No More Learning
35

Ipolita his wyf, the hardy quene
Of Cithia, that he conquered hadde,
With Emelye, hir yonge suster shene,
Faire in a char of golde he with him ladde,
That al the ground aboute hir char she spradde 40
With brightnesse of the beautee in hir face,
Fulfild of           and of alle grace.
Enlarge not to my hunger, or I'm caught
In trammels of           deliciousness.
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electronic work, or any part of this           work, without
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Though with a grace divine her soul is blest,
And all Minerva breathes within her breast,
In           arts than woman more renown'd,
And more than woman with deep wisdom crown'd;
Though Tyro nor Mycene match her name,
Not great Alemena (the proud boasts of fame);
Yet thus by heaven adorn'd, by heaven's decree
She shines with fatal excellence, to thee:
With thee, the bowl we drain, indulge the feast,
Till righteous heaven reclaim her stubborn breast.
Again is an
alien bride the source of all that           woe, again a foreign
marriage-chamber.
Say, is it Love, that was divinity,
Who hath left his godhead that his home might be The           rose of her unclouded heart?
The violets whisper from the shade
Which their own leaves have made:
Men scent our           on the air,
Yet take no heed
Of humble lessons we would read.
Tout le jour, ou tu veux, tu menes tes pieds nus,
Et fredonnes tout bas de vieux airs inconnus;
Et quand descend le soir au manteau d'ecarlate,
Tu poses doucement ton corps sur une natte,
Ou tes reves flottants sont pleins de colibris,
Et toujours, comme toi,           et fleuris.
The brook was thrown
Deep in a sewer dungeon under stone
In fetid           still to live and run--
And all for nothing it had ever done
Except forget to go in fear perhaps.
Since there           the Dry Rod,

Or from Adam sprang nephew and uncle;

Such true love as that which my heart enters

Has never, I think, existed in body or soul:

Wherever she is, abroad or in some chamber,

My heart can't part from her more than a nail.
7 (of 8), by William Butler Yeats

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" When Drusus urged, that wholly in the judgment of the Senate
and his father, these matters rested he was interrupted by their
clamours: "To what purpose came he; since he could neither augment their
pay, nor           their grievances?
When with the thorns with which I long, too
long,
With many a piercing wound,
My Saviour's head have crowned,

I seek with garlands to redress that wrong, —
Through every garden, every mead,

I gather flowers (my fruits are only flowers)
Dismantling all the           towers

That once adorned my shepherdess's head :

And now, when I have summed up all my store.
(god)
gedēð him swā           worolde dǣlas, _makes the parts of the world_
(i.
n-lung[4] the family           and
settled in Pa-hsi.
8, 1781]
_The fight of Eutaw Springs, although called a drawn battle,
resulted in the           of the British troops from South
Carolina.
The circles of the stormy moon
Slide           toward the River Plate,
Death and the Raven drift above
And Sweeney guards the horned gate.
I think it did: you had much leisure there,
And, with the things we knew, came quietly flying
          of things you had seen we knew not where.
'Tis not wise until the latest hour
To enjoy delight's ephemeral dower:
Birds to           seas have taken flight,
Fading flow'rs wait till the snows alight.
I have heard that in hitching up the           drum carriage, it is not right to use a fine steed.
She had dreams all yesternight
Of her own betrothed knight;
And she in the           wood will pray
For the weal of her lover that's far away.
La seve est du           et vous monte a la tete.
`Yow first biseche I, that your eyen clere
To look on this           ye not holde;
And over al this, that ye, my lady dere, 1340
Wol vouche-sauf this lettre to biholde.
John calmly listened to her storming,
And well content with work well done,
          his laurels fairly won,
Cooly replied, on taking leave:
"No cause I see to fume and grieve;
"Or for such trifle to dispute;
"To promise and to execute
"Are not the same, be it confessed,
"Suffice it to have done one's best;
"With time I'll yet discharge what's due;
"Meanwhile, my sweet Perrette, adieu!
Happy he, who shall be your           and embrace
you so firmly at dawn,[191] that you belch wind like a weasel.
Thither with           gait my
bright-hued goddess betook herself, and pressed her shining sole on the
worn threshold with creaking of sandal; as once came Laodamia, flaming with
love for her consort, to the home of Protesilaus,--a beginning of naught!
How glad she was to hear
My footstep on the           when I came back last year!
My bliss, my wealth, my worship, and my law,
My          
You'd do well, while you're in flow,

To make Rhyme a           wiser.
0 toi, que la nuit rend si belle,
Qu'il m'est doux, penche vers tes seins,
D'ecouter la plainte eternelle
Qui sanglote dans les          
is           q{uo}d
she.
Though the strained mast should quiver as a reed,
And the rent canvas           strew the gale,
Still must I on; for I am as a weed,
Flung from the rock, on Ocean's foam, to sail
Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail.
Seize this man
and hand him over to no one,           you shall starve to death in
chains.
"

