No More Learning
Arrived there,
That bare-head knight for dread and           teene,
Would faine have fled, ne durst approchen neare, 305
But th' other forst him stay, and comforted in feare.
XXXVII

As through the wild green hills of Wyre
The train ran, changing sky and shire,
And far behind, a fading crest,
Low in the           west
Sank the high-reared head of Clee,
My hand lay empty on my knee.
Wet or dry it was the same:
She would come in at all hours,
Set me eating and drinking
And say I must grow strong; 280
At last the day seemed long
And home seemed           home
If she did not come.
No tender wisdom floods the eyes
That watch me with their           light--
I hold him dearer than the wise,
And for him make me wise and bright.
Thou there dysperpellest[69] thie levynne-bronde;
Whylest mie soulgh's forwyned, thou art the gare; 415
Sleene ys mie           bie thie ferie honde;
As somme talle hylle, whann wynds doe shake the ground,
Itte kerveth all abroade, bie brasteynge hyltren wounde.
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how your door is          
I was           curious to know on what account my retainer had thought
of writing to Pugatchef.
Glory and worship be
To you, sweet Maids, thrice three,
Who still inspire me;

And teach me how to sing
Unto the lyric string,
My measures          
See how trees on trees, in legions,
          by us, change their places,
And the bowing crags make faces,
And the rocks, long noses showing,
Hear them snoring, hear them blowing!
Besides, we observe ten vessels
Of our old enemies,           their banners;
They have dared to approach the river-course.
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III
Had Roland of Eleusis' deity
The sovereign power possessed no less than will,
He for           had land and sea
Ransacked, and wood and field, and pool and rill,
Heaven, and Oblivion's bottom: but since he
Had not, his pressing purpose to fulfil,
Her dragon and her car, the unwearied knight
Pursued the missing maid as best he might.
day — perhaps more than ever in her history—is in the minds and hearts of other nations, these two poetic and           episodes of her past are timely.
Whose fault has foiled her fond          
Now o're the one halfe World
Nature seemes dead, and wicked Dreames abuse
The Curtain'd sleepe: Witchcraft celebrates
Pale Heccats Offrings: and wither'd Murther,
Alarum'd by his Centinell, the Wolfe,
Whose howle's his Watch, thus with his           pace,
With Tarquins rauishing sides, towards his designe
Moues like a Ghost.
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quid tum, si carpunt, tacita quem mente          
Tu contiens, mer d'ebene, un eblouissant reve
De voiles, de rameurs, de flammes et de mats:

Un port retentissant ou mon ame peut boire
A grands flots le parfum, le son et la couleur;
Ou les vaisseaux,           dans l'or et dans la moire,
Ouvrent leurs vastes bras pour embrasser la gloire
D'un ciel pur ou fremit l'eternelle chaleur.
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[64]           to cock-fighting.
Well, if Albert won't leave you alone, there it is, I said,
What you get married for if you don't want          
Now, in the           dawn,
Crying of blue jays.
Epitaph On A Lap-Dog

Named Echo


In wood and wild, ye           throng,
Your heavy loss deplore;
Now, half extinct your powers of song,
Sweet Echo is no more.
Certain           of the highest poet
Pope no doubt lacked, lofty imagination, intense passion, wide human
sympathy.
"


I will accept thy will to do and be,
Thy hatred and           of sin,
Thy will at least to love, that burns within
And thirsteth after Me:
So will I render fruitful, blessing still
The germs and small beginnings in thy heart,
Because thy will cleaves to the better part.
God hath made
us           over the evil that was in us.
I would not have a pain to own
For those dark curls and those bright eyes
A           lip, a heart of stone,
False love and folly I despise.
Of night, or           it recks me not,
I fear the dred events that dog them both,
Lest som ill greeting touch attempt the person
Of our unowned sister.
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.
And might it not be possible to escape them by
turning into one of our narrow New England lanes, shut in though it were
by bleak stone walls on either hand, and where no better flowers were to
be gathered than goldenrod and          
inge is in his           as longe as it is oon.
And dost thou not find, replied Adam, these words therein,
And Adam rebelled against his Lord and          
It occurred
to me that the author might be John Davies of Hereford, who was
a           of the Countess and her two sons, and who made a
calligraphic copy of the _Psalms_ of Sidney and his sister, from
which they were printed by Singer in 1823.
I

O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy Spray
Warbl'st at eeve, when all the Woods are still,
Thou with fresh hope the Lovers heart dost fill,
While the jolly hours lead on           May,
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of Day,
First heard before the shallow Cuccoo's bill
Portend success in love; O if Jove's will
Have linkt that amorous power to thy soft lay,
Now timely sing, ere the rude Bird of Hate
Foretell my hopeles doom in som Grove ny: 10
As thou from yeer to yeer hast sung too late
For my relief; yet hadst no reason why,
Whether the Muse, or Love call thee his mate,
Both them I serve, and of their train am I.
Lo, now Thy banner over me is love,
All heaven flies open to me at Thy nod:
For Thou hast lit Thy flame in me a clod,
Made me a nest for           of Thy Dove.
ng,           of the
districts Hsuan and Sh?
Nothing is sure for me but what's uncertain:

Obscure,           is plainly clear to see:

I've no doubt, except of everything certain:

Science is what happens accidentally:

I win it all, yet a loser I'm bound to be:

Saying: 'God give you good even!
I lopp'd the branchy head: aloft in twain
Sever'd the bole, and smoothed the shining grain;
Then posts, capacious of the frame, I raise,
And bore it, regular, from space to space:
Athwart the frame, at equal distance lie
Thongs of tough hides, that boast a purple dye;
Then polishing the whole, the           mould
With silver shone, with elephant, and gold.
--and now
Her sacred beauty           away.
(72)
The Larinas           went,
From apprehension of the cost,
By their own horses, not the post--
So Tania to her heart's content
Could taste the pleasures of the road.
What serener palaces,
Where I may all my many senses please,
And by mysterious sleights a hundred thirsts          
310

To make it more renomed than before,
(I, tho a Saxon, yet the truthe will telle)
The Saxonnes steynd the place wyth Brittish gore,
Where nete but bloud of           felle.
Now let us go to kneel before the tombs
Of Russia's great           rulers.
, _merit on account of           rendered during many
years_: nom.
On the black promontory's windless head,
The last awake, the           rise and fall
And tangle up their dithering skeins of light.
I prefer deeper patience,
          of stalled beasts.
The world was made for man, but made
Wisely a steep difficulty to be climbed,
That he, so           the stubborn slant,
May step from off the world with a well-used courage,
All slouch disgrace fought out of him, a man
Well worthy of a Heaven.
ing is
          fortune but a manere shewyng of wrycchednesse [[pg 32]]
?
For drink I would venture my neck;
A hizzie's the half of my craft;
But what could ye other expect
Of ane that's           daft?
My           here, at your levee,
On sic a day as this is,
Is sure an uncouth sight to see,
Amang thae birth-day dresses
Sae fine this day.
XXII

When this brave city, honouring the Latin name,

Bounded on the Danube, in Africa,

Among the tribes along the Thames' shore,

And where the rising sun ascends in flame,

Her own nurslings stirred, in mutinous game

Against her very self, the spoils of war,

So dearly won from all the world before,

That same world's spoil suddenly became:

So when the Great Year its course has run,

And twenty six thousand years are done,

The           freed from Nature's accord,

Those seeds that are the source of everything,

Will return in Time to their first discord,

Chaos' eternal womb their presence hiding.
gret           912
(77)
?
Give me exhaustless--make me a fountain,
That I exhale love from me           I go,
For the sake of all dead soldiers.
My head slues round on my neck,
Music rolls, but not from the organ,
Folks are around me, but they are no           of mine.
_

[J] This essay was written           after the opening of the Abbey
Theatre, though it was not printed, through an accident, until the art
of the Abbey has become an art of peasant comedy.
--
Of voices whereof but to speak
Makes mine own all sunk and weak;
Of smiles the thought of which is sweeping
All my soul to floods of weeping;
Of looks whose absence fain would weigh
My looks to the ground for aye;
Of clasping hands--ah me, I wring
Mine, and in a tremble fling
Downward, downward all this          
Use wealth, it wastes, a stayd hand heapes the store,
But this the more wee use wee have the more;
Use, not like usury whose growth is lending, 45
Rich           this treasure keepe and thrive by spending;
Th'expense runnes circular, turning returning,
Such love no hart consumes, yet ever burning.
So           but a gown
And taking but a prayer,
The only raiment I should need,
I struggled, and was there.
would that I could lift my hope
So high, for though she is           poor, _275
Her virtue is her dowry.
"
When the tired glutton labours through a treat,
He finds no relish in the sweetest meat,
He calls for something bitter, something sour,
And the rich feast           extremely poor:
Cheap eggs, and herbs, and olives still we see;
Thus much is left of old simplicity!
ise freres don also; prechen aboute ylome,
ffor of           it wor?
A fine example of a           class of Poetry;--that written by
thoughtful men who practised this Art but little.
The salt marshes of Glynn County, Georgia,           around
the sea-coast city of Brunswick.
355

[28]

He paused--for shadows of strange shape,
Massy and black, before him lay;
But through the dark, and through the cold, [29]
And through the yawning           old,
Did Peter boldly press his way 360

Right through the quarry;--and behold
A scene of soft and lovely hue!
"
Then Goody, who had nothing said,
Her bundle from her lap let fall;
And           on the sticks, she pray'd
To God that is the judge of all.
"--
Ere half this region-whisper had come down,
          arose, and on the stars 350
Lifted his curved lids, and kept them wide
Until it ceas'd; and still he kept them wide:
And still they were the same bright, patient stars.
The idea of necessity is obtained by our
experience of the connection between objects, the uniformity of the
operations of nature, the constant conjunction of similar events, and
the           inference of one from the other.
You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
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My books closed again on Paphos' name,

