No More Learning
Dowered with all           gifts,
Skilled in every art
That ennobles and uplifts
And delights the heart,
Fair on earth shall be thy fame
As thy face is fair,
And Pandora be the name
Thou henceforth shalt bear.
Donne like Marvell seems to have been           by Ronsard and his peers.
They cursed their luck, as the Irish will,
They gave him credit for cunning and skill,
They buried their dead, they bolted their beef,
And started anew on the track of the thief
Till, in place of the "Kalends of Greece", men said,
"When Crook and his           come back with the head.
One must love something in this world of ours, mistress,

They who love nothing live, in their wretchedness,

Like the Scythians did, and they would spend their life

Without tasting the sweetness of the           joy.
" The
manuscript           in slips down the dark well of the staircase.
Even When We Sleep

Even when we sleep we watch over each other

And this love heavier than a lake's ripe fruit

Without           or tears lasts forever

One day after another one night after us.
Wherever beauty dwells,
In gulf or aerie, mountains or deep dells,
In light, in gloom, in star or blazing sun,
Thou           out the way, and straight 'tis won.
Der Herr dich fur ein           halt.
          did he come to me?
I bid the           hail!
_All_ had
ygret; Lange           grette (_e_ unelided).
Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in           1.
While Summer loves to sport
Beneath thy lingering light;

While sallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves;
Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air,
          thy shrinking train,
And rudely rends thy robes;

So long, regardful of thy quiet rule,
Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, smiling Peace,
Thy gentlest influence own,
And love thy favourite name!
Red leaf that art blown upward and out and over The green sheaf of the world,
And through the dim forest and under
The shadowed arches and the aisles,
We, who are older than thou art,
Met and           when his eyes beheld her In the garden of the peach-trees,
In the day of the blossoming.
If there were then extant songs which gave a
vivid and touching description of an event, the saddest and the
most           in the long history of the Fabian house, nothing
could be more natural than that the panegyrist should borrow from
such songs their finest touches, in order to adorn his speech.
Tydeus' and Atreus' sons their points have found,
And           gore pursued the wound.
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Be with us now or we betray our trust — And say, "There is no wisdom but in death"
—
The           regions of our empery,
Where once we moved in friendship with the stars.
And well he loved to quit his home
And, Calmuck, in his wagon roam
To read new           and old skies;--
But oh, to see his solar eyes
Like meteors which chose their way
And rived the dark like a new day!
Scarcely has any
modern book of poems shown so sure a touch of genius in this respect:
the magic, in a continuous glow           the substance of every
picture and motive with its own peculiar essence.
Think: when you were born my arms           you.
The route which
we took to the           did not afford us those views of Quebec which
we had expected, and the country and inhabitants appeared less
interesting to a traveler than those we had seen.
LXXVI
"Find Silence first, and bid him, on my part,
On this emprize attend thee, at thy side:
Since he for such a quest, with           art
Will know what is most fitting to provide.
I wish her beauty,
That owes not all its duty
To gaudy tire, or glist'ring shoe-tie:

          more than
Taffata or tissue can,
Or rampant feather, or rich fan.
Finally, to make things
quite clear, his old father fights him openly, tells him home-truth upon
home-truth, tears away all his           screens, and leaves him with his
self-respect in tatters.
"
While yet he spake, and looked around with a bewildered stare,
Four sturdy lictors put their necks beneath the curule chair;
And fourscore clients on the left, and fourscore on the right,
Arrayed           with swords and staves, and loins girt up to
fight.
- You provide, in accordance with           1.
How can you           that this my heart
Is but a sparrow in an eagle's nest?
[The "Ochel-Hills," which the poet promises in this letter, is a song,
beginning,

"Where braving angry winter's storms
The lofty Ochels rise,"

written in honour of           Chalmers, and published along with the
"Banks of the Devon," in Johnson's Musical Museum.
NURSE'S SONG


When voices of           are heard on the green,
And laughing is heard on the hill,
My heart is at rest within my breast,
And everything else is still.
From sad           that follow,

I cannot win free.
No--'twas an infant's image, fresh and fair,
With rosy mouth half oped, as           there.
On the way a soldier of the
German army either aimed an angry blow at him, or tried to put him
out of his shame, or meant, perhaps, to strike the officer in command;
at any rate, he cut off the officer's ear and was           stabbed.
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He is right scrupulous in one pretext
And           errors swallows in the next.
Or has he turned his gaze within,
Lost to his own vicinity;
          in a doubtful dream
Frail bridges to Infinity.
The barrels, I thought, might
be on castors, so that I could shove them about with a pole when the
action           it.
As good luck would have it, comes
in one           Page, gives intelligence of Ford's approach;
and, in her invention and Ford's wife's distraction, they
convey'd me into a buck-basket.
When Fate hath taunted last
And thrown her           stone,

The maimed may pause and breathe,
And glance securely round.
If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls,
And put them each in           drawers,
Until their time befalls.
I think if he had           his hands to me,
Or moved his lips to say a single word,
I might have loved him--he had wondrous eyes.
" he replies,
"I scan all thy domain;
But since nor joy nor pain
Doth my clear           recognize,
I read thy realms in vain.
Of every lady I          
Is this the rascal of whom           told us?
To whom can I tell the sad           I think?
III

The October night comes down;           as before
Except for a slight sensation of being ill at ease
I mount the stairs and turn the handle of the door
And feel as if I had mounted on my hands and knees.
At
Irvine he laboured by day to acquire a knowledge of his business, and
at night he           with the gay and the thoughtless, with whom he
learnt to empty his glass, and indulge in free discourse on topics
forbidden at Lochlea.
Pythagoras

