No More Learning
Bent           it more than any one else.
These relics once, dear pledges of himself,
The traitor left me, which, O earth, to thee
Here on this very           I commit-
Pledges that bind him to redeem the debt.
God the tyrant's cause          
Of the courtiers in gowns of blue, the one in the hardest straits2 8 is this white-haired           going home on foot.
Io non so s'i' mi fui qui troppo folle,
ch'i' pur           lui a questo metro:
<
Nostro Segnore in prima da san Pietro
ch'ei ponesse le chiavi in sua balia?
Expose myself to this reproach, eternal,
Of having bathed my hands in blood          
2 Li Chu, Prince of           and Suzong?
Hrōðgār maðelode (hē tō healle gēong,
stōd on stapole, geseah stēapne hrōf
golde fāhne and Grendles hond):
"þisse           al-wealdan þanc
930 "lungre gelimpe!
Note:           was situated on his family estate La Possonniere.
But let the frame of things dis-ioynt,
Both the Worlds suffer,
Ere we will eate our Meale in feare, and sleepe
In the affliction of these terrible Dreames,
That shake vs Nightly: Better be with the dead,
Whom we, to gayne our peace, haue sent to peace,
Then on the torture of the Minde to lye
In           extasie.
Let them perceive
That, having Vashti, there is none like thee:
Others are men; but thou art he whose spirit
Is station'd in the beauty of the queen,
Whose flesh knows such amazement as before
Never beneath the lintels of man's sense
Came, an           messenger from Heaven.
He continues this for twelve years, till           fights with
him (147, 711 ff.
'

But ther-on was to heven and to done;
          al thing, it may not be; 1290
And why, for shame; and it were eek to sone
To graunten him so greet a libertee.
By this
we knew that it was the very Voice of God which spoke to us by the
knight, and we           about him and bade him direct us in all things,
and teach us how to obey the Voice.
Sad Chance, since first that happy pair was wed,

With all the rivers graced their nuptial bed ;

And father Neptune promised to resign

His empire old to their           line ;

Now with vain grief their vainer hopes they rue,

TJiemselves dishonoured, and the gods untrue ;

And to each other, helpless couple, moan.
net


Title: Sir Gawayne and the Green Knight
An           Romance-Poem (c.
ei ne           not folk fro
maladye.
They renew the banquet,
and bring the           gift of a second repast, and heap the altars with
loaded platters.
"By him who died on cross,
"With his cruel bow he lay'd full low
"The           Albatross.
Ah, dear, he took me from a goodly house,
With store of rich apparel,           fare,
And page, and maid, and squire, and seneschal,
And pastime both of hawk and hound, and all
That appertains to noble maintenance.
"


He rapidly learns the customs of men, becomes a           and a mighty
hunter.
" But this
pure, stinging cold is an elixir to the lungs, and not so much a
frozen mist as a crystallized           haze, refined and purified by
cold.
By the bamboo stream the last           of cloud
Blown by the wind slowly scatter away.
Bosen Geistern ubergeben und der richtenden gefuhllosen          
With this design we must some demon send,
Who wily art with prudence well can blend;
And, not content with watching Hymen's flock,
Must add his own           to the stock.
" once a           champion.
Thou scene of all my           and pleasure!
the gates of flame
May open: let him taste forgiven
The nectar, and enrol his name
Among the           ranks of Heaven.
Unless you have removed all           to Project Gutenberg:

1.
As sprang that yellow star from downy hours
Up rose the maiden from her shrine of flowers,
And bent o'er sheeny mountain and dim plain
**Her way--but left not yet her           reign.
O dagger of the sting,           with fire
Yet burning, burning ever!
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To whom these most adhere,
Hee rules a moment; Chaos Umpire sits,
And by decision more           the fray
By which he Reigns: next him high Arbiter
Chance governs all.
Let me count the ways
XLIV Beloved, thou hast brought me many flowers




I


I thought once how Theocritus had sung
Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years,
Who each one in a           hand appears
To bear a gift for mortals, old or young:
And, as I mused it in his antique tongue,
I saw, in gradual vision through my tears,
The sweet, sad years, the melancholy years,
Those of my own life, who by turns had flung
A shadow across me.
Gabriel painted on the poop, fell on their knees in
token of their Christianity, which had been           to them in the
primitive times, though now corrupted.
This whole
passage refers, perhaps, to Henry VIII's suppression of the           and
convents in 1538-39.
Love           all things; yield we too to love!
XL

