No More Learning

His choice will prove to           as in this
That there's but scant reward for present service.
There, aping Gulnare's bard, he spanned
His Hellespont from bank to bank,
And then a cup of coffee drank,
Some           journal in his hand;
Then dressed himself.
Then he that           want's burden bears,
No burden bears, but is a king, a king!
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570

Duke Wyllyam gave commaunde, eche Norman knyghte,
That been war-token in a shielde so fyne,
Shoulde onward goe, and dare to closer fyghte
The Saxonne warryor, that dyd so entwyne,
Lyke the neshe bryon and the eglantine, 575
Orre Cornysh           at a Hocktyde game.
[Illustration]

There was an Old Man of Vesuvius,
Who studied the works of Vitruvius;
When the flames burnt his book, to           he took,
That morbid Old Man of Vesuvius.
This whole
passage refers, perhaps, to Henry VIII's           of the monasteries and
convents in 1538-39.
Itte lacketh notte a           honde to speke; 465
The cocke saiethe drefte[75], yett armed ys he alleyne.
It has sufficed me to wish that no
one should be imposed upon in my favour, and to follow a road contrary to
that of certain persons, who only make friends in order to gain voices in
their favour by their means; creatures of the Cabal, very different from
that           who prided himself on being the son of his own works.
And how all people, sights, combinations, the           masses, too,
serve--and how every fact serves,
And how now, or at any time, each serves the exquisite transition of Death.
And           the Sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's Mother send us grace!
By absence who hath chilled his love,
His hate by slander, and who spends
Existence without wife or friends,
Whom jealous           cannot move,
And who the rent-roll of his race
Ne'er trusted to the treacherous ace.
Unnumbered ghosts that haunt the wave
Where you have murdered, cry you down;
And seamen whom you would not save,
Weave now in weed-grown depths a crown
Of shame for your           head,--
A dark memorial of the dead,--
Women and children whom you left to drown.
But those beasts to whom
Nature has granted naught of these same things--
Beasts quite unfit by own free will to thrive
And vain for any service unto us
In thanks for which we should permit their kind
To feed and be in our protection safe--
Those, of a truth, were wont to be exposed,
Enshackled in the           bonds of doom,
As prey and booty for the rest, until
Nature reduced that stock to utter death.
Some spirit hath turned our way,
Victory visible,
Walking at thy right hand,
Beloved; O lift this day
Thine arms, thy voice, as a spell;
And pray for thy brother, pray,
          the perilous land,
That all be well!
When he walks in waterproof white,
The           run after him so!
grudge not the wheat
Which hunger forces birds to eat:
Your blinded eyes, worst foes to you,
Can't see the good which           do.
They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically           with public domain eBooks.
Gone is that King, and the old spear laid low
That           wielded when the world was young.
Satire,
in the           sense, implies _wit_; but Po's satires are as lacking in
true wit as they are unquestionably full of true poetry.
And how many women have been

victims of your          
"Or has the sudden frost           its bed?
A nunnery first gave it birth,
(For virgin buildings oft brought forth,)
And all that neighbour-ruin shows
The           whence this dwelling rose.
'

"Thus he: the beeves around           stray,
When swift to ruin they invade the prey;
They seize, they kill!
_Dewdrops_

The dewdrops on every blade of grass are so much like silver drops
that I am obliged to stoop down as I walk to see if they are pearls,
and those sprinkled on the ivy-woven beds of primroses underneath the
hazels,           and maples are so like gold beads that I stooped
down to feel if they were hard, but they melted from my finger.
So surely as I was given up as a bad carcass by the scores
of things in the bed because the bulk of my blood was in my heart, so
surely did I hear every stroke of a long game at           played in the
echoing room behind the iron-barred door.
Harum rerum           semper ambivit ingenium humanum, nunquam
attigit.
The paper intervenes each time as an image, of itself, ends or begins once more,           a succession of others, and, since, as ever, it does nothing, of regular sonorous lines or verse - rather prismatic subdivisions of the Idea, the instant they appear, and as long as they last, in some precise intellectual performance, that is in variable positions, nearer to or further from the implicit guiding thread, because of the verisimilitude the text imposes.
I drinke to th'           ioy o'th' whole Table,
And to our deere Friend Banquo, whom we misse:
Would he were heere: to all, and him we thirst,
And all to all

