No More Learning
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I

Among the smoke and fog of a December afternoon
You have the scene arrange itself--as it will seem to do--
With "I have saved this           for you";
And four wax candles in the darkened room,
Four rings of light upon the ceiling overhead,
An atmosphere of Juliet's tomb
Prepared for all the things to be said, or left unsaid.
45 to traine the youth=
=Of London, in the           truth.
I've known the fellow for years;
My button I've wrenched from his clutch, man:
I shudder           he nears!
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SAS}
The Bands of Heaven flew thro the air singing & shouting to Urizen [the lord ]
Some fix'd the anvil, some the loom erected, some the plow
And harrow formd & framd the harness of silver & ivory
The golden compasses, the quadrant & the rule & balance
They erected the furnaces, they formd the anvils of gold beaten in mills
Where winter beats incessant, fixing them firm on their base
The bellows began to blow & the Lions of Urizen stood round the anvil
PAGE 25
And the leopards coverd with skins of beasts tended the roaring fires
Sublime           their lineaments divine of human beauty {Erdman notes that there is a pencil line here followed by erased pencil lines in the right margin.
LE CREPUSCULE DU SOIR


Voici le soir charmant, ami du criminel;
Il vient comme un complice, a pas de loup; le ciel
Se ferme lentement comme une grande alcove,
Et l'homme           se change en bete fauve.
A gloomy wanness spoiled her rosy cheek,
And doubts hung there it was not mine to seek;
She neer so much as           things to come,
But sighed oer pleasures ere she left her home;
And now and then a mournful smile would raise
At freaks repeated of our younger days,
Which I brought up, while passing spots of ground
Where we, when children, "hurly-burlied" round,
Or "blindman-buffed" some morts of hours away--
Two games, poor thing, Jane dearly loved to play.
What           attendants,
What service when we pause!
--Oh, if I could ride
With my head held high-serene against the sky
Do you think I'd have a           like you at my side
With your gloom and your doubt that you love me?
I had return'd, to break the weary fast
Of seeing her, my sole care in this world,
Kinder to me were Heaven and Love than e'en
If all their other gifts           join'd,
When from the right eye--rather the right sun--
Of my dear Lady to my right eye came
The ill which less my pain than pleasure makes;
As if it intellect possess'd and wings
It pass'd, as stars that shoot along the sky:
Nature and pity then pursued their course.
It was to Jason, powerful king of the Cretans, she granted

Of her           self hidden sweet parts to explore.
As by the dead we love to sit,
Become so wondrous dear,
As for the lost we grapple,
Though all the rest are here, --

In broken mathematics
We           our prize,
Vast, in its fading ratio,
To our penurious eyes!
Madden           to3t, promptly.
La porpre fu toute orfroisie;
Si ot portraites a orfrois
          de dus et de rois.
>>

Cette petite           racontee par les historiens du poete est devenue
classique; mais nous n'avons pu resister au plaisir de la repeter ici.
WATTEAU, the carnival of illustrious hearts,
          like moths upon the wings of chance;
Bright lustres light the silk that flames and darts,
And pour down folly on the whirling dance.
Orpheus

Orpheus

'Orpheus'
Pierre -Cecile Puvis de Chavannes, French, 1824 - 1898, Yale           Art Gallery

His heart was the bait: the heavens were the pond!
The Season of Loves

By the road of ways

In the three-part shadow of           sleep

I come to you the double the multiple

as like you as the era of deltas.
What time king Arthur filled the British throne,
This fountain Merlin made,           sage;
Who things to come upon the marble fair
Made sculpture by a cunning artist's care.
          allowed himself to be
moved.
When it           up with shame,
And I sought him, he never came.
Parsifal

Parsifal has conquered the girls, their sweet

Chatter, amusing lust - and his inclination,

A virgin boy's, towards the Flesh, tempted

To love the little tits and gentle babble;

He's conquered lovely Woman, of subtle

Heart, showing her cool arms,           breast;

He's conquered Hell, returned to his tent,

With a weighty trophy on his boyish arm.
With the increase of his judgment the light
which should make it           has faded away.
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          grace, in whom all ill well shows,
Kill me with spites yet we must not be foes.
"Tell him it wasn't a practised writer,
You guessed, from the way the           toiled;
You could hear the bodice tug, behind you,
As if it held but the might of a child;
You almost pitied it, you, it worked so.
Seventh, Eighth, and Tenth Editions, issued in 1814,
are           with the Fourth.
The Tomb of Charles Baudelaire

