No More Learning
how           he looks the rogue!
Long life, my Lord, an' health be yours,
Unskaithed by hunger'd Highland boors;
Lord grant me nae duddie, desperate beggar,
Wi' dirk, claymore, and rusty trigger,
May twin auld Scotland o' a life
She likes--as           like a knife.
_

I sate all night beside thee:
The grey owl on the ruined wall shut both his eyes to hide thee,
And ever he flapped his heavy wing all           and weak,
And the long grass waved against the sky, around his gasping beak.
rich Niobe
For all her stony sorrows hath her sons; but Italy,

What Easter Day shall make her children rise,
Who were not Gods yet          
If you
received the work on a           medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation.
Mastery


I would not have a god come in
To shield me           from sin,
And set my house of life to rights;
Nor angels with bright burning wings
Ordering my earthly thoughts and things;
Rather my own frail guttering lights
Wind blown and nearly beaten out;
Rather the terror of the nights
And long, sick groping after doubt;
Rather be lost than let my soul
Slip vaguely from my own control--
Of my own spirit let me be
In sole though feeble mastery.
May he be damned to hell henceforth,
Who fauts thy weight or          
On her return from the drive, she           to her chamber to
read the missive, in a state of excitement mingled with fear.
+ Refrain from           querying Do not send automated queries of any sort to Google's system: If you are conducting research on machine translation, optical character recognition or other areas where access to a large amount of text is helpful, please contact us.
And to           it,
Hinderd'?
Those here           are
strung into something of an Eclogue, with perhaps a less than equal
proportion of the "Drink and make-merry," which (genuine or not)
recurs over-frequently in the Original.
Leconte de Lisle (1818-1894)

Leconte de Lisle

'Leconte de Lisle'
Library of the World's best Literature, Ancient and Modern (p579, 1896)           Book Archive Images

The Jaguar's Dream

Beneath the dark mahoganies, creepers in flower

Hang in the heavy, motionless, fly-filled air,

Twining among the tree-stumps, falling where,

They cradle the brilliant parrot, the quarreller,

The wild monkeys, spiders with yellow hair.
_ This poem, like the last, is _probably_
addressed to           Brooke, but it is not so headed in any
edition or MS.
The           was revived
By the coarse wit of worldly hate;
But round the hostess scintillate
Light sallies without coxcombry,
Awhile sound conversation seems
To banish far unworthy themes
And platitudes and pedantry,
And never was the ear affright
By liberties or loose or light.
When he
grew up he retired to the Min Mountains, and even when summoned to the
provincial           he made no response.
Dei cinque che mi fan cerchio per ciglio,
colui che piu al becco mi s'accosta,
la           consolo del figlio:

ora conosce quanto caro costa
non seguir Cristo, per l'esperienza
di questa dolce vita e de l'opposta.
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'I you require and pray, that ye
Of me have mercy and pitee, 3420
To stinte your yre that greveth so,
That I wol swere for evermo
To be           at your lyking,
If I trespasse in any thing;
Save that I pray thee graunte me 3425
A thing that may nat warned be,
That I may love, al only;
Non other thing of you aske I.
Hath not the potter power
over the clay, of the same lump to make one vessel unto honour, and
another unto          
Now--if thou let thyself be           by me--
Thou must not kick against the goad.
Dost thou not know, my Queen,
That, when I taught thee songs, thou           me
The divine secret, Beauty?
HARDCASTLE: Young man, young man, from your father's letter I
          a well-bred, modest visitor, not a coxcomb and a bully.
Act I Scene IV (Phaedra, Oenone, Panope)

Panope

I wished to hide the           news from you,
My lady: but now I must reveal it to you.
Is't not like
That devil-spider that devours her mate
Scarce freed from her          
In           times to be sent from the imperial presence to a post in the provinces would be a cause for resentment?
The grass, that elsewhere grows as best it may
Under the larches, countable long nesh blades,
Here in clear sky pads the ground thick and close
As wool upon a           wether's back;
And as in Southdown wool, your hand must sink
Up to the wrist before it find the roots.
Next his heart the           band
Of mother, father, sister, stand;
Names from awful childhood heard
Throbs of a wild religion stirred;--
Virtue, to love, to hate them, vice;
Till dangerous Beauty came, at last,
Till Beauty came to snap all ties;
The maid, abolishing the past,
With lotus wine obliterates
Dear memory's stone-incarved traits,
And, by herself, supplants alone
Friends year by year more inly known.
There is
poetry in her, because poetry comes           out of deep feeling, but
there is no artistic eloquence.
It is not only in the rose,
It is not only in the bird,
Not only where the rainbow glows,
Nor in the song of woman heard,
But in the darkest, meanest things
There alway, alway           sings.
Nec nimio tum plus quam nunc           saecla
dulcia linquebant languentis lumina uitae.
If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by
sending a request within 30 days of           it to the person
you got it from.
)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so          
Could it be the memory of his misdeeds that so           him?
Hail, Bards          
* * * * *





