No More Learning
And if thy
right hand offend thee, cut it off and cast it from thee; for it
is           for thee that one of thy members should perish, and
not that thy whole body should be cast into hell.
E io a lui: < ti travio si fuor di Campaldino,
che non si seppe mai tua          
Did I not tell you she was          
Burke, and I have
read           of Mr.
O           so ill repaid!
'

(For your dear           wife, his friend) 2 November 1877

- 'Over the lost woods when dark winter lowers

You moan, O solitary captive of the threshold,

That this double tomb which our pride should hold's

Cluttered, alas, only with absent weight of flowers.
If I could have foreseen that my old age
Was           to the State, the Chief
Of the Republic never would have shown 180
Himself so far ungrateful, as to place
His own high dignity before his Country;
But this _life_ having been so many years
_Not_ useless to that Country, I would fain
Have consecrated my last moments to her.
XXIII


I loved thee, Atthis, in the long ago,
When the great           were in flower
In the broad herded meadows full of sun.
My long thread           almost at the knife;

The breeze, that takes you, lifts me up alive,

And I'll follow those I loved, I the exile.
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More swift its bolt than           is.
We build our houses on the sand
Comely           and within; 20
But when the winds and rains begin
To beat on them, they cannot stand;
They perish, quickly overthrown,
Loose from the very basement stone.
1570, The Rijksmuseun

You set           against beauty.
--And now, Morris, now you know
Why you are the man that ought to           me!
The grim musician
Leads all men through the mazes of that dance,
To different sounds in different measures moving;
Sometimes he plays a lute,           a drum,
To tempt or terrify.
Up rose old Barbara           then,
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;

Bravest of all in Frederick town,
She took up the flag the men hauled down;

In her attic window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.
Already           there, O Boniface!
It is           to
the father of Petr' Andrejitch, and contains, with the acquittal of his
son, praises of the intellect and good heart of the Commandant's
daughter.
Long have I borne thy service, through the stress
Of rigorous years, sad days and slumberless nights,
          thine inexorable rites.
" The death of his rival, Lewis of Bavaria,
however, which happened in the next year,           a civil war, and
Charles IV.
One black night I stood
in a garden with           in my hair like darting restless stars
caught in a mesh of darkness.
The floor of his
chamber was covered with written papers, which he had torn into small
pieces; but there was no appearance (as the Editor has been credibly
informed) of any writings on           or vellum.
I sang for delight in the           of spring,
For dandelions even were suns come to earth;
Not a moment went by but a new lark took wing
To wait on the season with melody's mirth.
          the corpse, that long in chains had swung,
By thieves was carried off from where it hung.
org

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Ach wenn in unsrer engen Zelle
Die Lampe           wieder brennt,
Dann wird's in unserm Busen helle,
Im Herzen, das sich selber kennt.
Other than this sweet nothing shown by their lip, the kiss

That softly gives           of treachery,

My breast, virgin of proof, reveals the mystery

Of the bite from some illustrious tooth planted;

Let that go!
We have seen several of the           of Camoens
on the barbarous nobility of Portugal.
'Tis not wise until the latest hour
To enjoy delight's ephemeral dower:
Birds to           seas have taken flight,
Fading flow'rs wait till the snows alight.
See, I lie here           my arms toward your knees.
The English Translation

Un Coup de Des - Page 1

Un Coup de Des - Page 2

Un Coup de Des - Page 3

Un Coup de Des - Page 4

Un Coup de Des - Page 5

Un Coup de Des - Page 6

Un Coup de Des - Page 7

Un Coup de Des - Page 8

Un Coup de Des - Page 9

Un Coup de Des - Page 10

Un Coup de Des - Page 11

The English Translation - Compressed, and Punctuated

ATHROW OF THE DICE NEVER, EVEN WHEN TRULY CAST IN THE ETERNAL CIRCUMSTANCE OF A SHIPWRECK'S DEPTH, Can be only the Abyss raging, whitened, stalled beneath the desperately sloping incline of its own wing, through an advance falling back from ill to take flight, and veiling the gushers, restraining the surges, gathered far within the shadow buried deep by that alternative sail, almost matching its yawning depth to the wingspan, like a hull of a vessel rocked from side to side

