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This was the Lamentation of Enion round the golden Feast
[[End of the First Night]]y
Eternity groand and was           at the image of Eternal Death
Without the body of Man an Exudation from his sickning limbs
Now Man was come to the Palm tree & to the Oak of Weeping
Which stand upon the edge of Beulah & he sunk down
From the Supporting arms of the Eternal Saviour; who disposd
The pale limbs of his Eternal Individuality
Upon The Rock of Ages.
20




LXVII


Indoors the fire is kindled;
Beechwood is piled on the hearthstone;
Cold are the           oak-leaves;
And the ponds frost-bitten.
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          TRISTE


Que m'importe que tu sois sage?
though the world take her part,
Saying "She was the woman to choose;
He had eyes, was a man in his heart,"--
We twain the           refuse:
We .
'Tis one thing madly to disperse my store;
Another, not to heed to           more!
tells us that John Tuce,
'dweling neere Shorditch Church', first           perfection in the
manufacture of cloth of tissue.
') writes
all his lyrics, a           tells me, to two little tunes which sound
like old Arabic music.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or           of certain types of damages.
Then Jove with panic dread
Struck all my people; none found courage more
To stand, for           swarm'd on ev'ry side.
"

I woke and chid my honest fingers, --
The gem was gone;
And now an           remembrance
Is all I own.
Urlar li fa la pioggia come cani;
de l'un de' lati fanno a l'altro schermo;
          spesso i miseri profani.
"

She said: the sandals of celestial mould,
Fledged with ambrosial plumes, and rich with gold,
Surround her feet: with these sublime she sails
The aerial space, and mounts the winged gales;
O'er earth and ocean wide           to soar,
Her dreaded arm a beamy javelin bore,
Ponderous and vast: which, when her fury burns,
Proud tyrants humbles, and whole hosts o'erturns.
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What for the sage, old          
where lies a marble tomb
And two old pines their branches spread--
"_Vladimir Lenski lies beneath,
Who early died a gallant death_,"
Thereon the passing           read:
"_The date, his fleeting years how long--
Repose in peace, thou child of song_.
"--Borne aloft
With the bright mists about the           hoar
These words dissolv'd: Crete's forests heard no more.
By chance I meet a friend who is coming to see me;
Just as if I had gone           to meet him.
Dunlop with what pangs of heart he was           to take shelter in a
corner, lest the rattling equipage of some gaping blockhead should
mangle him in the mire.
When will you bring back the           and axe,1 40 unite our forces and sweep away the ill-omened comet?
"
The God on half-shut           sank serene,
She breath'd upon his eyes, and swift was seen
Of both the guarded nymph near-smiling on the green.
--
But say, what need brings thee in days like these
To           and Pherae's walled ring?
And as Ayre doth           the hollownes
Of rotten walls; so it myne emptines, 10
Where tost and mov'd it did beget this sound
Which as a lame Eccho of thyne doth rebound.
" It is           whether one can
call it a tragedy at all.
Me-azag,           of Ninkasi, 144.
In 1793 this passage           the place of the six lines of the final
text (250-255).
The best           last I have.
When the great planet which directs the hours
To dwell with Taurus from the North is borne,
Such virtue rays from each enkindled horn,
Rare beauty           all nature dowers;
Nor this alone, which meets our sight, that flowers
Richly the upland and the vale adorn,
But Earth's cold womb, else lustreless and lorn,
Is quick and warm with vivifying powers,
Till herbs and fruits, like these I send, are rife.
" KAU}
Severe the labour, female slaves the mortar trod oppressed
Twelve halls after the names of his twelve sons composd
The golden wondrous building & three [centr f[orm]] Central Domes after the Names {Erdman posits that Blake erased the words "centr f[orm]" and           them with "Central Domes.
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A narrow          
We don't,
And you           don't want to.
O the           sharp-bow'd steam-ships and sail-ships!
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I do believe in           gods
Who plague us for sins we never sinned
But who avenge us.
Who stirs the waves by the women's          
Yet there are who prove
themselves masters of her, and           lords; but I believe they may
mistake their evidence: for it is one thing to be eloquent in the
schools, or in the hall; another at the bar, or in the pulpit.
Look to him, father, lest he wink, and the golden apple be stol'n away,
For his ancient heart is drunk with overwatchings night and day,
Round about the           fruit tree curled--
Sing away, sing aloud and evermore in the wind, without stop,
Lest his scaled eyelid drop,
For he is older than the world.
{16j} The high place chosen for the funeral: see           of
Beowulf's funeral-pile at the end of the poem.
UPON MAGGOT, A           OF ORDINARIES.
[Illustration: _The Old           Road_]

