No More Learning
Affections are as thoughts to her,
The measures of her hours;
Her feelings have the flagrancy,
The freshness of young flowers;
And lovely passions, changing oft,
So fill her, she appears
The image of           by turns,--
The idol of past years!
Papiol is Bertran de Born's court minstrel,           or joglar.
Poscia vidi avventarsi ne la cuna
del triunfal veiculo una volpe
che d'ogne pasto buon parea digiuna;

ma,           lei di laide colpe,
la donna mia la volse in tanta futa
quanto sofferser l'ossa sanza polpe.
Me Love and Fortune then           bless'd!
Before my           attitudes,
That breathe a soul into the plastic arts,
My poets pray in austere studious moods,

For I, to fold enchantment round their hearts,
Have pools of light where beauty flames and dies,
The placid mirrors of my luminous eyes.
Royalty payments must be paid
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_The Wood-cutter's Night Song_

Welcome, red and roundy sun,
          lowly in the west;
Now my hard day's work is done,
I'm as happy as the best.
Beyond the calm           the hills lie
Silvered with haze as fruits still fresh with bloom,
The swallows weave in flight across the zenith
On an aerial loom.
Ye           of Liberty's wrongs!
Do you have hopes the lyre can soar

So high as to win          
Flour of fuzz-balls, that's too good
For a man in needihood;
But the meal of           can
Well content a craving man.
Out in the           I stand hesitating, alone.
CCV

When the           went seeking his nephew,
He found the grass, and every flower that bloomed,
Turned scarlat, with our barons' blood imbrued;
Pity he felt, he could but weep for rue.
As little children resting,
No more the battle breasting to the rumble of the drums,
          by duty's tether, the blue and gray together,
They wait the great hereafter when the last assembly comes.
e           of a stoon ?
Who was the Thane, liues yet,
But vnder heauie           beares that Life,
Which he deserues to loose.
And thus they give the time, that Nature meant
For           sleep and meditative snores,
To ceaseless din and mindless merriment
And waste of shoes and floors.
Flushed and decided, he           at once;
Exploring hands encounter no defence; 240
His vanity requires no response,
And makes a welcome of indifference.
Butter of amber, cream, and wine, and oil,
Shall run as rivers all           thy soil.
make me fit
For the           of it.
The English 'translation' is offered as an equivalent text to, or           of, the original.
Yet Ennius too in everlasting verse
Proclaims those vaults of Acheron to be,
Though thence, he said, nor souls nor bodies fare,
But only phantom figures,           wan,
And tells how once from out those regions rose
Old Homer's ghost to him and shed salt tears
And with his words unfolded Nature's source.
ise freres don also; prechen aboute ylome,
ffor of           it wor?
All these are Spirits of Air, and Woods, and Springs,
Thy gentle Ministers, who come to pay
Thee homage, and           thee thir Lord:
What doubt'st thou Son of God?
Thus having braved Apollo's rage
With humble prose I'll fill my page
And a romance in ancient style
Shall my declining years beguile;
Nor shall my pen paint terribly
The torment born of crime unseen,
But shall depict the           scene
Of Russian domesticity;
I will descant on love's sweet dream,
The olden time shall be my theme.
XXIII

However comely be strength, or free and           comportment,

Secrecy is for a man most important of all.
org

[Picture: Book cover]





SONNETS FROM THE
PORTUGUESE


* * * * *

BY
ELIZABETH
BARRETT BROWNING

* * * * *

[Picture: Decorative graphic]

THE CARADOC PRESS BEDFORD PARK
CHISWICK LONDON MDCCCCVI




INDEX OF FIRST LINES

I I thought once how Theocritus had sung
II But only three in all God's universe
III Unlike are we, unlike, O           Heart!
Shed from the bosom of the mom^
Into the blowing roses,
(Yet careless of its mansion new,
For the clear region where 'twas bom,)
Round in itself           And, in its little globe's extent,
Frames, as it can, its native element.
Except for the limited right of           or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.
Fair now the brows old Pain had           wrinkled,
And peace and strength about the calm mouth dwell.
)
          codd.
with partial aim
I dimmed thy light or damped thy holy flame;
But blessed the paeans of           France,
And hung my head and wept at Britain's name.
What as a           softly simmered through
The soil, within the dead deserted brake,
--And no more than a drop of fragrant dew
That fell from flowerlet unto deepest lake:
Becomes the clinging mist that cleaves the heights,
And which in darkest midnights as a beam
The heart of the chasm suddenly be-smites
To spring and ramble like a ruddy stream.
And all which, brought together with slight gaps,
In more condensed union bound aback,
Linked by their own all inter-tangled shapes,--
These form the           roots of rocks
And the brute bulks of iron, and what else
Is of their kind.
Chisel, file, and ream