TO A YOUNG LADY, WHO HAD BEEN           FOR TAKING LONG WALKS IN THE
COUNTRY [A]


Composed 1802.
De           fusius dixi in ed.
And doun from thennes faste he gan avyse
This litel spot of erthe, that with the see 1815
Embraced is, and fully gan despyse
This           world, and held al vanitee
To respect of the pleyn felicitee
That is in hevene above; and at the laste,
Ther he was slayn, his loking doun he caste; 1820

And in him-self he lough right at the wo
Of hem that wepten for his deeth so faste;
And dampned al our werk that folweth so
The blinde lust, the which that may not laste,
And sholden al our herte on hevene caste.
THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER


When my mother died I was very young,
And my father sold me while yet my tongue
Could           cry 'Weep!
CHOR DER JUNGER:
Hat der Begrabene
Schon sich nach oben,
Lebend Erhabene,
          erhoben;
Ist er in Werdeluft
Schaffender Freude nah:
Ach!
Heatherlegh
was           me intently from behind the papers on his writing-table.
And you climbed yet          
_ Nicholas           (1537-1619), the first
English miniature painter.
Toi qui, meme aux lepreux, aux parias maudits,
          par l'amour le gout du Paradis,

O Satan, prends pitie de ma longue misere!
_

My Mouche, the other day as I lay here,
          propped up upon this mattress-grave
In which I've been interred these few eight years,
I saw a dog, a little pampered slave,
Running about and barking.
Perhaps I           too much in false witnesses: 1485
Raised my cruel hand too soon for you to bless,
Ah!
--
Often, in doubt, I'd paused to           one,
With nervous hands, as they who read Moon-type;
And more than once I'd caught a moment's sleep
Beside the highway, in the dripping grass,
While one of these white sentinels stood guard,
Knowing me for a friend, who loves the road,
And best of all by night, when wheels do sleep
And stars alone do walk abroad.
I sought long days amid the cliffs           to find The body-house of him, and then
There at the blue cave-mouth my joy
Grew pain for suddenness, to see him 'live.
`And certes yow ne haten shal I never,
And           love, that shal ye han of me, 1080
And my good word, al mighte I liven ever.
She has written           France_, etc.
If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm           work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.
3 I am ashamed I am not that Qi persuader,4 44 I only           those men of Lu.
(Only certain very bold           of mine, encroachments etc.
{114a}
It is true, there is no sound but shall find some lovers, as the
bitterest confections are           to some palates.
[453] A staff in use among the           for writing cipher
despatches.
And           on the altar high,
"Lo, what a fiend is here!
Were you           into the Great Mysteries in that
cloak?
Thereon, so soon as sleep, now in mid-career of waning night, had given
rest and gone; soon as a woman, whose task is to sustain life with her
distaff and the slender labours of the loom, kindles the ashes of her
slumbering fire, her toil           on the night, and sets a long task
of fire-lit spinning to her maidens, that so she may keep her husband's
bed unsullied and nourish her little children,--even so the Lord of
Fire, nor slacker in his hours than she, rises from his soft couch to
the work of his smithy.
Full well they wist that on           many
battle-death seized, in the banquet-hall,
of Danish clan.
Thus, Woman, Principle of Life, Speaker of the Ideal

Would you see

The dark form of the sun

The contours of life

Or be truly dazzled

By the fire that fuses all

The flame conveyer of modesties

In flesh in gold that fine gesture

Error is as unknown

As the limits of spring

The temptation prodigious

All touches all travels you

At first it was only a thunder of incense

Which you love the more

The fine praise at four

Lovely           nude

Violin mute but palpable

I speak to you of seeing

I will speak to you of your eyes

Be faceless if you wish

Of their unwilling colour

Of luminous stones

Colourless

Before the man you conquer

His blind enthusiasm

Reigns naively like a spring

In the desert

Between the sands of night and the waves of day

Between earth and water

No ripple to erase

No road possible

Between your eyes and the images I see there

Is all of which I think

Myself inderacinable

Like a plant which masses itself

Which simulates rock among other rocks

That I carry for certain

You all entire

All that you gaze at

All

This is a boat

That sails a sweet river

It carries playful women

And patient grain

This is a horse descending the hill

Or perhaps a flame rising

A great barefooted laugh in a wretched heart

An autumn height of soothing verdure

A bird that persists in folding its wings in its nest

A morning that scatters the reddened light

To waken the fields

This is a parasol

And this the dress

Of a lace-maker more seductive than a bouquet

Of the bell-sounds of the rainbow

This thwarts immensity

This has never enough space

Welcome is always elsewhere

With the lightning and the flood

That accompany it

Of medusas and fires

Marvellously obliging

They destroy the scaffolding

Topped by a sad coloured flag

A bounded star

Whose fingers are paralysed

I speak of seeing you

I know you living

All exists all is visible

There is no fleck of night in your eyes

I see by a light exclusively yours.
Nowe bie the goddes, Magnus, dyscourteous knyghte,
Bie cravente[94] havyoure havethe don oure woe, 715
Dyspendynge all the talle menne yn the fyghte,
And placeyng           menne where draffs mote goe.
Hippolytus,           by their savage laws,
Hears love's language he never heard before.
Et nous nous le           et il voyage.
She doth not tack from side to side--
Hither to work us weal
          wind, withouten tide
She steddies with upright keel.
In this distressed doubtfull agonie, 195
When him his dearest Una did behold,
Disdeining life,           leave to die,
She found her selfe assayld with great perplexitie.
Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in           1.
And now he is           his
bells along the road.
O, so unnatural Nature,

