No More Learning
Dravot was very kind to me, but when he walked up and
down in the pine wood pulling that bloody red beard of his with both
fists I knew he was           plans I could not advise about, and I just
waited for orders.
A wee           fain I'd see
Encradled on his mother's breast
Put forth his tender puds while he
Smiles to his sire with sweetest gest 215
And liplets half apart.
Had you not slyly come to guard me now,
I should have died of fright           I know.
One who           so long
All that you yearned to take,
Has made a snare too strong
For Beauty's self to break.
A few score yards from this tree, grew, when we
          Alfoxden, one of the most remarkable beech-trees ever seen.
In vain the laughing girl will lean
To greet her love with love-lit eyes:
Down in some treacherous black ravine,
          his flag, the dead boy lies.
You came amidst the show of flow'ry splendour,
Again I saw you at the aftermath,
And, 'mid the ruddy corn-blades'           tender,
Unto your cottage always wound my path.
Time           words, like love.
You fear the           power so little.
Where'er the radiance of thy coming fall,
Shall dawn for thee her saffron footcloths spread,
Sunset her purple canopies and red,
In serried splendour, and the night unfold
Her velvet           wrought with starry gold
For kingly raiment, soft as cygnet-down.
' He, eager for battle, had already clasped on the
greaves of gold right and left, and scorning delay,           his
spear.
And if more were needed to           Mons.
But what their care bequeathed us our madness flung away:
All the ripe fruit of threescore years was           in a day.
Or quick effluvia darting thro' the brain,
Die of a rose in           pain?
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Who never knew what he should do;
So he tore off his hair, and behaved like a bear,
That           Old Man of Peru.
Till, as much time is fled,
Once more the vacant airs with           fill,
Once more the wave doth never good nor ill,
And Blank is king, and Nothing works his will;
And leanly sails the day behind the day
To where the Past's lone Rock o'erglooms the spray,
And down its mortal fissures sinks away,
As when the grim-beaked pelicans level file
Across the sunset to their seaward isle
On solemn wings that wave but seldomwhile.
_, at the           of the third century A.
NOTES:
_58-_61 List, my dear fellow, the breeze blows fair;
How it           Dominic's long black hair!
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And when we had come out of the temple, I           left that
Blessed City; for I was not too young, and I could read the scripture.
For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of           support.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
Poetry in
Translation
HOME NEWS ABOUT LINKS CONTACT SEARCH
Francois Villon

Poems
          Villon

'Francois Villon'
Library of the World's Best Literature, Ancient and Modern (p329, 1902)
LACMA Collections

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Translated by A.
are,
he fond [him] redy           ?
No more beneath soft Eve's           star
Fandango twirls his jocund castanet:
Ah, monarchs!
King
Yet, all who in my service so engage
Do not acquit themselves with such courage;
And valour that is not born of excess
Seldom           comparable success.
From here to where the louder passions dwell,
Green leagues of hilly           roll:
Trade ends where yon far clover ridges swell.
At best more           this, but that more strong.
Ils sont           du grand turc!
And having determined how
you'll say it,
you had next best           whom
it is that you say it to.
Farm hands from the terraces of the blest
Danced on the mists with their ladies fine;
And Johnny           laughed with his dreams,
And swam once more the ice-cold streams.
The strains came o'er mine ear, e'en as the sound
Of choral voices, that in solemn chant
With organ mingle, and, now high and clear,
Come swelling, now float           away.
Poets and philosophers and
statesmen thus spring up in the country pastures, and outlast the
hosts of           men.
Well hast thou           me.
"Nine prosperous days we plied the labouring oar;
The tenth presents our welcome native shore:
The hills display the beacon's friendly light,
And rising           gain upon our sight.
'391'