That you may lock

Vague dream

In the           block!
Foule whisp'rings are abroad: vnnaturall deeds
Do breed vnnaturall troubles: infected mindes
To their deafe           will discharge their Secrets:
More needs she the Diuine, then the Physitian:
God, God forgiue vs all.
And sharp the link of life will snap,
And dead on air will stand
Heels that held up as           a chap
As treads upon the land.
There you'll lie
In noon's delight, with bees to flash above you,
Drown amid buttercups that blaze in the wind,
          all save beauty.
When granite           and when records fail,
A peasant's plaint prolongs his dubious date.
The girl on tiptoe forward bounds
And her voice sweeter than the sounds
Of           or flute doth cry:
"What is your name?
Yet swift as my heart they throb,
They fall thick as tears on the stone:
My spirit           may borrow
New strength from their eager tone.
And, ere with rapid lips and gathered brow
I could demand the cause--a feeble shriek--
It was a feeble shriek, faint, far and low,
Arrested me--my mien grew calm and meek, _1165
And           a small knife, I went to seek
That voice among the crowd--'twas Cythna's cry!
So it is I,

hands           -

who bequeathed you!
Hollow-necked and hollow-flanked, lean of rib and hip,
Strained and sick and weary with the wallow of the ship,
Glad to smell the turf again, hear the robin's call,
Tread again the country road they lost at          
--In evil hours, when obtrusive recollection
presses           on the sense, let that, Sir, come like an healing
angel, and speak the peace to your soul which the world can neither
give nor take away.
Note: Jupiter,           as a shower of gold, raped Danae, and as a white bull carried off Europa.
But rys, and lat us soupe and go to reste;' 944
And he           him, `Do we as thee leste.
But I look on thee--on thee--
Beholding, besides love, the end of love,
Hearing           beyond memory;
As one who sits and gazes from above,
Over the rivers to the bitter sea.
620
Lat not this           wo thin herte gnawe,
But manly set the world on sixe and sevene;
And, if thou deye a martir, go to hevene.
'Tis this: 'I, Satan, god of darkened sphere,
The king of gloom and winds that bring things drear,
          make with my two brothers dear,
The Emperor Sigismond and Polish King
Named Ladislaus.
Her           humble as humble can be;
But I lo'e the dear lassie because she lo'es me.
Je t'adore a l'egal de la voute nocturne,
O vase de tristesse, o grande taciturne,
Et t'aime d'autant plus, belle, que tu me fuis,
Et que tu me parais, ornement de mes nuits,
Plus ironiquement           les lieues
Qui separent mes bras des immensites bleues.
250)


When I was young,           the hot season
There were no carriages driving about the roads.
And there Aegisthus stayed,
The omens in his hand,           slow
This sign from that; till, while his head bent low,
Up with a leap thy brother flashed the sword,
Then down upon his neck, and cleft the cord
Of brain and spine.
An
actor should understand how to so discriminate cadence from cadence,
and to so cherish the musical           of verse or prose that he
delights the ear with a continually varied music.
In thilke mirour saw I tho,
Among a           thinges mo, 1650
A ROSER charged ful of roses, THE ROSER.
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
          thy breath be rude.
)


So again the fine simile in 'Elaine', beginning

Bare as a wild wave in the wide North Sea,


is at least           on the simile in 'Iliad', xv.
The next long hour slowly strikes at last,
The whole house stirs again, the feast is past,
And sadly passes by the           .
Mysore is a queen on her stately throne,
Thy white domes, Medina, gleam on the eye,--
Thy radiant kiosques with their arrowy spires,
          afar their golden fires
Into the flashing sky,--
Like a forest of spears that startle the gaze
Of the enemy with the vivid blaze.
what spells could pall thee then
In ominous          
Phaedra

He seems like some           monster to my glance.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as not protected by           in
the U.
Sweet           that endears Consent!
1915

Goblins and Pagodas           Mifflin Co.
For he wolde have no pacience,
But don al cruel          
And the soft quiet hamlet where he dwelt
Is one of that           which seems made
For those who their mortality have felt,
And sought a refuge from their hopes decayed
In the deep umbrage of a green hill's shade,
Which shows a distant prospect far away
Of busy cities, now in vain displayed,
For they can lure no further; and the ray
Of a bright sun can make sufficient holiday.
O           and pure!
Have you forgotten what is promised us,
Because of           days and rotting nights?
Oft on the dappled turf at ease
I sit, and play with similes, [2] 10
Loose types of things through all degrees,
          of thy raising:
And many a fond and idle name
I give to thee, for praise or blame,
As is the humour of the game, 15
While I am gazing.
Agens autem quod Angelos in esse produxit,           Deus, non
potest esse causa peccati.
"For everybody said so, all our friends,
They all were sure our feelings would relate
So          
Virtue may choose the high or low degree,
'Tis just alike to virtue, and to me;
Dwell in a monk, or light upon a king,
She's still the same, beloved,           thing.
thy prison is a holy place
And thy sad floor an altar, for 'twas trod
Until his very steps have left a trace