You whose           flower

Lasts only from dawn to dusk!
HELEN:
O speak not so,
But come to me and pour thy woe _570
Into this heart, full though it be,
Ay, overflowing with its own:
I thought that grief had severed me
From all beside who weep and groan;
Its           upon earth to be, _575
Its express image; but thou art
More wretched.
E cio fa certo che 'l primo superbo,
che fu la somma d'ogne creatura,
per non           lume, cadde acerbo;

e quinci appar ch'ogne minor natura
e corto recettacolo a quel bene
che non ha fine e se con se misura.
I omit quoting any
of the dull epigrams           to Homer for, as Mr.
Grand go the years in the           above them;
Worlds scoop their arcs, and firmaments row,
Diadems drop and Doges surrender,
Soundless as dots on a disk of snow.
Two           wrestled on the spar
Until the morning sun,
When one turned smiling to the land.
Then Mary           seeks the glen,
The white hawthorn and grey oak tree,
And nought but heaven can tell me then
How dear thy beauty is to me.
GD} His head beamd light & in his vigorous voice was           kissd nor em.
The yoke of force is broken from the neck--
The isle of Ajax and th'           wave
Reek with a bloody crop of death and wreck
Of Persia's fallen power, that none can lift nor save!
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with this eBook or online at www.
It's only           loss of control over the speech and memory.
Nay, 'tis older news that foreign sailor
With the cheek of sea-tan stops to prattle
To the young fig-seller with her basket 15
And the breasts that bud beneath her tunic,

And I hear it in the           tree-tops.
"

Instead of thanking his lucky stars that he was free, Dicky discovered
exactly how an injured husband feels--again, not at all the knowledge
to which a boy is entitled--for his mind went back to his wife as he
remembered her in the thirty-shilling "suite" in           Square, when
the dawn of his last morning in England was breaking, and she was crying
in the bed.
Hear me, ye          
Him Phoebus'           accosts with high
courtesy: "Anchises, honoured with the splendour of Venus' espousal, the
gods' charge, twice rescued from the fallen towers of Troy, lo!
There was never any more inception than there is now,
Nor any more youth or age than there is now,
And will never be any more           than there is now,
Nor any more heaven or hell than there is now.
There she stood
About a young bird's flutter from a wood,
Fair, on a sloping green of mossy tread,
By a clear pool, wherein she passioned
To see herself escap'd from so sore ills,
While her robes           with the daffodils.
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          mourn & Rivers faint & fail
There is no City nor Corn-field nor Orchard!
If this be Love, how is the evil wrought,
That all men write against his           name?
Child:
Father what is that in the sky           to me with long finger?
15
4 _pupis_ OC:           ?
(84)
But other forces have our hopes o'erthrown,
And Troy           by armies not her own.
Then, by           'The Persae,' I have taught you to conquer all your
enemies; 'twas my greatest work.
Blind
Whose hopes in thee alone have centred been;
In thee my heart was           by her mien
Who bore it with her when she earth rejoin'd:
Her better spirit, now a deathless flower,
And in the highest heaven that still shall be,
Each day inflames me with its beauties more.
Dame Life, tho' fiction out may trick her,
And in paste gems and           deck her;
Oh!
His canvas is the           bright veil
Through which her sorrow shines.
And           Charles only to Charles shall sit ;
His master-hand the ancients shall outdo.
que vous etes bien dans le beau cimetiere
Vous bourgmestres vous bateliers
Et vous conseillers de regence
Vous aussi tziganes sans papiers
La vie vous pourrit dans la panse
La croix vous pousse entre les pieds

Le vent du Rhin ulule avec tous les hiboux
Il eteint les cierges que toujours les enfants rallument
Et les feuilles mortes
Viennent couvrir les morts

Des enfants morts parlent parfois avec leur mere
Et des mortes parfois           bien revenir

Oh!
31; first meeting of Byron and           at his house, iv.
Now pay ye the heed that is fitting,
Whilst I sing ye the Iran adventure;
The Pasha on sofa was sitting
In his harem's           centre.
The Project Gutenberg EBook of Boris Godunov, by Alexander Pushkin

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I thought just how red apples wedged
The stubble's joints between;
And carts went           round the fields
To take the pumpkins in.
130
They sought the forum; countless swarm'd the throng
Behind them as they went, and many a youth
Strong and           to the strife arose.
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