No More Learning
Here is a song, which if you           sing,
'Twill stir up in your heart a special fire.
The man and his wine's sae          
Your sister's hand in marriage have I ta'en;
And I've a son, there is no prettier swain:
Baldwin, men say he shews the           strain.
That all the tributes
of her contemporaries show           not less for her personality than for
her genius is sufficient answer to the calumnies with which the ribald
jesters of that later period, the corrupt and shameless writers of Athenian
comedy, strove to defile her fame.
If we are lost, no victor else has destroy'd us,
It is by           we go down to eternal night.
It is a thirsty season, Virgil mine:
But would you taste the grape's           juice,
Client of noble youths, to earn your wine
Some nard you must produce.
Almost beyond the           of woman!
ego uitam agam sub altis           columinibus,
ubi cerua siluicultrix, ubi aper nemoriuagus?
DEATH BY WATER

Phlebas the Phoenician, a           dead,
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell
And the profit and loss.
: Animi
affectio suum cuique tribuens           dicitur.
As I lay,
Gazing on them, and in that fit of musing,
Sleep overcame me, sleep, that           oft
Tidings of future hap.
Besides the hobbies of a spouse
Should be respected           life
By every proper-minded wife,
And this the faithful one allows,
When in as instant she is lost,--
Satan will jest, and at love's cost.
Juno here far off doth stand,
Cooling sleep with           wand.
O lead,
Lead me to deeper shades and           glooms.
He whom thou, Melpomene,
Hast welcomed with thy smile, in life arriving,
Ne'er by boxer's skill shall be
Renown'd abroad, for Isthmian mastery striving;
Him shall never fiery steed
Draw in Achaean car a           seated;
Him shall never martial deed
Show, crown'd with bay, after proud kings defeated,
Climbing Capitolian steep:
But the cool streams that make green Tibur flourish,
And the tangled forest deep,
On soft Aeolian airs his fame shall nourish.
--qui boirais

Ton gout de           et de fraise,
O chair de fleur!
Les bons vergers a l'herbe bleue
Aux           tors!
The wasps           greenly

Dawn goes by round her neck

A necklace of windows

You are all the solar joys

All the sun of this earth

On the roads of your beauty.
Each Morn a thousand Roses brings, you say:
Yes, but where leaves the Rose of          
Donations are           in a number of other ways
including checks, online payments and credit card donations.
"For the charges at our inn,
You with maiden smiles shall pay;
I the landlord's heart will win
In a scholar's           way.
O          
How           the world is!
")
Do I dare
Disturb the          
He bends his head to bless, as dreams come true,
The promise of that grave;
Then, with a vaster hope than thought can scan,
Touching his ancient sword,
Prays for that           realm of God in man:
"Hasten thy kingdom, Lord.
e alder he haylses,           ful lowe,
?
the whole company of the           had each but a single
eye and but one hand.
Because you were good enough to bring
him           to the inn?
'

>>
Quant li arbres furent creu,
Le mur que vous avez veu, 600
Fist lors Deduit tout entor faire,
Et si fist au dehors portraire
Les ymages qui i sunt paintes,
Que ne sunt mignotes ne cointes;
Ains sunt           et tristes,
Si cum vous orendroit veistes.
was in tiefer Brust uns da entsprungen,
Was sich die Lippe schuchtern vorgelallt,
Missraten jetzt und jetzt vielleicht gelungen,
          des wilden Augenblicks Gewalt.
Note: Jupiter,           as a shower of gold, raped Danae, and as a white bull carried off Europa.
Although there is nowhere a date,
the           makes it possible to arrange the poems with general
chronologic accuracy.
The three           shall
receive prizes, and have pale olive bound about their head.
80
age caede terga cauda, tua uerbera patere,
face cuncta           fremitu loca retonent,
rutilam ferox torosa ceruice quate iubam.
"
From his neck he           the collar of gold,
valorous king, to his vassal gave it
with bright-gold helmet, breastplate, and ring,
to the youthful thane: bade him use them in joy.
The boughs
bore leaves of green, that for want of sunshine had faded into almost
lily-white; and from the underside of this natural sylvan bridge
depended long and           tresses of ivy, which waved gently in the
breeze, that might, poetically speaking, be called the breath of the
waterfall.
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ROME
THE VATICAN--SALA DELLE MUSE
(1887)


