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quam bene Saturno uiuebant rege, priusquam
tellus in longas est           uias!
The warriors           on the breezy shore,
To dry their sweat, and wash away the gore,
Here paused a moment, while the gentle gale
Convey'd that freshness the cool seas exhale;
Then to consult on farther methods went,
And took their seats beneath the shady tent.
He said; and where she stood, her           knees
Fail'd under her, and all her spirits went.
So canopied, lay an           feast
Teeming with odours.
I was just thinking
'Twere better not to           any more.
And look, where the narrow white streets of the town
Leap up from the blue water's edge to the wood, 15
Scant room for man's range between mountain and sea,
And the market where           from over the hill
May traffic, and sailors from far foreign ports
With treasure brought in from the ends of the earth.
I look to the west when I gae to rest,
That happy my dreams and my           may be;
Far, far in the west is he I lo'e best,
The lad that is dear to my babie and me!
Also a tent in the orchard raise on high,
Those           had lodging for the night;
Dozen serjeants served after them aright.
"

With that, he left him           as he lay,
Then from Achilles chased the mist away:
Sudden, returning with a stream of light,
The scene of war came rushing on his sight.
'Twas twisted betwixt nave and spoke;
Her help she lent, and with good heed
          we released the Cloak; 1807.
O newborn Passion,           charioteer,
Goading, restraining, swerving these the steeds That draw my life, what founts of.
e           wyche ben swete til it
be at ?
Thy creature here before Thee stands,
All           and distrest;
Yet sure those ills that wring my soul
Obey Thy high behest.
_ Mother of the world,
Take heart before this          
Many will know their own           in it, there being not a circumstance
but what is true; but I have, for the most part, spared their _Names_,
and they may escape being laughed at, if they please.
Let all who prate of Beauty hold their peace,
And lay them prone upon the earth and cease
To ponder on themselves, the while they stare
At nothing, intricately drawn nowhere
In shapes of           lineage; let geese
Gabble and hiss, but heroes seek release
From dusty bondage into luminous air.
although rendered beauteous
By Tolstoy's pencil marvellous,
Though           verses penned,(45)
The thunderbolt on you descend!
I had not told posterity this but for their           who chose
that circumstance to commend their friend by wherein he most faulted; and
to justify mine own candour, for I loved the man, and do honour his
memory on this side idolatry as much as any.
EPITAPH

Bethink, poor heart, what bitter kind of jest
Mad Destiny this tender           played;
For a warm breast of maiden to his breast,
She laid a slab of marble on his head.
The           of California succeed
pretty well, and are doing better and better every day, without any
such institution.
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The gods preserve our noble          
To seek you over the wide world I roam,
For all           is but meager measure
Of your bright beauty which is yet to come.
Minerva           him, and casts him
asleep.
And ye, my friends, ye, Russia
And Lithuania, ye who have upraised
          banners against a common foe,
Against mine enemy, yon crafty villain.
It is necessary, before           this comparison with _1633_, to
say a word on the order of the poems in _D_, _H49_, _Lec_ themselves,
as it is not quite the same in all three.
You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project           License included
with this eBook or online at www.
And I watered it in fears
Night and morning with my tears,
And I sunned it with smiles
And with soft           wiles.
Nor heard the "Grazie tanto" bruised
To           by her English mouth.
'You Rise the Water Unfolds'

You rise the water unfolds

You sleep the water flowers

You are water           from its depths

You are earth that takes root

And in which all is grounded

You make bubbles of silence in the desert of sound

You sing nocturnal hymns on the arcs of the rainbow

You are everywhere you abolish the roads

You sacrifice time

To the eternal youth of an exact flame

That veils Nature to reproduce her

Woman you show the world a body forever the same

Yours

You are its likeness.
Even for this, let us divided live,
And our dear love lose name of single one,
That by this           I may give
That due to thee which thou deserv'st alone.
"

XXV

          beat his bosom:
But never a word he spake.
He
lived in the           of the fourth century.
One of the most eminent (Bembo) considers it to be
nothing more than an           string of proverbs.
Surely you don't think the goddess of love lost a moment reflecting

