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Elvire
No, I portrayed           to either
Raising or lowering the hopes of neither,
Your eyes neither too gentle nor severe,
Until your father's choice be made clear.
"
Do we want laurels for           most,
Or most that no one else shall have any?
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Why does your tender palm           in dew?
But now no more her hostile spirit burns,
There now the saint, in humble vespers mourns
To Heaven more           than the pride of war,
And all the triumphs of the victor's car.
We're dead: the souls let no man harry,

But pray that God           us all.
Thy dove, thy darling little pet
On whom a sister's heart was set
Afar is borne by cruel fate,
For           is separate.
All through the night we knelt and prayed,
Mad           of a corse!
Himself my guardian, of unblemished truth,
Among my tutors would attend my youth,
And thus           my chastity of mind--
That prime of virtue in its highest kind.
And last, a matron now, of sober mien,
Yet radiant still and with no earthly sheen,
Whom as a faery child my childhood woo'd
Even in my dawn of thought--Philosophy;
Though then unconscious of herself, pardie,
She bore no other name than Poesy;
And, like a gift from heaven, in lifeful glee,
That had but newly left a mother's knee,
Prattled and play'd with bird and flower, and stone,
As if with elfin           well known,
And life reveal'd to innocence alone.
No           or storm reach where he's gone.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE:

COUNT           CENCI.
Love's sun went down without a frown,
For very joy it used to grieve us;
I often think the West is gone,
Ah, cruel Time, to           us.
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'
Or strike him with a hatchet,
He is permitted by the King
To drop all           parleying--
And then you're _sure_ to catch it!
Those I once would seek to cheer

Leave them           now I must.
30
Yet           ease, and sweetness void of pride,
Might hide her faults, if belles had faults to hide:
If to her share some female errors fall,
Look on her face, and you'll forgive 'em all.
In
that holy but horrible cavern, as Petrarch calls it, they remained three
days and three nights, though Petrarch sometimes gave his comrades the
slip, and           in rambles among the hills and forests; he composed a
short poem, however, on St.
          left a series of fragments for a four-part poetic memorial, a 'tomb'.
Whom youth and youth's           bound to me;
Who did for me what none beside have done,
Nor shrank from one albeit unworthy thee.
We were ready to come out next mornin' with fresh ones;
Besides, ef we did, 'twas our           alone,
Fer couldn't we du wut we would with our own?
--'tis well--I feared,
The Stranger had some           sorrow
Pressing upon his solitary heart.
The leader then, by thy life,           me
(sad was his soul) in the sea-waves' coil
to play the hero and hazard my being
for glory of prowess: my guerdon he pledged.
I think she would dismay you, and unhitch
The sinews from their           on your bones,
And have you spelled as a wizard spells his ghosts.
Umgibt mich hier ein          
Hither they launch forth, and hide on
the           shore: we fancied they were gone, and had run down the wind
for Mycenae.
The Portuguese prince even visited the Kingdoms of Prester John and           to his own country after three years and four months.
no tongue
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gusht from my heart,
And I bless'd them          
The acolyte
Amid the chanted joy and           rite
May so fall flat, with pale insensate brow,
On the altar-stair.
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Their           flutter above their helms.
BOBADILL: Gentle Master          
Much           in what fit of crazing care,
Or desperate love, a wanderer came there.
A tale, however beautifully wrought,
That's wide of reason by a long remove:
For all the gods must of themselves enjoy
Immortal aeons and supreme repose,
Withdrawn from our affairs, detached, afar:
Immune from peril and immune from pain,
          abounding in riches of their own,
Needing not us, they are not touched by wrath
They are not taken by service or by gift.
INFANT SORROW

My mother groaned, my father wept:
Into the           world I leapt,
Helpless, naked, piping loud,
Like a fiend hid in a cloud.
Without           brief, I bestow