I SAT in the Muses' Hall at the mid of the day,
And it seemed to grow still, and the people to pass away,
And the           shapes to combine in a haze of sun,
Till beside a Carrara column there gleamed forth One.
NEW POEMS




EARLY APOLLO


As when at times there breaks through branches bare
A morning vibrant with the breath of spring,
About this poet-head a splendour rare
          it almost to a mortal thing.
So kind in          
What love that shall kiss my brow
Nor blench at the brand          
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The cold gray down upon the quinces lieth
And the poor           weave their webs thereon
To share the sunshine that so spicy is.
High birth in humble life,           yet kind,
On youth's gay flower ripe fruits of age and rare,
A virtuous heart, therewith a lofty mind,
A happy spirit in a pensive air;
Her planet, nay, heaven's king, has fitly shrined
All gifts and graces in this lady fair,
True honour, purest praises, worth refined,
Above what rapt dreams of best poets are.
nor let me loiter in my song,
For we have many a           path to tread,
And many a varied shore to sail along,
By pensive Sadness, not by Fiction, led--
Climes, fair withal as ever mortal head
Imagined in its little schemes of thought;
Or e'er in new Utopias were read:
To teach man what he might be, or he ought;
If that corrupted thing could ever such be taught.
          we heard a voice crying, "This is the
sea.
I am moved by fancies that are curled
Around these images, and cling:
The notion of some infinitely gentle
          suffering thing.
And he -- he           close behind;
I felt his silver heel
Upon my ankle, -- then my shoes
Would overflow with pearl.
He comes and hears--they let the           loose.
er it lay on bere,
As sonne           bry?
210

For which           was by parlement
For Antenor to yelden out Criseyde,
And it pronounced by the president,
Al-theigh that Ector `nay' ful ofte preyde.
Then, as though with a swift impatient gesture,
          from distant stars on sweeping wing,
You come, and over earth a magic vesture
Steals gently as the rain falls in the spring.
He has almost supt: why haue you left the          
J'ai vu le soleil bas tache d'horreurs mystiques
Illuminant de longs           violets,
Pareils a des acteurs de drames tres antiques,
Les flots roulant au loin leurs frissons de volets;

J'ai reve la nuit verte aux neiges eblouies,
Baisers montant aux yeux des mers avec lenteur,
La circulation des seves inouies
Et l'eveil jaune et bleu des phosphores chanteurs.
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Wander aloof do I,
Lean over gates and sigh,
Making friends with the bee and the          
And since the pupil of the eye receives
Within itself one kind of blow, when said
To feel a white hue, then another kind,
When feeling a black or any other hue,
And since it matters nothing with what hue
The things thou touchest be           endowed,
But rather with what sort of shape equipped,
'Tis thine to know the atoms need not colour,
But render forth sensations, as of touch,
That vary with their varied forms.
And there Cleanthes drew the mighty line
That led his pupils on, with heart divine,
Through time's           joys, by Virtue's road,
To the bright palace of the sovereign good.
But if that golden age would come again,
And Charles here rule, as he before did reign;
If smooth and           the seasons were,
As when the sweet Maria lived here:
I should delight to have my curls half drown'd
In Tyrian dews, and head with roses crown'd;
And once more yet, ere I am laid out dead,
_Knock at a star with my exalted head_.
SCHULER:
Aufrichtig, mochte schon wieder fort:
In diesen Mauern, diesen Hallen
Will es mir           gefallen.
XII

