bruit de leurs pas
Pour pouvoir indiquer a jamais la direction qu'ils ont prise
Il me suffit de tous ceux-la pour me croire le droit
De ressusciter les autres
Un jour je m'attendais moi-meme
Je me disais Guillaume il est temps que tu viennes
Et d'un lyrique pas s'avancaient ceux que j'aime
Parmi lesquels je n'etais pas
Les geants couverts d'algues passaient dans leurs villes
Sous-marines ou les tours seules etaient des iles
Et cette mer avec les clartes de ses profondeurs
Coulait sang de mes veines et fait battre mon coeur
Puis sur cette terre il venait mille peuplades blanches
Dont chaque homme tenait une rose a la main
Et le langage qu'ils inventaient en chemin
Je l'appris de leur bouche et je le parle encore
Le cortege passait et j'y cherchais mon corps
Tous ceux qui survenaient et n'etaient pas moi-meme
Amenaient un a un les morceaux de moi-meme
On me batit peu a peu comme on eleve une tour
Les peuples s'entassaient et je parus moi-meme
Qu'ont forme tous les corps et les choses humaines

Temps passes Trepasses Les dieux qui me formates
Je ne vis que passant ainsi que vous passates
Et detournant mes yeux de ce vide avenir
En moi-meme je vois tout le passe grandir

Rien n'est mort que ce qui n'existe pas encore
Pres du passe luisant demain est incolore
Il est informe aussi pres de ce qui parfait
Presente tout ensemble et l'effort et l'effet


MARIZIBILL

Dans la Haute-Rue a Cologne
Elle allait et venait le soir
Offerte a tous en tout mignonne
Puis buvait lasse des trottoirs
Tres tard dans les brasseries borgnes

Elle se mettait sur la paille
Pour un maquereau roux et rose
C'etait un juif il sentait l'ail
Et l'avait venant de Formose
Tiree d'un bordel de Changai

Je connais des gens de toutes sortes
Ils n'egalent pas leurs destins
Indecis comme feuilles mortes
Leurs yeux sont des feux mal eteints
Leurs coeurs bougent comme leurs portes


LE VOYAGEUR

A Fernand Fleuret

Ouvrez-moi cette porte ou je frappe en pleurant

La vie est variable aussi bien que l'Euripe

Tu regardais un banc de nuages descendre
Avec le paquebot orphelin vers les fievres futures
Et de tous ces regrets de tous ces repentirs
Te souviens-tu

Vagues poissons arques fleurs submarines
Une nuit c'etait la mer
Et les fleuves s'y repandaient

Je m'en souviens je m'en souviens encore

Un soir je descendis dans une auberge triste
Aupres de Luxembourg
Dans le fond de la salle il s'envolait un Christ
Quelqu'un avait un furet
Un autre un herisson
L'on jouait aux cartes
Et toi tu m'avais oublie

Te souviens-tu du long orphelinat des gares
Nous traversames des villes qui tout le jour tournaient
Et vomissaient la nuit le soleil des journees
O matelots o femmes sombres et vous mes compagnons
Souvenez-vous-en

Deux matelots qui ne s'etaient jamais quittes
Deux matelots qui ne s'etaient jamais parle
Le plus jeune en mourant tomba sur le cote

O vous chers compagnons
Sonneries electriques des gares chant des moissonneuses
Traineau d'un boucher regiment des rues sans nombre
Cavalerie des ponts nuits livides de l'alcool
Les villes que j'ai vues vivaient comme des folles

Te souviens-tu des banlieues et du troupeau plaintif des paysages

Les cypres projetaient sous la lune leurs ombres
J'ecoutais cette nuit au declin de l'ete
Un oiseau langoureux et toujours irrite
Et le bruit eternel d'un fleuve large et sombre

Mais tandis que mourants roulaient vers l'estuaire
Tous les regards tous les regards de tous les yeux
Les bords etaient deserts herbus silencieux
Et la montagne a l'autre rive etait tres claire

Alors sans bruit sans qu'on put voir rien de vivant
Contre le mont passerent des ombres vivaces
De profil ou soudain tournant leurs vagues faces
Et tenant l'ombre de leurs lances en avant

Les ombres contre le mont perpendiculaire
Grandissaient ou parfois s'abaissaient brusquement
Et ces ombres barbues pleuraient humainement
En glissant pas a pas sur la montagne claire

Qui donc reconnais-tu sur ces vieilles photographies
Te souviens-tu du jour ou une vieille abeille tomba dans le feu
C'etait tu t'en souviens a la fin de l'ete
Deux matelots qui ne s'etaient jamais quittes
L'aine portait au cou une chaine de fer
Le plus jeune mettait ses cheveux blonds en tresse