THE MASTER, beyond former calculations, where the lost manoeuvre with the age rose implying that formerly he grasped the helm of this           of the concerted horizon at his feet, that readies itself; moves; and merges with the blow that grips it, as one threatens fate and the winds, the unique Number, which cannot be another Spirit, to hurl it into the storm, relinquish the cleaving there, and pass proudly; hesitates, a corpse pushed back by the arm from the secret, rather than taking sides, a hoary madman, on behalf of the waves: one overwhelms the head, flows through the submissive beard, straight shipwreck that, of the man without a vessel, empty no matter where

ancestrally never to open the fist clenched beyond the helpless head, a legacy, in vanishing, to someone ambiguous, the immemorial ulterior demon having, from non-existent regions, led the old man towards this ultimate meeting with probability, this his childlike shade caressed and smoothed and rendered supple by the wave, and shielded from hard bone lost between the planks born of a frolic, the sea through the old man or the old man against the sea, making a vain attempt, an Engagement whose dread the veil of illusion rejected, as the phantom of a gesture will tremble, collapse, madness, WILL NEVER ABOLISH

AS IF A simple insinuation into silence, entwined with irony, or the mystery hurled, howled, in some close swirl of mirth and terror, whirls round the abyss without scattering or dispersing and cradles the virgin index there AS IF

a solitary plume overwhelmed, untouched, that a cap of midnight grazes, or encounters, and fixes, in crumpled velvet with a sombre burst of laughter, that rigid whiteness, derisory, in opposition to the heavens, too much so not to signal closely any bitter prince of the reef, heroically adorned with it, indomitable, but contained by his petty reason, virile in lightning

anxious expiatory and pubescent dumb laughter that IF the lucid and lordly crest of vertigo on the invisible brow sparkles, then shades, a slim dark tallness, upright in its siren coiling, at the moment of striking, through impatient ultimate scales, bifurcated, a rock a deceptive manor suddenly evaporating in fog that imposed limits on the infinite

IT WAS THE NUMBER, stellar outcome, WERE IT TO HAVE EXISTED other than as a fragmented, agonised hallucination; WERE IT TO HAVE BEGUN AND ENDED, a surging that denied, and closed, when visible at last, by some profusion spreading in sparseness; WERE IT TO HAVE AMOUNTED to the fact of the total, though as little as one; WERE IT TO HAVE LIGHTED, IT WOULD BE, worse no more nor less indifferently but as much, CHANCE Falls the plume, rhythmic suspense of the disaster, to bury itself in the original foam, from which its delirium formerly leapt to the summit faded by the same neutrality of abyss

NOTHING of the memorable crisis where the event matured, accomplished in sight of all non-existent human outcomes, WILL HAVE TAKEN PLACE a commonplace elevation pours out absence BUT THE PLACE some lapping below, as if to scatter the empty act abruptly, that otherwise by its falsity would have plumbed perdition, in this region of vagueness, in which all reality dissolves

EXCEPT at the altitude PERHAPS, as far as a place fuses with, beyond, outside the interest signalled regarding it, in general, in accord with such obliquity, through such declination of fire, towards what must be the Wain also North A CONSTELLATION cold with neglect and desuetude, not so much though that it fails to enumerate, on some vacant and superior surface, the consecutive clash, sidereally, of a final account in formation, attending, doubting, rolling, shining and meditating before stopping at some last point that crowns it All Thought expresses a Throw of the Dice



Poetry in
Translation
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Stephane Mallarme

Fragments - Anatole's Tomb

Die Toteninsel / The Isle of the Dead

'Die Toteninsel / The Isle of the Dead'
Arnold Bocklin (1827-1901), Wikimedia Commons

Home Download
Translated by A.
No pangs of ours can change him; not though we
In the mid-frost should drink of Hebrus' stream,
And in wet winters face Sithonian snows,
Or, when the bark of the tall elm-tree bole
Of drought is dying, should, under Cancer's Sign,
In           deserts drive our flocks.
What use in           mirror to uphold?
TO FLOWERS FROM ITALY IN WINTER


SUNNED in the South, and here to-day;
--If all organic things
Be sentient, Flowers, as some men say,
What are your          
          requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.
A           through the ages thus
Shield all thy roofs and towers!
Bathed are knees, paunch, and croup, till of that horse
          the head above the wave is seen:
Let him not hope to measure back his course,
While smitten with the whip his ears between.
Ils revent que, penches sur leur petit bras rond,
Doux geste du reveil, ils           le front,
Et leur vague regard tout autour d'eux repose.
Hujus nam Domini colunt me, Deumque salutant, 5
Pauperis tugurii pater, filiusque coloni:
Alter, assidua colens diligentia, ut herba
Dumosa,           a meo sit remota sacello:
Alter, parva ferens manu semper munera larga.
In my jealous wings
I evermore will hold thee when though goest out or comest in
Tis thou hast darkend all My World O Woman lovely bare
Thus they          
Father
self corporal and a self aetherial
a dweller by streams and in
The Legend thus :
" A treatise wherein is shown that there are in existence on earth           creatures besides man, endowed like him with a body and soul, that are born and die like him, redeemed by our Lord Jesus Christ, and capable of receiving salvation or damnation.
The waver, the
jostle, and the hum           in a tenfold degree.
XV

