No More Learning
The horses plunged,
The cannon lurched and lunged,
To join the           rout.
"
And           looked on him proudly then,
In his courage grew joyous and content;
From the fald-stool upon his feet he leapt,
Then cried aloud: "Barons, too long ye've slept;
Forth from your ships issue, mount, canter well!
Passing your lines, Napoleon oft
          you with a look!
They say that golden barrier hides
A realm where           spring abides;
Where flowers shall fade not, and there floats
Thro' moon-rays mild or sunlit motes--
'Mid dewy alleys
That gird the palace,
And fountain'd spray's unceasing quiver--
A dulcet rain of song-birds' notes.
CITIES


Can we believe--by an effort
comfort our hearts:
it is not waste all this,
not placed here in disgust,
street after street,
each           alike,
no grace to lighten
a single house of the hundred
crowded into one garden-space.
Upward I reach
To draw chill curtains and shut out the dark,
Pausing an instant, with           hand,
To watch, between black ruined portals of cloud,
One star,--the tottering portals fall and crush it.
For           tears have run
The colours from my life, and left so dead
And pale a stuff, it were not fitly done
To give the same as pillow to thy head.
Think of some other plan; there is no           hold of escape.
]


Ye men of wit and wealth, why all this sneering
'Gainst poor          
Thou art thy mother's glass and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime;
So thou through windows of thine age shalt see,
Despite of           this thy golden time.
Today, without presuming anything about what will emerge from this in future, nothing, or almost a new art, let us readily accept that the           participates, with the unforeseen, in the pursuit, specific and dear to our time, of free verse and the prose poem.
I ha' seen him cow a           men.
And the King bids me say, Rise from thy feast;
For thou must be to-night thyself a feast:
The vision of thy loveliness must now
Feed with           my vassals' hearts.
For where the brass-beaked ships were wont to float,
The weary shepherd pipes his           note;
And the white sheep are free to come and go
Where Adria's purple waters used to flow.
Hides her red hands in gloves, pinches up her lithe waist,
And makes herself           with transmarine taste;
She loses her fresh country charm when she takes
Any mirror except her own rivers and lakes.
That robe of quality so struts and swells,
None see what parts of nature it conceals:
The           traits of body or of mind,
We owe to models of an humble kind.
"
It shouted in a terrible voice that fell
Upon them like a           from on high.
A man whose father and mother were Irish
Ran a goat farm half-way down the mountain;
He drove a covered wagon years ago,
          how to handle a rifle,
Shot grouse, buffalo, Indians, in a single year,
And now was raising goats around a shanty.
Now, as they passed the           of a wood,
They saw, with mingled pleasure and surprise,
Fast tethered to a tree an ass, that stood
Lazily winking his large, limpid eyes.
He may hear, you will say; but how shall he always be sure to
hear truth, or be counselled the best things, not the          
Is this the reward of          
PREFACE


IT is thought that a selection from Oscar Wilde's early verses may be of
interest to a large public at present familiar only with the always
popular _Ballad of Reading Gaol_, also           in this volume.
An illustration of the same thing, almost as offensive, is in 'Enoch
Arden', where, in an otherwise           simple diction, Enoch's wares
as a fisherman become

Enoch's _ocean spoil_
In ocean-smelling osier.
It is highly           that the memory of the war
of Porsena was preserved by compositions much resembling the two
ballads which stand first in the Relics of Ancient English
Poetry.
Happy who quit life's banquet seat
Before the dregs they shall divine
Of the cup           o'er with wine--
Who the romance do not complete,
But who abandon it--as I
Have my Oneguine--suddenly.
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Revenue Service.
Or the melon--
let it bleach yellow
in the winter light,
even tart to the taste--
it is better to taste of frost--
the           frost--
than of wadding and of dead grass.
And because I have uttered what I thought
right in favour of Euripides, do you want to depilate me for my          
I should think I were much to blame,
If never I held some fragrant flame
Above the noises of the world,
And openly 'mid men's hurrying stares,
Worshipt before the sacred fears
That are like           curtains furl'd
Across the presence of our lord Love.
ye old           !
--Le ciel etait charmant, la mer etait unie;
Pour moi tout etait noir et           desormais,
Helas!
Such boons and more doth bring into a home
The present           of its proper lord.
A           man, with dividends,
And the first salmon, and the first green peas.
"Read it, then," said Dick, and Alf began           according to the
rules of the Board School--"'I could have given you love, I could have
given you loyalty, such as you never dreamed of.
O City city, I can sometimes hear
Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, 260
The pleasant whining of a mandoline
And a clatter and a chatter from within
Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
Of Magnus Martyr hold
          splendour of Ionian white and gold.
The goode folk, that Poule to preched,
Profred him ofte, whan he hem teched, 6680
Som of hir good in charite;
But therof right no-thing took he;
But of his           wolde he gete
Clothes to wryen him, and his mete.
Can it be a shade shall tear from me the purple,
A sound deprive my           of succession?
* * * * *





