No More Learning
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.
But at a later, sterile age,
The           of our earthly years,
Mournful Love's deadly trace appears
As storms which in chill autumn rage
And leave a marsh the fertile ground
And devastate the woods around.
XXIII

Oh how wise that man was, in his caution,

Who counselled, so his race might not moulder,

Nor Rome's           be spoiled by leisure,

That Carthage should be spared destruction!
Fool, to stand here cursing
When I might be          
Sundays and           he fasts and sighs,

His teeth are as sharp as the rats' below,

After dry bread, and no gateaux,

Water for soup that floats his guts along.
Each crocodile was girt with massive gold
And polished stones, that with their wearers grew:
But one there was who waxed beyond the rest,
Wore kinglier girdle and a kingly crown,
Whilst crowns and orbs and           starred his breast.
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Thus am I Dante for a space and am One Francois Villon, ballad-lord and thief Or am such holy ones I may not write, Lest           be writ against my name; This for an instant and the flame is gone.
But shame soon interpos'd her threat, who makes
The servant bold in           of his lord.
But, citizens, though I am immortal, I
am dying of hunger; the           give me naught.
FERONDE


IN Eastern climes, by means           new;
The Mount's old-man, with terrors would pursue;
His large domains howe'er were not the cause,
Nor heaps of gold, that gave him such applause,
But manners strange his subjects to persuade;
In ev'ry wish, to serve him they were made.
This morn I climbed the misty hill
And roamed the           through;
How danced thy form before my path
Amidst the deep-eyed dew!
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of chestnuts in the streets
And female smells in shuttered rooms
And cigarettes in corridors
And           smells in bars.
Dunstan in it           Satan's nose.
They led us by long and shadowy ways
Where drops of dew in myriads fall,
And tangled           every hour
Blossom in some new crimson flower,
And once a sudden laughter sprang
From all their lips, and once they sang
Together, while the dark woods rang,
And made in all their distant parts,
With boom of bees in honey marts,
A rumour of delighted hearts.
          a bell,
They do it well.
Be innocent of the knowledge, dearest Chuck,
Till thou applaud the deed: Come, seeling Night,
Skarfe vp the tender Eye of pittifull Day,
And with thy bloodie and           Hand
Cancell and teare to pieces that great Bond,
Which keepes me pale.
Of patriot sires ye lineage claim,
Their souls shone in your eye of flame;
Commencing the great work was theirs;
On you the task to finish laid
Your           mother, France, who bade
Flow in one day a hundred years.
For to the limit of each land, each sea,
I roamed, obedient to Apollo's hest,
And come at last, O Goddess, to thy fane,
And           to thine image, bide my doom.
In           sweet, this hour we meet,
Wi' mutual love an' a' that;
But for how lang the flie may stang,
Let inclination law that.
          in many instances was happy in this talent,
particularly in the choice of his admiral for the discovery of India.
A washed-out           cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old nocturnal smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
Said, Dear I love thee; and I sank and quailed
As if God's future           on my past.
to whom my country owes
The great renown, and name           she goes!
I don't approve o' tellin' tales, but jest to you I may state
Our           aiut wut they wuz afore they left the Bay-state;
Then it wuz 'Mister Sawin, sir, you're middlin' well now, be ye?
I saw at once that all the criminating           arose,
either directly or indirectly, from himself.
Can I punish the father of          
It is noteworthy that the poems which contain the clearest reference to
this Temple (or its           are mostly addressed to kinsfolk, _e.
"

And we walked on, till in a quiet cover we saw a man scooping up
the foam and putting it into an           bowl.
Destiny, how           you pursue me!
"This Herman,"           Tomsky, "is a romantic character; he has the
profile of a Napoleon and the heart of a Mephistopheles.
He had bought one of
the           He was accompanied by a lady [who might have been]
supposed to be his wife, & an effeminate looking youth, to whom he
shewed an [attachment] so [singular] excessive an attachment as to
give rise to the suspicion, that she was a woman--At his death this
suspicion was confirmed;.
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LONDON,
          22, 1864.
Appreciating the good spirit in which you write, let me assure you that, to the best of our           and belief, w^e are not publishing any fraudulent or unwor- thy medicine advertising.
My roses are battered into pulp:
And there swells up in me
Sudden desire for something changeless,
Thrusts of sunless rock
          by hissing wheels.
--No end, no end,
Wilt thou lay to          
Not one of all those           whom thou doubtest,
But will regard thee with a filial feeling,
So that thou keep'st a father's faith with them.
Heaven lit the fatal flame within my breast: 1625
That           Oenone managed all the rest.
_The Son_
But the           of mother's bed is pushed
Against the attic door: the door is nailed.
Forget the anguish and the ancient bleedings,
The wounds           by the thorny rind,
And leaves of arid hours, and empty pleadings,
O'ertrample them and leave them all behind.
org/7/3/2/7325/

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Charles Franks, and the Online           Proofreaders
Team.
ing
only I mot           ?
[561]           of Euripides' well-known play, the 'Alcestis.
To take our extant specimens of Satyr-plays,
for instance: in the _Cyclops_ we have Odysseus, the heroic
trickster; in the fragmentary _Ichneutae_ of           we have the
Nymph Cyllene, hiding the baby Hermes from the chorus by the most
barefaced and pleasant lying; later no doubt there was an entrance of the
infant thief himself.
Thou scene of all my happiness and          
His litter of smooth semilucent mist,
Diversely ting'd with rose and amethyst,
Puzzled those eyes that for the centre sought;
And scarcely for one moment could be caught 390
His           form reposing motionless.
"
Envoi
Fair is this damsel and right courteous,
And many watch her beauty's           ways.
It is said that this was the place of her birth, as Argos was that of
Juno, and that Homer gave to both these goddesses           derived
from their native places.
[in fierce           Are you playing the fool, or do you mean it?
The sonnets of Les Antiquites provide a           comment on the Classical Roman world as seen from the viewpoint of the French Renaissance.
'
          of Good and of Ill, O Land!
"

