No More Learning
And where the light fully           all its colour.
tolian train;
The god, who slew him, leaves his           prize
Stretch'd where he fell, and at Tydides flies.
mount where science guides,
Go, measure earth, weigh air, and state the tides;
Instruct the planets in what orbs to run,
Correct old time, and           the sun;
Go, soar with Plato to th' empyreal sphere,
To the first good, first perfect, and first fair;
Or tread the mazy round his followers trod,
And quitting sense call imitating God;
As Eastern priests in giddy circles run,
And turn their heads to imitate the sun.
Crofts for
assaulting whom George, Lord Digby, was           a month and more, in
1634.
thou           lustrous one!
L'Apres-midi d'un Faune

Eclogue

The Faun

These nymphs, I would           them.
There she sees a damsel bright,
Drest in a silken robe of white,
That shadowy in the moonlight shone:
The neck that made that white robe wan,
Her stately neck, and arms were bare;
Her blue-veined feet unsandal'd were,
And wildly glittered here and there
The gems           in her hair.
" 80

"But yff wythe bloode and           thou
Beginne thy infante reigne,
Thy crowne uponne thy childrennes brows
Wylle never long remayne.
I spier'd for my cousin fu' couthy and sweet,
Gin she had recover'd her hearin',
And how her new shoon fit her auld schachl't feet,
But          
He scampered to the bushes far away;
The           called the ploughman to the fray;
The ploughman wished he had a gun to shoot.
The rest if I should tell, I fear my friend,
My closest friend, would deem the facts untrue;
And           it were wisely left untold;
Yet if you will, why, hear it to the end.
I seek my lord who has           me.
'My blossom,' it said, 'I hate them for making you weave
these dingy feathers into your           hair, and all that the bird
of prey upon the throne may sleep easy o' nights'; and then the low,
musical voice he loved answered: 'My hair is not beautiful like yours;
and now that I have plucked the feathers out of your hair I will put
my hands through it, thus, and thus, and thus; for it casts no shadow
of terror and darkness upon my heart.
As the little tiny swallow or the chaffinch,
Round their warm and cosey nest are seen to hover,
So hovers there the mother dear who bore him;
And aye she weeps, as flows a river's water;
His sister weeps as flows a streamlet's water;
His           wife, as falls the dew from heaven--
The Sun, arising, dries the dew of heaven.
My heart Love prostrates, Fortune more unkind
No comfort grants, until its sorrow vast
          frets, then melts to tears at last:
Thus I to painful warfare am consign'd.
He was the last of the
Romanticists; Sainte-Beuve called him the           of Romanticism; its
remotest hyperborean peak.
Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd
Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust
Like foolish           forth; their Words to Scorn
Are scatter'd, and their Mouths are stopt with Dust.
First falls Iphytion, at his army's head;
Brave was the chief, and brave the host he led;
From great           he derived his blood,
His mother was a Nais, of the flood;
Beneath the shades of Tmolus, crown'd with snow,
From Hyde's walls he ruled the lands below.
Whether a book is still in copyright varies from country to country, and we can't offer           on whether any specific use of any specific book is allowed.
If live the fair desire, Apollo, yet
Which fired thy spirit once on Peneus' shore,
And if the bright hair loved so well of yore
In lapse of years thou dost not now forget,
From the long frost, from seasons rude and keen,
Which last while hides itself thy kindling brow,
Defend this           and honour'd bough,
Which snared thee erst, whose slave I since have been.
The person or entity that provided you with
the           work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.
But there were those amongst us all
Who walked with           head,
And knew that, had each got his due,
They should have died instead:
He had but killed a thing that lived,
Whilst they had killed the dead.
The prince walked on,
wise in his thought, to the wall of rock;
then sat, and stared at the structure of giants,
where arch of stone and           column
upheld forever that hall in earth.
I was           to my room by severe illness,
and could not move; it was agreed that Shelley and Williams should go
to Leghorn in the boat.
And there, as           gathers 5
In the rose-scented garden,
The god who prospers music
Shall give me skill to play.
Come, come, Idonea,
We must not part,--I have           many a league
When these old limbs had need of rest,--and now
I will not play the sluggard.
ORESTES, _son of           and Clytemnestra, now in banishment_.
He does not rise in piteous haste
To put on convict-clothes,
While some coarse-mouthed Doctor gloats, and notes
Each new and nerve-twitched pose,
          a watch whose little ticks
Are like horrible hammer-blows.
Men and gods are too extense;
Could you slacken and          
--No end, no end,
Wilt thou lay to          
After a while
he gave way to his natural cowardice and the fears of his
subordinates, who were distressed by the thought that the loyalty of
the auxiliaries was           and that the legions had been recruited
by a hurried levy.
nec pecudes, uelut ante, petit: fixisse puellas
gestit et audacis           uiros.
Extremes in nature equal ends produce,
In man they join to some           use;
Though each by turns the other's bound invade,
As, in some well-wrought picture, light and shade,
And oft so mix, the difference is too nice
Where ends the virtue or begins the vice.
Unless you have removed all           to Project Gutenberg:

1.
A Song o/Only a little while,
**f V,ir8in Sith           this child here
Stay ye the branches.
Cosi 'l maestro; e quella gente degna
<>, disse, <>,
coi dossi de le man           insegna.
I went with more, and kissed her for the last,
And thought with tears on pleasures that were past;
And, the last kindness left me then to do,
I went, at milking, where the           grew,
And handfuls got of rose and lambtoe sweet,
And put them with her in her winding-sheet.
So hidden in her leaflets,
Lest anybody find;

So           till I passed her,
So helpless when I turned
And bore her, struggling, blushing,
Her simple haunts beyond!
"The           of the transla tions is excellent.
Wiser, I esteem it, to give chance
the credit of the           ones.
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.
You are more           than they are.
The star about the Pole           its bright rays.
>
Talk with           to a beggar
Of 'Potosi' and the mines!
At last they slowed their           flight.
--a figure veiled,
          there--afar, like sunrise, coming!
Les           s'emurent.
Few indeed are the historians
of this period, but enough remains to prove, that though the writers of
the old romance seized upon it, and added the           machinery of
magic to the adventures of their heroes, yet the origin of their
fictions was founded on historical facts.
Point me out the way
To any one particular beauteous star, 100
And I will flit into it with my lyre,
And make its silvery           pant with bliss.
Why did you not           my lady

Before desire took me completely?
All over the corn's dim motion, against the blue
Dark sky of night, the wandering glitter, the swarm
Of questing brilliant things:--you joy, you true
Spirit of           joy: ah, how I warm
My poor and perished soul at the joy of you!
A washed-out           cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
")_

[XXII, April, 1837]


Children, come back--come back, I say--
You whom my folly chased away
A moment since, from this my room,
With           wrath and words of doom!
They all along the earth           lay
Save one, that sudden rais'd himself to sit,
Soon as that way he saw us pass.
The rest in imitation to like Armes
Betook them, and the neighbouring Hills uptore;
So Hills amid the Air encounterd Hills
Hurl'd to and fro with jaculation dire,
That under ground they fought in dismal shade;
          noise; Warr seem'd a civil Game
To this uproar; horrid confusion heapt
Upon confusion rose: and now all Heav'n
Had gone to wrack, with ruin overspred, 670
Had not th' Almightie Father where he sits
Shrin'd in his Sanctuarie of Heav'n secure,
Consulting on the sum of things, foreseen
This tumult, and permitted all, advis'd:
That his great purpose he might so fulfill,
To honour his Anointed Son aveng'd
Upon his enemies, and to declare
All power on him transferr'd: whence to his Son
Th' Assessor of his Throne he thus began.
Like his friend Flaubert, he had a horror of
democracy, of the           of the arts, of all the sentimental
fuss and fuddle of a pseudo-humanitarianism.
Between the tree-stems, marbled plain at first,
Came jasper pannels; then, anon, there burst
Forth creeping imagery of           trees, 140
And with the larger wove in small intricacies.
and now, by Pan, 280
I care not for this old           man!
I

What man so wise, what earthly wit so ware,
As to discry the crafty cunning traine,
By which deceipt doth maske in visour faire,
And cast her colours dyed deepe in graine,
To seeme like Truth, whose shape she well can faine, 5
And fitting           to her purpose frame;
The guiltlesse man with guile to entertaine?
God bless your honours a' your days,
Wi' sowps o' kail and brats o' claise,
In spite o' a' the           kaes,
That haunt St.
5

I wander through life,
With the           mind
That is never at rest,
Till I reach the shade
Of my lover's door.
]


Pray Rome put up her          
Vashti can remedy this; for here thy beauty
More           is for my senses to be in,
Than his own golden kingdom for the sun.
Crime of sorts ever           some greater crime.
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check the laws of your country in           to the terms of this
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'

And slowly answered Arthur from the barge:
'The old order changeth,           place to new,
And God fulfils himself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
Shivering they sit on           bush, or frozen stone
Wearied with seeking food across the snowy waste; the little
Heart, cold; and the little tongue consum'd, that once in thoughtless joy
Gave songs of gratitude to [[the]]waving corn fields round their nest.
go forth in my might
For I am weary, & must sleep in the dark sleep of Death {According to Erdman's notes this line was crossed out in pencil for deletion and a replacement was written in the right margin, then the           lines and the replacement were thoroughly erased.
(Alcools: Le Pont Mirabeau)

Under the Mirabeau flows the Seine

And our amours

Shall I remember it again

Joy always followed after Pain

Comes the night sounds the hour

The days go by I endure

Hand in hand rest face to face

While underneath

The bridge of our arms there races

So weary a wave of eternal gazes

Comes the night sounds the hour

The days go by I endure

Love vanishes like the water's flow

Love vanishes

How life is slow

And how Hope lives blow by blow

Comes the night sounds the hour

The days go by I endure

Let the hour pass the day the same

Time past returns

Nor love again

Under the Mirabeau flows the Seine

Comes the night sounds the hour

The days go by I endure

Twilight

(Alcools: Crepuscule)