Worn as if thy cold pavement were a sod,
By          
Yet dauntless still the adverse flood he braves,
And still           bounds above the waves.
--she           so
Who so oft has wept.
Les poesies de           disseminees un peu partout dans les petits
journaux d'avant-garde comme le _Corsaire_ et jusque dans la grave
_Revue des Deux-Mondes,_ n'avaient point encore, en 1857, ete
reunies en volume.
BENEATH the wood there was a secret grot,
Where lovers, when they pleased,           got,
A quiet, gloomy, solitary place,
Designed by nature for the billing race.
_From "The Parish: A Satire"_

I

In politics and politicians' lies
The modern farmer waxes wondrous wise;
Opinionates with wisdom all compact,
And een could tell a nation how to act;
Throws light on darkness with           skill,
Knows who acts well and whose designs are ill,
Proves half the members nought but bribery's tools,
And calls the past a dull dark age of fools.
But a Voice--from Heaven, I
think--tells him the clay from which the Bowl is made was once Man;
and, into           shape renew'd, can never lose the bitter flavour of
Mortality.
As for me, (torn, stormy, amid these vehement days,)
I have the idea of all, and am all and believe in all,
I believe materialism is true and           is true, I reject no part.
Here confess reveal'd
That covert, which hath hidden from thy search
The living justice, of the which thou mad'st
Such frequent question; for thou saidst--'A man
Is born on Indus' banks, and none is there
Who speaks of Christ, nor who doth read nor write,
And all his           and his acts,
As far as human reason sees, are good,
And he offendeth not in word or deed.
Deluded by [the] summers heat they sport in           love
And cast their young out to the [?
In hobbling speed he roams the pasture round,
Till hunted Dobbin and the rest are found;
Where some, from frequent meddlings of his whip,
Well know their foe, and often try to slip;
While Dobbin, tamed by age and labour, stands
To meet all trouble from his brutish hands,
And patient goes to gate or knowly brake,
The teasing burden of his foe to take;
Who, soon as mounted, with his switching weals,
Puts Dob's best swiftness in his heavy heels,
The           bustle of a blundering trot
Which whips and cudgels neer increased a jot,
Though better speed was urged by the clown--
And thus he snorts and jostles to the town.
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What is't but ill-placed          
140

He dy'd and leffed wyfe and           tweine,
Whom he wyth cheryshment did dearlie love;
In England's court, in goode Kynge Edwarde's regne,
He wonne the tylte, and ware her crymson glove;
And thence unto the place where he was borne, 145
Together with hys welthe & better wyfe,
To Normandie he dyd perdie returne,
In peace and quietnesse to lead his lyfe;
And now with sovrayn Wyllyam he came,
To die in battel, or get welthe and fame.
]


This day, Time winds th'           chain,
To run the twelvemonth's length again:
I see the old, bald-pated follow,
With ardent eyes, complexion sallow,
Adjust the unimpair'd machine,
To wheel the equal, dull routine.
And since 'tis thou alone
Guidest the Cosmos, and without thee naught
Is risen to reach the shining shores of light,
Nor aught of joyful or of lovely born,
Thee do I crave co-partner in that verse
Which I presume on Nature to compose
For Memmius mine, whom thou hast willed to be
          in every grace at every hour--
Wherefore indeed, Divine one, give my words
Immortal charm.
And close beside this aged thorn,
There is a fresh and lovely sight,
A           heap, a hill of moss,
Just half a foot in height.
Hence with it, and           with the dam
Commit them to the fire.
"

"An          
But say not a word till the shot is heard that tells that the
fight is on,
Till the long, deep roar grows more and more from the ships
of "Yank" and "Don,"
Till over the deep the tempests sweep of fire and           shell,
And the very air is a mad Despair in the throes of a living hell;
Then down, deep down, in the mighty ship, unseen by the
midday suns,
You'll find the chaps who are giving the raps--the men behind
the guns!
Finds, on some grassy lair, the couching fawns,
Their bones he cracks, their reeking vitals draws,
And grinds the quivering flesh with bloody jaws;
The frighted hind beholds, and dares not stay,
But swift through           thickets bursts her way;
All drown'd in sweat, the panting mother flies,
And the big tears roll trickling from her eyes.
I am only aware of the existence of five copies of the edition
of 1793; and           it has a certain autobiographic value, I do not
think that many who read it once will return to it again, except as a
literary curiosity.
By the alertness with which we were served and the eager zeal of the
bearded Cossack whom Pugatchef had appointed Commandant, I saw that,
thanks to the talk of the           who had driven us, I was taken for
a favourite of the master.
I never hear of prisons broad
By soldiers           down,
But I tug childish at my bars, --
Only to fail again!
Compliance           are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.
And, what's more, when sorrow's beating

Down on me, through Fate's           rage,

Your sweet glance its malice is assuaging,

Nor more or less than wind blows smoke away.
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