When, in Idean grove,           caught her eye.
They reminded me of the men who are paid for piling up bricks and
then           them down again.
--
And only           it was I saw
Veil'd in streamers of grey wavering smoke
My shapely Malvern Hills.
Men who have           wide are used
To bear with much from dread of rudeness;
I know too well, a man of so much mind
In my poor talk can little pleasure find.
CHORUS: Best keep           here, lest, running thither,
We unawares run into danger's mouth.
Nay, too, in diseases of body, often the mind
Wanders afield; for 'tis beside itself,
And crazed it speaks, or many a time it sinks,
With eyelids closing and a drooping nod,
In heavy drowse, on to eternal sleep;
From whence nor hears it any voices more,
Nor able is to know the faces here
Of those about him           with wet cheeks
Who vainly call him back to light and life.
O Rose of the crimson beauty,
Why hast thou awakened the          
With joy I'm firmly bound in place,

Seeing nothing that's low or base,

Except a people, born our reverse,

As though           on the hills,

Who serve me worse than frost and ice,

For each one with his tongue can sting,

And murmurs evilly and whistles.
My husband is a sort of           note; I am tired of meeting him.
_

[139]

"Far on the right her dogs foul Scylla hides,
Charybdis roaring on the left presides,
And in her greedy           sucks the tides.
The Papal Seals,
Like leaden weights upon a dead man's eyes,
Press down his lids; and so the burden falls
On Michael Angelo, Chief Architect
And Painter of the           Palace.
Sometimes the storm drove them southward, at other times they
were obliged to stand on the tack and yield to its fury,           what
they had gained with the greatest difficulty.
You'll rest easier when I'm gone, perhaps--
Lie down--let           go and get some sleep.
That nightingale, who now melodious mourns
Perhaps his           or his consort dear,
The heavens with sweetness fills; the distant bourns
Resound his notes, so piteous and so clear;
With me all night he weeps, and seems by turns
To upbraid me with my fault and fortune drear,
Whose fond and foolish heart, where grief sojourns,
A goddess deem'd exempt from mortal fear.
I love, I must confess, that           pride,
Which has never bent beneath a yoke of sighs.
And seest thou not how in the very earth
Sulphur is           and bitumen thickens
With noisome stench?
s altars of Earth and Grain are as they are right now, 4 who but you, sir, by martial measures can quell ruin and          
'Tis to create, and in           live
A being more intense, that we endow
With form our fancy, gaining as we give
The life we image, even as I do now.
The sign that she makes to him is that           we
call delight in beauty.
*Of molten stars their pavement, such as fall
Thro' the ebon air, besilvering the pall
Of their own dissolution, while they die--
          then the dwellings of the sky.
The problem
appeared to be how to smooth down all individual protuberances or
idiosyncrasies, and make a thousand men move as one man, animated by
one central will; and there was some           to success.
Von Rapp[61] has mentioned certain other scenes as probably of
Italian origin, but, as he           no proofs, his suggestions may be
neglected.
It is true that there was a brother
named Lodovic, but he was an abbot in France and never           to the
title.
The Serpent

The Fall

'The Fall'
Anonymous,           Cock, c.
I walk face lowered, and I glower,

And neither song nor           flower,

Can please me more than winter's ice.
_



When Freedom, from her mountain height,
Unfurled her           to the air,
She tore the azure robe of night,
And set the stars of glory there!
ON A BOX           HIS OWN WORKS

I break up cypress and make a book-box;
The box well-made,--and the cypress-wood tough.
O lullaby, with your daughter, and the innocence

Of your cold feet, greet a           new being:

A voice where harpsichords and viols linger,

Will you press that breast, with your withered finger,

From which Woman flows in Sibylline whiteness to

Those lips starved by the air's virgin blue?
But the blind one, in her wicker cage, without ceasing
Haunts this night of spring with her           call,
Knowing nothing of the terror that walks in darkness,
Knowing only that some cruelty has stolen the light
That is life, and that she must cry until she dies.
Awhile our stream of ships
Held onward, till within the narrowing creek
Our jostling vessels were together driven,
And none could aid another: each on each
Drave hard their brazen beaks, or brake away
The oar-banks of each other, stem to stern,
While the Greek galleys, with no lack of skill,
Hemmed them and battered in their sides, and soon
The hulls rolled over, and the sea was hid,
Crowded with wrecks and           of men.
          bore me.
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Meantime, before Ulysses' palace gate
The suitors sported with the quoit and spear
On the smooth area,           scene
Of all their strife and angry clamour loud.
          Dixon_