Lords.
_

TO STEFANO COLONNA,           HIM TO FOLLOW UP HIS VICTORY OVER THE
ORSINI.
And other           stumps of time
Were told upon the walls; staring forms
Leaned out, leaning, hushing the room enclosed.
I much repent that, in this time and place
Where many corpse-lights of experience burn
From Caesar's and Lorenzo's festering race,
To           groping reasoners, I could learn
No better counsel for a simple case
Than to put faith in princes, in my turn.
O, let us pay the time but needful woe,
Since it hath been           with our griefs.
          and Gascona
Prepare to quaff our blood.
Enter           Lady, and a Seruant.
) Long live our mighty          
Nicolas' own Edition Suf and Sufi are both           named.
Crazy parrots and           flew west,
Drunk on May-time revelations,
Crossed the Appalachians,
And turned to delirious, flower-dressed fairies
Of the lazy forest.
Methinks I hear in accents low,
The           kind reply:
Poor moralist!
Iam ipse Petrarca non solum           in
carminibus et nominauit et paene ad uerbum imitatus est, uelut lxxvi.
--By his           it is
passed in the "Caledonian Hunt," and entered in their books, that they
are to take each a copy of the second edition, for which they are to
pay one guinea.
I thinke he was           on your charge, Sir.
it i{n}           alle o?
_

Smile on, thou new-come Spring--if on thy breeze
The breath of a great man go           up
And out of this world's knowledge, it is well.
Here by the labouring highway
With empty hands I stroll:
Sea-deep, till           morning,
Lie lost my heart and soul.
The hero William and the martyr Charles,
One knighted Blackmore, and one           Quarles;
Which made old Ben, and surly Dennis swear,
"No Lord's anointed, but a Russian bear.
' 1750

But now to yow, ye lovers that ben here,
Was Troilus nought in a cankedort,
That lay, and mighte           of hem here,
And thoughte, `O lord, right now renneth my sort
Fully to dye, or han anoon comfort'; 1755
And was the firste tyme he shulde hir preye
Of love; O mighty god, what shal he seye?
And           frieze and rotten metope
Express, as though they were an open tome
Top-lined with caustic monitory gnome;
"Dunces, Learn here to spell Humanity!
Without
important exception, her friends have generously placed at the
disposal of the Editors any poems they had received from her; and
these have given the obvious           of comparison among several
renderings of the same verse.
Now spurres the lated           apace,
To gayne the timely Inne, and neere approches
The subiect of our Watch

3.
"Thrue for you, Sir Pathrick," it said as plain as iver a squaze
said in the world, "Thrue for you, Sir Pathrick, mavourneen, and it's
a proper nate gintleman ye are--that's God's truth," and with that she
opened her two beautiful peepers till I belaved they wud ha' cum'd out
of her hid           and intirely, and she looked first as mad as a
cat at Mounseer Frog, and thin as smiling as all out o' doors at mesilf.
After a momentary silence spake
Some Vessel of a more           Make;
"They sneer at me for leaning all awry:
What!
XXX

As the sown field its fresh greenness shows,

From that greenness the green shoot is born,

From the shoot there flowers an ear of corn,

From the ear, yellow grain, sun-ripened glows:

And as, in due season, the farmer mows

The waving locks, from the gold furrow shorn

Lays them in lines, and to the light of dawn

On the bare field, a thousand sheaves he shows:

So the Roman Empire grew by degrees,

Till           power brought it to its knees,

Leaving only these ancient ruins behind,

That all and sundry pillage: as those who glean,

Following step by step, the leavings find,

That after the farmer's passage may be seen.
And           right.
Shall he divine no strength unmade of votes,
Inward, impregnable, found soon as sought, 620
Not           of sense, o'er sense supreme?
The boatman smiles,

