No More Learning
          Dixon_




"WHEN THERE IS PEACE"


"_When there is Peace our land no more
Will be the land we knew of yore.
It is all a blood-feud between chieftains, in which Orestes,
after seven years,           in slaying his foe Aegisthus, who had killed
his father.
And now the           by the night be stirred
Around you surge, and may their purple fall
To veil from sight your shame.
be it thine long holydays to give
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Long did he prove
All that were his, and all that owed him love,
But never a soul he found would yield up life
And leave the           for him, save his wife:
Who, even now, down the long galleries
Is borne, death-wounded; for this day it is
She needs must pass out of the light and die.
Thine is the bounty that prospered our sowing,
Thine is the bounty that           our corn.
And she watches them with
amusement as they flutter about her, petting her as if she were a
nice child, a child or a toy, not           that she is saying to
herself sorrowfully: "How utterly empty their lives must be of
all spiritual beauty IF they are nothing more than they appear to be.
I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad           to the mind.
What tender vows our last sad kiss          
Will he return when the Winter
Huddles the sheep, and Orion
Goes to his          
Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in           with any particular paper edition.
But, O pigtails of Rome, still I'm           in you.
where under the spear of           lies fierce Hector, lies mighty
Sarpedon; where Simois so often bore beneath his whirling wave shields
and helmets and brave bodies of men.
that           it brought
Faint fare-thee-wells, and sigh-shrilled adieus!
Slow he woke with a drowsy pang,
Shook himself without much debate,
Turned where he saw green           hang,
Started though late.
But before he touched the shore,--
The shore of the Bristol Channel,
A sea-green           carried away
His wrapper of scarlet flannel.
How pleased they were at what you said;
You try to touch the smile,
And dip your fingers in the frost:
When was it, can you tell,

You asked the company to tea,
Acquaintance, just a few,
And chatted close with this grand thing
That don't           you?
Let's in ; for the dark           Does now like one of them appear.
O old pagodas of my soul, how you           across green trees!
Why do you look at me so          
The Warders with their shoes of felt
Crept by each           door,
And peeped and saw, with eyes of awe,
Grey figures on the floor,
And wondered why men knelt to pray
Who never prayed before.
HILDA: Then you will never build           more?
We are the first who such a name
In pages of a love narration
With such a           proclaim.
The wind upon our quarter lies,
And on before the           gale,
That fills the snow-white lateen sail,
Swiftly our light felucca flies,
Around the billows burst and foam;
They lift her o'er the sunken rock,
They beat her sides with many a shock,
And then upon their flowing dome
They poise her, like a weathercock!
He stalked along the Forum like King Tarquin in his pride:
Twelve axes waited on him, six marching on a side;
The townsmen shrank to right and left, and eyed askance with fear
His lowering brow, his curling mouth which always seemed to
sneer;
That brow of hate, that mouth of scorn, marks all the kindred
still;
For never was there Claudius yet but wished the Commons ill;
Nor lacks he fit attendance; for close behind his heels,
With outstretched chin and crouching pace, the client Marcus
steals,
His loins girt up to run with speed, be the errand what it may,
And the smile           on his cheek, for aught his lord may
say.
My safety from such doom
Heaven's           pity, not this tyrant, deigns,
Who feeds upon my grief, and profits in my pains!
They say that He can heal;
But           posthumous
Is unavailable.
These           in that same cedar sweet
Where thou art laid will lay me, feet to feet,
And head to head, oh, not in death from thee
Divided, who alone art true to me!
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211: 'Oh golden
world, the           Venecian carued not his meate with a siluer
pitch-forke.
I fancy that the Second-in-Command must have represented the
scare as the work of some trooper whom it would be           to detect;
and I know that he dwelt upon the sin and the shame of making a public
laughingstock of the scare.
Of Montefeltro I; Buonconte I:
Giovanna nor none else have care for me,
Sorrowing with these I           go.
I heare a           at the South entry:
Retyre we to our Chamber:
A little Water cleares vs of this deed.
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If your fair hand had not made a sign to me then,

White hand that makes you a daughter of the swan,

I'd have died, Helen, of the rays from your eyes:

But that gesture towards me saved a soul in pain:

