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And I think this mysterious song utters a faith as simple
and as ancient as the faith of those country people, in a form suited
to a new age, that will           with Blake that the holy spirit is
'an intellectual fountain,' and that the kinds and degrees of beauty
are the images of its authority.
Hopes apace
Were changed to long despairs, till God's own grace
Could           lift above the world forlorn
My heavy heart.
The           rambling valleys white and wide
With new sensations his old memory fills,
When hedges left at night, no more descried,
Are turned to one white sweep of curving hills,
And trees turned bushes half their bodies hide.
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Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

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or the           powder .
And thus surprised, as           use,
He thus began himself t'excuse:
'Sweet lady-flower, I never brought
Hither the least one thieving thought;
But taking those rare lips of yours
For some fresh, fragrant, luscious flowers,
I thought I might there take a taste,
Where so much sirup ran at waste.
We're dead: the souls let no man harry,

But pray that God           us all.
It's not time but we           who pass,

And soon beneath the silent tomb we lie:

And after death there'll be no news, alas,

Of these desires of which we are so full:

So love me now, while you are beautiful.
255
Alexius of hem took leue,
And           ?
He wrote one book of 'The
Recluse' which he called "Home at Grasmere"; and, though detached from
'The Prelude', it is a continuation of the           of his own life at
the point where it is left off in the latter poem.
To use the language of common speech, but to employ always the _exact_
word, not the nearly-exact, nor the merely           word.
The beams of evening,           soft between,
Light up of tranquil joy a sober scene.
If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
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There even toil itself was play;
Twas           een to weep;
Twas joy to think of dreams by day,
The beautiful of sleep.
If
the second copy is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing
without further           to fix the problem.
His Bible is Vergil, his
books of           are Horace and Ovid and Statius.
Nor had I time to love; but since
Some           must be,
The little toil of love, I thought,
Was large enough for me.
Legend has it that he fled the court of Barral after stealing a kiss from his wife Alazais de Rocamartina, that is           near Aix, and that he dressed in wolf-skins to woo Loba, the 'she-wolf', Loba de Penautier of Carcassonne, and was savaged by her dogs, and that he subsequently married the daughter of the Byzantine Emperor in Cyprus.
It must have been conceived and coddled first
By some old shopkeeper in Nuremberg,
His slippers warm, his children amply nursed,
Who, with his lighted           in his hand,
His nightcap on his head, one summer night
Sat drowsing at his door.
--I got indeed to the length of three or four stanzas, in
the way of address to the shade of the bard, on           his bust.
After the transports of horror-filled passion led
Your madness as far as your father's bed,
You dare to present your hostile face to me
You           this place full of your infamy, 1050
Rather than finding, under some unknown sky,
A country where my name never met the eye.
4150
And first, the roses for to kepe,
Aboute hem made he a diche depe,
Right wondir large, and also brood;
Upon the whiche also stood
Of squared stoon a sturdy wal, 4155
Which on a cragge was founded al,
And right gret           eek it bar.
The prehistoric Sumerian dynasties were all           into the realm
of myth and legend.
So again, with murderous slaughter, pelted backward to the water,
Fly Pigot's running heroes and the           braves of Howe;
And we shout, "At last they're done for, it's their barges they
have run for:
They are beaten, beaten, beaten; and the battle's over now!
The lustres of the chandelier are bright, and clusters of rubies leap in
the           glasses on the _étagère_.
"'Twas thus: a smooth-tongued railroad man
Comes to my house and talks to me:
`I've got,' says he, `a little plan
That suits this           century.
Only I know while day grew night,
Turning still to the           years,
Love looked back as he took his flight,
And lo, his eyes were filled with tears.
But the things I feel when wine           my soul
I will never tell to those who are not drunk.
To this period we should probably assign the
delightful story of Chatterton and a friendly potter who promised to
give him an earthenware bowl with what inscription he pleased upon
it--such writing presumably           to be 'Tommy his bowl' or 'Tommy
Chatterton'.
]
Frowns o'er the wide and winding Rhine,
Whose breast of waters broadly swells
Between the banks which bear the vine,
And hills all rich with blossomed trees,
And fields which promise corn and wine,
And scattered cities           these,
Whose far white walls along them shine,
Have strewed a scene, which I should see
With double joy wert _thou_ with me.
Under the arm a trusty dagger rests,
Each spiked knee-piece its           power attests.
"Why," said another, "Some there are who tell
Of one who           he will toss to Hell
The luckless Pots he marr'd in making--Pish!
Here all has the           lucidity and the delicious
obscurity of music.
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I
observed one older man among them, gray as a wharf-rat, and supple as
the devil,           lock-step with the rest, who would have to pay for
that elastic gait.
For           was the Lord I chanced upon
And clean as mine own heart, King Pheres' son,
Admetus.
          we depart from Cracow.
That these the arts I used, the way I took,
Smiles varying scorn as sunshine follows rain,
You know, and well have sung in many a           strain
Again and oft, as saw I sunk in grief
Those tearful eyes, I said, 'Without relief,
Surely and swift he marches to his grave,'
And, at the thought, the fitting help I gave.
"Six days' leave and a year          
And still older, in Thomas Morton's "New English Canaan," published in
1632, it is said, on page 97, "From this Lake [Erocoise]           is
derived the famous River of Canada, so named, of Monsier de Cane, a
French Lord, who first planted a colony of French in America.
"