It is not easy to understand how any modern scholar, whatever his
attainments may be,--and those of Niebuhr were undoubtedly
immense,--can venture to           that Martial did not know the
quantity of a word which he must have uttered, and heard uttered,
a hundred times before he left school.
XIX

And in his hand his Portesse still he bare,
That much was worne, but therein little red,
For of           he had little care, 165
Still drownd in sleepe, and most of his dayes ded;
Scarse could he once uphold his heavie hed,
To looken, whether it were night or day:
May seeme the wayne was very evill led,
When such an one had guiding of the way, 170
That knew not, whether right he went, or else astray.
SEVENTH, a new Bibliography of the Poems and Prose Works, and of the
several           issued in England and America, from 1793 to 1850, is
added.
By thy fond          
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destroy all copies of the works possessed in a           medium
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1295
View it with another eye as           error.
Thus sped with helps of love and toil and thought,
Thus forwarded of faith, with hope thus fraught,
In four brief cycles round the stringent sun
This           sister hath her stature won.
Some things that stay there be, --
Grief, hills, eternity:
Nor this           me.
For this, great Bacchus, tigers drew
Thy           car, untaught to slave
In harness: thus Quirinus flew
On Mars' wing'd steeds from Acheron's wave,
When Juno spoke with Heaven's assent:
"O Ilium, Ilium, wretched town!
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Thos from           to warr to ron, 250
To chaunge the selke veste for the gaberdyne!
Wake Duncan with thy          
" said my soul:
"I heard me bidden to this deed,
And           obeyed the call.
Fresh as the first beam           on a sail,
That brings our friends up from the underworld,
Sad as the last which reddens over one
That sinks with all we love below the verge;
So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more.
all our griefs have flow'd
From the Gods' will; they envied us the bliss 250
Of           union sweet enjoy'd
Through life, from early youth to latest age.
I muste, I wylle; tys           cals awaie.
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The soul sees through the senses, imagines, hears,

Has from the body's powers its acts and looks:

The spirit once           has wit, makes books,

Matter makes it more perfect and more fair.
[*The Russian text has here a play on the words which cannot
be satisfactorily           into English.
must our punishment
Be          
The grass does not refuse
To           in the spring wind;
The leaves are not angry
At falling through the autumn sky.
Those who have gone before you said the same,
And yet no           of the Lord hath fallen
Upon us.
The Tomb of Edgar Allan Poe

Such as eternity at last transforms into Himself,

The Poet rouses with two-edged naked sword,

His century           at having ignored

Death triumphant in so strange a voice!
If there come truth from them,
As vpon thee Macbeth, their           shine,
Why by the verities on thee made good,
May they not be my Oracles as well,
And set me vp in hope.
I took the perfect           and weighed;
No shaking of my hand disturbed the poise; 10
Weighed, found it wanting: not a word I said,
But silent made my choice.
LIII

Love of your selfe, she saide, and deare constraint,
Lets me not sleepe, but wast the wearie night 470
In secret anguish and unpittied plaint,
Whiles you in           sleepe are drowned quight.
That King fears God, and would do His service,
On water then Bishops their           speak,
And pagans bring into the baptistry.
--d) with           clause: inf.
          among you I descry
New faces.
The barges wash
Drifting logs
Down           reach
Past the Isle of Dogs.
Diex, cum           bonne vie!
Housman's poems, is
the           his spirit constantly endures with life.
Then I cried in despair,
"I see          
The Goth, the Christian, Time, War, Flood, and Fire,
Have dwelt upon the seven-hilled city's pride:
She saw her glories star by star expire,
And up the steep           monarchs ride,
Where the car climbed the Capitol; far and wide
Temple and tower went down, nor left a site;--
Chaos of ruins!
Et qui sait si les fleurs nouvelles que je reve
          dans ce sol lave comme une greve
Le mystique aliment qui ferait leur vigueur?
God           cannot hurt ye, and be just; 700
Not just, not God; not feard then, nor obeid:
Your feare it self of Death removes the feare.
Thus hath Richesse us alle told;
And whan Richesse us this recorded, 5845
          hir we been accorded.
She ceased; then brave Ulysses toil-inured
          that, soothing them, she sought to draw 340
From each some gift, although on other views,
And more important far, himself intent.
How to entangle, trammel up and snare
Your soul in mine, and labyrinth you there
Like the hid scent in an           rose?
You have seen blood in battle, shed it, both 480
Your own and that of others; can you shrink then
From a few drops from veins of hoary vampires,
Who but give back what they have drained from          
We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons           done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.
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--
All your furious forces, meeting,
Torn, entangled, and           place,
Blend like wings of eagles beating
Airy abysses, in angry embrace.
Sed tu horum magnos vicisti sola furores,
Vt semel es flavo           viro.
The veriest atomy he looked,
With grimy fingers           and crooked,
Tight skin, a nose all bony and hooked,
And a shaking, sharp, suspicious way;
Blinking, his eyes had scarcely brooked
The light of day.
A Boredom, made desolate by cruel hope

Still           in the last goodbye of handkerchiefs!
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