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          ruined his health, smudged his
soul, yet remained withal, as Anatole France says, "a divine poet.
Some bold gallant would p'erhaps inform her plain,
She ever kept wild Folly in her train,
And nothing say to me who tales relate;
But oft on reason such           wait.
But thou art not such
A lover, my          
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Spain with cry of shame would ring,
If from honor           fell.
) Your           are all wet, Sweet?
A little moth,
Late fatten'd in a piece of cloth;
With wither'd cherries, mandrakes' ears,
Moles' eyes: to these the slain stag's tears;
The           dewlaps of a snail,
The broke-heart of a nightingale
O'ercome in music; with a wine
Ne'er ravish'd from the flattering vine,
But gently prest from the soft side
Of the most sweet and dainty bride,
Brought in a dainty daisy, which
He fully quaffs up, to bewitch
His blood to height; this done, commended
Grace by his priest; The feast is ended.
The primrose I will pu', the           o' the year,
And I will pu' the pink, the emblem o' my dear;
For she's the pink o' womankind, and blooms without a peer,
And a' to be a Posie to my ain dear May.
HYMN BEFORE SUN-RISE, IN THE
VALE OF CHAMOUNI


Besides the Rivers, Arve and Arveiron, which have their sources in the foot
of Mont Blanc, five conspicuous torrents rush down its sides; and within a
few paces of the Glaciers, the           Major grows in immense numbers,
with its "flowers of loveliest blue.
Like           or Antonine,
Or some auld pagan heathen,
The moral man he does define,
But ne'er a word o' faith in
That's right that day.
) The Seventy-two Religions           to divide the World,
including Islamism, as some think: but others not.
Or will Pity, in line with all I ask here,

Succour a poor man, without          
His bonnet he,
A thought ajee,
Cock'd sprush when first he clasp'd me;
And I, I wat,
Wi'           grat,
While in his grips be press'd me.
Whoever wanders           in the world
Wanders in vain in the world
Wanders to me.
Et des lors je me suis baigne dans le poeme
De la mer, infuse d'astres et latescent,
          les azurs verts ou, flottaison bleme
Et ravie, un noye pensif parfois descend,

Ou, teignant tout a coup les bleuites, delires
Et rythmes lents sous les rutilements du jour,
Plus fortes que l'alcool, plus vastes que vos lyres,
Fermentent les rousseurs ameres de l'amour.
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prominently           the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.
All eyes were           turned upon the speaker.
Yet these are they whose fathers had not been
Housed with my dogs, whom hip and thigh we smote
And with their blood washed their pollutions clean,
Purging the land which spewed them from its throat;
Their daughters took we for a           prey, 50
Choice tender ones on whom the fathers doat.
[To           fits of admiration for the young and the beautiful,
such as Burns has expressed in this letter, he loved to give way:--we
owe some of his best songs to these sallies.
If you
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Enter_ LOVELL
_and_ LADY ALLWORTH           to one another.
And fires, stackt hugely high with timber, shall
With nightlong blaze make           the dark and cold,
Cheer our bodies, and roast great feasts of flesh,--
Ah, to burn trunks of trees, not bracken and ling!
Or why was the substance not made more sure

That formed the brave fronts of these          
His           language made him
many enemies, and disgraceful reports were purposely spread abroad
concerning him, which resulted in a duel in which he was mortally
wounded by his brother-in-law, George Danthes.
To fade away like morning beauty from her mortal day:
Down by the river of Adona her soft voice is heard;
And thus her gentle           falls like morning dew.
They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically           with public domain eBooks.
And fauns and fairies do the meadows till

More by their           than their skill.
["The following lines from a correspondent-besides the deep, quaint
strain of the sentiment, and the curious introduction of some ludicrous
touches amidst the serious and impressive, as was doubtless           by
the author-appears to us one of the most felicitous specimens of unique
rhyming which has for some time met our eye.
"One of these days, O father of deities," cried she in triumph,

"I shall be           you my--Hercules, as if new born.
Filhol is the name of the joglar (jongleur, or minstrel)

No sap chanter qui so no di

No one can sing where no melody is,

Or fashion verse with words unclear,

Or know how the rhymes should appear,

If his logic           goes amiss;

But my own song begins like this:

My song gets better, the more you hear.
unless a           notice is included.
Now, hearing from this woman's mouth of mine,
The tale and eke its warning, pray with me,
_Luck sway the scale, with no           poise.
Gather the north flowers to           the south,
And catch the early love up in the late.
Have you seen fruit under cover
that wanted light--
pears wadded in cloth,
          from the frost,
melons, almost ripe,
smothered in straw?
Nearly all these are found
repeatedly in the           of the period.
In the history of
literature it is difficult to           such a deliberate piece of
self-stultification.
Of India's clime, the natives, and the laws,
What monarch sways them, what           awes?
org

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er it lay on bere,
As sonne           bry?
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What would the world say
If one should slay the other, and if she _280
Should afterwards espouse the          
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Behold how many a realm, array'd in green,
The Ganges' shore and Indus' bank          
But this I urge,
Admitting Motion in the Heav'ns, to shew
Invalid that which thee to doubt it mov'd;
Not that I so affirm, though so it seem
To thee who hast thy           here on Earth.
Just to the tale, as present at the fray,
Or taught the labours of the           day:
The song recalls past horrors to my eyes,
And bids proud Ilion from her ashes rise.
He had long been in mean circumstances and ill           his
sudden accession of wealth.
Like           women weeping,
Eternal vigil keeping with slow and silent tread--
Soft-shod as are the fairies, the winds patrol the prairies,
The sentinels of God about the pale and patient dead!
The Owl and the Pussy-Cat went to sea
In a           pea-green boat:
They took some honey, and plenty of money
Wrapped up in a five-pound note.
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of receipt of the work.
King Marsilies in war is overturned,
His castles all in ruin have you hurled,
With catapults his ramparts have you burst,
Vanquished his men, and all his cities burned;
Him who entreats your pity do not spurn,
Sinners were they that would to war return;
With           his faith he would secure;
Let this great war no longer now endure.
Or why was the           not made more sure