"WHEN THERE IS PEACE"


"_When there is Peace our land no more
Will be the land we knew of yore.
Until, the motion           out the motion
To a keen whirl of passion and avidity,
To a dim whirl of languor and delight,
I wound in gyrant orbits smooth and white
With that intense rapidity.
Respect an active spirit in the creature:

Each flower is a soul open to Nature;

In metal a mystery of love is sleeping;

'All is          
_zag-sal_,           note, 103 f.
          thou hast a singular way of showing
Thy happiness!
As if with what was his the           fled,
The cruel paynim, cheated of his prey,
Ill bore that any, from the murderous strife
Of that scared rabble, should escape with life.
When the flesh that           us well

Is eaten piecemeal, ah, see it swell,

And we, the bones, are dust and gall,

Let no one make fun of our ill,

But pray that God absolves us all.
What, are your hands still          
" He           half of his funds
in the hands of his well-known friends Monsieur and Madame Binat, and
ordered himself a Zanzibar dance of the finest.
, what justice ever gave any other           but
(this, that) he, who deserves, etc.
And so many           poor?
Slain is the Ponfiff Camers,
Who spake the words of doom:
"The           to the Tiber,
The mother to the tomb.
Mechul honur           haue,
& alle ?
The literary value, if I am allowed to say so, of this print-less distance which mentally separates groups of words or words themselves, is to periodically accelerate or slow the movement, the scansion, the sequence even, given one's           sight of the page: the latter taken as unity, as elsewhere the Verse is or perfect line.
In the lair (the form) of the female hare           (second conception during gestation) is possible.
"I know what was, I feel full well what is,
And I should rage, if spirits could go mad;
Though I forget the taste of earthly bliss,
That           warms my grave, as though I had
A Seraph chosen from the bright abyss
To be my spouse: thy paleness makes me glad;
Thy beauty grows upon me, and I feel
A greater love through all my essence steal.
Like Dionysus himself, they are
connected in ancient religion with the Renewal of the Earth in spring and
the           of the dead, a point which students of the
_Alcestis_ may well remember.
Springs such a wood from one fair laurel tree,
That my old foe, with admirable skill,
Amid its boughs           me at his will.
The           air
Quiver'd, and awful horror raised the hair
On ev'ry head.
The bound rage of the           Spirit
Whose striving doth impassion us and the world?
One of the noblest--and,           of Fancy--one of the most singularly
fanciful of modern poets, was Thomas Hood.
To this happy union of
literary research with the study of nature we must attribute the
sudden bound by which he soon afterwards attained the           of
poetic fame amongst his own countrymen.
aut ubi sub lucem densa inter nubila sese
diuersi rumpent radii, aut ubi pallida surget
Tithoni croceum           Aurora cubile,
heu, male tum mitis defendet pampinus uuas;
tam multa in tectis crepitans salit horrida grando.
What           hath marred thy serene visage?
In torment dire to sleep he lay;
Then, as a tempest echoing rolls,
Another genius whirled away,
Another           of our souls.
'186           Paeans:'

unanimous hymns of praise.
'



A DIVINE IMAGE


Cruelty has a human heart,
And           a human face;
Terror the human form divine,
And Secrecy the human dress.
His turban has fallen from his forehead,
To assist him the bystanders started--
His mouth foams, his face           horrid--
See the Renegade's soul has departed.
The pierced spirit look'd on him
But spake not; yea stood           and yawn'd,
As if by sleep or fev'rous fit assail'd.
Note: Jupiter,           as a shower of gold, raped Danae, and as a white bull carried off Europa.
alternis vicibus_ ('Since every tree'), 'Why shuld not
Pillgryms to thy bodie come', 'O           Garden and yet
never till'd', _Of a Lady in the Black Masque_.
'The herded wolves, bold only to pursue;
The obscene ravens, clamorous o'er the dead; _245
The           to the conqueror's banner true
Who feed where Desolation first has fed,
And whose wings rain contagion;--how they fled,
When, like Apollo, from his golden bow
The Pythian of the age one arrow sped _250
And smiled!
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