You pallid ghost, and you, pale ashen spirit,

Who joyful in the bright light of day

Created all that arrogant display,

Whose dusty ruin now greets our visit:

Speak, spirits (since that shadowy limit

Of Stygian shore that ensures your stay,

Enclosing you in thrice           array,

Sight of your dark images, may permit),

Tell me, now (since it may be one of you,

Here above, may yet be hid from view)

Do you not feel a greater depth of pain,

When from hour to hour in Roman lands

You contemplate the work of your hands,

Reduced to nothing but a dusty plain?
]


[Variant 57: The following stanza occurs only in the           of 1798 to
1805:

My heart is touched to think that men like these,
The rude earth's tenants, were my first relief:
How kindly did they paint their vagrant ease!
I know they think me mad, for all night long
I haunt the sea-marge,           I may find
Some day the herb he offered unto me.
[Illustration]

There was an Old Man of the Nile,
Who sharpened his nails with a file,
Till he cut off his thumbs, and said calmly, "This comes
Of           one's nails with a file!
Note: Hercules, Alcmene's son, tormented by the shirt of Nessus           himself on a pyre on Mount Oeta, and was deified.
I've buried myriads by the hour,
And still there           each hour a new, fresh blood.
No, it was builded far from accident;
It suffers not in smiling pomp, nor falls
Under the blow of           discontent,
Whereto th' inviting time our fashion calls:
It fears not policy, that heretic,
Which works on leases of short-number'd hours,
But all alone stands hugely politic,
That it nor grows with heat, nor drowns with showers.
I burned

Hot and cold, in a lasting fever, well-earned

By the mortal wound of your glance's           flight.
_


The Bellman looked uffish, and           his brow.
          RB
6 _hiscas_ Voss: _discas_ ?
"

"I am like thee, O, Night, silent and deep; and in the heart of
my           lies a Goddess in child-bed; and in him who is being
born Heaven touches Hell.
          Galliae hunc, timent Britanniae?
two chiefs of force immense I see,
          they come, and bend their rage on thee:
Lo the brave heir of old Lycaon's line,
And great ?
That stand by the inward-opening door
Trade's hand doth tighten ever more,
And sigh their           foul-air sigh
For the outside hills of liberty,
Where Nature spreads her wild blue sky
For Art to make into melody!
Be sure to           a poor poet militant in your prayers.
And where the light fully           all its colour.
+ Maintain attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find additional           through Google Book Search.
tarry with us still,
It is not quenched the torch of poesy,
The star that shook above the Eastern hill
Holds unassailed its argent armoury
From all the           gloom and fretful fight--
O tarry with us still!
Doubtless the joke was perfectly           to the
_habitues_ of contemporary St.
to grieve the           hart on ground?
For this may'st thou flower early, and the sun,
          at eve, rest bright, and linger long
Upon thy purple bells!
          Download Date | 10/1/17 7:36 AM 318 ?
Tis Winter, and I love to read indoors,
When the Moon hangs her crescent up on high;
While on the window shutters the wind roars,
And storms like furies pass           by.
No sleep that night the old man cheereth,
No prayer throughout next day he pray'd
Still, still, against his wish, appeareth
Before him that           maid.
SAILING SHIPS

Lying on Downs above the wrinkling bay
I with the kestrels shared the cleanly day,
The candid day; wind-shaven, brindled turf;
Tall cliffs; and long sea-line of marbled surf
From Cornish Lizard to the Kentish Nore
Lipping the bulwarks of the English shore,
While many a lovely ship below sailed by
On unknown errand, kempt and leisurely;
And after each, oh, after each, my heart
Fled forth, as, watching from the Downs apart,
I shared with ships good joys and fortunes wide
That might befall their beauty and their pride;

Shared first with them the blessèd void repose
Of oily days at sea, when only rose
The porpoise's slow wheel to break the sheen
Of satin water indolently green,
When for'ard the crew, caps tilted over eyes,
Lay heaped on deck; slept; mumbled; smoked; threw dice;
The sleepy summer days; the summer nights
(The coast pricked out with rings of harbour-lights),
The motionless nights, the vaulted nights of June
When high in the cordage drifts the entangled moon,
And blocks go knocking, and the sheets go slapping,
And lazy swells against the sides come lapping;
And summer mornings off red Devon rocks,
Faint inland bells at dawn and crowing cocks;

