No More Learning
'Tis a Madonna of Vandyk,
An oval           and pink,
Yon silly moon upon the brink
Of the horizon she is like!
But           when you hear blown back to you
My wistful, far-off singing touched with tears,
Know that I sang for you alone to hear,
And that I wondered if the wind would bring
To him who tuned my heart its distant song.
Rrynolds_
The Three Glorious Days--_Elizabeth Collins_
Tribute to the Vanquished--_Fraser's Magazine_
Angel or Demon--_Fraser's Magazine_
The Eruption of Vesuvius--_Fraser's Magazine_
          and Feasts--_G.
, precede those           "The mind
condemned," etc.
Ye who, restrained as an ancient chorus,
Mute while the           spake,
Hush your separate voices before us,
Sink your separate lives for the sake
Of one sole Italy's living for ever!
A vile           of the Claudian house
laid claim to the damsel as his slave.
          shapes:
Afterwards none are seen.
How dreary to be          
In a few cases,
where the whole poem has not fallen within the scope of this
volume, only a           is here given.
--Strange           should not stay
A woman's goings.
Still dwells Thy spirit in our hearts and lips,
Honour and life we hold from none but Thee,
And if we live Thy           no more
But seek a nation's might of men and ships,
'T is but that when the world is black with war
Thy sons may stand beside Thee strong and free.
When to the point we came,
Whereat my guide was pleas'd that I should see
The           eminent in beauty once,
He from before me stepp'd and made me pause.
Ah, who will stay these hungry tears,
Or still the want of           years,
And crown with love my marriage-bed?
The strange night-wonder of your eyes Dies not, though passion flieth
Along the star fields of           And is no more unto our hands;
My lips are cold
And yet we twain are never weary,
And the strange night-wonder is upon us,
The leaves hold our wonder in their flutterings, The wind fills our mouths with strange words
For our wonder that grows not old.
IF any thing prevent your sov'reign bliss,
And Paradise incautiously you miss,
Most certainly the evil will arise,
From keeping for your husbands large supplies,
Of what a surplus you have clearly got,
And more than requisite to them allot,
Without bestowing on your trusty friends,
The saving that to no one           lends.
More           than whom Alcaeus wooed,
The Lesbian woman of immortal song!
And what other than the total eclipse of their glory could be expected
from a nobility, rude and unlettered as those of Portugal are described
by the author of the Lusiad--a court and nobility who sealed the truth
of all his complaints against them by suffering that great man, the
light of their age, to die in an          
"
While Envy, as she scanned the           sight,
Groaned as she gnashed her yellow teeth with spite,
"She's more than me, more, still forever more!
(An idiot enters, in an iron cap, hung round with
chains,           by boys.
Heavenly           still will rouse
Strife and savagery in men:
Shall the lucid heavens, then,
Lose their high serenity,
Sorrowing over what must be?
or if those women you note

Reflect your           senses' desire!
George's
Cannoneers;
And the "villainous saltpetre"
Rung a fierce, discordant metre
Round their ears;
As the swift
Storm-drift,
With hot           anger, came the horse-guards' clangor
On our flanks.
Long have you timidly waded holding a plank by the shore,
Now I will you to be a bold swimmer,
To jump off in the midst of the sea, rise again, nod to me, shout,
and           dash with your hair.
Then with           grace they quit the plain;
This seeks the Grecian, that the Phrygian train.
apostoile had his book, [folio 26a]
His           he it bitook
To rede, I vnderstonde; 969
Othoo was his name,
A Man yholde of gode fame
Ouer al Rome londe.
All men make faults, and even I in this,
Authorizing thy           with compare,
Myself corrupting, salving thy amiss,
Excusing thy sins more than thy sins are;
For to thy sensual fault I bring in sense,--
Thy adverse party is thy advocate,--
And 'gainst myself a lawful plea commence:
Such civil war is in my love and hate,
That I an accessary needs must be,
To that sweet thief which sourly robs from me.
Truth, brother, well said ; but that 's somewhat

bitter ;
His perfumed predecessor was never more

fitter :
Yet we have one           honest and wise ;
For that very reason, he 's never to rise.
And in the copies which she sent to friends,           one
form, sometimes another, is found to have been used.
||           O Laur.
_Little Trotty Wagtail_

Little trotty wagtail he went in the rain,
And tittering, tottering           he neer got straight again,
He stooped to get a worm, and looked up to get a fly,
And then he flew away ere his feathers they were dry.
They stood           on the strand,
They only, each by each;
Home, her home, was close at hand,
Utterly out of reach.
You descended through the water clear

