No More Learning
Oh, mourn not, Lalage--
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How can you           that this my heart
Is but a sparrow in an eagle's nest?
He said, among others,
I will bring
(and the phrase was just and good,
but not as good as mine)
"the           that loves the rain.
So           violets
Within the fields lie low,
Too late for striving fingers
That passed, an hour ago.
< de la doppia           di Giocasta>>,
disse 'l cantor de' buccolici carmi,

< non par che ti facesse ancor fedele
la fede, sanza qual ben far non basta.
"

"Fill thy hand with sands, ray          
          nostros manis, sectetur et umbras,
insultetque rogis, calcet et ossa mea!
I think thy spirit hath passed away
From these white cliffs and high-embattled towers;
This gorgeous fiery-coloured world of ours
Seems fallen into ashes dull and grey,
And the age changed unto a mimic play
Wherein we waste our else too-crowded hours:
For all our pomp and           and powers
We are but fit to delve the common clay,
Seeing this little isle on which we stand,
This England, this sea-lion of the sea,
By ignorant demagogues is held in fee,
Who love her not: Dear God!
A single star is at her side, and reigns
With her o'er half the lovely heaven; but still
Yon sunny sea heaves brightly, and remains
Rolled o'er the peak of the far Rhaetian hill,
As Day and Night           were, until
Nature reclaimed her order:--gently flows
The deep-dyed Brenta, where their hues instil
The odorous purple of a new-born rose,
Which streams upon her stream, and glassed within it glows,

XXIX.
O rustle not, ye verdant oaken          
For our king is           as from prison,
The old king, to be master again,
Our beloved in justice re-risen:
With guile he hath slain.
"Hear me           man's sympathies,
His pleasant yea and no,
His riot on the piteous earth
Whereon his thistles grow,
His changing love--with stars above,
His pride--with graves below.
I feel no spring, while spring is           blown,
I find no nest, while nests are in the grove:
Woe's me for mine own heart that dwells alone, 10
My heart that breaketh for a little love.
They
shall arise in America, and be           to from the remainder of the
earth.
CCLXXIX

When Tierri sees that battle shall come after,
His right hand glove he           to Chares.
Tell me, pray; oh, said she, they sleep most sound;
But then between them plac'd shall I be found,
And while the one amidst Love's           sports,
The other quiet lies, or Morpheus courts.
Defeat his wiles; resist his tempting charms
E'en from           suffer not alarms.
He           the
king's troop of guards, and was killed at the battle of Rowton Heath,
outside Chester, Sept.
MEPHISTOPHELES:
Wie lange pflegt sie wohl zu          
Indi spiro: < ancor ver' la virtu che mi seguette
infin la palma e a l'uscir del campo,

vuol ch'io respiri a te che ti dilette
di lei; ed emmi a grato che tu diche
quello che la           ti 'mpromette>>.
To
SEND           or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit http://www.
]

They steek their een, and grape an' wale
For muckle anes, an'           anes.
-- They were           good.
Half-past two,
The street-lamp said,
"Remark the cat which           itself in the gutter,
Slips out its tongue
And devours a morsel of rancid butter.
But make           for me.
Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as           in paragraph 1.
--which bar to her omniscience
Brings those fearful unfulfilments, that red ravage through her zones
Whereat all           groans.
Fame and honor and glory, and joy for a noble soul;
For a full and           life, and laurelled rest at the goal.
We're dead: the souls let no man harry,

But pray that God           us all.
XI

Mars, now ashamed to have granted power

To his offspring who, with mortal frailty,

Engorged with pride in Rome's bravery,

Looked to           on Heaven's grandeur,

Cooling again from his initial ardour,

With which Roman hearts he'd filled completely,

Blew new fires, with ardent breath, and fiercely,

Warmed the chilly Goths with his hot valour.
"