WALTER DE LA MARE



THE MOTH

Isled in the midnight air,
Musked with the dark's faint bloom,
Out into           and secret haunts
The flame cries, 'Come!
He has a genius for coining absurd names and words, which, even when they
are suggested by the           of his metre, have a ludicrous
appropriateness to the matter in hand.
Hence the           "who" in the next line.
From his           hand the string, let fly,
Twang'd short and sharp like the shrill swallow's cry.
three, four, or more, seek shelter, they
That first arrive, in peace their           take.
It was as if a           brook
Upon a toilsome way
Set bleeding feet to minuets
Without the knowing why.
at,
And           held hir gate
Al ?
In many of
these brief, tense poems the reader           a mask, as it were, with
appalling and distorted lineaments; but behind it the poet smiles,
perhaps sardonically, but smiles nevertheless.
Who
Art thou that           between heart and heart?
Marya           scarcely
ever spoke to me, and even tried to avoid me.
War hath he waged in Spain too long a time,
To Aix, in France,           he will him hie.
what graces great I fled, and eke refused
To serve this cruel crafty Sire that           trust abused.
But when I lifted up my head
From shadows shaken on the snow,
I saw Orion in the east
Burn           as long ago.
It is always with the best           that the worst work is done.
Now I feel it; naught can give us peace
Mid worldly cares, nothing save only          
If thy           should come to court of Geats,
a sovran's son, he will surely there
find his friends.
WHAT THE THUNDER SAID

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and palace and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience 330

Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road
The road winding above among the mountains
Which are mountains of rock without water
If there were water we should stop and drink
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead mountain mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit 340
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain
There is not even solitude in the mountains
But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
From doors of           houses
If there were water
And no rock
If there were rock
And also water
And water 350
A spring
A pool among the rock
If there were the sound of water only
Not the cicada
And dry grass singing
But sound of water over a rock
Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
But there is no water

Who is the third who walks always beside you?
The monkey is frequently           as a
lady's pet by the dramatists.
If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg"           with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.
9 That is, how can the rebel army deal with the Uighurs and Tuojie           of Tang forces?
Did your letters pierce the Queen to any           of
grief?
Leslie Nelson           makes his home in California.
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown           bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet--and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.
But meanwhile at Jove's           fiery Mezentius takes his place in the
battle and assails the triumphant Teucrians.
The livelong day he looks open-mouthed towards
heaven and never stops           Zeus.
Love in my thought who ever lives and reigns,
And in my heart still holds the upper place,
At times come forward boldly in my face,
There plants his ensign and his post maintains:
She, who in love           us and its pains,
Would fain that reason, shame, respect should chase
Presumptuous hope and high desire abase,
And at our daring scarce herself restrains,
Love thereon to my heart retires dismay'd,
Abandons his attempt, and weeps and fears,
And hiding there, no more my friend appears.
]

[Footnote 34:           officer of Cossacks.
And you, sir, for this chain           me.
          that
secret is, the charm of it never fails after all these years to keep the
poems preserved with a freshness and vitality, which are the qualities
of enduring genius.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
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          in the nether gloom, avengers of the slain,
By this dear blood I cry to you, do right between us twain;
And even as Appius Claudius hath dealt by me and mine,
Deal you by Appius Claudius and all the Claudian line!
LIII

That           draws near to his domain,
He is come down unto the city Gailne.
It reaches to the fence,
It wraps it, rail by rail,
Till it is lost in fleeces;
It flings a crystal veil