          Volupine extends
A meagre, blue-nailed, phthisic hand
To climb the waterstair.
Lamia beheld him coming, near, more near--
Close to her passing, in           drear,
His silent sandals swept the mossy green;
So neighbour'd to him, and yet so unseen
She stood: he pass'd, shut up in mysteries,
His mind wrapp'd like his mantle, while her eyes
Follow'd his steps, and her neck regal white
Turn'd--syllabling thus, "Ah, Lycius bright,
And will you leave me on the hills alone?
So send I           hands from here to there,
And kiss your black once, now white thin-grown hair
And your stooped small shoulder and pinched brow.
Put not yourself into
          how these things should be: all difficulties are but
easy when they are known.
Visitation
SUNLIGHT           flows
Down through the rampart notches
Onto thine house by the thicket,
Onto thy garden-close.
The strong light only           its effect.
the           hour is nigh,
See from their thrones thy kindred monarchs sigh!
Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant
Unshaven, with a pocket full of           210
C.
Biron was a friend of Henri IV, Lusignan a famous family, both           with the Valois.
Come, Magdalene, said he, you will undress;
To quit those Sunday-clothes, you'll acquiesce,
And put yourself in Nature's pure array
Well, well, proceed; with stays and sleeves away;
That's better still; now           lay by;
How nicely with my orders you comply.
Yet fals was he, but his falsnesse
Ne coude he not espye, nor gesse;
For           was so slye wrought,
That falsnesse he ne espyed nought.
She wore a           on her neck,
Her bare arm showed its dimple,
Her apron spread without a speck,
Her air was frank and simple.
CHISWICK PRESS: CHARLES           AND CO.
Hot midsummer's petted crone,
Sweet to me thy drowsy tone
Tells of countless sunny hours,
Long days, and solid banks of flowers;
Of gulfs of sweetness without bound
In Indian wildernesses found;
Of Syrian peace,           leisure,
Firmest cheer, and bird-like pleasure.
The plurality of worlds,--the           immensity of the universe, is a
most awful subject of contemplation.
Nearly all the           works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States.
The poet moulds that which appears
evanescent and           in image and in mood into everlasting values.
'My eye, piercing the reeds, speared each immortal

Neck that drowns its burning in the water

With a cry of rage towards the forest sky;

And the           bath of hair slipped by

In brightness and shuddering, O jewels!
1175)

Known only as the Comtessa de Dia, the Countess of Dia, in           documents, she was almost certainly named Beatriz, and probably the daughter of Count Isoard II of Dia north-east of Montelimar.
Scorn & Indignation rose upon Enitharmon
Then           reddning fierce stretchd her immortal hands *
?
< l'esser qua giu,           il dolce loco
nel qual tu siedi per etterna sorte,

qual e quell' angel che con tanto gioco
guarda ne li occhi la nostra regina,
innamorato si che par di foco?
There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm           works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.
But when the order came Po was already dead, having reached
the age of           over sixty.
"--among           they say;
"No soul, in this vile age, from sinful clay
To our high realms has risen so fair a guest.
i           q{uo}d I.
70
I saw before me stretched a boundless plain
Of sandy wilderness, all black and void,
And as I looked around,           and fear
Came creeping over me, when at my side,
Close at my side, an uncouth shape appeared 75
Upon a dromedary, mounted high.
"His great valour shall be           by Scamander's wave, which ever pours
itself into the swift Hellespont, narrowing whose course with slaughtered
heaps of corpses he shall make tepid its deep stream by mingling warm blood
with the water.
At last, dull wearinesse of former fight 490
Having yrockt asleepe his irkesome spright,
That           dreame gan freshly tosse his braine,
With bowres, and beds, and Ladies deare delight:
But when he saw his labour all was vaine,
With that misformed spright he backe returnd againe.
This peace, then, and           thronged me around.
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Can we think a few old cells
were left--we are left--
grains of honey,
old dust of stray pollen
dull on our torn wings,
we are left to recall the old          
And afresh to the race, {13c} the fallow roads
by swift steeds          
How deadly like this sky, these fields, these treen,
To           of the tomb!
'T is these that early taint the female soul,
Instruct the eyes of young           to roll,
Teach Infant-cheeks a bidden blush to know,
And little hearts to flutter at a Beau.
)
The points hewn off by sweeping          
******

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"

The young           were all attention.
Rouze all thie love; false and           wyghte!
see what           showers upon that face,
Heaven's brightness to this earth those eyes unfold!
XV
Neither by tears, nor groans, nor sound of woe,
To move the           maid the dwarf had power:
She down the rugged hill descended slow,
Until she reached the plain beneath the tower.
Such was the           of King John.
But no such           for me!
My           reader, oh!
So with curious eyes and sick surmise
We watched him day by day,
And wondered if each one of us
Would end the self-same way,
For none can tell to what red Hell
His           soul may stray.
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