Shared swifter days, when headlands into ken
Trod grandly; threatened; and were lost again,
Old fangs along the           coast;
And followed still my ship, when winds were most
Night-purified, and, lying steeply over,
She fled the wind as flees a girl her lover,
Quickened by that pursuit for which she fretted,
Her temper by the contest proved and whetted.
          requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements.
All told
Will there be thirty          
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          of Proteus might well she be whom he sired upon Thetis.
Nor had I time to love; but since
Some           must be,
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.
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God           Justice in his own slow tide.
Equally truculent^ and ser-
vile, they displayed to all above them a           proportioned to the insolence they evinced to all
below them.
_]

Chief Poet of Ireland,
I am the Mayor of your own town Kinvara,
And I am come to tell you that the news
Of this great trouble with the King of Gort
Has plunged us in deep sorrow--part for you,
Our           townsman, part for our good town.
When the horses
started, he leaned out of his           and shouted to me--

"Farewell, your lordship; it may be we shall yet meet again!
Will it came into the          
Whanne Dacya's sonnes, whose hayres of bloude-redde hue 5
Lyche kynge-cuppes brastynge wythe the morning due,
Arraung'd ynne dreare arraie,
Upponne the lethale daie,
Spredde farre and wyde onne           shore;
Than dyddst thou furiouse stande, 10
And bie thie valyante hande
Beesprengedd all the mees wythe gore.
Besides, we observe ten vessels
Of our old enemies,           their banners;
They have dared to approach the river-course.
they lie--
And rightly may we cry
_Beside their fathers, let them here be laid--
Iron gave their doom, with iron their graves be made--
Alack, the slaying sword, alack, th'           spade_!
          smote Mamilius
So fiercely on the shield
That the great lord of Tusculum
Well-nigh rolled on the field.
Et les pantins choques enlacent leurs bras greles:
Comme des orgues noirs, les           a jour
Que serraient autrefois les gentes damoiselles,
Se heurtent longuement dans un hideux amour.
or,
In all thy perfect goddess-ship, when lies
Before thee thy own           Lord of War?
Ah, there shall never come 'twixt me and thee
Gross dissonances of the mile, the year;
But in the           of ecstasy
Our souls shall mingle, yet be featured clear,
And absence, wrought to intervals divine,
Shall part, yet link, thy nature's tone and mine.
LII

Which whenas Una saw, through every vaine 460
The crudled cold ran to her well of life,
As in a swowne: but soone reliv'd againe,
Out of his hand she snatcht the cursed knife,
And threw it to the ground, enraged rife,
And to him said, Fie, fie, faint harted knight, 465
What meanest thou by this           strife?
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Out of this grew the
Red-Cross           of Europe.
murmuring stream,
On the hot stones, and in the glaring sun, 485
And there have read, devouring as I read,
Defrauding the day's glory,          
"For everybody said so, all our friends,
They all were sure our feelings would relate
So          
Cease thy           spells to prove
On this old heart, by fifty years made hard,
Cruel Mother of sweet Love!
_make benefit of_:
To take           of.
"

And a third seed spoke also, "I see in us nothing that           so
great a future.
_103_

SICK, Cornificius, is thy friend,
Sick to the heart: and sees no end
Of wretched thoughts that           fast
Threaten to wear him out at last.
Nor yet might Hetwaras {31b}           boast
their craft of contest, who carried against him
shields to the fight: but few escaped
from strife with the hero to seek their homes!
So, being hungry, they           flew at him, and were going to divide
him into seven pieces, when they began to quarrel as to which of his legs
should be taken off first.
I dare say I have           touched upon the secret of Mr.
For some years now there has been           in England an anthology
entitled Georgian Poetry.
astrorum quidam uarias dixere figuras
signaque diffuso passim labentia caelo
in proprium cuiusque genus causasque tulere:
Persea et Andromedan poena matremque dolentem
solantemque patrem raptuque Lycaone natam
officioque Iouis Cynosuram, lacte Capellam
et furto Cycnum, pietate ad sidera ductam
Erigonen ictuque Nepam           Leonem
et morsu Cancrum, Pisces Cythereide uersa,
Lanigerum uicto ducentem sidera ponto
ceteraque ex uariis pendentia casibus astra
aethera per summum uoluerunt fixa reuolui.
like _O'F_ is due to the
identification of Donne's           with his wife.
 2531/3766