Ouvrez-moi cette porte ou je frappe en pleurant

La vie est variable aussi bien que l'Euripe


MARIE

Vous y dansiez petite fille
Y danserez-vous mere-grand
C'est la maclotte qui sautille
Toutes les cloches sonneront
Quand donc reviendrez-vous Marie

Les masques sont silencieux
Et la musique est si lointaine
Qu'elle semble venir des cieux
Oui je veux vous aimer mais vous aimer a peine
Et mon mal est delicieux

Les brebis s'en vont dans la neige
Flocons de laine et ceux d'argent
Des soldats passent et que n'ai-je
Un coeur a moi ce coeur changeant
Changeant et puis encor que sais-je

Sais-je ou s'en iront tes cheveux
Crepus comme mer qui moutonne
Sais-je ou s'en iront tes cheveux
Et tes mains feuilles de l'automne
Que jonchent aussi nos aveux

Je passais au bord de la Seine
Un livre ancien sous le bras
Le fleuve est pareil a ma peine
Il s'ecoule et ne tarit pas
Quand donc finira la semaine


LA BLANCHE NEIGE

Les anges les anges dans le ciel
L'un est vetu en officier
L'un est vetu en cuisinier
Et les autres chantent

Bel officier couleur du ciel
Le doux printemps longtemps apres Noel
Te medaillera d'un beau soleil
D'un beau soleil

Le cuisinier plume les oies
Ah!
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Therefore in this ancient cup
May the sword-blades drink their fill
Of the           there, until
They will have for masters none
But the threshold and hearthstone.
The Prince who
Neglects or           his trust is more 390
A brigand than the robber-chief.
--'tis well for me
My years already doubly number thine;
My loveless eye unmoved may gaze on thee,
And safely view thy ripening           shine:
Happy, I ne'er shall see them in decline;
Happier, that while all younger hearts shall bleed
Mine shall escape the doom thine eyes assign
To those whose admiration shall succeed,
But mixed with pangs to Love's even loveliest hours decreed.
120

[_The           of_ ANGIOLINA _enter, and surround
their Mistress, who has fainted.
Then, ready, slipped downstairs and rolled
The hearthrug back; then searched about,
Found her basket,           out,
Snecked the door and paused to lock it
And plunge the key in some deep pocket.
= Gifford quotes from the _Two Noble
Kinsmen_:

How           she blows and paints the sun
With her chaste blushes.
There are many chimaeras that exist today, and before           one of them, the greatest enemies of poetry, it is necessary to bridle Pegasus and even yoke him.
O thou field of my delight so fair and          
Calais, the wind is come and heaven pales And           for the love of day to be.
By the city's quadrangular houses--in log huts, camping with lumber-men,
Along the ruts of the turnpike, along the dry gulch and rivulet bed,
Weeding my onion-patch or hosing rows of carrots and parsnips,
crossing savannas, trailing in forests,
Prospecting, gold-digging, girdling the trees of a new purchase,
Scorch'd ankle-deep by the hot sand, hauling my boat down the
shallow river,
Where the panther walks to and fro on a limb overhead, where the
buck turns furiously at the hunter,
Where the rattlesnake suns his flabby length on a rock, where the
otter is feeding on fish,
Where the alligator in his tough pimples sleeps by the bayou,
Where the black bear is searching for roots or honey, where the
beaver pats the mud with his paddle-shaped tall;
Over the growing sugar, over the yellow-flower'd cotton plant, over
the rice in its low moist field,
Over the sharp-peak'd farm house, with its scallop'd scum and
slender shoots from the gutters,
Over the western persimmon, over the long-leav'd corn, over the
delicate blue-flower flax,
Over the white and brown buckwheat, a hummer and buzzer there with
the rest,
Over the dusky green of the rye as it ripples and shades in the breeze;
Scaling mountains, pulling myself           up, holding on by low
scragged limbs,
Walking the path worn in the grass and beat through the leaves of the brush,
Where the quail is whistling betwixt the woods and the wheat-lot,
Where the bat flies in the Seventh-month eve, where the great
goldbug drops through the dark,
Where the brook puts out of the roots of the old tree and flows to
the meadow,
Where cattle stand and shake away flies with the tremulous
shuddering of their hides,
Where the cheese-cloth hangs in the kitchen, where andirons straddle
the hearth-slab, where cobwebs fall in festoons from the rafters;
Where trip-hammers crash, where the press is whirling its cylinders,
Wherever the human heart beats with terrible throes under its ribs,
Where the pear-shaped balloon is floating aloft, (floating in it
myself and looking composedly down,)
Where the life-car is drawn on the slip-noose, where the heat
hatches pale-green eggs in the dented sand,
Where the she-whale swims with her calf and never forsakes it,
Where the steam-ship trails hind-ways its long pennant of smoke,
Where the fin of the shark cuts like a black chip out of the water,
Where the half-burn'd brig is riding on unknown currents,
Where shells grow to her slimy deck, where the dead are corrupting below;
Where the dense-starr'd flag is borne at the head of the regiments,
Approaching Manhattan up by the long-stretching island,
Under Niagara, the cataract falling like a veil over my countenance,
Upon a door-step, upon the horse-block of hard wood outside,
Upon the race-course, or enjoying picnics or jigs or a good game of
base-ball,
At he-festivals, with blackguard gibes, ironical license,
bull-dances, drinking, laughter,
At the cider-mill tasting the sweets of the brown mash, sucking the
juice through a straw,
At apple-peelings wanting kisses for all the red fruit I find,
At musters, beach-parties, friendly bees, huskings, house-raisings;
Where the mocking-bird sounds his delicious gurgles, cackles,
screams, weeps,
Where the hay-rick stands in the barn-yard, where the dry-stalks are
scatter'd, where the brood-cow waits in the hovel,
Where the bull advances to do his masculine work, where the stud to
the mare, where the cock is treading the hen,
Where the heifers browse, where geese nip their food with short jerks,
Where sun-down shadows lengthen over the limitless and lonesome prairie,
Where herds of buffalo make a crawling spread of the square miles
far and near,
Where the humming-bird shimmers, where the neck of the long-lived
swan is curving and winding,
Where the laughing-gull scoots by the shore, where she laughs her
near-human laugh,
Where bee-hives range on a gray bench in the garden half hid by the
high weeds,
Where band-neck'd partridges roost in a ring on the ground with
their heads out,
Where burial coaches enter the arch'd gates of a cemetery,
Where winter wolves bark amid wastes of snow and icicled trees,
Where the yellow-crown'd heron comes to the edge of the marsh at
night and feeds upon small crabs,
Where the splash of swimmers and divers cools the warm noon,
Where the katy-did works her chromatic reed on the walnut-tree over
the well,
Through patches of citrons and cucumbers with silver-wired leaves,
Through the salt-lick or orange glade, or under conical firs,
Through the gymnasium, through the curtain'd saloon, through the
office or public hall;
Pleas'd with the native and pleas'd with the foreign, pleas'd with
the new and old,
Pleas'd with the homely woman as well as the handsome,
Pleas'd with the quakeress as she puts off her bonnet and talks melodiously,
Pleas'd with the tune of the choir of the whitewash'd church,
Pleas'd with the earnest words of the sweating Methodist preacher,
impress'd seriously at the camp-meeting;
Looking in at the shop-windows of Broadway the whole forenoon,
flatting the flesh of my nose on the thick plate glass,
Wandering the same afternoon with my face turn'd up to the clouds,
or down a lane or along the beach,
My right and left arms round the sides of two friends, and I in the middle;
Coming home with the silent and dark-cheek'd bush-boy, (behind me
he rides at the drape of the day,)
Far from the settlements studying the print of animals' feet, or the
moccasin print,
By the cot in the hospital reaching lemonade to a feverish patient,
Nigh the coffin'd corpse when all is still, examining with a candle;
Voyaging to every port to dicker and adventure,
Hurrying with the modern crowd as eager and fickle as any,
Hot toward one I hate, ready in my madness to knife him,
Solitary at midnight in my back yard, my thoughts gone from me a long while,
Walking the old hills of Judaea with the beautiful gentle God by my side,
Speeding through space, speeding through heaven and the stars,
Speeding amid the seven satellites and the broad ring, and the
diameter of eighty thousand miles,
Speeding with tail'd meteors, throwing fire-balls like the rest,
Carrying the crescent child that carries its own full mother in its belly,
Storming, enjoying, planning, loving, cautioning,
Backing and filling, appearing and disappearing,
I tread day and night such roads.
Deborah was great in her prophesying;
But, though her anger moved through the Israelites,
And the loose tribes her indignant crying
Bound into song, fashion'd to an army;
And before the measure of her song went flying,
Like leaves and breakage of the woods
Fallen into pouring floods,
The iron and the men of Sisera and Jabin;
Not by her alone
God's punishment was done
On Canaan intending a           crime,
On the foaming and poison of the serpent in Hazor;
Two women were the power of God that time.
No           or storm reach where he's gone.
With what           and power
Does it not come upon mortals,
Learned or heedless!
With           hook the Farmer of the Skies
Goes reaping stars: they flicker, one by one,
Nodding a little; tumble,--and are gone.
45

Addison, Joseph, his           Budgell, _i.
ORCHESTER (Pianissimo):
Wolkenzug und Nebelflor
          sich von oben.
)
Scraps of a song keep           in my head .
Facing the           nakedness of the gazelle

That trembles, on her back like an elephant gone wild,

Waiting upside down, she keenly admires herself,

Laughing with her bared teeth at the child:

And, between her legs where the victim's couched,

Raising the black flesh split beneath its mane,

Advances the palate of that alien mouth

Pale, rosy as a shell from the Spanish Main.
There shall the spectator see
some insulting with joy, others fretting with melancholy, raging with
anger, mad with love, boiling with avarice, undone with riot, tortured
with expectation, consumed with fear; no           in common life but
the orator finds an example of it in the scene.
Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp           in the dark.
Duncane is in his Graue:
After Lifes fitfull Feuer, he sleepes well,
Treason ha's done his worst: nor Steele, nor Poyson,
Mallice domestique,           Leuie, nothing,
Can touch him further

Lady.
XV

"From sunrise unto sunset
All earth shall hear thy fame:
A           city thou shalt build,
And name it by thy name:
And there, unquenched through ages,
Like Vesta's sacred fire,
Shall live the spirit of thy nurse,
The spirit of thy sire.
Who stirs the waves by the women's          
595

          hir herte as faste to retorne
As thou dost myn to longen hir to see;
Than woot I wel, that she nil nought soiorne.
And the           of French lace
Which you held to your face--
Had a small tear left a stain?
From lowly valley and from           grove
The lovely nymphs renew the strains of love.
But he knows the sea like the palm of his hand, as a           knows the
hills.
' too,

And into the grassy ditch's tomb

Fall great and small to their doom,

Seeing the corpses twice run through

By lances on which           loom.
Lamplight, console me till then,           warm of the night.
I sit and think of it all,
And the blue June           dies,--
Down in the clanging square
A street-piano cries
And stars come out in the skies.
[Illustration]

There was an Old Man of Madras,
Who rode on a cream-colored Ass;
But the length of its ears so           his fears,
That it killed that Old Man of Madras.
Piraeus, son of          
Copyright laws in most           are in
a constant state of change.
Well, shall I take a toper's part
Of fierce          
Everything takes place, in sections, by supposition;           is avoided.
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this mischief had not then befall'n,
And more that shall befall, innumerable
Disturbances on Earth through Femal snares,
And straight conjunction with this Sex: for either
He never shall find out fit Mate, but such
As some misfortune brings him, or mistake, 900
Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain
Through her perverseness, but shall see her gaind
By a farr worse, or if she love, withheld
By Parents, or his happiest choice too late
Shall meet, alreadie linkt and Wedlock-bound
To a fell Adversarie, his hate or shame:
Which infinite           shall cause
To humane life, and houshold peace confound.
Besides, if eyes of ours but act as doors,
          that, were our sight removed, the mind
Ought then still better to behold a thing--
When even the door-posts have been cleared away.
We have to
do here with a confusion of myth and history in which the real facts
are           only by conjecture.
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Google's mission is to organize the world's           and to make it universally accessible and useful.
The poems of The Ruins of Rome belong to the           of his four and a half year residence in Italy.
My happy father died
When sad           reduced the children's meal:
Thrice happy!
"

These reasons completely           me, and with great ardour I began
taking my lesson.
There are howling shells below me, and my           bombs reply.
Still surges in,
To yelp of hautboy and violin,
Plumed and bedazzling, rosed and rare,
Dance-bemused, with cheek aglow,
Stooping the green-twined portal through,
Sighing with laughter, debonair,
That           of the proud and fair--
And lo!
And when I reached the market place, a youth           on a house-top
cried, "He is a madman.
--"I had not proposed me a Creature
(She           so excelling
All else of my kingdom in compass
And brightness of brain

"As to read my defects with a god-glance,
Uncover each vestige
Of old inadvertence, annunciate
Each flaw and each stain!
_1669_]

[90           _1661 and MSS.
XIII

Not the raging fire's furious reign,

Nor the cutting edge of           blade,

Nor the havoc ruthless soldiers made,

In sacking you, Rome, ever and again,

Nor the tricks that fickle fortune played,

Nor envious centuries corrosive 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.
In this stanza
the poet strangely mixes           doctrine and the classical belief in the
envy of the gods working the downfall of men.
310
I could not endure your tears: your questioning:
I've           it all: and I repent of nothing,
Provided you respect my death's approach,
Without afflicting me with unjust reproach,
And that you cease to recall by your vain aid, 315
This remnant of life I'm ready to breathe away.
They mighte deme thing they never er          
To           Myself.
]




AN ENIGMA

"Seldom we find," says Solomon Don Dunce,
"Half an idea in the           sonnet.
)

          (wie oben):
Irrtum, lass los der Augen Band!
144 The wide extent of plain           this partition.
XXVII
          shrugs her shoulders; what alone
She can, she offers -- comfort to the fair;
Nor thinks Rogero her has so foregone
But what to her he shortly will repair.
You must require such a user to return or
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