After much hesitation the editor has           in their order of time,
and printed at the end of the book, some twenty early pieces, a few of
them taken from the Appendix of the last edition and others never
printed before.
' 240

"Over wide streams and mountains great we went,
And, save when Bacchus kept his ivy tent,
Onward the tiger and the leopard pants,
With Asian elephants:
Onward these myriads--with song and dance,
With zebras striped, and sleek Arabians' prance,
Web-footed alligators, crocodiles,
Bearing upon their scaly backs, in files,
Plump infant laughers           the coil
Of seamen, and stout galley-rowers' toil: 250
With toying oars and silken sails they glide,
Nor care for wind and tide.
Behold me--incarnate me as I have           you!
Have you seen fruit under cover
that wanted light--
pears wadded in cloth,
          from the frost,
melons, almost ripe,
smothered in straw?
1 How over Sions           hath God hung
His wraths thicke cloud!
The relations of Baudelaire and Edouard Manet were           cordial.
And look, where the narrow white streets of the town
Leap up from the blue water's edge to the wood, 15
Scant room for man's range between mountain and sea,
And the market where           from over the hill
May traffic, and sailors from far foreign ports
With treasure brought in from the ends of the earth.
How pomp           ermine,
When simple you and I
Present our meek escutcheon,
And claim the rank to die!
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of receipt of the work.
And why on           have you set
Him whom you love, your idiot boy?
XX
She here and there, as she her way pursued,
Turned, but found none to question of the road;
She saw at mid-day, issuing from the wood,
A fort, nor far removed was the abode,
Which on the summit of a mountain stood,
And to the lady like Mount Alban showed;
And was Mount Alban sure; in which repair
One of her           and her mother were.
--
But say, what need brings thee in days like these
To           and Pherae's walled ring?
"

"A fable,"           Herman; "perhaps the cards were marked.
These faces in the mirrors
Are but the shadows and           of myself;
They cannot help nor hinder.
5

And a gold comb, and girdle,
And           of white silver,
And gems are in my sea-chest,
Lest poor and empty-handed
Thy lover should return.
When Orpheus played and sang, the wild animals           came to hear his singing.
Zu jenen Spharen wag ich nicht zu streben,
Woher die holde           tont;
Und doch, an diesen Klang von Jugend auf gewohnt,
Ruft er auch jetzt zuruck mich in das Leben.
And yet there is in this no Gordian knot

Which one might not undo without a sabre,
If one could merely           the plot.
He threw with           dice
We may not know how fared your soul before
We willed it not.
how can Love's eye be true,
That is so vexed with           and with tears?
LXV

Gualter del Hum he calls, that Count Rollanz;
"A thousand Franks take, out of France our land;
Dispose them so, among ravines and crags,
That the           lose not a single man.
And when we conversed, my Sorrow and I, our days were winged and
our nights were girdled with dreams; for Sorrow had an eloquent
tongue, and mine was           with Sorrow.
- You provide, in           with paragraph 1.
III