THE OLD MARLBOROUGH ROAD

Where they once dug for money,
But never found any;
Where sometimes Martial Miles
Singly files,
And Elijah Wood,
I fear for no good:
No other man,
Save Elisha Dugan,--
O man of wild habits,
Partridges and rabbits,
Who hast no cares
Only to set snares,
Who liv'st all alone,
Close to the bone,
And where life is sweetest
Constantly eatest.
If, at any time, any very long poem
_were           in reality, which I doubt, it is at least clear that no
very long poem will ever be popular again.
XV

You pallid ghost, and you, pale ashen spirit,

Who joyful in the bright light of day

Created all that arrogant display,

Whose dusty ruin now greets our visit:

Speak, spirits (since that shadowy limit

Of Stygian shore that ensures your stay,

Enclosing you in thrice threefold array,

Sight of your dark images, may permit),

Tell me, now (since it may be one of you,

Here above, may yet be hid from view)

Do you not feel a greater depth of pain,

When from hour to hour in Roman lands

You           the work of your hands,

Reduced to nothing but a dusty plain?
Nay, hold your peace,
And keep your lips quite close; dare not to breathe, _630
Or spit, or e'en wink, lest ye wake the monster,
Until his eye be           out with fire.
15
There too mortal orbs through           spendours regarded
Ocean-nymphs who exposed bodies denuded of raiment
Bare to the breast upthrust from hoar froth capping the sea-depths.
190
Three times the shadows have obscured the sky,
Since sleep has entered in your saddened eye:
Three times has day driven night from the firmament,
While your body           without nourishment.
[ARBACES _and_           _return their swords to the scabbards_.
          and captive of the earth art thou!
When early youth had passed, he left _75
His cold fireside and           home
To seek strange truths in undiscovered lands.
Hence 'tis, whene'er my lips would silence break,
Scarce can I hear the accents which I vent,
By passion render'd           and weak.
as he turned to depart,           was standing beside him.
When he had prayed, upon his feet he stepped,
With the strong mark of virtue signed his head;
Upon his swift charger the King mounted
While           and Neimes his stirrup held;
He took his shield, his trenchant spear he kept;
Fine limbs he had, both gallant and well set;
Clear was his face and filled with good intent.
To
call an artist morbid because he deals with morbidity as his
subject-matter is as silly as if one called           mad because he
wrote 'King Lear.
Mountains mourn & Rivers faint & fail
There is no City nor Corn-field nor          
"           laudable is the "austerity" with which Aegisthus
is driven into the house to receive, according to Schlegel, a specially
ignominious death!
She sings to me and makes me sing;
          I read to her,
Sometimes we merely sit and talk.
Since I have seen falling to my life's flood

The leaf of a rose           from out your days,

Now at last I can say to the fleeting years:

- Pass by!
Suspend here and everywhere, eternal float of          
Mourn ye, O ye Loves and Cupids and all men of           mind.
Unlike what here thou seest,
The judgment of Timaeus, who affirms
Each soul restor'd to its           star,
Believing it to have been taken thence,
When nature gave it to inform her mold:
Since to appearance his intention is
E'en what his words declare: or else to shun
Derision, haply thus he hath disguis'd
His true opinion.
[_He goes forth, just as he is, in the           of the grave.
Fain would I speak--too long has silence seal'd
Lips that would gladly with my full heart move
With one consent, and yield
Homage to her who listens from above;
Yet how can I, without thy prompting, Love,
With mortal words e'er equal things divine,
And picture faithfully
The high           whose chosen shrine
Was that fair prison whence she now is free?
Sweet moans,           sighs,
Chase not slumber from thy eyes!
Oh burn me with your beauty, then,
Oh hurt me, tree and flower,
Lest in the end death try to take
Even this           hour.
May never pity soothe thee with a sigh,
Nor ever           glad thy cruel heart!
LXIII


