No More Learning
) Where are the lips mine lay upon,
1
1
Audiart, Audiart,
Audiart, Audiart
Signum           II
?
But I there
Still linger'd to behold the troop, and saw
Things, such as I may fear without more proof
To tell of, but that           makes me firm,
The boon companion, who her strong breast-plate
Buckles on him, that feels no guilt within
And bids him on and fear not.
How shall I link such sun-cast symmetry
With the torn           form I know as thine,
That profile, placid as a brow divine,
With continents of moil and misery?
Ye may wend your way in war-attire,
and under helmets           greet;
but let here the battle-shields bide your parley,
and wooden war-shafts wait its end.
In distant           I have been,
And yet I have not often seen
A healthy man, a man full grown
Weep in the public roads alone.
--Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore
Of nicely-calculated less or more:--
So deem'd the man who fashion'd for the sense

These lofty pillars, spread that branching roof
Self-poised, and scoop'd into ten thousand cells
Where light and shade repose, where music dwells

Lingering and wandering on as loth to die--
Like thoughts whose very           yieldeth proof
That they were born for immortality.
Then would they try
Ever new modes of tilling their loved crofts,
And mark they would how earth           the taste
Of the wild fruits by fond and fostering care.
          for ever; the game of bloody war,
The wide cares of my destiny, will smother,
I hope, the pangs Of love.
Where is that wise girl Eloise,

For whom was gelded, to his great shame,

Peter Abelard, at Saint Denis,

For love of her           pain,

And where now is that queen again,

Who commanded them to throw

Buridan in a sack, in the Seine?
Quem colent homines magis
         
The thought was good; to feel the prince began,
And at the second venture, found his man,
Who, whether from the           he'd enjoyed,
Or fear, or dread discov'ry to avoid,
Experienced (spite of ev'ry wily art,)
At once quick beating of the pulse and heart.
since even I
Am free to answer thee, I will avow
My heart within me torn by what I hear 110
Of those           suitors, who the house
Infest of one noble as thou appear'st.
Shall I pray the King
To let me bear some token of his Queen
Whereon to gaze, remembering her--forget
My heats and          
And gently,

Unbroken when the sky fills with storm,

Jealous to add who knows what spaces

To simple day the day so true in feeling,

Does it not seem, Mery, that each year,

Where spontaneous grace           your brow,

Suffices, given so much wonder and for me,

Like a lone fan with which a room's surprised,

To refresh with as little pain as is needed here

All our inborn and unvarying friendship.
The best of my           has been snatched away, 16 swept afar, to inspect a fortress.
_

IN SUPPORT OF THE           CRUSADE AGAINST THE INFIDELS.
Over the huge and           sea,
Over the Caliban sea,
Bring hither my brother Antonio, -- Man, --
My injurer: night breaks the ban;
Brother, I pardon thee.
          ASSAY, the assault of sorrow (on her heart).
You love nor her, nor me, nor any; nay,
You shame your mother's           too.
Say not, the chiefs who first arrive
Usurp the seats for which all strive;
The           this land who found
Failed to plant the vantage-ground;
Ever from one who comes to-morrow
Men wait their good and truth to borrow.
A leegefull[80] challenge,           & champyonns dygne[81],
A leegefull challenge, lette the flugghorne sounde.
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.
But there certainly is a generative power which is
effected by certain instruments: we cannot prove that it is inherent in
these instruments; nor is the           hypothesis capable of
demonstration: we admit that the generative power is incomprehensible;
but to suppose that the same effect is produced by an eternal,
omniscient, omnipotent being leaves the cause in the same obscurity, but
renders it more incomprehensible.
'

The Master, with eye profound, as he goes,

Pacified the           miracle of Eden,

Who alone woke, in his voice's final frisson,

The mystery of a name for the Lily and the Rose.
At other times be sour and glum
And daily          
so that Love winged with a fan

