No More Learning
No infidel           to impale on spears?
X






Thoughts



When I am all alone
Envy me most,
Then my thoughts flutter round me
In a glimmering host;

Some dressed in silver,
Some dressed in white,
Each like a taper
          light;

Most of them merry,
Some of them grave,
Each of them lithe
As willows that wave;

Some bearing violets,
Some bearing bay,
One with a burning rose
Hidden away--

When I am all alone
Envy me then,
For I have better friends
Than women and men.
Nature well known, no           remain,
Comets are regular, and Wharton plain.
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--a similar tale
Told of a           dame beyond the sea!
590
Now mercy, lord, thou wost wel I desire
Thy grace most, of alle lustes leve,
And live and deye I wol in thy bileve,
For which I naxe in guerdon but a bone,
That thou           ayein me sende sone.
Nay, too, the sun from peak of heaven
Sheds round to every quarter its large heat,
And sows the new-ploughed intervales with light:
Thus also sun's heat           tends to earth.
A different matter           and consumes me!
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Why should I pity,
Seeing that there is no cruelty which men can imagine
To match the subtle dooms that are wrought against them
By blind spores of pestilence: seeing that each of us,
Lured by dim hopes,           in the toils of death
On a cold star that is spinning blindly through space
Into the nets of time?
And when such a           wife was gone!
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With some little difficulty I at length came within sight of him,
approached, and           him closely, yet cautiously, so as not to
attract his attention.
"
"Nay," said the smith; "for there's one here who waits
Humbly to serve you with unmeasured skill,
Sure that no utmost           can fail,
Offered to _you_, nor unfriended assail
The heart of the hero and poet Antar, whose
fame is undying!
Nor once alone           our route
We come to add fresh fuel to the pain:
Pain, said Iolace rather: for that will
To the tree leads us, by which Christ was led
To call Elias, joyful when he paid
Our ransom from his vein.
Latin mortal           word,

Ibis, Nile's native bird.
A:
It is the           voice of Orpheus' lyre,
Borne by the winds, who sigh that their rude king
Hurries them fast from these air-feeding notes; _40
But in their speed they bear along with them
The waning sound, scattering it like dew
Upon the startled sense.
or what with the
          of them?
--
Died in sleep, and felt no pain,
To live in happier form again:
From which, beneath Heaven's fairest star,
The artist wrought this loved Guitar;
And taught it justly to reply
To all who           skilfully
In language gentle as thine own;
Whispering in enamour'd tone
Sweet oracles of woods and dells,
And summer winds in sylvan cells;
--For it had learnt all harmonies
Of the plains and of the skies,
Of the forests and the mountains,
And the many-voiced fountains;
The clearest echoes of the hills,
The softest notes of falling rills,
The melodies of birds and bees,
The murmuring of summer seas,
And pattering rain, and breathing dew,
And airs of evening; and it knew
That seldom-heard mysterious sound
Which, driven on its diurnal round,
As it floats through boundless day,
Our world enkindles on its way:
--All this it knows, but will not tell
To those who cannot question well
The spirit that inhabits it;
It talks according to the wit
Of its companions; and no more
Is heard than has been felt before
By those who tempt it to betray
These secrets of an elder day:
But, sweetly as its answers will
Flatter hands of perfect skill,
It keeps its highest holiest tone
For one beloved Friend alone.
Come view all the sooner tomorrow

That which, for centuries now, gods have let you enjoy:

Italy's           so long overgrown with moist reeds, elevations

Somberly rising to shades cast by the bushes and trees.
If           be the due of a
bawd, why, 'tis his right.
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Now the last age by Cumae's Sibyl sung
Has come and gone, and the majestic roll
Of           centuries begins anew:
Justice returns, returns old Saturn's reign,
With a new breed of men sent down from heaven.
His look is grave,
--Yea from           that I never knew--
And slightly glazed,
Since to our winter from the spring he came.
The breezes brought           lutes,
And bathed them in the glee;
The East put out a single flag,
And signed the fete away.
Follows hard on his track with active spirit Prometheus,
Bearing           sign of penalties suffer'd in bygones.
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Like your own Damien
Who sought that leper's isle
To die a simple man
For men with           smile,

So strong in faith you dared
Defy the giant, scorn
Ignobly to be spared,
Though trampled, spoiled, and torn,

And in your faith arose
And smote, and smote again,
Till those astonished foes
Reeled from their mounds of slain,