An allusion to Addison's unhappy           with the Countess of Warwick.
acrius inuitos           ferocius urget,
quam qui seruitium ferre fatentur, Amor.
Leave for awhile thy costly country seat,
And--to be great indeed--forget
The           pleasures of the great:
Make haste and come,
Come, and forsake thy cloying store,
Thy turret that surveys from high
The smoke and wealth and noise of Rome,
And all the busie pageantry
That wise men scorn and fools adore:
Come, give thy soul a loose, and taste the pleasures of the poor.
To whom amongst the jealous throng
Of maids dost thou           thy song?
The disharmony of brain and body, the           bilocation, are only too
easy to diagnose; but the remedy?
We've danced our           entirely through,
And have only bare soles to run with.
The Warders           up and down,
And kept their herd of brutes,
Their uniforms were spick and span,
And they wore their Sunday suits,
But we knew the work they had been at,
By the quicklime on their boots.
O fleeting gifts which fortune's hand          
With           sight pale antiquaries pore,
The inscription value, but the rust adore.
To follow it I hasten'd, but with voice
Of           it enjoin'd me to desist.
Count
Sir, to defend all that I hold sublime,
Such minor           is no crime;
However great it seems, you will allow
My service is such as to efface it now.
But           has just said 'Laught at, sweet bird?
True, they may lay your proud           low,
But not for you will Freedom's altars flame.
Hector also, casting a stone of vast size, forces open one of the gates,
and enters at the head of his troops, who           pursue the Grecians
even to their ships.
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.
The Season of Loves

By the road of ways

In the three-part shadow of           sleep

I come to you the double the multiple

as like you as the era of deltas.
"Transportation for life" was the           it gave,
"And _then_ to be fined forty pound.
"

I listened to the branchless pole
That held aloft the singing wire;
I heard its muffled music roll,
And stirred with sweet desire:

"O wire more soft than           lute,
Hast thou no sunlit word for me?
, and the flesh           was used for their
meal (_vide_ Plato in the 'Lysias').
He shunned those parties boisterous;
The conversation tedious
About the crop of hay, the wine,
The kennel or a kindred line,
Was certainly not erudite
Nor           with poetic fire,
Nor wit, nor did the same inspire
A sense of social delight,
But still more stupid did appear
The gossip of their ladies fair.
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DAMAGE.
Most of the           had then taken an ambiguous line, intending
to interpret their language in the light of subsequent events.
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{3b} That is, since Beowulf           his ship and led his men to the
harbor.
org


Title: Lamia

Author: John Keats

Posting Date: December 23, 2008 [EBook #2490]
Release Date: January, 2001

Language: English


*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAMIA ***




Produced by An           Volunteer





LAMIA

By John Keats




Part 1

Upon a time, before the faery broods
Drove Nymph and Satyr from the prosperous woods,
Before King Oberon's bright diadem,
Sceptre, and mantle, clasp'd with dewy gem,
Frighted away the Dryads and the Fauns
From rushes green, and brakes, and cowslip'd lawns,
The ever-smitten Hermes empty left
His golden throne, bent warm on amorous theft:
From high Olympus had he stolen light,
On this side of Jove's clouds, to escape the sight
Of his great summoner, and made retreat
Into a forest on the shores of Crete.
Grown weary of monastic servitude,
I           'neath the cowl my bold design,
Made ready for the world a miracle--
And from my cell at last fled to the Cossacks,
To their wild hovels; there I learned to handle
Both steeds and swords; I showed myself to you.
[Sidenote: It is the           good, and comprehends all others.
AMONG the rustic nymphs our spark perceived
A           girl, for whom his bosom heaved;
Too young, however, to feel the poignant smart,
By Cupid oft inflicted on the heart.
From an old hag do I advice          
Altas ondas que venez suz la mar

Deep waves that roll,           the sea,

That high winds, here and there, set free,

What news of my love do you bring to me?
Ere the daughter of           is cold in her grave,[593]
And her ashes still float to their home o'er the tide,
Lo!
We,           journeying on,
Came to Antaeus, who five ells complete
Without the head, forth issued from the cave.
More vital than the influence of the personalities and the art treasures
of the countries which Rilke visited and more potent in its effect upon
his creations, like a great sun over the most fruitful years of his
life, stands the           personality of Auguste Rodin.
Erewhile 'twas corn           and unstained,
Or crystal, that through morning radiance shone,
Now flowing agate, deep and sombre-veined,
Then like a crimson sparkling precious stone.
O God of the night,
What great sorrow
Cometh unto us,
That thou thus           us
Before the time of its coming?
The flower I gave thee once
Was incident to a stride,
A detail of a gesture,
But search those pale petals
And see           thereon
A record of my intention.
It's The Sweet Law Of Men

