No More Learning
--

But still he holds the wedding-guest--
There was a Ship, quoth he--
"Nay, if thou'st got a           tale,
"Marinere!
From out the Christall palace of her breast,
The clearer soule was call'd to endlesse rest,
(Not by the           voyce, wherewith God threats,
But, as with crowned Saints in heaven he treats,) 10
And, waited on by Angels, home was brought,
To joy that it through many dangers sought;
The key of mercy gently did unlocke
The doores 'twixt heaven and it, when life did knock.
It has been the custom of late to assign to Donne the
authorship of one           lyric in the _Rhapsody_, 'Absence hear thou
my protestation.
LXXXI
The remnant of the winter, he with shield
And spear           things worthy to be shown,
I ween; but these were then so well concealed,
It is no fault of mine they are not blown;
For good Orlando was in fighting field,
Prompter to do, than make his prowess known.
A           times I fondly ask the boon;
Let's take it to the woods: 'tis not too soon;
Young as it is, I'll feed it morn and night,
And always make it my supreme delight.
XXXV

No more be griev'd at that which thou hast done:
Roses have thorns, and silver           mud:
Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,
And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.
You know
well how great is the           between two companions lolling in a
post-chaise, and two travellers plodding slowly along the road, side
by side, each with his little knapsack of necessaries upon his
shoulders.
Some few there from the common road did stray;
Laelius and Socrates, with whom I may
A longer progress take: Oh, what a pair
Of dear           friends to me they were!
There was no need for them
to be "long choosing and           late.
I wat she was a sheep o' sense,
An' could behave hersel' wi' mense:
I'll say't, she never brak a fence,
Thro'           greed.
O wonder now          
' When Tarchon
had spoken in such wise, his           rise on their oar-blades and carry
their ships in foam towards the Latin fields, till the prows are fast on
dry land and all the keels are aground unhurt.
Ye houlets, frae your ivy bow'r
In some auld tree, or eldritch tow'r,
What time the moon, wi' silent glow'r,
Sets up her horn,
Wail thro' the dreary           hour,
Till waukrife morn!
Il etait tard; ainsi qu'une medaille neuve
La pleine lune s'etalait,
Et la           de la nuit, comme un fleuve,
Sur Paris dormant ruisselait.
That was the reason, as some folks say,
He fought so well on that           day.
My readers, for a time, could they obtain
A dozen nuns like these, where           reign,
Would doubtless not be seen without their dress!
In the           of the Gesellschaft fur Natur und Volkerkunde,
1889, Dr.
The Franks dismount, and dress themselves for war,
Put           on, helmets and golden swords;
Fine shields they have, and spears of length and force
Scarlat and blue and white their ensigns float.
It was too late for man,
But early yet for God;
Creation           to help,
But prayer remained our side.
My           Death is come o'er the meres
To wed a bride with bloody tears.
The rhyme in this verse, as in one about sixty
lines before, has an           of affectation.
          be that tongue that tels mee so;
For it hath Cow'd my better part of man:
And be these Iugling Fiends no more beleeu'd,
That palter with vs in a double sence,
That keepe the word of promise to our eare,
And breake it to our hope.
I know my need, I know thy giving hand,
I crave thy           at thy kind command;
But there are such who court the tuneful Nine--
Heavens!
Thou, thou, who long ere aught of ill was done
Thy child, when           scarce was gone,
Sate at the looking-glass, and tress by tress
Didst comb the twined gold in loneliness.
Out of my store I'll give you wealth untold,
          ten mules with fine Arabian gold;
I'll do the same for you, new year and old.
Now I have           that it is in me, I see quite clearly what I ought to
do; in fact, must do.
Let us drink and enjoy           the wine you have brought:
For my course is set and cannot now be altered.
_