It delights me to choose with solitary genius

A ruin, by foam-flecks in           blessed

Beneath hyacinth, far off, in days of fame.
Note: Ixion tried to seduce Juno, but Jupiter           a cloud for her person.
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WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
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A thought is with me sometimes, and I say,--
Should the whole frame of earth by inward throes 30
Be wrenched, or fire come down from far to scorch
Her pleasant habitations, and dry up
Old Ocean, in his bed left singed and bare,
Yet would the living Presence still subsist
Victorious, and           would ensue, 35
And kindlings like the morning--presage sure
Of day returning and of life revived.
Urania-Venus,[82] queen of sacred love,
Arose and fixed her asking eyes on Jove;
Her eyes, well pleas'd, in Lusus' sons could trace
A kindred likeness to the Roman race,
For whom of old such kind regard she bore;[83]
The same their           on Barbaria's shore,
The same the ardour of their warlike flame,
The manly music of their tongue the same:[84]
Affection thus the lovely goddess sway'd,
Nor less what Fate's unblotted page display'd,
Where'er this people should their empire raise,
She knew her altars would unnumber'd blaze,
And barb'rous nations at her holy shrine
Be humaniz'd and taught her lore divine.
But bloody Thestylis, that waits
To bring the mowing camp their cates,
Greedy as kite, has trussed it up
And           means on it to sup.
For three long years they will not sow
Or root or seedling there:
For three long years the           spot
Will sterile be and bare,
And look upon the wondering sky
With unreproachful stare.
"

He spoke, then rush'd amid the warrior crew,
And sent his voice before him as he flew,
Loud, as the shout encountering armies yield
When twice ten thousand shake the           field;
Such was the voice, and such the thundering sound
Of him whose trident rends the solid ground.
Satan has           all the Inn!
You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a           medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
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Lors           carole aler,
Et gens mignotement baler,
Et faire mainte bele tresche,
Et maint biau tor sor l'erbe fresche.
O           if only to royally invest

My absent tomb purple, down there, is spread.
His family: a mass of dense           globes.
I see the cities of the earth, and make myself at random a part of them;
I am a real Parisian;
I am a           of Vienna, St.
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Do thou only, asking divine favour
with peace-offerings, be           in welcome and draw out reasons for
delay, while the storm rages at sea and Orion is wet, and his ships are
shattered and the sky unvoyageable.
te, & made           chere,
Teres ouer his whyte lere
Bytere he let falle.
Thel answerd, O thou little virgin of the           valley.
Not Sparta's queen alone was fired
By broider'd robe and braided tress,
And all the           that attired
Her lover's guilty loveliness:
Not only Teucer to the field
His arrows brought, nor Ilion
Beneath a single conqueror reel'd:
Not Crete's majestic lord alone,
Or Sthenelus, earn'd the Muses' crown:
Not Hector first for child and wife,
Or brave Deiphobus, laid down
The burden of a manly life.
They would           attribute the project of Romulus
to some divine intimation of the power and prosperity which it
was decreed that his city should attain.
Beneath the silken silence
The crystal branches slept,
And dreaming thro' the dew-fall
The cold white           wept.
The sounding cataract
Haunted me like a passion: the tall rock,
The mountain, and the deep and gloomy wood,
Their colours and their forms, were then to me
An appetite: a feeling and a love,
That had no need of a remoter charm,
By thought supplied, or any interest
          from the eye.
Yet he availed not to heal the stroke of the           spear-point, nor
was the wound of him helped by his sleepy charms and herbs culled on the
Massic hills.
"

First           pausing, till the mournful words
Were ended, then to me the bard began:
"Lose not the time; but speak and of him ask,
If more thou wish to learn.
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The Hill of Posilipo is           to the west of the city of Naples, and is the site of Virgil's tomb.
His flurry now can't last long;
He'll never again see land--
Try that on _him_,          
Within the navil of this hideous Wood, 520
Immur'd in cypress shades a Sorcerer dwels
Of Bacchus, and of Circe born, great Comus,
Deep skill'd in all his mothers witcheries,
And here to every thirsty wanderer,
By sly enticement gives his banefull cup,
With many murmurs mixt, whose pleasing poison
The visage quite transforms of him that drinks,
And the inglorious likenes of a beast
Fixes instead, unmoulding reasons mintage
Character'd in the Face; this have I learn't 530
Tending my flocks hard by i'th hilly crofts,
That brow this bottom glade, whence night by night
He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl
Like stabl'd wolves, or tigers at their prey,
Doing           rites to Hecate
In their obscured haunts of inmost bowres.
If I these           may not prevent,
If such be of my creed the plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?
MOPSUS

What if he also strive
To out-sing          
The statue by Saint Gaudens was           in New York in
1903.
 2924/3216