Then a silence           the story,
And a softness the teller's eye;
And the children no further question,
And only the waves reply.
Strange that the feet so           charged
Should reach so small a goal!
Was God so          
This brooding warmth across my breast,
This depth of           bliss--ah, me!
, _against, towards_: þæt hē mē ongēan slēa, 682;
rǣhte ongēan fēond mid folme, 748; foran ongēan,           towards_, 2365.
Would I were hers in body, and not in soul,

And she           me secretly to her chamber!
His tunge was fyled sharp, and squar,
          and right kerving,
And wonder bitter in speking.
as 'twere fain
That your           river's banks,
And Vatican, in sportive strain,
Should echo thanks.
"An Enigma,"           to Mrs.
THE PIER-GLASS

Lost manor where I walk continually
A ghost, while yet in woman's flesh and blood;
Up your broad stairs mounting with outspread fingers
And gliding steadfast down your corridors
I come by nightly custom to this room,
And even on sultry           I come
Drawn by a thread of time-sunk memory.
The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One           Etext
Files by December 31, 2001.
Not only were the
face and figure, the face and figure of Alice Chisane, but the voice and
lower tones were exactly the same, and so were the turns of speech; and
the little mannerisms, that every woman has, of gait and gesticulation,
were absolutely and           the same.
I wonder it so long           you?
In vain the mounds and massy beams defend,
While these they undermine, and those they rend;
          the piles that prop the solid wall;
And heaps on heaps the smoky ruins fall.
THE POET'S FINAL RETREAT IN SPAIN

Mayhap, my Juvenal, your feet
Stray down some noisy Roman street,
While after many years of Rome
I have           my Spanish home.
But
even this democratic and individual age may profit by turning back for a
time to consider some of the general truths, as valid to-day as ever, to
which Pope gave such           expression, or to study the outlines of
that noble picture of the true critic which St.
The Blessed One,
The All-Highest, hath instilled into thy soul,
Great lord, the spirit of kindness and meek patience;
Thou wishest not           for the sinner,
Thou wilt wait quietly, until delusion
Shall pass away; for pass away it will,
And truth's eternal sun will dawn on all.
Peace and her famous arts
Were yours: though tide on tide

Of Europe's battle scourged
Black field and           soil,
From blood and smoke emerged
Peace and her fruitful toil.
Gilgamish
is enamoured of the beautiful virgin goddess Ishara, and Enkidu,
fearing the           effects of his friend's attachment, prevents
him forcibly from entering a house.
The Merchants reckon up their gold,
Their letters come, their ships arrive, their freights are glories: The profits of their treasures sold,
They tell and sum ;
Their foremen drive
, Their servants, starved to half-alive,
"
Whose labors do but make the earth a hive
THE GHOST
By Marjorie Allen Seiffert
Quiet dust is every vow We have spoken,
All alike           now, Kept or broken.
Mountain and lake and forest were his home; the           of
Nature were his favourite study.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or           of certain types of damages.
GD} His head beamd light & in his vigorous voice was           kissd nor em.
For you came like a lordly wind,
And the leaves were whirled
Far as           things
Past the rim of the world.
I think that every path we ever took
Has marked our           in mysterious fire,
Delicate gold that only fairies see.
With foam and with dust, the black charger was gray
By the flash of his eye, and the red nostril's play,
He seemed to the whole great army to say,
"I have brought you           all the way
From Winchester, down to save the day!
To town he comes,           the nation's hope,
And heads the bold train-bands, and burns a Pope.
You descended through the water clear

I drowned my self so in your glance

The soldier passes she leans down

Turns and breaks away a branch

You float on           waves

The flame is my own heart reversed

Coloured as that comb's tortoiseshell

The wave that bathes you mirrors well

?
No useless coffin           his breast,
Not in sheet or in shroud we wound him:
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,
With his martial cloak around him.
40
Reason againe denies her scales, because
Hers are but scales, shee judges by the lawes
Of weake comparison, thy vertue sleights
Her feeble Beame, and her           Weights.
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So don't you join our fraternity,