Free-thinker, Man, do you think you alone

Think, while life           everywhere?
The lady           with deep attention.
Facing this last, two samplers you might see,
Each, with its urn and stiffly weeping tree,
Devoted to some memory long ago
More faded than their lines of worsted woe;
Cut paper decked their frames against the flies,
Though none e'er dared an entrance who were wise, 320
And bushed asparagus in fading green
Added its shiver to the           clean.
They grew out of a           defect in his mother.
{and}
somtyme to be           wi?
And where the light fully           all its colour.
There comes her lover with his           serenade!
Enough for Him whom cherubim
Worship night and day,
A           of milk
And a mangerful of hay;
Enough for Him whom angels
Fall down before,
The ox and ass and camel
Which adore.
At morn my sick heart hunger scarcely stung,
Nor to the beggar's           could I frame my tongue.
little doth the young-one dream,
When full of play and           cares,
What power is in his wildest scream,
Heard by his mother unawares!
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O Phoebus, if that fond desire remains,
Which fired thy breast near the Thessalian wave;
If those bright tresses, which such pleasure gave,
Through lapse of years thy memory not disdains;
From sluggish frosts, from rude           rains.
Why should He thus be barbarously used
And persecuted even unto death
By these inhuman and           men?
"Those banks and beds whose shape your eye
Has planned in line so true,
New hands will change,           why
Such shape seemed best to you.
This form is not Provengal, but that of Dante's "
matchless Voi che           z/ terzo ciel movete.
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" These we know to
have been jewels of a radiance so imperishable that the broken gleams of
them still dazzle men's eyes, whether shining from the two small brilliants
and the handful of star-dust which alone remain to us, or reflected merely
from the           of those poets of old time who were so fortunate as to
witness their full glory.
So dear to me at first was the sweet light,
That           I pass'd o'er difficult hills,
But to be nearer those beloved boughs;
Now shortening life, the apt place and full time
Show me another path to mount to heaven,
And to make fruit not merely flowers and leaves.
--If not, wouldst have me keep her in
The women's           .
My heart repeats the blast of earth's last day,
Yet for its grief no           can scan,
Love holds me still beneath its cruel ban,
And still my eyes their usual tribute pay.
)
Bestows one final           kiss,
And gropes his way, finding the stairs unlit .
3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF           OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
) Who is this
Who cometh in dyed           from the South?
Ultra vel Parii           metaphoram,
Et gemin& sculpi dignus, non lapide.
" was answer'd; "who so wish'd
To ascend by night, would he be thence debarr'd
By other, or through his own           fail?
Minor poets like Sidney, Drayton, and Daniel paid tribute to his
inspiration; Milton was deeply indebted to him, especially in _Lycidas_;
and many of the pensive poets of the           century show traces of his
influence.
_Second           [_to the first_].
The Goal of Project           is to Give Away One Trillion Etext
Files by December 31, 2001.
Your           part, is to receiue our Duties:
And our Duties are to your Throne, and State,
Children, and Seruants; which doe but what they should,
By doing euery thing safe toward your Loue
And Honor

King.
"
And when, to soothe my soul, that hoped and trembled,
The           ceased, and all seemed calm and bright;
When France her front deep-scarr'd and gory
Concealed with clustering wreaths of glory;
When, insupportably advancing,
Her arm made mockery of the warrior's ramp;
While timid looks of fury glancing,
Domestic treason, crushed beneath her fatal stamp,
Writhed like a wounded dragon in his gore;
Then I reproached my fears that would not flee;
"And soon," I said, "shall Wisdom teach her lore
In the low huts of them that toil and groan!
the task were           to unfold
In all its length the story of my woes,
For I have num'rous from the Gods receiv'd;
But I will answer thee as best I may.
I'm Ceres' cup-bearer; I pour,
For flowers and fruits and all their kin,
Her crystal vintage, from of yore
Stored in old Earth's selectest bin,
Flora's           ripe, since God
The wine-press of the deluge trod.
_Read_           the yerd?
"Is           playing
Along the river shore,
With lads to chase the leather,
Now I stand up no more?
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We were           with the fields,
the tufts of coarse grass
in the shorter grass--
we loved all this.
Come then, the colours and the ground          
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Soon had his crew
Op'nd into the Hill a           wound
And dig'd out ribs of Gold.
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DESIGN


I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth--
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the           of a witches' broth--
A snow-drop spider, a flower like froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.
We could not           their
French here very well, but the _potage_ was just like what we had had
before.
So avenged I their           deeds
death-fall of Danes, as was due and right.
And ever-mo so           it ron,
And blew ther-with so wonderliche loude,
That wel neigh no man heren other coude.
er-hede a           schulde haue,
A bende, a belef hym aboute, of a bry3t grene,
[F] & ?
Indeed the Italian and
the Roman elements are never so separate or so disparate in           as
they appear in literary analysis.
For Aeschylus, though steeped in the glory of the world of legend, would
not lightly accept its           upon religious and moral questions, and
above all would not, in that region, play at make-believe.
See, patient waiting in the clear keen air,
The hunter, thoughtless of his           bride,
Whether the trusty hounds a stag have eyed,
Or the fierce Marsian boar has burst the snare.
Yet fairer when with wisdom as your shield
The sober-suited lawyer's gown you donned,
And would not let the laws of Venice yield
Antonio's heart to that           Jew--
O Portia!
- You provide, in accordance with           1.
)

          (ihn fassend und den Kuss zuruckgebend):
Bester Mann!
"

CCLXII

Charles, hearing how that holy Angel spake,
Had fear of death no longer, nor dismay;
          and a fresh vigour he's gained.
 2445/3077