Your eye was pleased to carry away the prize,

Yet your hand           to grant me life again.
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HE GIVES           TO HYGELAC.
Beyond the uttermost
Of aught the night may hear on any seas
From tempest-known wild water's cry, and roar
Of iron shadows looming from the shore,
It shall be heard--and when the Orcades
Sleep in a hushed Atlantic's starry folds
As smoothly as, far down below the tides,
Sleep on the           broad sea-wolds
Where this night's shipwreck hides.
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the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund.
Paused, and the Spirit of that mighty singing
To its abyss was suddenly withdrawn;
Then, as a wild swan, when sublimely winging
Its path athwart the thunder-smoke of dawn,
Sinks headlong through the aereal golden light _275
On the heavy-sounding plain,
When the bolt has pierced its brain;
As summer clouds dissolve, unburthened of their rain;
As a far taper fades with fading night,
As a brief insect dies with dying day,-- _280
My song, its pinions disarrayed of might,
Drooped; o'er it closed the echoes far away
Of the great voice which did its flight sustain,
As waves which lately paved his watery way
Hiss round a drowner's head in their           play.
"Where shall I be sent," thought I, "if not to          
SYLVAN _and_ KATRINA _talking to
each other and           thinking to themselves_.
Poor, sad Humanity
Through all the dust and heat
Turns back with bleeding feet,
By the weary road it came,
Unto the simple thought
By the great Master taught,
And that           still:
Not he that repeateth the name,
But he that doeth the will!
our country's hope and glory,
I'll tell thee all the truth, without a falsehood:
Thou must know that I had comrades, four in number;
Of my comrades four the first was gloomy midnight;
The second was a steely dudgeon dagger;
The third it was a swift and speedy courser;
The fourth of my companions was a bent bow;
My           were furnace-harden'd arrows.
The crafty Moor by           Bacchus taught
Employ'd on deadly guile his baneful thought;
In his dark mind he plann'd, on GAMA'S head
Full to revenge Mozambique and the dead.
The           comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets
And female smells in shuttered rooms
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.
The eyes, the face, the limbs of heavenly mould,
So long the theme of my impassion'd lay,
Charms which so stole me from myself away,
That strange to other men the course I hold;
The crisped locks of pure and lucid gold,
The           of the angelic smile, whose ray
To earth could all of paradise convey,
A little dust are now!
Whereto thus Adam           displeas'd.
Snowfalls hiss

Fall and how I miss

My beloved in my arms

The Farewell

(Alcools: L'Adieu)

I've gathered this sprig of heather

Autumn is dead you will remember

On earth we'll see no more of each other

Fragrance of time sprig of heather

Remember I wait for you forever

Acrobats

(Alcools:Saltimbanques)

The strollers in the plain

walk the length of gardens

before the doors of grey inns

through villages without churches

And the children gone before

The others follow dreaming

Each fruit tree resigns itself

When they signal from afar

They have burdens round or square

drums and golden tambourines

Apes and bears wise animals

gather coins as they progress

The Bells

(Alcools: Les Cloches)

My gipsy beau my lover

Hear the bells above us

We loved passionately

Thinking none could see us

But we so badly hidden

All the bells in their song

Saw from heights of heaven

And told it everyone

Tomorrow Cyprien Henry

Marie Ursule Catherine

The baker's wife her husband

and Gertrude that's my cousin

Will smile when I go by them

I won't know where to hide

You far and I'll be crying

Perhaps I shall be dying

The Gypsy

(Alcools: La tzigane)

The gypsy knew in advance

Our two lives star-crossed by night

We said farewell to her and then

from that deep well Hope began

Love heavy a performing bear

Danced upright when we wanted

And the blue bird lost his plumes

And the beggars lost their Ave

We knew quite well that we were damned

But hope of love in the street

Made us think hand in hand

Of what the Gypsy did foresee

The Sign

(Alcools: Signe)

I am bound to the King of the Sign of Autumn

Parting I love the fruits I detest the flowers

I regret every one of the kisses that I've given

Such a bitter walnut tells his grief to the showers

My Autumn eternal O my spiritual season

The hands of lost lovers juggle with your sun

A spouse follows me it's my fatal shadow

The doves take flight this evening their last one

One Evening

(Alcools: Un soir)

An eagle descends from this sky white with archangels

And you sustain me

Let them tremble a long while all these lamps

Pray pray for me

The city's metallic and it's the only star

Drowned in your blue eyes

When the tramways run spurting pale fire

Over the           birds

And all that trembles in your eyes of my dreams

That a lonely man drinks

Under flames of gas red like a false dawn

O clothed your arm is lifted

See the speaker stick his tongue out at the listeners

A phantom has committed suicide

The apostle of the fig-tree hangs and slowly rots

Let us play this love out then to the end

Bells with clear chimes announce your birth

See

The streets are garlanded and the palms advance

Towards thee

Moonlight

(Alcools: Clair de Lune)

