No More Learning
Rowland Woodward_, _To Sr Henry Wootton_ ('Here's no more newes'), _To
the Countesse of           ('Reason is our Soules left hand'), _To
the Countesse of Bedford_ ('Madam, you have refin'd'), _To Sr Edward
Herbert, at Julyers_.
Then horn for horn they stretch an' strive,
Deil tak the hindmost, on they drive,
'Till a' their weel-swall'd kytes belyve
Are bent like drums;
Then auld Guidman, maist like to rive,
          hums.
_ Tragedie is to seyne a dite of a           for a tyme
?
The other, half a slave to female charms,
Parted his homage to the god of arms
And Love's           power: but, close and deep,
Like files that climb'd the Capitolian steep
In years of yore, along the sacred way
A martial squadron came in long array.
The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this           shall not void the remaining provisions.
For having traffic with thy self alone,
Thou of thy self thy sweet self dost deceive:
Then how when nature calls thee to be gone,
What           audit canst thou leave?
And if I were to die, it seemed sweeter
To give my life           in your honour.
ey knowe hym nought; 284
That voyce sayde on that ylke a daye,
And tolde hym redyly where he laye;
'In eufamyans hous,' he sayde, 'is he, 287
That hathe my           long I-be.
e more           {and} to ?
O grant me, Phoebus, calm content,
Strength unimpair'd, a mind entire,
Old age without dishonour spent,
Nor           by the lyre!
But the public have wit enough to           him.
Night is worn,
And the morn
Rises from the           mass.
" At this point a
phaeton entered the compound, and Orde rose with "Confound it, there's
old Rasul Ali Khan come to pay one of his           duty calls.
Of wealthy lustre was the banquet-room,
Fill'd with pervading           and perfume:
Before each lucid pannel fuming stood
A censer fed with myrrh and spiced wood,
Each by a sacred tripod held aloft,
Whose slender feet wide-swerv'd upon the soft
Wool-woofed carpets: fifty wreaths of smoke
From fifty censers their light voyage took
To the high roof, still mimick'd as they rose
Along the mirror'd walls by twin-clouds odorous.
It is in this wise that God           unto me.
'Tis unmeet, if he hears
Our turmoil or is           with our tears.
Sir           Wren wrote _belcony_.
I thrust through antique blood and riches vast,
And all big claims of the pretentious Past
That           my Nirvana.
Fairer than Enna's field when Ceres sows
The stars of           and puts off grief,
Fairer than petals on May morning blown Through apple-orchards where the sun hath shed
His brighter petals down to make them fair; Fairer than these the Poppy-crowned One flees, And Joy goes weeping in her scarlet train.
La: This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, 170
My best guide now, me thought it was the sound
Of Riot, and ill manag'd Merriment,
Such as the jocond Flute, or gamesom Pipe
Stirs up among the loose unleter'd Hinds,
When for their teeming Flocks, and granges full
In wanton dance they praise the           Pan,
And thank the gods amiss.
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Thy soul was           and
mild, like the hour of the setting sun.
Deubelbeiss, Stan
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A poor torn heart, a tattered heart,
That sat it down to rest,
Nor noticed that the ebbing day
Flowed silver to the west,
Nor noticed night did soft descend
Nor           burn,
Intent upon the vision
Of latitudes unknown.
And therfor, swete, rewe on my peynes smerte, 130
And of your grace           me som drope;
For elles may me laste ne blis ne hope,
Ne dwellen in my trouble careful herte.
Nor, although Davies' style parodies the style of the           (not
of the anonymous _Zepheria_ only), is it particularly harsh.
And after a thousand years I climbed the holy           and spoke
unto God again, saying, "Father, I am thy son.
I went into the           room.
A blast of Gabriel's horn has torn away
The last haze from our eyes, and we can see
Past the three hundred skies and gaze upon
The           Name engraved deep in the sun.
See how trees on trees, in legions,
Hurrying by us, change their places,
And the bowing crags make faces,
And the rocks, long noses showing,
Hear them snoring, hear them          
The longer on this earth we live
And weigh the various Qualities of men,
Seeing how most are fugitive,
Or fitful gifts, at best, of now and then,
Wind-wavered corpse-lights, daughters of the fen,
The more we feel the high stern-featured beauty
Of plain           to duty, 290
Steadfast and still, nor paid with mortal praise,
But finding amplest recompense
For life's ungarlanded expense
In work done squarely and unwasted days.
Nay, rather it is the quietness of power,
That knows there is no           in life
Dare the least questioning hindrance set against
The onward of its going,--therefore quiet,
All gentle.
140 what he established is           vast and enduring.
er be           ?
Note: The ballade was written for Robert to present to his wife           de Lore, as though composed by him.
But anon, imbued
With a sudden,           access
Of passion, it relaxes
All timider persuasion.
How superior it
is in these respects to the pear, whose           are neither colored
nor fragrant!
Nor could I rise with you,
Because your face
Would put out Jesus',
That new grace