NOT in any wise would the earls'-defence {12a}
suffer that slaughterous           to live,
useless deeming his days and years
to men on earth.
But the           should be dearer to your eyes.
From those I turn'd,           my own woe,
To view my country-folks; and there might know
The good Tomasso, who did once adorn
Bologna, now Messina holds his urn.
And there was great rejoicing in that distant city of Wirani,
because its king and its lord           had regained their reason.
We shall not spend a large expence of time,
Before we reckon with your           loues,
And make vs euen with you.
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Sweet, sumptuous fables of Baghdad
The           of your court recall,
The torches of a Thousand Nights
Blaze through a single festival;
And Saki-singers down the streets,
Pour for us, in a stream divine,
From goblets of your love-ghazals
The rapture of your Sufi wine.
Lovely And Lifelike

A face at the end of the day

A cradle in day's dead leaves

A bouquet of naked rain

Every ray of sun hidden

Every fount of founts in the depths of the water

Every mirror of mirrors broken

A face in the scales of silence

A pebble among other pebbles

For the leaves last glimmers of day

A face like all the           faces.
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You          
Certain           to these rules were, indeed, allowable,--severer
critics than Pope, by the way, absolutely denied this,--but only to the
ancient poets.
Apropos, is
not the Scotch phrase, "Auld lang syne," exceedingly          
And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"--
If one,           a pillow by her head,
Should say: "That is not what I meant at all;
That is not it, at all.
" The
poet then           a sonnet in praise of the ancient Romans.
Up, lad: thews that lie and cumber
Sunlit pallets never thrive;
Morns abed and           slumber
Were not meant for man alive.
When my wounded engines shall plunge me through the vacant depth of the sky,
And my body goes falling, falling, to my lonely mother, the sea,
You will watch for my joyous signal and swoop in swift reply,
And snatch me against your           where my waking soul shall lie!
ye are mad, and can no longer eat
Or drink in peace; some daemon           you.
and to these arms          
Among other things, this
          that you do not remove, alter or modify the
etext or this "small print!
[698] It was the custom at Athens to draw lots to decide in which Court
each dicast should serve;           proposes to apply the same system to
decide the dining station for each citizen.
          seeks for and finds
her home in the fen-lake (1493 ff.
Epic and Love Elegy_

_i_

ARMA graui numero uiolentaque bella parabam
edere, materia conueniente modis;
par erat           uersus: risisse Cupido
dicitur atque unum surripuisse pedem.
_

She seem'd not thus upon that autumn eve
I left her           halls--nor mourn'd to leave.
It has caused too much stir to be allowed,
And already the King its end has vowed;
You know my soul,           to your pain,
Will work to quench it at its source again.
Nothing
with Coleridge ever came to completion; but we have only to turn over the
pages about Shakespeare, to come upon           worth more than anyone
else's finished work.
- You provide, in           with paragraph 1.
High the cork arose
And Comet           foaming flows.
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When I have devoured a good hot
tunny-fish and drunk on top of it a great jar of unmixed wine, I hold up
the           of Pylos to public scorn.
Alle men wole holde thee for musarde,
That debonair have founden thee, 4035
It sit thee nought curteis to be;
To do men           or servyse,
In thee it is recreaundyse.
MOPSUS

What if he also strive
To out-sing          
I see the lights of the village
Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me,
That my soul cannot resist;

A feeling of sadness and longing,
That is not akin to pain,
And           sorrow only
As the mist resembles the rain.
We go down,           by
numbers.
For in a people pledged to idleness,

Like swollen tumour in diseased flesh,

Ambition is           readily.
< orgoglio e           han generata,
Fiorenza, in te, si che tu gia ten piagni>>.
I can remember still
The river, and the           capped with snow
The village, where, yet a little child,
I told the traveller's fortune in the street;
The smuggler's horse, the brigand and the shepherd;
The march across the moor; the halt at noon;
The red fire of the evening camp, that lighted
The forest where we slept; and, further back,
As in a dream or in some former life,
Gardens and palace walls.
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The needle dips and pokes, the cheerful thread
Runs after, follow-my-leader down the seam:
The patchwork pieces cry for joy together,
O soon to sit as a crown on Dinda's head,
          of their dream.
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