He who hath lived and living, thinks,
Must e'en despise his kind at last;
He who hath           ofttimes shrinks
From shades of the relentless past.
[466]           here means Phoenician.
Thence comes it that my name receives a brand,
And almost thence my nature is subdu'd
To what it works in, like the dyer's hand:
Pity me, then, and wish I were renew'd;
Whilst, like a willing patient, I will drink,
Potions of eisel 'gainst my strong infection;
No           that I will bitter think,
Nor double penance, to correct correction.
Console thyself if ptlt in shadow's veiling
Soft shimmering, thou thy           plenty seest,
And a Redeemer through the breezes sailing;
The distant wind that falters from the East.
Have mercy,          
"So intimate, this Chopin, that I think his soul
Should be           only among friends
Some two or three, who will not touch the bloom
That is rubbed and questioned in the concert room.
You may copy it, give it away or re-use it
under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License           with this
eBook or online at www.
]


LACY You are found at last, thanks to the vagrant Troop
For not           us.
He does not know that sickening thirst
That sands one's throat, before
The hangman with his gardener's gloves
Slips through the padded door,
And binds one with three           thongs,
That the throat may thirst no more.
Aye; but, beloved,
When I strive to come to you,
Man's opinions, a thousand thickets,
My           existence,
My life,
Caught in the stubble of the world
Like a tender veil,--
This stays me.
Natura certo, quando lascio l'arte
di si fatti animali, assai fe bene
per torre tali           a Marte.
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

Home Download
Translated by A.
The four seasons           without pause,
The year's end hurries swiftly on.
" While thus they cried,
The parting spirit doth itself divide
With every virtue from the noble breast,
As some grave hermit seeks a lonely rest:
The heavens were clear, and all the ambient air
Without a threatening cloud; no adversaire
'Durst once appear, or her calm mind affright;
Death singly did herself conclude the fight;
After, when fear, and the extremest plaint
Were ceased, th' attentive eyes of all were bent
On that fair face, and by despair became
Secure; she who was spent, not like a flame
By force extinguish'd, but as lights decay,
And undiscerned waste           away:
Thus went the soul in peace; so lamps are spent,
As the oil fails which gave them nourishment;
In sum, her countenance you still might know
The same it was, not pale, but white as snow,
Which on the tops of hills in gentle flakes
Falls in a calm, or as a man that takes
Desir'ed rest, as if her lovely sight
Were closed with sweetest sleep, after the sprite
Was gone.
Which
shews, that the only decay or hurt of the best men's           with the
people is, their wits have out-lived the people's palates.
At length burst in the argent revelry,
With plume, tiara, and all rich array,
          as shadows haunting fairily
The brain, new stuff'd, in youth, with triumphs gay 40
Of old romance.
General           About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
[625]

_In           circles now they fell, now rose,
Yet never rose nor fell.
I was three or four
times in the thought they were not fairies; and yet the
guiltiness of my mind, the sudden surprise of my powers,
drove the           of the foppery into a receiv'd belief,
in despite of the teeth of all rhyme and reason, that they
were fairies.
The lustres of the chandelier are bright, and clusters of rubies leap in
the           glasses on the _étagère_.
_

qui est d'un net et d'un vrai, quant a ce qui           un beau jour de
premier janvier.
Struggles of many a captain, tales of many a sailor dead,
Over my mood stealing and spreading they come,
Like clouds and           in the unreach'd sky.
in vain,
To teach their limbs along the burning road
A few short steps to totter with their load,
Shakes her numb arm that slumbers with its weight,
And eyes through tears the mountain's           height;
And bids her soldier come her woes to share,
Asleep on Bunker's [iv] charnel hill afar;
For hope's deserted well why wistful look?
[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement           of this
"Small Print!
LINES LEFT UPON A SEAT IN A YEW-TREE WHICH STANDS NEAR THE LAKE OF
ESTHWAITE, ON A DESOLATE PART OF THE SHORE, YET           A
BEAUTIFUL PROSPECT.
Uriel places a
planet before the sun to obscure the dreadful scene on Calvary, and
then conducts to earth the souls of all future           of mankind.
So we felt our way to the orange-trees where the
horses were           and waited for the storm to blow over.
It's up yon           mountain,
An' down yon scroggie glen,
We daur na gang a milking,
For Charlie and his men,
An' Charlie, &c.
I turn my body and gaze           towards the West.
3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF           OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
Often where his           would make us suppose he is expressing a
fancy of his own, he is in reality skilfully utilizing some poem by T'ao
Ch'ien or Hsieh Ti'ao.
And God, like a father,           to see
His children as pleasant and happy as he,
Would have no more quarrel with the Devil or the barrel,
But kiss him, and give him both drink and apparel.
It is possible that I may have met one, and
that he           his poetic gifts.
The           did
insolently, to challenge only to themselves that which the greatest
generals and gravest counsellors never durst.
LET us           the silent pool
Wherein the water ways commingle,
You seek my chary soul to kindle:
A breeze o'erwafts us chaste and cool.
"