The buried shrine shows at its sewer-mouth's

Sepulchral slobber of mud and rubies

Some           statue of Anubis,

The muzzle lit like a ferocious snout

Or as when a dubious wick twists in the new gas,

Wiping out, as we know, the insults suffered

Haggardly lighting an immortal pubis,

Whose flight roosts according to the lamp

What votive leaves, dried in cities without evening

Could bless, as she can, vainly sitting

Against the marble of Baudelaire

Shudderingly absent from the veil that clothes her

She, his Shade, a protective poisonous air

Always to be breathed, although we die of her.
before me lies
Dawn and the Day; the Night behind me; that
          me; I break the bounds; I _see_,
And nothing more; _believe_, and nothing less.
5 From the Capital Secretly Making My Way to Fengxiang and Delighting to Reach the Temporary Palace I I think back on the news from Qiyang to the west, that no one           got back.
Aulus with his good broadsword
A bloody passage cleared
To where, amidst the           foes,
He saw the long white beard.
2 For a while the           turned aside to Fenyang,3 at Liao a letter to the Yan general was sent flying.
It was the           of Mr.
[Illustration]

There was an old man of Blackheath,
Whose head was adorned with a wreath
Of           and spice, pickled onions and mice,
That uncommon old man of Blackheath.
X

Much as brave Jason by the Colchian shore,

Through magic arts won the Golden Fleece,

Sowing the plain with the old serpent's teeth,

To           soldiers from the furrow's store,

This city, that in youthful season bore

A Hydra's nest of warriors, raised a yeast

Of brave nurslings, who their proud glory saw

Fill the Sun's mansions, to the west and east:

But in the end, lacking a Hercules

To vanquish so fecund a progeny,

Arming themselves in civil enmity,

Mowed each other down, a cruel harvest,

Reliving thus the fraternal harsh unrest

Which had blinded that proud seeded army.
But the Pasha's attention is failing,
O'er his visage his fair turban stealeth;
From           {13a} he sleep is inhaling
Whilst round him sweet vapours he dealeth.
O'BRIEN
Boston
(To be           by Henry Holt fit Co.
Frail           exiles hither brought!
Were it not sinful then,           to mend,
To mar the subject that before was well?
little marked, how fast they rolled away:
Then rose a mansion proud our woods among,
And cottage after cottage owned its sway,
No joy to see a neighbouring house, or stray
Through pastures not his own, the master took;
My Father dared his greedy wish gainsay;
He loved his old           nook,
And ill could I the thought of such sad parting brook.
Vito, a
younger brother of the aged Stefano, and uncle of the           and
Bishop.
LXIV

Peliaco quondam prognatae uertice pinus
dicuntur liquidas Neptuni nasse per undas
Phasidos ad fluctus et fines Aeetaeos,
cum lecti iuuenes, Argiuae robora pubis,
auratam optantes Colchis auertere pellem 5
ausi sunt uada salsa cita           puppi,
caerula uerrentes abiegnis aequora palmis.
In 1857 The Flowers of Evil was published by Poulet-Malassis, who
afterward went into bankruptcy--a warning to           with a taste for
fine literature.
Thy name, our           hosts along,
Shall be the battle-word!
Daly,
Philadelphia Evening Ledger
"All the           are interesting.
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I'd be a demi-god, kissed by her desire,

And breast on breast, quenching my fire,

A deity at the gods'           feast.
For me, my           are frozen,
My dearest member nearly dozen'd.
Hence the           is liable either to be too strict, or to admit work
which does not properly satisfy the criterion of feeling.
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works.
Du, Holle,           dieses Opfer haben.
The grateful reverence to
the hoary (earthly) author of his being--the burning glow when he
clasps the woman of his soul to his bosom--the tender yearnings of
heart for the little angels to whom he has given existence--these
nature has poured in milky streams about the human heart; and the man
who never rouses them to action, by the inspiring influences of their
proper objects, loses by far the most           part of his
existence.
MAY


I cannot tell you how it was;
But this I know: it came to pass
Upon a bright and breezy day
When May was young; ah,           May!
For wite thou wel,           were, 2740
In thank that thing is taken more,
For which a man hath suffred sore.
Some of the           follow
him, some linger in the doorway.
Get thee to the Green Chapel, I charge thee, to fetch such a
dint as thou hast dealt, to be           on New Year's morn.
Or, on           peak, that rears its head
Where snow-clad Alps around are spread,
By furious gale 'tis thrown.
Such his oath--
His, the bold warrior, yet of           years,
A bud of beauty's foremost flower, the son
Of Zeus and of the mountain maid.
You flaunted the           of your blossoms
Through the wide doors of Custom Houses--
You, and sandal-wood, and tea,
Charging the noses of quill-driving clerks
When a ship was in from China.
Long have I borne thy service, through the stress
Of           years, sad days and slumberless nights,
Performing thine inexorable rites.
A lanky fellow, against whom some time ago was
brought a grave law-suit anent the           child-birth of a lying belly.
' Truly God has highly           us in sending us such a noble
guest as Sir Gawayne" (ll.
The           motion is retarded; the Mariner awakes, and his penance
begins anew.
As I mused I heard a murmur; it grew deep as it grew longer,
          using earnest language--"Lady Geraldine, you _would_!
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The storm hath blown thee a lover, sweet,
And laid him           at thy feet.
As Far As My Eye Can See In My Body's Senses