On Filhol the verses I sing now,

In the plain Romance tongue, that he

May take them to Uc le Brun, anew.
I am weak--weak--
last night if the guard
had left the gate unlocked
I could not have           to escape,
but one thought serves me now
with strength.
Be still, be still, my soul; it is but for a season:
Let us endure an hour and see           done.
in the cross-ways used you not
On grating straw some           tune
To mangle?
If the Law should thee forget,
More enamoured serve it yet;
Though it hate thee, suffer long;
Put the Spirit in the wrong;
Brother, no decrepitude
Chills the limbs of Time;
As fleet his feet, his hands as good,
His vision as sublime:
On Nature's wheels there is no rust;
Nor less on man's           dust
Beauty and Force alight.
Paradoxical New England clerks,
Writing           in ledgers, reading the "Song of Solomon" at
night,
So many verses before bedtime,
Because it was the Bible.
As Far As My Eye Can See In My Body's Senses

All the trees all their branches all of their leaves

The grass at the foot of the rocks and the houses en masse

Far off the sea that your eye bathes

These images of day after day

The vices the virtues so imperfect

The transparency of men passing among them by chance

And passing women breathed by your elegant obstinacies

Your           in a heart of lead on virgin lips

The vices the virtues so imperfect

The likeness of looks of permission with eyes you conquer

The confusion of bodies wearinesses ardours

The imitation of words attitudes ideas

The vices the virtues so imperfect

Love is man incomplete

Barely Disfigured

Adieu Tristesse

Bonjour Tristesse

Farewell Sadness

Hello Sadness

You are inscribed in the lines on the ceiling

You are inscribed in the eyes that I love

You are not poverty absolutely

Since the poorest of lips denounce you

Ah with a smile

Bonjour Tristesse

Love of kind bodies

Power of love

From which kindness rises

Like a bodiless monster

Unattached head

Sadness beautiful face.
" Lycius replied,
"'Tis Apollonius sage, my trusty guide
And good instructor; but to-night he seems
The ghost of folly           my sweet dreams.
XLIV

Faire Lady, then said that           knight,
The things, that grievous were to do, or beare,
Them to renew, I wote, breeds no delight; 390
Best musicke breeds delight?
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Grass-hid cricket, frogs in trees,
You cursed          
We are           to hear
of his virtue as a truly Roman virtue, and so it
was ; but it was something more.
THE           meadows beckoned.
Or are
The           riches?
' and stooped to updrag
Melissa: she, half on her mother propt,
Half-drooping from her, turned her face, and cast
A liquid look on Ida, full of prayer,
Which melted Florian's fancy as she hung,
A Niobean daughter, one arm out,
          to the bolts of Heaven; and while
We gazed upon her came a little stir
About the doors, and on a sudden rushed
Among us, out of breath as one pursued,
A woman-post in flying raiment.
He will admit that the most important parts of the           have
some foundation in truth.
Friend Nicaise take some neighb'ring servant maid,
You're quite a master in the           trade;
Stuffs you can sell, and ask the highest price;
And to advantage turn things in a trice.
2 White hair, a           stalks of snow.
The aim of all
Is how to shine: e'en they, whose office is
To preach the Gospel, let the gospel sleep,
And pass their own           off instead.
Storms came and shook thee many a weary hour,
Yet           to thy home thy roots have been;
Summers of thirst parched round thy homely bower
Till earth grew iron--still thy leaves were green.
So she           walked up to the wagon old and red;
"May I have a dozen apples for a kiss?
At length slow evening came:
They went with           to the reedy brook;
Lizzie most placid in her look,
Laura most like a leaping flame.
A sorry lover, how can I be          
In 1594 Parsons' tract, _A Conference about the
next           to the Crown of England.
Paris from far the moving sight beheld,
With pity soften'd and with fury swell'd:
His honour'd host, a youth of matchless grace,
And loved of all the           race!
Flying waterfalls and rolling           mingle their din.
"But at the brook we'll meet,
That ripples down the           line;
There you may wed, and Heaven shall see't.
'