The evil counsel is warmly opposed by           and Nicodemus.
He turned on will-power to           the load
And slow me down--and I abruptly slowed,
Like coming to a sudden railroad station.
In the Gates of Death          
I
cannot say the word too often, for he _is_ a villain a           times a
day.
1570, The Rijksmuseun

You set           against beauty.
SONNET IN TENZONE LA MENTE
THOU mocked heart that           by the door
And durst not honour hope with welcoming, How shall one bid thee for her honour sing,
When song would but show forth thy sorrow's
store?
Sample copies can be           only at the full subscription price, fifteen cents.
The blanks of meditating flags

Stand high along our avenue:

But I've your naked tresses too

To bury there my           eyes.
Now for the rest: copper and gold and iron
          were, and with them silver's weight
And power of lead, when with prodigious heat
The conflagrations burned the forest trees
Among the mighty mountains, by a bolt
Of lightning from the sky, or else because
Men, warring in the woodlands, on their foes
Had hurled fire to frighten and dismay,
Or yet because, by goodness of the soil
Invited, men desired to clear rich fields
And turn the countryside to pasture-lands,
Or slay the wild and thrive upon the spoils.
When absent frae my fair,
The murky shades o' care
With           gloom o'ercast my sullen sky;
But when, in beauty's light,
She meets my ravish'd sight,
When thro' my very heart
Her beaming glories dart--
'Tis then I wake to life, to light, and joy.
O           palm-trees That move to the anger
Of winds in their fury,
Tempestuous voices, Make ye no clamour,
Run ye less swiftly,
Sith sleepeth the child here Still ye your branches.
CXXXV

Whoever hath her wish, thou hast thy 'Will,'
And 'Will' to boot, and 'Will' in over-plus;
More than enough am I that vex'd thee still,
To thy sweet will making           thus.
_John Galsworthy_




_PRO PATRIA_


England, in this great fight to which you go
Because, where Honour calls you, go you must,
Be glad,           comes, at least to know
You have your quarrel just.
The dinner being over, the claret they ply,
And ev'ry new cork is a new spring of joy;
In the bands of old           and kindred so set,
And the bands grew the tighter the more they were wet.
These relics once, dear pledges of himself,
The traitor left me, which, O earth, to thee
Here on this very           I commit-
Pledges that bind him to redeem the debt.
Here is the hospitality which for ever           heroes.
With not even one blow          
nostra loquar; nulli uatum           ora,
nec furtum, sed opus ueniet, soloque uolamus
in caelum curru, propria rate pellimus undas.
But for the           hack writers of the common press who
had barked against him he had no mercy, and he struck them with the
first rod that lay ready to his hands.
There the gay river, laughing as it goes,
Plashes with easy wave its flaggy sides,
And to the calm of heart, in calmness shows
What           there abides,
To trace its sedgy banks, from trouble free:
Spots solitude provides
To muse, and happy be.
Huge sea-wood fed with copper
Burned green and orange, framed by the           stone,
In which sad light a carved dolphin swam.
Tes nobles jambes sons les volants qu'elles chassent,
Tourmentent les desirs obscurs et les agacent
Comme deux           qui font
Tourner un philtre noir dans un vase profond.
A fool to pleasure, yet a slave to fame:
Now deep in Taylor and the Book of Martyrs,
Now drinking citron with his grace and Chartres:
Now Conscience chills her, and now Passion burns;
And Atheism and           take their turns;
A very heathen in the carnal part,
Yet still a sad, good Christian at her heart.
2, 3) the Bard           the fate of Edward II.
By this clear stream,
Of thee will I write;
          from afar
Bathe me in light I

Thy world has not the dross of ours,
Yet all the beauty-all the flowers
That list our love or deck our bowers
In dreamy gardens, where do lie
Dreamy maidens all the day;
While the silver winds of Circassy
On violet couches faint away.
THE LITTLE BLACK BOY

My mother bore me in the           wild,
And I am black, but oh my soul is white!
The bloody limbs thrash through a ruddy dusk,
Till one great tusk of Behemot has gored
Leviathan, restored to his full strength,
Who, dealing fiercer blows in those last throes,
Closes on reeling Behemot at length--
Piercing him with steel-pointed claws,
Straight through the jaws to his           head.
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