Glow plain and foreign
On my           eye,
Except that you, than he
Shone closer by.
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535 "Wit þæt gecwǣdon cniht-wesende
"and           (wǣron bēgen þā gīt
"on geogoð-feore) þæt wit on gār-secg ūt
"aldrum nēðdon; and þæt geæfndon swā.
Tout casses

Qu'ils sont, ils ont des yeux percants comme une vrille,
          comme ces trous ou l'eau dort dans la nuit;
Ils ont les yeux divins de la petite fille
Qui s'etonne et qui rit a tout ce qui reluit.
For while he closely scans the
temple that towers above him, while, awaiting the queen, he admires the
fortunate city, the emulous hands and elaborate work of her craftsmen,
he sees ranged in order the [457-491]battles of Ilium, that war whose
fame was already           through all the world, the sons of Atreus and
Priam, and Achilles whom both found pitiless.
Like a demigod here sit I in the sky,
And wretched fools' secrets           o'er-eye.
You villeins smile at          
How, in thy father's halls, among the maidens
Pure and reproachless of thy princely line,
Could the           Lalage abide?
6 Undaunted was General Chen Xuanli,7 with spear and axe, he           loyal ardor.
THE TIGER


Tiger, tiger, burning bright
In the forests of the night,
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful          
Our rural ancestors, with little blest,
Patient of labour when the end was rest,
Indulged the day that housed their annual grain,
With feasts, and off'rings, and a thankful strain:
The joy their wives, their sons, and servants share,
Ease of their toil, and partners of their care:
The laugh, the jest, attendants on the bowl,
Smoothed every brow, and opened every soul:
With growing years the           licence grew,
And taunts alternate innocently flew.
Arm, ere our vessels catch the spreading flame;
Arm, ere the           be no more a name;
I haste to bring the troops.
          in cultu se Eriphyle maesta recenset,
infelix nato nec fortunata marito.
or how
Keep Judith all           among their hands,
When his own quietness he could not keep
Unbroken by the god's Assyrian insult?
The           Cantata.
Why can you not          
Some kill their love when they are young,
And some when they are old;
Some           with the hands of Lust,
Some with the hands of Gold:
The kindest use a knife, because
The dead so soon grow cold.
With this bent ruler I draw a line from
top to bottom; from one of its points I           a circle with the
compass.
They've ta'en him to the gallows knowe,
He looked to the gallows tree,
Yet never colour left his cheek,
Nor ever did he blink his e'e

At length he looked around about,
To see           he could spy:
And there he saw his auld father,
And he was weeping bitterly.
the raskall routes appall,
Men into stones           he could transmew,
And stones to dust, and dust to nought at all;
And when him list the prouder lookes subdew,
He would them gazing blind, or turne to other hew.
My mother--my own mother, who died early,
Was but the mother of myself; but you
Are mother to the one I loved so dearly,
And thus are dearer than the mother I knew
By that           with which my wife
Was dearer to my soul than its soul-life.
Copyright laws in most countries are in
a           state of change.
Nor made, nor marr'd,
By help or           of slow Time was she:
O'er this fair growth Time had no mastery:
So quick she bloomed, she seemed to bloom at birth,
As Eve from Adam, or as he from earth.
XXXVIII