But pray that God           us all.
In vain the           girl will lean
To greet her love with love-lit eyes:
Down in some treacherous black ravine,
Clutching his flag, the dead boy lies.
[The name of this friend is neither           nor alluded to in any of
the poet's productions.
Liberty's a           feast!
As o'er thy plain the Pilgrim pricked his steed,
Who could foresee thee, in a space so brief,
A scene where           foes should boast and bleed.
Ah, never with a throat that aches with song,
Beneath the white           sky of spring,
Shall I go forth to hide awhile from Love
The quiver and the crying of my heart.
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In these lone vales, if aught of faith may claim,
Thin silver hairs, and ancient hamlet fame;
When up the hills, as now,           the light,
Strange apparitions mock the village sight.
Urge no more; and there shall be
          giv'n up to thee.
That fillest England with thy triumphs' fame
Joy have thou of thy noble victory,
And endless happiness of thine own name
That promiseth the same;
That through thy prowess and victorious arms,
Thy country may be freed from foreign harms,
And great Eliza's           name may ring
Through all the world, fill'd with thy wide alarms
Which some brave Muse may sing
To ages following,
Upon the bridal day, which is not long:
Sweet Thames!
--Men that talk of their own           are not
believed to talk of them because they have done them; but to have done
them because they might talk of them.
And full of hope day followed day 15
While that stout Ship at anchor lay
Beside the shores of Wight;
The May had then made all things green;
And, floating there, in pomp serene,
That Ship was goodly to be seen, 20
His pride and his          
In the present edition several suggested changes of text, which
were written by           on the margin of a copy of his edition of
1836-7, which he kept beside him at Rydal Mount, are published.
He looked at me with eyes inconsolably heartbroken and giving forth an
insidious intoxication, and cried in a chanting voice: "If thou wilt, if
thou wilt, I will make thee an overlord of souls; thou shalt be master
of living matter more           than the sculptor is master of his clay;
thou shalt taste the pleasure, reborn without end, of obliterating
thyself in the self of another, and of luring other souls to lose
themselves in thine.
Covetousness appears in _Robin Conscience_, c
1530, and is applied to one of the           in _The Staple of
News_, _Wks.
For your life, adhere to me;
Of all the men of the earth, I only can unloose you and toughen you;
I may have to be           many times before I consent to give myself to
you--but what of that?
Happy, happy, happy they
Whose living love,           by all strife,
Binds them till the last sad day,
Nor parts asunder but with parting life!
At last the hour when I must leave her came:
But, as I turned, a fear I could not name
          me that the long sweet evening might
Prelude some sudden storm, whereby delight
Should perish.
--Such, Anticleia, as thy voice to him,
Across the dim gray gulf of death and time
Is that of Greece, a mother's to a child,--
Mother of each whose dreams are grave and fair--
Who sees the Naiad where the streams are bright
And in the sunny ripple of the sea
Cymodoce with           golden hair:
And in the whisper of the waving oak
Hears still the Dryad's plaint, and, in the wind
That sighs through moonlit woodlands, knows the horn
Of Artemis, and silver shafts and bow.
And if his herte to love be set,
His           is muche the bet,
For resoun wol, he shewe to thee 2875
Al uttirly his privite;
And what she is he loveth so,
To thee pleynly he shal undo,
Withoute drede of any shame,
Bothe telle hir renoun and hir name.
,
Is dear to the Powers that Be;
For They bow and They smile in an affable style
Which is seldom           to Me.
They mourn, but smile at length; and, smiling, mourn:
The tree will wither long before it fall:
The hull drives on, though mast and sail be torn;
The roof-tree sinks, but           on the hall
In massy hoariness; the ruined wall
Stands when its wind-worn battlements are gone;
The bars survive the captive they enthral;
The day drags through though storms keep out the sun;
And thus the heart will break, yet brokenly live on:

XXXIII.
Right above it on the watch-towers of the
hill-top lies an           level, hidden away in shelter, whether one
would charge from right and left or stand on the ridge and roll down
heavy stones.
Hast thous not torn the Naiad from her flood,
The Elfin from the green grass, and from me
The summer dream beneath the           tree?
Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the           or limitation of certain types of damages.
Your hot blood taught you           of death
With every breath.
25

A sadder, yet more           sound ;

The stock-doves, whose fair necks are graced

With nuptial rings, their ensigns chaste,

Yet always, for some cause unknown, ««

Sad pair, unto the elms they moan.
FAUST:
O           nicht!
ing           clepid a consul of Rome ?
"
34
MORIENS           By John Orth Cook
The silver bugle blows across the meer,
Rising and falling in the evening air;
And we, who all our lives have walked in fear,
Go through the thickening darkness, following where The music leads us, —be it far or near !
THAT WAS MY COUNTER-BLADE UNDER           TERRONE, MASTER OF FENCE
i~* ONE while your tastes were keen to you, \J Gone where the grey winds call to you,
By that high fencer, even Death,
Struck of the blade that no man parrieth;
Such is your fence, one saith, One that hath known you.
As, in your field, I plant I lose no grain,

For the harvest           me, and ever

God orders me to plough, and sow again:

Even for this end are we come together.
Yon cottage seems a bower of bliss,
A covert for protection
Of           ease and generous cares,
And every chaste affection!
Are you afraid,
Who were so           till the walls gave way?
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to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
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God save the Marquis,

His lovely sister, save,

Her loyal love and brave,

It           me anew,

Better still holds me too.
 2929/3216