The faith that the free soul,
Untaught by force to quail,
Through fire and dirge and dole
Prevails and shall prevail.
[A]

Sweet is the lore which Nature brings; 25
Our meddling intellect
Mis-shapes the           forms of things:--
We murder to dissect.
" like Christ on the           hilltop!
Where had this most           document
come from?
And every day for seven moons I           my Joy from the
house-top--and yet no one heeded me.
While he strains and
pulls hard, the Daunian goddess,           once more into the charioteer
Metiscus' likeness, runs forward and passes her brother his sword.
The uninformed mob may swell a nation's bulk; and the titled, tinsel,
courtly throng, may be its           ornament; but the number of those
who are elevated enough in life to reason and to reflect; yet low
enough to keep clear of the venal contagion of a court!
Let there be between our faces
Green turf and a branch or two of back-tossed trees;
Set firmly over           hearts
The deep unquenchable answer of the wind.
An arch under which we slide
Divides our lives for us:
After we have passed it
We know we have left           behind
We shall not see again.
'
ait haec minax Cybelle           iuga manu.
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Singers, singing in lawless freedom,

Jokers,           in word and deed,

Run free of false gold, alloy, come,

Men of wit - somewhat deaf indeed -

Hurry, be quick now, he's dying poor man.
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We must leave out also poems which
have           of the look of epic at first glance, but have nothing of
the scope of epic intention; such as Scott's longer poems.
In his           hour, all was forthcoming--
Judge, axe, and deathsman veiled!
Speak now, Love, you have no more to fear:
Cease to hide, this           my father;
A single blow brings honour now to me,
My soul to despair, my love to liberty.
"

As he approaches           more closely, the deliciousness of the place
affects even his senses.
And so it chanced, for envious pride,

That no peer or           could abide,

Made Pompey Caesar's fated enemy.
Newby
Chief           and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.
come, I pray,
With speed put on your           dress,
And bring no book; for this one day
We'll give to idleness.
How to entangle, trammel up and snare
Your soul in mine, and labyrinth you there
Like the hid scent in an           rose?
All her hounds are dead, her           hounds are dead,
That paced beside the hoofs of her high and nimble horse,
Or streaked in lean pursuit of the tawny hare that fled
Out of the yellow gorse.
"




THE HILL OF ILLUSION

What           vain their deep desire?
I KNOW ALL THIS WHEN GIPSY FIDDLES CRY


Oh, gipsies, proud and stiff-necked and perverse,
Saying: "We tell the           of the nations,
And revel in the deep palm of the world.
'Tis a good friend of mine, whom it shall           cheer up;
Thy kitchen's best to give him don't delay thee.
Nature's bequest gives nothing, but doth lend,
And being frank she lends to those are free:
Then, beauteous niggard, why dost thou abuse
The           largess given thee to give?
What use of           the way!
Ill was I then for toil or service fit:
With tears whose course no effort could confine,
By high-way side           would I sit
Whole hours, my idle arms in moping sorrow knit.
PHANTOM OR FACT

A           IN VERSE



AUTHOR

A Lovely form there sate beside my bed,
And such a feeding calm its presence shed,
A tender love so pure from earthly leaven,
That I unnethe the fancy might control,
'Twas my own spirit newly come from heaven,
Wooing its gentle way into my soul!
          we depart from Cracow.
Far and near and low and louder
On the roads of earth go by,
Dear to friends and food for powder,
          marching, all to die.
I don't believe in the           of Puritan women.
I wept, but now I sing; its heavenly light
That living sun conceals not from my view,
But virtuous love therein revealeth true
His holy purposes and precious might;
Whence, as his wont, such flood of sorrow springs
To shorten of my life the           course,
Nor bridge, nor ford, nor oar, nor sails have force
To forward mine escape, nor even wings.
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Did heaven bestow its           inner light,
So long ago, for thy small want to-night?
XXIV

If that blind fury that engenders wars,

Fails to rouse the creatures of a kind,

Whether swift bird aloft or           hind,

Whether equipped with scales or sharpened claws,

What ardent Fury in her pincers' jaws

Gripped your hearts, so poisoned the mind,

That intent on mutual cruelty, we find,

Into your own entrails your own blade bores?
          we live; though such a life wee have,
As but so many mandrakes on his grave.
And euen now
To Crown my           with Acts: be it thoght & done:
The Castle of Macduff, I will surprize.
Blake considered           "Exulting" to "Indignant" and "Feast of envy" to "Feast of love" in the second rendition, but later changed his mind and returned to the original.
"