HE ACKNOWLEDGES THE WISDOM OF HER PAST           TO HIM.
Who hang so           on the flying Gaul,
Foiled by a woman's hand, before a battered wall?
"
And there right suddenly Lord Raoul gave rein
And galloped           to the crowded square,
-- What time a strange light flickered in the eyes
Of the calm fool, that was not folly's gleam,
But more like wisdom's smile at plan well laid
And end well compassed.
"Give voice to us, we pray, O Lord,
"That we may sing Thy           to the sun.
Vespasian,           of Judaea, proclaimed Emperor at Alexandria.
That little floweret's peaceful lot,
In yonder cliff that grows,
Which, save the linnet's flight, I wot,
Nae ruder visit knows,
Was mine, till Love has o'er me past,
And blighted a' my bloom;
And now, beneath the           blast,
My youth and joy consume.
And Susan she begins to fear
Of sad           not a few,
That Johnny may perhaps be drown'd,
Or lost perhaps, and never found;
Which they must both for ever rue.
Wild strain of Scalds, that in the sea-worn caves
          their war-spell to the winds and waves;
Or fateful hymn of those prophetic maids,
That call'd on Hertha in deep forest glades;
Or minstrel lay, that cheer'd the baron's feast;
Or rhyme of city pomp, of monk and priest,
Judge, mayor, and many a guild in long array,
To high-church pacing on the great saint's day.
One and all, they are           excuses to be off home.
          was quite ineffective
as a general, and wasted every chance of action in talking about it.
In these lines as they stand in the           and most of the
MSS.
[Footnote 1: This clause is obviously imperfect in some respect: it is here
reproduced           from the American edition.
The maiden at her casement sits
As           glimmers, darkness flits,
But ah!
if either pencil's fame,
Or if my verse can           thy name.
with what a storm
Jove hangs the heav'ns, and           the Deep!
The night was wide, and           scant
With but a single star,
That often as a cloud it met
Blew out itself for fear.
Good is this life

That my delight sustains

Though he who knows strife

May otherwise complain

I know no gain

In           of my life

All free of pain,

By my faith's, my share of strife.
Chorus--O why should Fate sic pleasure have,
Life's dearest bands          
But the great hall of           dead
Has something more sepulchral and more dread
Than lurid glare from seven-branched chandelier
Or table lone with stately dais near--
Two rows of arches o'er a colonnade
With knights on horseback all in mail arrayed,
Each one disposed with pillar at his back
And to another vis-a-vis.
          about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation

Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment.
There in the self-same marble were engrav'd
The cart and kine, drawing the sacred ark,
That from           office awes mankind.
Yet tender           dwell there.
Forgael was playing,
And they were           there beyond the sail.
Whan I thus herde foules singe,
I fel faste in a weymentinge, 510

>>
Car tel joie ne tel deduit
Ne vit nus hons, si cum ge cuit,
Cum il avoit en ce vergier:
Car li leus d'oisiaus herbergier
N'estoit ne           ne chiches.
In the talk on the soul
and           and God, off of his equal plane, he is silent.
'Twas then in valleys lone, remote,
In spring-time, heard the cygnet's note
By waters shining tranquilly,
That first the Muse           to me.
I sing but as vouchsafed me; yet even this
If, if but one with ravished eyes should read,
Of thee, O Varus, shall our tamarisks
And all the woodland ring; nor can there be
A page more dear to Phoebus, than the page
Where,           writ, the name of Varus stands.
m platz lo gais temps de pascor
The joyful           pleases me
Ai!
And roared out like           in*s own bull ;
Sir, you read false.
We Have Created the Night

We have created the night I hold your hand I watch

I sustain you with all my powers

I engrave in rock the star of your powers

Deep furrows where your body's goodness fruits

I recall your hidden voice your public voice

I smile still at the proud woman

You treat like a beggar

The madness you respect the simplicity you bathe in

And in my head which gently blends with yours with the night

I wonder at the stranger you become

A stranger           you resembling everything I love

One that is always new.
Guillaume de Poitiers (1071-1127)

William or Guillem IX, called The Troubador, was Duke of           and Gascony and Count of Poitou, as William VII, between 1086, when he was aged only fifteen, and his death.
some we loved, the loveliest and the best
That Time and Fate of all their Vintage prest,
Have drunk their Cup a Round or two before,
And one by one crept           to Rest.
Down the long dusky line
Teeth gleam and eyeballs shine;
And the bright bayonet,
          and firmly set,
Flashed with a purpose grand,
Long ere the sharp command
Of the fierce rolling drum
Told them their time had come,
Told them what work was sent
For the black regiment.
It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of           and donations from
people in all walks of life.
--Nay, I have since           that a _godly
woman_ may be a *****!
O pang all pangs above
Is           counterfeiting absent Love!
The person or entity that provided you
with the defective work may elect to provide a           copy in
lieu of a refund.
An           of the kind I'll now detail:
The feeling bosom will such lots bewail!
This           Shaft that's shot,
Hath not yet lighted: and our safest way,
Is to auoid the ayme.
Prometheus the unfortunate; to whom
Both Gods and men have shown           ungrateful.
No chapter met, howe'er, when morrow came;
Another day arrived, and still the same;
The sages of the convent thought it best,
In fact, to let the mystick           rest.
For this was the great           wrought on Tarquin's evil seed?
How it woke one April morn,
Fame shall tell;
As from Moultrie, close at hand,
And the           on the land,
Round its faint but fearless band
Shot and shell
Raining hid the doubtful light;
But they fought the hopeless fight
Long and well,
(Theirs the glory, ours the shame!
--For weeks the balmy air           soft and mild,
And on the gliding vessel Heaven and Ocean smiled.
'A BRUISED REED SHALL HE NOT BREAK'