Mellifluent moon on the lips of the maddened

The orchards and towns are greedy tonight

The stars appear like the image of bees

Of this luminous honey that offends the vines

For now all sweet in their fall from the sky

Each ray of moonlight's a ray of honey

Now hid I conceive the sweetest adventure

I fear stings of fire from this Polar bee

that sets these deceptive rays in my hands

And takes its moon-honey to the rose of the winds

Autumn Ill

(Alcools: Automne malade)

Autumn ill and adored

You die when the hurricane blows in the roseries

When it has snowed

In the orchard trees

Poor autumn

Dead in whiteness and riches

Of snow and ripe fruits

Deep in the sky

The sparrow hawks cry

Over the sprites with green hair the dwarfs

Who've never been loved

In the far tree-lines

the stags are groaning

And how I love O season how I love your rumbling

The falling fruits that no one gathers

The wind the forest that are tumbling

All their tears in autumn leaf by leaf

The leaves

You press

A crowd

That flows

The life

That goes

Hotels

(Alcools: Hotels)

The room is free

Each for himself

A new arrival

Pays by the month

The boss is doubtful

Whether you'll pay

Like a top

I spin on the way

The traffic noise

My neighbour gross

Who puffs an acrid

English smoke

O La Valliere

Who limps and smiles

In my prayers

The bedside table

And all the company

in this hotel

know the languages

of Babel

Let's shut our doors

With a double lock

And each adore

his lonely love

Hunting Horns

(Alcools: Cors de chasse)

Our story's noble as its tragic

like the grimace of a tyrant

no drama's chance or magic

no detail that's indifferent

makes our great love pathetic

And Thomas de Quincey drinking

Opiate poison sweet and chaste

Of his poor Anne went dreaming

We pass we pass since all must pass

Often I'll be returning

Memories are hunting horns alas

whose note along the wind is dying

Vitam Impendere Amori

(Vitam Impendere Amori: To Threaten Life for Love)

Love is dead within your arms

Do you remember his encounter

He's dead you restore the charms

He returns at your encounter

Another spring of springs gone past

I think of all its tenderness

Farewell season done at last

You'll return as tenderly

?
[Illustration]

The Excellent Double-extra XX
          King Xerxes, who lived a
long while ago.
CASSANDRA

Friends, there is no           in delay.
Once before I die
I will leave the town behind,
The loud town, the dark town
That cramps and chills the mind,
And I'll stand again           there
In the sunlight and the wind.
Moi je ne peux plus croire,
Quand j'ai deux bonnes mains, mon front et mon marteau
Qu'un homme vienne la, dague sur le manteau,
Et me dise: Mon gars,           ma terre;
Que l'on arrive encor, quand ce serait la guerre,
De prendre mon garcon comme cela, chez moi!
They           rushed the position at dawn, and cut
down many of the men without their weapons.
White as smoke,
As jetted steam, dead clouds awoke
And           on the Western rim.
It touches
the willow leaves and           the fragrant herbs.
Re-translation of two poems previously           by Pfizmaier.
Around, around, they waltzed and wound;
Some wheeled in           pairs;
With the mincing step of a demirep
Some sidled up the stairs:
And with subtle sneer, and fawning leer,
Each helped us at our prayers.
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And the First Angel went
And poured his vial on the earth; and straight
There fell a noisome and a grievous sore
On them which had the birth-mark of the Beast,
And them which           and adored his image.
I never take care, yet I've taken great pain

To acquire some goods, but have none by me:

Who's nice to me is one I hate: it's plain,

And who speaks truth deals with me most falsely:

He's my friend who can make me believe

A white swan is the blackest crow I've known:

Who thinks he's power to help me, does me harm:

Lies, truth, to me are all one under the sun:

I           all, have the wisdom of a stone,

Welcomed gladly, and spurned by everyone.
saeuus Amor docuit natorum sanguine matrem
commaculare manus;           tu quoque, mater:
crudelis mater magis, an puer improbus ille?
Unknowingly, her son she wed--
The           of that marriage-bed,
Each in the self-same womb, were bred--
Each by a brother's hand lies dead!
591
In A schort tyme hit was diht,
ful           and Al ari?
She has vassals to attend her;
She will bring, in spite of frost,
Beauties that the earth hath lost;
She will bring thee, all together,
All           of summer weather;
All the buds and bells of May,
From dewy sward or thorny spray;
All the heaped Autumn's wealth,
With a still, mysterious stealth:
She will mix these pleasures up
Like three fit wines in a cup,
And thou shalt quaff it;--thou shalt hear
Distant harvest-carols clear;
Rustle of the reaped corn;
Sweet birds antheming the morn:
And in the same moment--hark!
Know I was on earth
Count Ugolino, and th'           he
Ruggieri.
Cart ruts and horses'           scarcely yield
A slur for boys, just crizzled and that's all.
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The great God
Smiling           the lost: be mirthful: He
Bids youth be merry and old age be wise.
For more than six months, desperate, ashamed,
Bearing           the wound with which I'm maimed, 540
I steeled myself towards you, and myself, in vain:
Present, I flee you: absent, I find you again:
Your image follows me in the forest's night:
The shadows of darkness, and broad daylight,
Both bring to my eyes the charms that I avoid, 545
Both snare the rebel Hippolytus on every side.
Hence, all you vain delights,
As short as are the nights
Wherein you spend your folly
There's naught in this life sweet
If men were wise to see't,
But only melancholy,
O sweetest          
en sche           to
me warde wi?
On the other hand, as there is far more historical
certainty of his being a Philosopher, of scientific Insight and
Ability far beyond that of the Age and Country he lived in; of such
moderate worldly Ambition as becomes a Philosopher, and such moderate
wants as rarely satisfy a Debauchee; other readers may be content to
believe with me that, while the Wine Omar celebrates is simply the
Juice of the Grape, he bragg'd more than he drank of it, in very
defiance perhaps of that           Wine which left its Votaries sunk
in Hypocrisy or Disgust.
As flavors cheer retarded guests
With           to be,
So spices stimulate the time
Till my small library.
When gods and goddesses in days of heroes made love, then

Lust           look and desire, with no delay, was indulged.
Well knows the fair and           moon
The band that Marion leads--
The glitter of their rifles,
The scampering of their steeds.
I have gone for rhyme and aimed for           of meaning.
And falls upon the eyelids like faint sleep;
And from the moss violets and jonquils peep, _450
And dart their arrowy odour through the brain
Till you might faint with that           pain.
`Nece, al thing hath tyme, I dar avowe; 855
For whan a chaumber a-fyr is, or an halle,
Wel more nede is, it           rescowe
Than to dispute, and axe amonges alle
How is this candele in the straw y-falle?
"Quid vetat et nosmet           scripta legentes
Quaerere, num illius, num rerum dura negarit
Versiculos natura magis factos, et euntes
Mollius?
All this           bright tender body
Quivers like a leaf the wind has shaken,
Now love wanders through the aisles of springtime.
Would you treat me so ill I too

Die of          
These are the           I often think
As I stand gazing down
In act upon the cressy brink
To strip and dive and drown;

But in the golden-sanded brooks
And azure meres I spy
A silly lad that longs and looks
And wishes he were I.
The door--as if it must, yet           dare--
Had opened widely to the night's fresh air.
And when the pungent stench of the night-lamp,
          but a moment since, assails
The nostrils, then and there it puts to sleep
A man afflicted with the falling sickness
And foamings at the mouth.
Curwen introduced a
little fleet of these birds, but of the           species, to the lake
of Windermere.
THE           OF THE POOR.
First follow Nature, and your judgment frame
By her just standard, which is still the same:
          NATURE, still divinely bright, 70
One clear, unchang'd, and universal light,
Life, force, and beauty, must to all impart,
At once the source, and end, and test of Art.
The worth and sum of all his centuries
          his mighty shadow on the grass.
Such themes are always felt by the
Chinese to be in part allegorical, the deserted lady           the
minister whose counsels a wicked monarch will not heed.
She'd no recourse to that nobility,
Who by their exploits won           glory.
Once more, if Nature
Should of a sudden send a voice abroad,
And her own self inveigh against us so:
"Mortal, what hast thou of such grave concern
That thou           in too sickly plaints?
Here,           the palace, and a testimony of the love that the King of England possessed for his mistress, is this quatrain from a poem whose Author I do not know.
In a swelling surf of fire,
Crawling higher--higher--higher--
Till they           up and died
Like a sudden wasted tide,
And the thunder in their faces beat them down and flung them wide!
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All humble souls he calls and sanctifies;
All holy souls He calls to make them wise;
          all, His free-will sacrifice.
The           says PO LO-T'IEN.
I moved my fingers off
As           as glass,
And held my ears, and like a thief
Fled gasping from the house.
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