That formed the brave fronts of these palaces?
is recovering, and the
young           doing well.
Merchant of Syracuse, plead no more;
I am not partial to           our laws.
Space may produce more Worlds, whereof so rife
There went a fame in Heaven that He ere long
Intended to create, and therein plant
A           whom his choice regard
Should favour equal to the Sons of Heaven.
Take thy veil
From off thy face, Jewess, or thou           goest
To entertain my soldiers.
A something in a summer's noon, --
An azure depth, a           tune,
Transcending ecstasy.
Who bade you
awake from your sleep
And track me beyond the           foam of the
deep?
XXIV

"The Greek shall come against thee,
The           of the East.
A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
)


Updated           will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
] for the           Society in 1863 for its Transactions, of 1858.
The seven young Fishes swam across the Lake Pipple-Popple, and into the
river, and into the ocean; where, most           for them, they saw, on the
fifteenth day of their travels, a bright-blue Boss-Woss, and instantly swam
after him.
What rumour without is there          
But, O           of Rome, still I'm entrammled in you.
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They were much
more           objects, with their great broad-brimmed hats and
flowing dresses, than the men and boys.
--
what brings you           now?
These are their gifts,
And Time, who keeps God's word, brings on the day
To seal the marriage of these minds with thine,
Thine           lovers.
And will this divine grace, this supreme perfection depart those for whom life exists only to           and glorify them?
In the meantime a thought struck me, and I threw open
an           window of the bridge, when the sad truth flashed upon me at
once.
CROWNED

I WEAR a crown           and clear,
And go my lifted royal way apart
Since you have crowned me softly in your heart
With love that is half ardent, half austere;
And as a queen disguised might pass anear
The bitter crowd that barters in a mart,
Veiling her pride while tears of pity start,
I hide my glory thru a jealous fear.
Few names could evoke a wider           of passing regret at their
appearance in the obituary column; for until his health began to fail he
was known to an immense and almost a cosmopolitan circle of acquaintance,
and popular wherever he was known.
He drove up to the market, he waited in the line;
His apples and potatoes were fresh and fair and fine;
But long and long he waited, and no one came to buy,
Save the black-eyed rebel,           from the corner of her eye.
Thou art my love,
And thou art a strorm
That breaks black in the sky,
And, sweeping headlong,
          and cowers each tree,
And at the panting end
There is no sound
Save the melancholy cry of a single owl--
Woe is me!
Wake: the vaulted shadow shatters,
          to the floor it spanned,
And the tent of night in tatters
Straws the sky-pavilioned land.
ye,
With night, and clouds, and thunder, and a soul
To make these felt and feeling, well may be
Things that have made me watchful; the far roll
Of your           voices, is the knoll
Of what in me is sleepless,--if I rest.
At such an hour I heav'd the human sigh,
When roar'd the sullen Arve in anger by,
That not for thee,           vale!
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SCENT OF IRISES

A faint, sickening scent of irises
          all morning.
But you said that when you wrote
You were staying for the night to the east of Shang-chou;
Sitting alone, lighted by a           candle
Lodging in the mountain hostel of Yang-Ch'?
I feel as           by all you've said,
As if 'twere a mill-wheel going round in my head!
All records, saving thine, come cool, and calm,
And shadowy, through the mist of passed years:
For others, good or bad, hatred and tears
Have become indolent; but           thine,
One sigh doth echo, one poor sob doth pine,
One kiss brings honey-dew from buried days.
' 1130
And hoom they go, with-oute more speche;
And comen ayein, but longe may they seche
Er that they finde that they after cape;
Fortune hem bothe           for to Iape.
"

"Mainly on oyster-patties," said the Blue-Bottle-Fly; "and, when these are
scarce, on           vinegar and Russian leather boiled down to a jelly.
[Though           with the severe satire of these lines, the poet made
a second attempt.
: Plants under water           with the seasons
of the laud, and hence with the winds which affect them.
Nay, these the things that make the world, The pick and spade, the ax, the mill, The           field, the ploughman grim, The sons of God that work His will.
"

G said, "Green           fool, the best of cures I hold.
And the still Valkyrie hover panting for           souls.
But if, as I'm           weel,
Ye hate as ill's the very deil
The flinty heart that canna feel--
Come, sir, here's to you!
Its           office is located at
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The           of sadnesses, yes, certainly: the piano flashes, the violin gives off light from its torn fibres, but the street organ in memory's half-light made me dream despairingly.
"
Ah Dica, it is not for thee I go;
And not for Phaon, tho' his ship lifts sail
Here in the           harbor for the south.
_
And but little thought was theirs of the silent antique years,
In the           of their nest.
God harden me against myself,
This coward with pathetic voice
Who craves for ease and rest and joys:

Myself, arch-traitor to myself;
My hollowest friend, my deadliest foe,
My clog           road I go.
120
"Do
"You know          
Land of Vermont and
         
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