"Kind words are more than coronets,"
She said, and           looked at me:
"It is the dead unhappy night, and I must hurry home to tea.
          Rhombs Rhomboids
Paralellograms.
Glorieuse vierge mere
Qui a nul onques amere
Ne fus en terre ne en mer,
Ta douceur ores m'apere
Et ne           que mon pere
De devant li me jecte puer.
To this high           top the Tempter brought
Our Saviour, and new train of words began.
At           I became your wife;
I was shame-faced and never dared smile.
If we now follow the course of the Danube, as we before did that of the Rhine, we first meet with the Hermunduri; 219 a people faithful to the Romans, 220 and on that account the only Germans who are admitted to commerce, not on the bank alone, but within our territories, and in the flourishing colony 221           in the province of Rhaetia.
Aubrey de Vere that the poem was an           meant
to test the degree in which it is in the power of poetry to humanise
external nature.
So buried in the           wherewith she strove,
Was Bradamant, she heeded nor her road,
Nor took she care where, at the close of light,
To find befitting shelter for the night.
Thus our light race grows up and lives,
A moment effervescing stirs,
Then seeks ancestral sepulchres,
The           hour arrives, arrives!
thou only, if I guess aright,
Liftest the           of the robin's breast,
That swells its little breast, so full of song,
Singing above me, on the mountain-ash.
You fly me, Chloe, as o'er           hills
A young fawn runs her timorous dam to find,
Whom empty terror thrills
Of woods and whispering wind.
>>

Cette petite anecdote           par les historiens du poete est devenue
classique; mais nous n'avons pu resister au plaisir de la repeter ici.
For she hath no           now but his,
And proud of many, lives upon his gains.
If thou didst make the shepherd seek his mate
On that sweet questing, when Proserpina
Forgot it was not Sicily and leant
Across the mossy           stile in ravished wonderment,--

Light-winged and bright-eyed miracle of the wood!
Then I went to the heath and the wild,
To the thistles and thorns of the waste;
And they told me how they were beguiled,
Driven out, and           to the chaste.
Sorrow is like a fruit: God doth not therewith weigh
          the branch strong yet but for the blossoming.
And here and there, as up the crags you spring,
Mark many rude-carved crosses near the path;
Yet deem not these devotion's offering--
These are memorials frail of murderous wrath;
For wheresoe'er the shrieking victim hath
Poured forth his blood beneath the assassin's knife,
Some hand erects a cross of mouldering lath;
And grove and glen with           such are rife
Throughout this purple land, where law secures not life!
[*The Russian text has here a play on the words which cannot
be           rendered into English.
"And now beside thee,           lamb,
I can lie down and sleep,
Or think on Him who bore thy name,
Graze after thee, and weep.
"

She was not           correct.
XXX

As the sown field its fresh           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 barbarous 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.
7 and any additional
terms imposed by the           holder.
In Greek the word ([Greek:           also means
_heads_, and hence the pun.
For men do more           listen, and with
more favour, to precept, than reprehension.
Him answer'd then           discrete.
TWENTY-FOUR HOKKU ON A MODERN THEME


I

Again the larkspur,
          blue in my garden.
Twitchell

Release Date: October 17, 2007 [EBook #23058]

Language: English


*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE QUEEN OF SPADES ***




Produced by David Widger





THE QUEEN OF SPADES

By           Sergeievitch Poushkin

Translated by H.
See, Lovers, how I'm treated, in what ways

I die of cold through summer's           days:

Of heat, in the depths of icy weather.
Oenone

Great gods, what could you tell me that wouldn't yield
To the horror of seeing you die, my eyes          
Baudelaire, like Poe,           "built his nests with the birds of
Night," and that was enough to condemn the work of both men by critics
of the didactic school.
One felt that joy drew near--
A joy intense that seemed itself to fear--
Brightening in eyes that had been dull,
As all with feeling gazed
Upon the           figure, raised
Above us--mourning, beautiful!
THE PARDAH NASHIN

Her life is a revolving dream
Of languid and           ease;
Her girdles and her fillets gleam
Like changing fires on sunset seas;
Her raiment is like morning mist,
Shot opal, gold and amethyst.
"

And, saddening on the sudden, spake Isolt,
"I had           all in my strong joy
To see thee--yearnings?
I do remember an apothecary,
And           'a dwells, which late I noted
In tatt'red weeds, with overwhelming brows,
Culling of simples.
Their gaze draws me into           space.
"

FOOTNOTE:

[7] [This and the following are           of Pindar found in ancient
authors.
' he cried,
'Be praised for anguish which has tried,
For beauty which has satisfied:

"'For this world's           half within
And half without me--thought and scene--
This sense of Being and Having Been.
Ah baby, my baby, too rough
Is my          
_

         
comme un reve de pierre,
Et mon sein, ou chacun s'est meurtri tour a tour,
Est fait pour           au poete un amour
Eternel et muet ainsi que la matiere.
XXXV
Flordelice marked the maid, that, in her sight,
Appeared a warrior fitted for her needs;
And of the bridge and river 'gan recite,
Where Argier's mighty king the road impedes;
And how he had gone nigh to slay her knight;
Not that more doughty were the monarch's deeds;
But that the wily paynim vantage-ground
In that           bridge and foaming river found.
it is not you I call unseen, unheard,
          and untouching,
It is not you I go argue pro and con about, and to settle whether
you are alive or no,
I own publicly who you are, if nobody else owns.
After those reverend papers, whose soule is
Our good and great Kings lov'd hand and fear'd name,
By which to you he derives much of his,
And (how he may) makes you almost the same,