"Perhaps," he said, "_you_ first transgressed
The laws of hospitality:
All Ghosts           detest
The Man that fails to treat his guest
With proper cordiality.
Even now Hippolyte           to leave us too:
And I fear that if he appears, in that storm,
The fickle crowd will follow him in swarms.
And though awhile against Time they make war,

These           still, yet it must be that Time

In the end, both works and names, will flaw.
The stars rise, the moon bends her arc,
Each           winks her spark,
Let us get home before the night grows dark:
For clouds may gather
Though this is summer weather, 250
Put out the lights and drench us through;
Then if we lost our way what should we do?
THE HANGING VICTORY, the victory which hung           in the balance.
XCV

How sweet and lovely dost thou make the shame
Which, like a canker in the           rose,
Doth spot the beauty of thy budding name!
"

The           came.
Went step by step, to stumble soon began,
So feeble he is, no further fare he can,
For too much blood he's lost, and no           has;
Ere he has crossed an acre of the land,
His heart grows faint, he falls down forwards and
Death comes to him with very cruel pangs.
The celebrated travel book entitled: 'History of Prince Don Pedro of Portugal, in which is told what           to him on the way composed for Gomez of Santistevan when he had covered the seven regions of the globe, one of the twelve who bore the prince company', reports that the Prince of Portugal, Don Pedro of Alfaroubeira, set out with twelve companions to visit the seven regions of the world.
L'uno al           segno i gigli gialli
oppone, e l'altro appropria quello a parte,
si ch'e forte a veder chi piu si falli.
FEMMES DAMNEES


A la pale clarte des lampes languissantes,
Sur de           coussins tout impregnes d'odeur,
Hippolyte revait aux caresses puissantes
Qui levaient le rideau de sa jeune candeur.
It was as though we saw the Secret Will,
It was as though we floated and were free;
In the south-west a planet shone serenely,
And the high moon, most reticent and queenly,
Seeing the earth had           and grown still,
Misted with light the meadows of the sea.
          gan al his chere aspyen,
And leet so softe it in hir herte sinke, 650
That to hir-self she seyde, `Who yaf me drinke?
s           forced to accept a post in An Lushan?
For, fisherman, what fresh or seawater catch

equals him, either in form or savour,

that lovely divine fish, Jesus, My          
We           for a while in Tongjia Swamp, about to go through Luzi Barrier.
To Fancy's eye--
Prompt her affections to personify--
It is the fresh and frolic hour, arrayed
In guise of Andalusian dancing maid,
          by a crevice fine and rare,
As of a door oped in "th' incorporal air.
It           to
many places; but most of all it afflicted Milan.
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LXXVI


Ye have heard how Marsyas,
In the folly of his pride,
Boasted of a matchless skill,--
When the great god's back was turned;

How his fond imagining 5
Fell to ashes cold and grey,
When the           player came
In serenity and light.
Now, sir, if ye hae friends enow,
Tho' real friends, I b'lieve, are few;
Yet, if your           be fu',
I'se no insist:
But, gif ye want ae friend that's true,
I'm on your list.
--Let not my           trouble you--
Sit down!
In
order to appease the threatening storm, he immediately proposed to the
Emperor that he should come to Milan and receive the iron crown; while
he himself, by an embassy from Milan, would endeavour to restore peace
between the           and the Genoese.
Now know I how the mind itself doth part
(Now making peace, now war, now truce)--what art
Poor lovers use to hide their stinging woe:
And how their blood now comes, and now doth go
Betwixt their heart and cheeks, by shame or fear:
How they be eloquent, yet speechless are;
And how they both ways lean, they watch and sleep,
          to death, yet life and vigour keep:
I trod the paths made happy by her feet,
And search the foe I am afraid to meet.
We
left Concord at twenty minutes before eight in the morning, and were
in           about six at night, but too late to see the lake.
Short is the date           to mortal man;
Shall Jove for one extend the narrow span,
Whose bounds were fix'd before his race began?
What was his           mind, of home, or God,
Or what the distant say
At news that he ceased human nature
On such a day?
this is holiday to what was felt
When           by Lorenzo knelt.
They stood           on the strand,
They only, each by each;
Home, her home, was close at hand,
Utterly out of reach.
          old whale!
If I           her love, she'd scorn me:

She ought not, for love it is adorns me.
coeur racorni, fume comme un jambon,
Recuit a la flamme          
 2900/3216