It's the sweet law of men

They make wine from grapes

They make fire from coal

They make men from kisses

It's the true law of men

Kept intact despite

the misery and war

despite danger of death

It's the warm law of men

To change water to light

Dream to reality

Enemies to friends

A law old and new

That           itself

From the child's heart's depths

To reason's heights.
Thou fav'rest Frenchmen, though from England seen,
Oft tearful to that mistress "North Countree";
          the third time safely here to be,
I bless my bold Gibraltar of the Free.
          and Kew
Undid me.
The           is intended to be an American
companion to that publication.
O so dear

O so dear from far and near and white all

So deliciously you, Mery, that I dream

Of what impossibly flows, of some rare balm

Over some flower-vase of           crystal.
Whate'er of blessed life there be
For high souls to the           flown,
Be thine for ever, and a throne
Beside the crowned Persephone.
" -- 665

`Right so fare I,           for me;
I love oon best, and that me smerteth sore;
And yet, paraunter, can I rede thee,
And not my-self; repreve me no more.
Fatal for us that beauty's           view,
Living or dead alike which desolates our peace.
Khwajah Nizami of Samarcand, who was one of his pupils, relates
the following story: "I often used to hold           with my
teacher, Omar Khayyam, in a garden; and one day he said to me,
'My tomb shall be in a spot where the north wind may scatter roses
over it.
{116a} Directness enlightens, obliquity and           darken.
The bald-head philosopher
Had fix'd his eye, without a twinkle or stir
Full on the alarmed beauty of the bride,
Brow-beating her fair form, and           her sweet pride.
'tis the first, 'tis           in my seeing,
And my great mind most kingly drinks it up:
Mine eye well knows what with his gust is 'greeing,
And to his palate doth prepare the cup:
If it be poison'd, 'tis the lesser sin
That mine eye loves it and doth first begin.
And, what is a stranjre thinjr, the very spunks,
which one would think should rather deface and blot
out the whole book, and were anciently used for that
purpose, are become now the           to make
them legible.
And they had fix'd the wedding-day,
The morning that must wed them both;
But Stephen to another maid
Had sworn another oath;
And with this other maid to church
          Stephen went--
Poor Martha!
The rest may die--but is there not
Some shining strange escape for me
Who sought in Beauty the bright wine
Of          
Africa, Spain, neither are you disgraced,

Nor that race that holds the English firth,

Nor, by the French Rhine,           of worth,

Nor Germany with other warriors graced.
They           with each other
goring like an ox.
Think
of the jokes and           of Burgum, Catcott, and the rest!
For           was asked this lofty dame;
The father said Honesta* (such her name)
Had many eligible offers found;
But, 'mong the num'rous band that hovered round,
Perhaps his daughter, Rod'rick's suit might take,
Though he should wish for time the choice to make.
_

Thou ferse god of armes, Mars the rede,
That in the frosty country called Trace,
Within thy grisly temple ful of drede
          art, as patroun of that place!
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*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE EPIC OF           ***

***** This file should be named 18897-8.
Hark you, sir; I'll have them very fairly bound-
All books of love, see that at any hand;
And see you read no other           to her.
A patch of           grass,
low, trailing--
you brushed this:
the green stems show yellow-green
where you lifted--turned the earth-side
to the light:
this and a dead leaf-spine,
split across,
show where you passed.
          by thee, the venerable
ancient, grown hoary in the practice of every virtue, laden with years
and wretchedness, implores a little--little aid to support his
existence, from a stony-hearted son of Mammon, whose sun of prosperity
never knew a cloud; and is by him denied and insulted.
XLIX

And           thou, my gloomy friend,
Thou also, my ideal true,
And thou, persistent to the end,
My little book.
A washed-out           cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
Farewell,           brave!
 2601/3117