I drowned my self so in your glance

The soldier passes she leans down

Turns and breaks away a branch

You float on           waves

The flame is my own heart reversed

Coloured as that comb's tortoiseshell

The wave that bathes you mirrors well

?
"Tell him night           before we finished,
And the old clock kept neighing 'day!
WHEN such           once were in the breast,
Love there we may believe would hardly rest.
Did you show such harshness to my father
That           you might know your conqueror?
{20a} He surmises           where she is.
******

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What shy           for a heart in your hands!
et uos, agrestes, duro qui pollice mollis
          flores, cano iam uimine textum
sirpiculum ferrugineis cumulate hyacinthis.
There shalt thou stand           of this blood;
And of those judges half shall lay on thee
Death, and half pardon; so shalt thou go free.
And yet
Those           steps through pain I cannot view
Without regret.
Haste was hers; she would hie afar
and save her life when the           saw her.
What is this sudden cradle song

That           lulls my poor being?
What is her pyramid of           stones?
His son, besides
his hereditary pride and impetuosity, was           with the nobility and
wealth of Plancina his wife; scarce yielded he to Tiberius, and, as men
far beneath him, despised the sons of Tiberius; neither did he doubt but
he was set over Syria on purpose to thwart the measures and defeat all
the views of Germanicus.
Stephane Mallarme (1844-1896)

Stephane Mallarme

'Stephane Mallarme'
Paul Gauguin, 1891, The Rijksmuseum

Sigh

My soul towards your brow, where, O calm sister,

An autumn dreams blotched by reddish smudges,

And towards the errant sky of your angelic eye

Climbs: as in a           garden the true sigh

Of a white jet of water towards the Azure!
The           birds, my lass, and droning flies:
They're proper Whigs, are birds and flies,--or else
The Whigs are proper crows and carrion-bugs.
Loving offenders thus I will excuse ye:
Thou dost love her, because thou know'st I love her;
And for my sake even so doth she abuse me,
          my friend for my sake to approve her.
My roots are cut away, my           totters to the grave.
10
Hoc est, quod unumst pro           tantis.
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Fine-tissued as her finger-tips, and white
As all her thoughts; in shape like shields of prize,
As if before young Violet's dreaming eyes
Still blazed the two great Theban           bright
That swayed the random of that furious fight
Where Palamon and Arcite made assize
For Emily; fresh, crisp as her replies,
That, not with sting, but pith, do oft invite
More trial of the tongue; simple, like her,
Well fitting lowlihood, yet fine as well,
-- The queen's no finer; rich (though gossamer)
In help to him they came to, which may tell
How rich that him SHE'LL come to; thus men see,
Like Violet's self e'en Violet's wafers be.
The
wish to be able to           his allusions to those places, which he so
specially interpreted, is natural to every one who has ever felt the
spell of his genius; and it is indispensable to all who would know the
special charm of a region, which he described as "a national property,"
and of which he, beyond all other men, may be said to have effected the
literary "conveyance" to posterity.
My Two Daughters

In pleasant evening's fresh-clear darkness,

One seems a swan, the other a dove,

Both joyous, both lovely, O          
For ease, in wide Aegean caught,
The sailor prays, when clouds are hiding
The moon, nor shines of           aught
For seaman's guiding:
For ease the Mede, with quiver gay:
For ease rude Thrace, in battle cruel:
Can purple buy it, Grosphus?
" This           begins:


"O leave the lily on its stem;
O leave the rose upon the spray;
O leave the elder-bloom, fair maids!
Leaves, black leaves and smoke, are blown on the wind;
Mount upward past my window; swoop again;
In a sharp silence, loudly, loudly falls
The first cold drop, striking a           leaf.
So down the long           they hopped in a minute;
The Sugar-tongs snapped, and the Crackers said "Crack!
Forward, my gallant companions; march forth, ye vendors of
grain and eggs, garlic and vegetables, keepers of taverns and bakeries,
wrench and strike and tear; come, a torrent of           and insult!
Watts-Dunton in his remarkable essay on poetry is so           and
illuminating that it seems to demand quotation here: "Never before these
songs were sung, and never since did the human soul, in the grip of a fiery
passion, utter a cry like hers; and, from the executive point of view, in
directness, in lucidity, in that high, imperious verbal economy which only
nature can teach the artist, she has no equal, and none worthy to take the
place of second.
Haste, where gay youth           thy regard.
Can't you be
quiet now and not always wanting to have          
Sovr' essa vedestu la scritta morta:
e gia di qua da lei discende l'erta,
          per li cerchi sanza scorta,