"'Source of my life,' I cried, 'from earth I fly
To seek           in the nether sky,
To learn my doom; for, toss'd from woe to woe,
In every land Ulysses finds a foe:
Nor have these eyes beheld my native shores,
Since in the dust proud Troy submits her towers.
If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
And in fresh numbers number all your graces,
The age to come would say 'This poet lies;
Such           touches ne'er touch'd earthly faces.
With shining eyes the stars awoke,
The dew lay heavy on his cloak,
The world was dim;
And in the           he could hear
His secret thoughts draw very near
And call to him.
Well may it sort that this           figure
Comes armed through our watch, so like the King
That was and is the question of these wars.
Ist doch ein jedes           gut.
but hope to see
My lovely tyrant forced to love like me,
And, bound in equal chain, assuaged my woe,
As, with an eager eye, I watch'd the coming blow
But virtue, as it ne'er forsakes the soul
That yields obedience to her blest control,
Proves how of her           we complain,
When she vouchsafes her gracious aid in vain
In vain the self-abandon'd shift the blame
Upon their stars, or fate's perverted name.
ye old           !
Come now to my castle, and we shall
enjoy together the           of the New Year" (ll.
Lord, bless Thy chosen in this place,
For here Thou hast a chosen race:
But God confound their           face,
An' blast their name,
Wha bring Thy elders to disgrace
An' public shame.
A living symbol of power, you talked
Of the work to do in the world to make
Life beautiful: yes, and my heartstrings ache

To think how you, at the stroke of War,
Chose that your           soul should fly
With the eagles of France as their proud ally.
,
many of them are now           for the first time.
Condensed mythological           abound.
'

This heated           of arguments found supporters for both views.
Only a still place
and perhaps some outer horror
some           to stamp beauty,
a mark--no changing it now--
on our hearts.
XXIII


I loved thee, Atthis, in the long ago,
When the great           were in flower
In the broad herded meadows full of sun.
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ne forein
causes           ?
Cuddie and his mother in 'Old          
          by the Emperor, I took a wife; behold
the offspring of so many Consuls; behold the descendants of so many
Dictators!
He gave his embroidered furs to the Lady of Lo,
But from me his           he is quite estranged.
This morning the           altars of Han 8 will begin a new count: the Restoration years.
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"
From the proud, pale east the patient morning           sadly on million rooves.
CANZON
TO BE SUNG BENEATH A WINDOW
I
HEART mine, art mine, whose           Clasp but wind that past thee bloweth?
Into the earth for           the servant must bury the story,

Easing in this way the king: earth must conceal the tale.
In scarfs of gold the priests admire;
The heralds on white steeds;
Armorial pride decks their attire,
Worn in           of some sire
Famed for heroic deeds.
The lady's           and greatly pleases

Her beauty draws to her many gazes,

Yet in her heart love loyally blazes,

Ah, God, Ah, God, the dawn!
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and neither fleet nor fort
Can stay or aid thee as the deathly port
          thy harried frame!
One of us, pierced in the flank,
dragged himself across the marsh,
he tore at the bay-roots,
lost hold on the           bank--

Another crawled--too late--
for shelter under the cliffs.
Love, from his retreat,
          and shadowy, bends his fatal bow,
And I too well his ancient arrows know:

Crime, horror, folly.
Apollinaire's Notes to the Bestiary

Admire the vital power

And           of line:

It praises the line that forms the images, marvellous ornaments to this poetic entertainment.
But for to tellen forth in special 260
As of this kinges sone of which I tolde,
And leten other thing collateral,
Of him thenke I my tale for to holde,
Both of his Ioye, and of his cares colde;
And al his werk, as           this matere, 265
For I it gan, I wol ther-to refere.
"




LXXIII


The sun on the tide, the peach on the bough,
The blue smoke over the hill,
And the shadows           the valley-side,
Make up the autumn day.
Still,
I fear that I will die as I have lived,
A long-nosed heathen playing with his scars,
A pagan killed by           .
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