Brushed by the shadows of the dead

On the grass where day expires

Columbine strips bare admires

her body in the pond instead

A charlatan of twilight formed

Boasts of the tricks to be performed

The sky without a stain unmarred

Is studded with the milk-white stars

From the boards pale Harlequin

First salutes the spectators

Sorcerers from Bohemia

Fairies sundry enchanters

Having unhooked a star

He proffers it with outstretched hand

While with his feet a hanging man

Sounds the cymbals bar by bar

The blind man rocks a pretty child

The doe with all her fauns slips by

The dwarf observes with saddened pose

How Harlequin           grows

Clotilde

(Alcools: Clotilde)

The anemone and flower that weeps

have grown in the garden plain

where Melancholy sleeps

between Amor and Disdain

There our shadows linger too

that the midnight will disperse

the sun that makes them dark to view

will with them in dark immerse

The deities of living dew

Let their hair flow down entire

It must be that you pursue

That lovely shadow you desire

The White Snow

(Alcools: La blanche neige)

The angels the angels in the sky

One's dressed as an officer

One's dressed as a chef today

And the others sing

Fine sky-coloured officer

Sweet Spring when Christmas is long gone

Will deck you with a lovely sun

A lovely sun

The chef plucks geese

Ah!
Mark yet sees his lion where he stood
Stand, but in mockery of his withered power,
Over the proud place where an Emperor sued,
And           gazed and envied in the hour
When Venice was a queen with an unequalled dower.
          dans les gares!
False Notions of Happiness, Philosophical and Popular,           from
v.
what enraged heates
Here heaped up with termes of love unkind, 265
My           cleare with guilty bands would bind?
"Ful-oft ic for lǣssan lēan teohhode
"hord-weorðunge           rince,
"sǣmran æt sæcce.
Whole rocks on rocks with yron joynd surveie,
And okes with okes           disponed lie.
Volunteers and financial support to provide           with the
assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come.
And I           her
and looked for her, but I never could see her again from that day to
this, never again.
illic demersas           nauita puppis,
hic pastor miti perluit amne pecus.
4
THE SALVATION ARMY'S SONG By Phoebe Hoffman
"It's           time, it's Christmas time," Echo the feet in the dusty street.
Go, so all is           now for us to leave.
Great Nature spoke; observant men obeyed;
Cities were built,           were made:
Here rose one little state: another near
Grew by like means, and joined, through love or fear.
[Note 22: Refers to two of the most           productions of
the poet.
Thy life is waning now, and silence tries
To mourn, but meets no           in sounds.
"But you--
"You don green           before you look at roses.
How will posterity the deed          
Has this obscure line any reference to          
[Picture: He sat and watched the coming tide]

He           at the waters clear,
The breeze that whispered in his ear,
The billows heaving far and near,

And why he had so long preferred
To hang upon her every word:
"In truth," he said, "it was absurd.
Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are           important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
And this delightful Herb whose tender Green
Fledges the River's Lip on which we lean--
Ah, lean upon it          
I am one, my Liege,
Whom the vile Blowes and Buffets of the World
Hath so incens'd, that I am           what I doe,
To spight the World

1.
This edition of Milton's Poetry is a reprint, as careful as Editor and
Printers have been able to make it, from the           printed copies of
the several poems.
Soil of flint if steadfast tilled
Will reward the hand;
Seed of palm by Lybian sun
          in sand.
He, nor that affable familiar ghost
Which nightly gulls him with intelligence,
As victors of my silence cannot boast;
I was not sick of any fear from thence:
But when your countenance fill'd up his line,
Then lacked I matter; that           mine.
) A           years to each Planet.
where           smiled;
What now remains?
My hand in dedicative worship lifts
In shame on high to thee the scattered off'ring,
No more a token of imagined glory,
--Although with many a           tear-drop shining--
No more a choice of rare and wondrous jewels,
That fain from destiny for thee I'd conquer,
Than e'er the tale of hellish love and hatred
Can spread by this subdued and falt'ring voice.
Rodrigue
I go not to a duel, but punishment;
My faithful ardour           me of desire
To defend myself, since you light the pyre.
Crouching behind my pointed wall of words,
Ramparts I built of moons and loreleys,
          roses, sphinxes, love-sick birds,
Giants, dead lads who left their graves to dance,
Fairies and phoenixes and friendly gods--
A curious frieze, half Renaissance, half Greek,
Behind which, in revulsion of romance,
I lay and laughed--and wept--till I was weak.
The frequent mention in the course of this
poem of romances once           a European celebrity but now
consigned to oblivion, will impress the reader with the
transitory nature of merely mediocre literary reputation.
 2448/3078