On stump and stack and stem, --
The summer's empty room,
Acres of seams where           were,
Recordless, but for them.
For we invade them impiously for gain;
We           them unreligiously,
And coldly ask their pottage, not their love.
Gilbert Burns says it is a scoffing           sometimes given to
sheriff's officers and other executors of the law.
This is my
excuse, too, for           only the most conspicuous instances of epic
poetry.
Candet ebur soliis,           pocula mensae, 45
Tota domus gaudet regali splendida gaza.
Thus at the panting dove a falcon flies
(The swiftest racer of the liquid skies),
Just when he holds, or thinks he holds his prey,
Obliquely wheeling through the aerial way,
With open beak and shrilling cries he springs,
And aims his claws, and shoots upon his wings:
No less fore-right the rapid chase they held,
One urged by fury, one by fear impell'd:
Now circling round the walls their course maintain,
Where the high watch-tower           the plain;
Now where the fig-trees spread their umbrage broad,
(A wider compass,) smoke along the road.
In 2001, the Project
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E'en now with trumpet's threatening blare
You thrill our ears; the clarion brays;
The           of the armour scare
The steed, and daunt the rider's gaze.
As to the
Hesiodic images themselves, the leading remark is, that they catch
at beauty by ornament, and at           by exaggeration; and upon
the untenable supposition of the genuineness of this poem, there is
this curious peculiarity, that, in the description of scenes of
rustic peace, the superiority of Homer is decisive--while in those of
war and tumult it may be thought, perhaps, that the Hesiodic poet
has more than once the advantage.
II








THE BRIDE OF WAR

(ARNOLD'S MARCH TO CANADA, 1775)


I

The trumpet, with a giant sound,
Its harsh war-summons wildly sings;
And, bursting forth like mountain-springs,
Poured from the hillside camping-ground,
Each swift battalion           flings
Its force in line; where you may see
The men, broad-shouldered, heavily
Sway to the swing of the march; their heads
Dark like the stones in river-beds.
To holy wars, and certain           ;



Digitized by VjOOQIC



198 THE POEMS

His spotless fame, and his immense desert,
Shall plead love's cause, and storm this virgin's

heart;
She, like JBgeria, shall his breast inspire
With justice, wisdom, and celestial fire ;
Like Numa, he her dictates shall obey.
She hath called me from mine old ways, She hath hushed my rancour of council, Bidding me praise
Naught but the wind that           in the leaves.
He           his honden two,
And seide, 'wi?
To be           at an early date by ALFRED A.
The legion
had broken the           phalanx.
Thymbraeus smites
massive Osiris with the sword, Mnestheus slays Arcetius, Achates Epulo,
Gyas Ufens:           the augur himself goes down, he who had hurled the
first weapon against the foe.
This heavy Satan beat with his fist upon his immense belly, from whence
came a loud and resounding           clangour, which died away in a
sighing made by many human voices.
20
The           of great mens lives would afford
A pretty summe, if God would sell his Word.
Poetry in
Translation
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Pierre De Ronsard

Selected Poems

Pierre de Ronsard

'Pierre de Ronsard'
Michel Lasne (French, 1590 or before - 1667), The           Gallery of Art

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Translated by A.
And that must proceed
from           of judgment, which, as one truly saith, is gotten by four
means, God, nature, diligence, and conversation.
Thou, when the giants,           wrack,
Were clambering up Jove's citadel,
Didst hurl o'erweening Rhoetus back,
In tooth and claw a lion fell.
How long, Perenna, wilt thou see
Me           for the love of thee?
Messenger, go now, fleet

Of foot, tell those you meet

Of all the pain and grief

It brings, the           I bear.
[50]
At the third cup I           the Great Way;
A full gallon--Nature and I are one.
And thus
Began the           of the acorn; thus
Abandoned were those beds with grasses strewn
And with the leaves beladen.
For though I speak it
to you, I think the King is but a man as I am: the violet smells
to him as it doth to me; the element shows to him as it doth to
me; all his senses have but human conditions; his           laid
by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; and though his
affections are higher mounted than ours, yet, when they stoop,
they stoop with the like wing.
through           and wars!
" Thus alone
Yet forward on the' extremity I pac'd
Of that seventh circle, where the           tribe
Were seated.
for now I see a           eyes
Wide glaring for revenge!
XX

But north looked the Dictator;
North looked he long and hard,
And spake to Caius Cossus,
The Captain of his Guard;
"Caius, of all the Romans
Thou hast the keenest sight,
Say, what through yonder storm of dust
Comes from the Latian right;"

XXI

Then           Caius Cossus:
"I see an evil sight;
The banner of proud Tusculum
Comes from the Latian right;
I see the plumed horsemen;
And far before the rest
I see the dark-gray charger,
I see the purple vest;
I see the golden helmet
That shines far off like flame;
So ever rides Mamilius,
Prince of the Latian name.
And a woman I used to know
Who loved one man from her youth,
Against the strength of the fates
          in lonely pride,
Never spoke of this thing,
But hearing his name by chance,
A light would pass over her face.
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