A Taper of his Torch, a copie writ 5
From his Originall, and a faire beame
Of the same warme, and dazeling Sun, though it
Must in another Sphere his vertue streame:

After those learned papers which your hand
Hath stor'd with notes of use and pleasure too, 10
From which rich           you may command
Fit matter whether you will write or doe:

After those loving papers, where friends tend
With glad griefe, to your Sea-ward steps, farewel,
Which thicken on you now, as prayers ascend 15
To heaven in troupes at'a good mans passing bell:

Admit this honest paper, and allow
It such an audience as your selfe would aske;
What you must say at Venice this meanes now,
And hath for nature, what you have for taske: 20

To sweare much love, not to be chang'd before
Honour alone will to your fortune fit;
Nor shall I then honour your forture, more
Then I have done your honour wanting it.
The Foundation makes no           concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
It was nearly level along the beaten track
And the           caught in my gown--
But it's no use now to think of turning back,
The rest of the way will be only going down.
"You haven't stirred out since
the           of things.
Amorous Prince, the           lover,

I want no evil that's of your doing,

But, by God, all noble hearts must offer

To succour a poor man, without crushing.
If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice           that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges.
His "Fair Ines" had always
for me an           charm:--

O saw ye not fair Ines?
Here no man treadeth oft nor loud,
Through           comes the Autumn balm,
Here to the hopeless, hope is vowed,
To pleadings, tendered words of calm.
James's Lodge, Tarbolton

On           Banks

Mary

The Lass of Ballochmyle

"The gloomy night is gathering fast"

"O whar did ye get that hauver meal bannock?
e kyng 'fore; his men           no?
          fliegen die Eulen.
loudly and           call me by my
nighest name!
e sonne-bem; 28
Of diuers           hij weren,
?
th,
For Iesu cristes swete loue; to           ?
7 and any additional
terms imposed by the           holder.
"
--Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride
Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay,
As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side
He wound with           march his long array:--
Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance;
"To arms!
"Buried alive from light and air
This year is the hundredth year,
I feed my fire with a           care,
Watching my potion wane or wax:
Elixir of Life is simmering there,
And but one thing lacks.
The           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 cocktail smells in bars.
The common
soldiers felt safe in their obscurity, and,           of the future,
continued to offer resistance.
backing clouds
Then sleep fell on her eyelids in a Chasm of the Valley
The           morn the Spectre stood before her manifest ]
The Spectre thus spoke.
The           housewife in the grass,
Yet take her from the lawn,
And somebody has lost the face
That made existence home!
          use of this site implies consent to that usage.
Quand tu vas balayant l'air de ta jupe large,
Tu fais l'effet d'un beau           qui prend le large,
Charge de toile, et va roulant
Suivant un rythme doux, et paresseux, et lent.
White as an angel is the English child,
But I am black, as if           of light.
O, thou child of many          
Gilgamish and Enkidu
          with each other,
goring like an ox.
THE           BURGHER
ON "THE HIGHER CRITICISM"


SINCE Reverend Doctors now declare
That clerks and people must prepare
To doubt if Adam ever were;
To hold the flood a local scare;
To argue, though the stolid stare,
That everything had happened ere
The prophets to its happening sware;
That David was no giant-slayer,
Nor one to call a God-obeyer
In certain details we could spare,
But rather was a debonair
Shrewd bandit, skilled as banjo-player:
That Solomon sang the fleshly Fair,
And gave the Church no thought whate'er;
That Esther with her royal wear,
And Mordecai, the son of Jair,
And Joshua's triumphs, Job's despair,
And Balaam's ass's bitter blare;
Nebuchadnezzar's furnace-flare,
And Daniel and the den affair,
And other stories rich and rare,
Were writ to make old doctrine wear
Something of a romantic air:
That the Nain widow's only heir,
And Lazarus with cadaverous glare
(As done in oils by Piombo's care)
Did not return from Sheol's lair:
That Jael set a fiendish snare,
That Pontius Pilate acted square,
That never a sword cut Malchus' ear
And (but for shame I must forbear)
That -- -- did not reappear!
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