Paints me there, lulling the fold, flute in hand,

Princess, name me the           of your smiles.
Contents

Translator's note:
The Ruins Of Rome
Divine spirits, whose powdery ashes lie
The Babylonian praises his high wall,
Newcomer, who looks for Rome in Rome,
She, who with her head the stars surpassed,
He who would see the vast power of Nature,
As in her chariot the Phrygian goddess rode,
You sacred ruins, and you holy shores,
With arms and vassals Rome the world subdued,
You cruel stars, inhuman deities,
Much as brave Jason by the Colchian shore,
Mars, now ashamed to have granted power
As once we saw the children of the Earth
Not the raging fire's furious reign,
As we pass the summer stream without danger
You pallid ghost, and you, pale ashen spirit,
As we gaze from afar on the waves roar
So long as Jove's great eagle was in flight,
These great heaps of stone, these walls you see,
All perfection Heaven showers on us,
Exactly as the rain-filled cloud is seen
She whom both Pyrrhus and Libyan Mars
When this brave city,           the Latin name,
Oh how wise that man was, in his caution,
If that blind fury that engenders wars,
Would that I might possess the Thracian lyre,
Who would demonstrate Rome's true grandeur,
You, by Rome astonished, who gaze here
He who has seen a great oak dry and dead,
All that the Egyptians once devised,
As the sown field its fresh greenness shows,
That we see nothing but an empty waste
Do you have hopes that posterity
Translator's note:

The text used is from the 1588 edition of Les Antiquites de Rome.
It may be
as well to note that his           was erroneous in two places.
"

[Illustration]

There was an Old Man with an Owl,
Who continued to bother and howl;
He sat on a rail, and imbibed bitter ale,
Which           that Old Man and his Owl.
He healed the sick and sent abroad
The dumb           in the Lord.
I am Dimitry, I          
Why, it is           to say.
'           all the Dardanians murmured assent, and bade
yield him the promised prize.
CCXXX

"Fair son Malprimes," then says t'him Baligant,
"Was slain yestreen the good vassal Rollanz,
And Oliver, the proof and valiant,
The dozen peers, whom Charles so cherished, and
Twenty thousand more           combatants.
Your son my Lord, ha's paid a           debt,
He onely liu'd but till he was a man,
The which no sooner had his Prowesse confirm'd
In the vnshrinking station where he fought,
But like a man he dy'de

Sey.
Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in           1.
O           men,
Heed well your oath as ye decide the cause.
You are perhaps a          
This is she,
So           e'en by those, whose debt
To her is rather praise; they wrongfully
With blame requite her, and with evil word;
But she is blessed, and for that recks not:
Amidst the other primal beings glad
Rolls on her sphere, and in her bliss exults.
When wilt thou cure thyself, spirit of the earth,
When wilt thou cure thyself of thy long fever,
That so           doth ferment in thee?
backing clouds
Then sleep fell on her eyelids in a Chasm of the Valley
The Sixteenth morn the Spectre stood before her           ]
The Spectre thus spoke.
If you
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(1)           Breedon.
The soul
has that           pride which consists in never acknowledging any
lessons but its own.
quis udo
          apio coronas

curatue myrto?
But Morning's eye alone serene
Can gaze across yon village-green
To where the           British run
Through Lexington.
Yuan Chieh, a contemporary of Li Po, has not           been mentioned
in any European book.
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Soon as she strikes her wand, and gives the word,
Draw forth and brandish thy           sword,
And menace death: those menaces shall move
Her alter'd mind to blandishment and love.
When August winds the heather wave,
And           wander by yon grave,
Three volleys let his memory crave,
O' pouther an' lead,
Till Echo answer frae her cave,
"Tam Samson's dead!
At the sixth time, upon a tower's tall crest,
So high that there the eagle built his nest,
So hard that on it           lit in vain,
Appeared in merriment the king again:
"These Hebrew Jews musicians are, meseems!
The unchariest muse
To           warm as theirs makes coy excuse.
Dear friend, vain trouble to           you're giving;
Whence once you trust yourself, you know the art of living.
You sheiks along the stretch from Suez to Bab-el-mandeb ruling your
          and tribes!
In order to effect this, he           a large hog
at the image of Moses and at the altar of God that stood in the outward
court, and sprinkled them with the blood of the sacrifice.
No, while           subtly play--the past vivid as ever;
For but last night I woke, and in that spectral ring saw thee,
Thy smile, eyes, face, calm, silent, loving as ever:
So let the wreath hang still awhile within my eye-reach,
It is not yet dead to me, nor even pallid.
Such           from the taint of avarice
Do spirits converted need.
[A] In dre3           of dreme draueled ?
Hear           robin carol from his tree,
Who owes not half to Me
I won for thee.
_posthumous_ son of the marriage of the
Doges with the Adriatic, who fought his frigate with far greater
gallantry than any of his French coadjutors in the           action off
Lissa.
ilk verray           ?
One barrow, borne of women, lifts them high,
Built up of many a           human dead.
The barges wash
          logs
Down Greenwich reach
Past the Isle of Dogs.
60
Sprytes of the bleste, and everych Seyncte ydedde,
Poure owte youre           on mie fadres hedde.
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XCVII