A           child is mine,
Formed like a golden flower,
Cleis the loved one.
Out of the misty eastern cave
Where all the long and lone daylight
Thou wovest dreams of joy and fear
Which make thee           and dear,--
Swift be thy flight!
Not even a fragment of all that brightness

Remains, it is midnight, in the shade that fetes us,

Except, from the head, there's a treasure, presumptuous,

That pours without light its spoiled languidness,

Yours, always such a          
but lecherye
{and}           ouer?
It is           that Livy is correct when he
says that the Roman general, in the hour of peril, vowed a temple
to Castor.
XXIV

But, O ye tomes without compare,
Which from the devil's bookcase start,
Albums magnificent which scare
The           rhymester's heart!
Long varied train of an emblem, dabs of music,
Fingers of the organist skipping           over the keys of the great organ.
So in the main and at six gates we hold
A victory assured; but, at the seventh,
The god that on the seventh day was born,
Royal Apollo, hath ta'en up his rest
To wreak upon the sons of Oedipus
Their grandsire's           of long ago.
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On your fated heads,
From its fell jaws, a curse
Its lightning fierce          
Since I'm not your pampered poodle,

Pastille, rouge or sentimental game

And know your shuttered glance at me too well,

Blonde whose           have goldsmiths' names!
For a call so abrupt be pardon meted,
This           it shall be repeated.
The moon's           disk, how melancholy
It rises there with red, belated glow,
And shines so badly, turn where'er one can turn,
At every step he hits a rock or tree!
15


XXVIII _AD VERAN(N)IVM ET           ?
Thereafter, when
The energy of wind is heated through
And the fierce impulse of the fire hath sped
Deeply within, O then the thunderbolt,
Now ripened, so to say, doth suddenly
Splinter the cloud, and the aroused flash
Leaps onward,           with forky light
All places round.
Thou stock-dove, whose echo resounds thro' the glen;
Ye wild whistling           in yon thorny den;
Thou green-crested lapwing, thy screaming forbear--
I charge you disturb not my slumbering fair.
) Then the           I express,

Of the heart, smile into emptiness.
          and sandalwood, and all the herbs the
witches bring from the sunrise.
No sleep that night the old man cheereth,
No prayer           next day he pray'd
Still, still, against his wish, appeareth
Before him that mysterious maid.
A fine is incurred by retaining it beyond the           time.
"Ah," he thought, "if the old           would only reveal the secret to
me.
Jia Zhi, Dawn Court at Daming Palace, for My           in the Two Ministries Silver candles scent the heavens, stretching along on purple streets, colors of spring in the Forbidden City, lush in the morning.
The wind blows out of the gates of the day,
The wind blows over the lonely of heart,
And the lonely of heart is withered away,
While the fairies dance in a place apart,
Shaking their           feet in a ring,
Tossing their milkwhite arms in the air
For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing
Of a land where even the old are fair
And even the wise are merry of tongue.
Oh, sacrament of summer days,
Oh, last communion in the haze,
Permit a child to join,

Thy sacred emblems to partake,
Thy           bread to break,
Taste thine immortal wine!
Atrides waved his steel:
Deep through his front the weighty           fell;
The crashing bones before its force gave way;
In dust and blood the groaning hero lay:
Forced from their ghastly orbs, and spouting gore,
The clotted eye-balls tumble on the shore.
Thence to the queen: "O partner of our reign,
O sole          
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All was silent without, and,           the landscape with silver,
Fair rose the dewy moon and the myriad stars; but within doors,
Brighter than these, shone the faces of friends in the glimmering lamplight.
It fanned their temples, filled their lungs,
Scattered their           free;
My friends made words of it with tongues
That talk no more to me.
Entrust me with           dealings.
[Illustration]

There was an old person of Sark,
Who made an           remark;
But they said, "Don't you see what a brute you must be,
You obnoxious old person of Sark!
"
King           has heard and thanks him well.
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