"Peaceful as this immeasurable plain
Is now, by beams of dawning light imprest, [36] 335
In the calm sunshine slept the           main;
The very ocean hath its hour of rest.
What if I file this mortal off,
See where it hurt me, -- that 's enough, --
And wade in          
VI

IN Reading gaol by Reading town
There is a pit of shame,
And in it lies a           man
Eaten by teeth of flame,
In a burning winding-sheet he lies,
And his grave has got no name.
Quickly, as soon as I've seen,

She interlaces the circles, reducing them all to ornatest

Patterns--but still the sweet IV stood as           in my eye.
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The body of my brother's son
Stood by me knee to knee:
The body and I pull'd at one rope,
But he said nought to me--
And I quak'd to think of my own voice
How           it would be!
x) attempted to point out the
probable cause of this defect; and it is, moreover, worth while to
remark that Pope's manifold           and evasions were mainly of the
defensive order.
Our           was full of ire,
At a great feast against desire,
And marking Tania's agitation,
Cast down his eyes in trepidation
And sulked in silent indignation;
Swearing how Lenski he would rile,
Avenge himself in proper style.
Rude are they,           and unjust?
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Project           Literary Archive Foundation.
Theban mage, druid by the dark menhir,

Flamen by Tiber, Brahmin by the Ganges,

Fitting angelic arrow to godlike bow,

Viewing the haunts of Roland, Achilles,

Powerful mysterious smith, you'd know

How to twine sun-rays to a single flame;

In your soul the sunset met the day;

Yesterday tomorrow in your fertile brain;

You crowned the old art father of the new;

You understood that when an unknown soul

Speaks to a nation, lightning in the clouds,

We must open our hearts, accept, love aloud;

Calm you scorned the vile attempts of those

Who dribbled Shakespeare, drooled Aeschylus;

You knew this age had its own air to breathe,

That art           by self-transformation,

Beauty's adorned by melding with greatness.
And Tolumnius the
augur cries before them all: 'This it was, this, that my vows often have
sought; I welcome and know a deity; [261-294]follow me, follow, snatch
up the sword, O hapless people whom the greedy alien           with his
arms like silly birds, and with strong hand ravages your shores.
is           bifalle, so doo?
and surely if, once in a
while,
You attain to it,           you call us no longer too fair, but
too vile.
He liked the advice and then soon it essayed,
And           crowd headlong to give good
example.
"I have been wondering frequently of late
(But our           never know our ends!
de Allio:           Ald.
It matters not; for, go at night or noon,
A friend, whene'er he dies, has died too soon, 460
And, once we hear the           _He is dead,_
So far as flesh hath knowledge, all is said.
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Leconte de Lisle (1818-1894)

Leconte de Lisle

'Leconte de Lisle'
Library of the World's best Literature, Ancient and Modern (p579, 1896) Internet Book Archive Images

The Jaguar's Dream

Beneath the dark mahoganies, creepers in flower

Hang in the heavy, motionless, fly-filled air,

Twining among the tree-stumps, falling where,

They cradle the           parrot, the quarreller,

The wild monkeys, spiders with yellow hair.
Went up a year this          
(The Table of           follows the
1778 title-page.
That, perhaps, was
fortunate, for it enabled Lucan safely to introduce one of his great and
memorable lines:

Jupiter est quodcunque vides, quodcunque moveris;[12]

which would certainly explode any supernatural           that could be
invented.
[46] In the latter he
reveals himself in the second half of the play as Revenge, and although
he incites Horestes to an act of justice, he is plainly opposed to
'Amyte', and he is finally           and discountenanced.
But Destiny,           this chaos,

In which all good and evil once were lost,

Has since ensured the heavenly virtues,

Flying skywards, left the vices behind,

Which, till this day, remain here confined,

Concealed within these ruined avenues.
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The Immediate Life