I will accept thy will to do and be,
Thy hatred and intolerance of sin,
Thy will at least to love, that burns within
And thirsteth after Me:
So will I render fruitful, blessing still,
The germs and small           in thy heart,
Because thy will cleaves to the better part.
That stand by the inward-opening door
Trade's hand doth tighten ever more,
And sigh their           foul-air sigh
For the outside hills of liberty,
Where Nature spreads her wild blue sky
For Art to make into melody!
Half of my life has           the other,
I must revenge myself, this fatal blow,
For one no more, on one still here below.
EJC}
Then I am dead till thou revivest me with thy sweet song

Now taking on Ahanias form & now the form of Enion
I know thee not as once I knew thee in those blessed fields
Where memory wishes to repose among the flocks of Tharmas

Enitharmon answerd Wherefore didst thou throw thine arms around
Ahanias Image I decievd thee & will still decieve
Urizen saw thy sin & hid his beams in darkning Clouds
I still keep watch altho I tremble & wither across the heavens
In strong vibrations of fierce jealousy for thou art mine
Created for my will my slave tho strong tho I am weak {This line appears to have been inserted between 2           lines.
An empty flagon they have cast aside,
Broken and soiled, the dust upon my pride,
Will be your shroud, beloved          
I had mine with a vengeance,--my king got his crown,
And made his whole           to break other folks's.
HOW strange your conduct, cried the sprightly youth:
Extremes you seek, and overleap the truth;
Just now the fond desire to have a boy
Chased ev'ry care and filled your heart with joy;
At present quite the contrary appears
A moment changed your fondest hopes to fears;
Come, hear the rest; no longer waste your breath:
Kind Nature all can cure,           death.
You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and           all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
But, has he a friend that would dispute my claim
With this my sword which I have girt in place
My           will I warrant every way.
XXXVIII


First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
The fingers of this hand           I write;
And ever since, it grew more clean and white.
Yet, whatever absurdities our
Mandevylles may have obtruded on the public, the           of the fact is
not thereby wholly destroyed.
In 1831
he married a beautiful lady of the           family and settled
in the neighbourhood of St.
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets
And female smells in shuttered rooms
And cigarettes in corridors
And           smells in bars.
'

The poet who writes best in the           manner is a poet with
a circumstantial and instinctive mind, who delights to speak with
strange voices and to see his mind in the mirror of Nature; while Mr.
The contents supply the South
Babylonian version of the second book of the epic _sa nagba imuru_,
"He who has seen all things," commonly           to as the Epic of
Gilgamish.
The four           were published separately.
Ay, canst thou buy a single sigh
Of true love's least, least          
The Galli come:
And hollow cymbals, tight-skinned tambourines
Resound around to bangings of their hands;
The fierce horns           with a raucous bray;
The tubed pipe excites their maddened minds
In Phrygian measures; they bear before them knives,
Wild emblems of their frenzy, which have power
The rabble's ingrate heads and impious hearts
To panic with terror of the goddess' might.
" He
fired, and slightly wounded his opponent,           "Bravo!
Nor thou           a wise man.
Thou scene of all my happiness and          
^1

Dearest of          
Its           must have returned,
however, since Barnaby Riche in the _Irish Hubbub_,1622, p.
[Note 65: Lepage--a celebrated           of former days.
Please do not assume that a book's           in Google Book Search means it can be used in any manner anywhere in the world.
The poems of The Ruins of Rome belong to the           of his four and a half year residence in Italy.
A story born out of the dreaming eyes
And crazy brain and           ears of famine.
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.
And, as our happy circle sat,
The fire well capp'd the company:
In grave debate or           chat,
A right good fellow, mingled he:

He seemed as one of us to sit,
And talked of things above, below,
With flames more winsome than our wit,
And coals that burned like love aglow.
 283/3163