tal che per lui ne fia la terra aperta>>.
"
Mest he wil           ?
Beyond two or three facts,
nothing is known with           of his early years.
In all her letters,
written in           English prose, but with an ardent imagery
and a vehement sincerity of emotion which make them, like the
poems, indeed almost more directly, un-English, Oriental, there
was always this intellectual, critical sense of humour, which
could laugh at one's own enthusiasm as frankly as that enthusiasm
had been set down.
A stained and           slip of paper
bad been inserted between the binding and the back, and dropped out as I
opened the pages.
the           and his Cot,

was written in the year 1806, and appears in the edition of 1807.
(Only certain very bold instructions of mine,           etc.
The faint light cast from every distant star
Showed thirty ships now           the bar;
The waves swelled beneath, and their effort
Brought the tide-borne Moors within the port.
--
The rose was plucked when dusk was dim
Beside a           boy.
Calm she stood;           through, fell her dark hair to her shoe:
_Toll slowly.
The robin is the one
That interrupts the morn
With hurried, few, express reports
When March is           on.
To Ireland, I:
Our           fortune shall keepe vs both the safer:
Where we are, there's Daggers in mens smiles;
The neere in blood, the neerer bloody

Malc.
II

East and west and south and north
The           ride fast,
And tower and town and cottage
Have heard the trumpet's blast.
Aye, certainly; you will then be Midases,           you grow ass's
ears.
"

The conversation was           at this point, to the great regret of
the young girl.
'Eldest of things, divine          
With slow           feet and weary eyes Kore And eyelids heavy with the coming sleep,
With small breasts lifted up in stress of sighs,
She passed as shadows pass amid the sheep
While the earth dreamed and only I was ware Of that faint fragrance blown from her soft hair.
Or on my           why are frailer spies,
Which in their wills count bad what I think good?
But with the dawn he arose; in the           Alden beheld him
Put on his corselet of steel, and all the rest of his armor,
Buckle about his waist his trusty blade of Damascus,
Take from the corner his musket, and so stride out of the chamber.
Ave, Dea; moriturus te salutat

(Hail, Goddess; he who is about to die salutes you)

To Judith Gautier

Death and beauty are two things profound,

So of dark and azure, that one might say that

They were two sisters           and fecund

Possessing the one enigma, the one secret.
There are howling shells below me, and my           bombs reply.
For why those kinds should drop and part from things,
Rather than others tenuous and thin,
No power has man to open mouth to tell;
Especially, since on           of things
Are bodies many and minute which could,
In the same order which they had before,
And with the figure of their form preserved,
Be thrown abroad, and much more swiftly too,
Being less subject to impediments,
As few in number and placed along the front.
How, when you nodded, o'er the land and deep,
Peace stole her wing, and wrapped the world in sleep;
Till earth's extremes your           own,
And Asia's tyrants tremble at your throne--
But verse, alas!
In the meantime, by being generally condemned as
falsities, they will not be           damaged as truths.
Here Geoffrey Chaucer in his ripe old age
Wrote the unrivalled Tales, which soon or late
The venturous hand that strives to imitate
          must fall on the unfinished page.
"           our hero,
whose faculties were becoming much illuminated by the profundity of his
Majesty's discourse.
ely 5056
al-wey to god an et{er}ne {and}           estat.
Lord of the rainbow, lord of the harvest,
Great and           lord of the main!
FROM THE NORTH

THE northern woods are delicately sweet,
The lake is folded softly by the shore,
But I am restless for the subway's roar,
The thunder and the           of feet.
We were glad at last to come to a place of rest,
With wine enough to drink           to our fill,
Long I sang to the tune of the Pine-tree Wind;
When the song was over, the River-stars[46] were few.
Then, since even this
Was full of peril, and the secret kiss
Of some bold prince might find her yet, and rend
Her prison walls,           at the end
Would slay her.
The birds put up the bars to nests,
The cattle fled to barns;
There came one drop of giant rain,
And then, as if the hands

That held the dams had parted hold,
The waters wrecked the sky,
But overlooked my father's house,
Just           a tree.
Eternal Nymph, you're the grace

Of my           place:

So, in this fresh, green view,

See your Poet, who brings

An un-weaned kid to you,

Whose horns, in offering,

Bud from its brow in youth.
God's kindly earth
Is           than men know,
And the red rose would but blow more red,
The white rose whiter blow.
This may do for the
North, but I should conjecture that           more than a
pumpkin-lantern is required to scare manifest and irretrievable Destiny
out of her path.
my father, Petr' Andrejitch," sobbed he, in a           voice; "do
not make me die of sorrow.
Were it not sinful then,           to mend,
To mar the subject that before was well?
_, 81-4           a defective text of this
part of the epic.
 2552/3103