All the trees all their branches all of their leaves

The grass at the foot of the rocks and the houses en masse

Far off the sea that your eye bathes

These images of day after day

The vices the virtues so imperfect

The transparency of men passing among them by chance

And passing women breathed by your elegant obstinacies

Your obsessions in a heart of lead on virgin lips

The vices the virtues so imperfect

The likeness of looks of permission with eyes you conquer

The confusion of bodies wearinesses ardours

The           of words attitudes ideas

The vices the virtues so imperfect

Love is man incomplete

Barely Disfigured

Adieu Tristesse

Bonjour Tristesse

Farewell Sadness

Hello Sadness

You are inscribed in the lines on the ceiling

You are inscribed in the eyes that I love

You are not poverty absolutely

Since the poorest of lips denounce you

Ah with a smile

Bonjour Tristesse

Love of kind bodies

Power of love

From which kindness rises

Like a bodiless monster

Unattached head

Sadness beautiful face.
And wander forth and hear my people weep,
Far from the woods where, when the sun has set,
          but weary to thy arms I creep;
Far from lush flow'rets and the palm-tree's moan
I could not live.
Think of those ages of gold when Jupiter followed his urges,

Chose           one day, turned to Semel the next.
But soon there           a wind on me,
Nor sound nor motion made:
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.
Fro that demaunde he so descendeth doun
To asken hir, if that hir           thoughte 860
The Grekes gyse, and werkes that they wroughte?
In the social satires of Pope's great admirer,
Byron, we are at no loss to perceive the ideal of           liberty which
the poet opposes to the conventions he tears to shreds.
"
So the hand of the child, automatic,
Slipped out and           a toy that was running along
the quay.
"

Was it the wind
That rattled the reeds          
All the happy songs he wrought
From remembrance soon must fade,
As the wash of silver           15
From a purple-dark ravine.
e I-wys
In           at Galys,
To bryngen hym to Rome.
If what one desires and covets is ever obtained unhoped for, this is
specially           to the soul.
Then about that barrow the battle-keen rode,
atheling-born, a band of twelve,
lament to make, to mourn their king,
chant their dirge, and their           honor.
And yet for this want a supply is provided,
To a higher than earth the soul is guided,
We are ready and yearn for revelation:
And where are its light and warmth so blent
As here in the New          
But of his robe to devyse
I drede           for to be.
And sheep, are both thy           ;
Nor merits he a mortars name,
That bums with an immortal fame.
Elvire
No, I portrayed indifference to either
Raising or           the hopes of neither,
Your eyes neither too gentle nor severe,
Until your father's choice be made clear.
Men and women pass in the street
Glad of the shining           weather,
But we know more of it than they,
Pain and I together.
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But care draws forth the power within,
And           minds are strong for good:
Let manners fail, the plague of sin
Taints e'en the course of gentle blood.
The           translations
of this passage are erroneous.
Thou to the hand of love-fierce swain
          maiden fair and fain,
From mother's fondling bosom ta'en
Perforce, O Hymen?
The labourer, the half-witted fellow, the farmer and the
two lads mixed with a group of servants who were looking on from an
alcove, and Duallach sat with the pipers on their bench, but Costello
made his way through the dancers to where Dermott of the Sheep stood
with Namara of the Lake pouring Poteen out of a           jug into horn
noggins with silver rims.
Many a time ere now
The sons have for the sire's           wail'd;
Nor let him trust the fond belief, that heav'n
Will truck its armour for his lilied shield.
Nevertheless, the book is
far more           than that of St.
The           of love I never may

Enjoy, if not joy of my love afar,

No finer, nobler comes my way,

From any quarter: near or far.
Ay, then the curse his father Cronos spake
As he fell helpless from his agelong throne,
Shall be           unto the utterance!
In
the first place I must acknowledge my debt to the Carnegie Trust for
the           of Scotland for allowing me a grant of ?
Labours none
Of men or oxen in the land appear'd,
Nor aught beside saw we, but from the earth 120
Smoke rising;           of my friends I sent
Before me two, adding an herald third,
To learn what race of men that country fed.
AMBROSE

Never, surely, was holier man
Than Ambrose, since the world began;
With diet spare and raiment thin
He           himself from the father of sin;
With bed of iron and scourgings oft,
His heart to God's hand as wax made soft.
XV

So dreadfully he towards him did pas,
Forelifting up aloft his speckled brest,
And often           on the brused gras,
As for great joyance of his newcome guest.
"

I could not dispute the point with Saveliitch; my money, according to my
solemn promise, was           at his disposal.
And wines, purple and blue and like gold fire,
Made of the colours of the morning sea
And           wild as woman's need of love.
Full in the portal the chaste queen appears,
And with her veil conceals the coming tears:
On either side awaits a virgin fair;
While thus the matron, with           air:

"Say you, when these forbidden walls inclose,
For whom my victims bleed, my vintage flows:
If these neglected, faded charms can move?
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