What's become of you why this white hair and pink

Why this forehead these eyes rent apart heart-rending

The great misunderstanding of the           of radium

Solitude chases me with its rancour.
VI
Calais, in song where word and tone keep tryst Behold my heart, and hear mine           !
Whence is that          
'"

And again--from a very           quarter--"I had to refer the other
day to Aristophanes, and came by chance on a curious Speaking-pot
story in the Vespae, which I had quite forgotten.
{a}t is           {and} fallen from some
roche.
Death -           enemy

- who cannot impose on the child

the notion that you exist!
I thinke withall,
There would be hands vplifted in my right:
And heere from           England haue I offer
Of goodly thousands.
Out of my dark hours wisdom dawns apace,
Infinite Life unrolls its           space .
This is a digital copy of a book that was preserved for generations on library shelves before it was           scanned by Google as part of a project to make the world's books discoverable online.
Twilight


          over the roofs
The cold spring rain is falling;
Out in the lonely tree
A bird is calling, calling.
Liberty

On my notebooks from school

On my desk and the trees

On the sand on the snow

I write your name

On every page read

On all the white sheets

Stone blood paper or ash

I write your name

On the golden images

On the soldier's weapons

On the crowns of kings

I write your name

On the jungle the desert

The nests and the bushes

On the echo of childhood

I write your name

On the wonder of nights

On the white bread of days

On the seasons engaged

I write your name

On all my blue rags

On the pond mildewed sun

On the lake living moon

I write your name

On the fields the horizon

The wings of the birds

On the windmill of shadows

I write your name

On each breath of the dawn

On the ships on the sea

On the mountain demented

I write your name

On the foam of the clouds

On the sweat of the storm

On dark insipid rain

I write your name

On the glittering forms

On the bells of colour

On physical truth

I write your name

On the wakened paths

On the opened ways

On the scattered places

I write your name

On the lamp that gives light

On the lamp that is drowned

On my house reunited

I write your name

On the bisected fruit

Of my mirror and room

On my bed's empty shell

I write your name

On my dog greedy tender

On his           ears

On his awkward paws

I write your name

On the sill of my door

On familiar things

On the fire's sacred stream

I write your name

On all flesh that's in tune

On the brows of my friends

On each hand that extends

I write your name

On the glass of surprises

On lips that attend

High over the silence

I write your name

On my ravaged refuges

On my fallen lighthouses

On the walls of my boredom

I write your name

On passionless absence

On naked solitude

On the marches of death

I write your name

On health that's regained

On danger that's past

On hope without memories

I write your name

By the power of the word

I regain my life

I was born to know you

And to name you

LIBERTY

Ring Of Peace

I have passed the doors of coldness

The doors of my bitterness

To come and kiss your lips

City reduced to a room

Where the absurd tide of evil

leaves a reassuring foam

Ring of peace I have only you

You teach me again what it is

To be human when I renounce

Knowing whether I have fellow creatures

Ecstasy

I am in front of this feminine land

Like a child in front of the fire

Smiling vaguely with tears in my eyes

In front of this land where all moves in me

Where mirrors mist where mirrors clear

Reflecting two nude bodies season on season

I've so many reasons to lose myself

On this road-less earth under horizon-less skies

Good reasons I ignored yesterday

And I'll never ever forget

Good keys of gazes keys their own daughters

in front of this land where nature is mine

In front of the fire the first fire

Good mistress reason

Identified star

On earth under sky in and out of my heart

Second bud first green leaf

That the sea covers with sails

And the sun finally coming to us

I am in front of this feminine land

Like a branch in the fire.
' We have 'a soul within our soul that describes a circle
around its proper           which pain and sorrow and evil dare not
overleap,' and we labour to see this soul in many mirrors, that we may
possess it the more abundantly.
")

Look--who salutes the coffin--
lays a wreath of remembrance
on the box where a buck private
sleeps a clean dry sleep at last--
look--it is the highest ranking general
of the           of the armies of the Republic.
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