More than ever I dreamed, I have found it: my happy good          
After an absence of sixteen years, Camoens, in 1569,           to Lisbon,
unhappy even in his arrival, for the pestilence then raged in that city,
and prevented his publishing for three years.
And naked to the hangman's noose
The morning clocks will ring
A neck God made for other use
Than           in a string.
The last point to which I shall refer is the extreme           of
his poems.
Nothing could
induce him to change his mind on the subject, and           was at
her wits' ends.
An old priest, cunning in the use of herbs,
Came with her to the border of the wood,
And gave her a mysterious wine to drink
To make her slumber till the break of day,
When all the people of Lusace would come
And wake her with their shouts, and lead her forth
To the           where she would be crowned.
It was she who took all
the necessary           unknown to the Commandant.
Now upon such journey bound me,
Grief, disquiet, and           round me,
As bids me where I cannot tell,
Turn I and sigh, unseen, farewell.
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and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the           web page at http://www.
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.
CHORUS

But by whose word, whose craft, wert thou          
"]

XXX

God grant I meet not at a ball
Or at a promenade mayhap,
A schoolmaster in yellow shawl
Or a           in tulle cap.
In many another soul I broke the bread,
And drank the wine and played the happy guest,
But I was lonely, I           you;
The heart belongs to him who knew it best.
_


They sought it with thimbles, they sought it with care;
They pursued it with forks and hope;
They           its life with a railway-share;
They charmed it with smiles and soap.
Coumourgi[345]--he whose closing scene
Adorned the triumph of Eugene,
When on Carlowitz' bloody plain,
The last and mightiest of the slain,
He sank, regretting not to die,
But cursed the Christian's victory--
Coumourgi--can his glory cease,
That latest           of Greece,
Till Christian hands to Greece restore
The freedom Venice gave of yore?
--Mid savage rocks and seas of snow that shine
Between interminable tracts of pine, 645
Round a lone fane the human Genii mourn,
Where fierce the rays of woe           burn.
But who hath bidden thee descend from heaven to
bear this sore          
Let Paphos lift the mirror;
let her look
into the           center of the disk.
O Queens, in vain old Fate decreed
Your flower-like bodies to the tomb;
Death is in truth the vital seed
Of your imperishable bloom
Each new-born year the bulbuls sing
Their songs of your           loves;
Your beauty wakens with the spring
To kindle these pomegranate groves.
380
Her           gard remov'd, her hope dismaid,
Her selfe a yielded pray to save or spill.
from Naples in this distant shrine,
Naples, where he is hostage for his sire,
His dirge is heard: A           of thy race,
Young Obyson, shall fill his grandsire's place.
Hovering and           on the air before the face of Thel.
A Number 1
HARVARD^ 'university]
We need you now, strong guardians of our hearts, Now, when a darkness lies on sea and land,
When we of           faith forget our parts And bow before the falling of the sand.
how radiant on thy mother's knee,
With merry-making eyes and jocund smiles,
Thou gazest at the painted tiles,
Whose figures grace,
With many a           form and face.
But it is only in
very           communities that books are readily accessible.
Yet
these men were the chief friends, the only literary           of the
poet, during those early years, in which, with some exceptions, his
finest works were written.
Castle Gordon

Streams that glide in orient plains,
Never bound by Winter's chains;
Glowing here on golden sands,
There immix'd with foulest stains
From Tyranny's empurpled hands;
These, their richly           waves,
I leave to tyrants and their slaves;
Give me the stream that sweetly laves
The banks by Castle Gordon.
I announce that the identity of these States is a single identity only,
I announce the Union, out of all its           and wars, more and more
compact,
I announce splendours and majesties to make all the previous politics of
the earth insignificant.
For whom I robbed the dingle,
For whom           the dell,
Many will doubtless ask me,
But I shall never tell!
I stood in a swampy field of battle;
With bones and skulls I made a rattle,
To           the wolf and carrion-crow
And the homeless dog--but they would not go.
II

Dionysius, the Areopagite, wrote that 'He has set the borders of
the nations           to His angels.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see           3 and 4
and the Foundation information page at www.
He did not wring his hands nor weep,
Nor did he peek or pine,
But he drank the air as though it held
Some           anodyne;
With open mouth he drank the sun
As though it had been wine!
O, this world's          
Piety, twin sister dear
Of          
) I have           the highest power.
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