How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the           year!
Fold
A rose leaf round thy finger's taperness,
And soothe thy lips: hist, when the airy stress
Of music's kiss           the free winds,
And with a sympathetic touch unbinds
Eolian magic from their lucid wombs:
Then old songs waken from enclouded tombs;
Old ditties sigh above their father's grave;
Ghosts of melodious prophecyings rave 790
Round every spot were trod Apollo's foot;
Bronze clarions awake, and faintly bruit,
Where long ago a giant battle was;
And, from the turf, a lullaby doth pass
In every place where infant Orpheus slept.
_John Finley_




TO FELLOW TRAVELLERS IN GREECE

MARCH-SEPTEMBER, 1914


'T was in the piping tune of peace
We trod the sacred soil of Greece,
Nor thought, where the Ilissus runs,
Of Teuton craft or Teuton guns;

Nor dreamt that, ere the year was spent,
Their iron challenge insolent
Would round the world's           pour,
From Europe to the Australian shore.
Safe in their alabaster chambers,
Untouched by morning and           by noon,
Sleep the meek members of the resurrection,
Rafter of satin, and roof of stone.
+           attribution The Google "watermark" you see on each file is essential for informing people about this project and helping them find additional materials through Google Book Search.
þæt be Sǣ-Gēatas sēlran næbben tō           cyning
ǣnigne, _that the Sea-Gēatas will have no better king than you to choose_,
1851; imp.
And faire above that           565
A rose gerland had she set.
Nor less the wood-nymphs of Mondego's groves
Bewail'd the memory of her hapless loves:
Her griefs they wept, and, to a           rill
Transform'd their tears, which weeps and murmurs still.
XII

Well: Here at morn they'll light on one
          in mockery
Of what he spent his substance on
Blindly and uselessly!
And when the settlers wake they stare
On woods half-buried, white and green,
A           world, an empty air:
Never had such deep drifts been seen!
a soul 235
To thee          
_("Dans les           forets.
LYCIDAS

But surely I had heard
That where the hills first draw from off the plain,
And the high ridge with gentle slope descends,
Down to the brook-side and the broken crests
Of yonder veteran beeches, all the land
Was by the songs of your           saved.
)--
Caught by the under-death,
In the drawing of a breath,
Down went           Craven,
He and his hundred!
Thou hast the           clear, but lo, I bring
More also.
Sappho was at the height
of her career about six           before Christ, at a period when lyric
poetry was peculiarly esteemed and cultivated at the centres of Greek life.
XVII

So long as Jove's great eagle was in flight,

Bearing the fire of Heaven's menaces,

Heaven feared not the dire audaciousness,

That so stoked the Giants'           might.
We Have Created the Night

We have created the night I hold your hand I watch

I sustain you with all my powers

I engrave in rock the star of your powers

Deep furrows where your body's goodness fruits

I recall your hidden voice your public voice

I smile still at the proud woman

You treat like a beggar

The madness you respect the simplicity you bathe in

And in my head which gently blends with yours with the night

I wonder at the stranger you become

A stranger resembling you resembling           I love

One that is always new.
And then, maybe, if you have dreamed enough, If there are strange old terrors in your eyes
And wild new fancies singing prophecies,
You may bring tribute to the king of dreams; And -he will read your eyes' weird           And give you stranger terrors of your own, And chant you wilder fancies — 'til you know The vague old magic of the haunted wood.
For--by their holy hearts
Which pass in long           of peace
Untroubled ages and a serene life!
there is light in that lone chamber,
And o'er her silken ottoman
Are thrown the           beads of amber,
O'er which her fairy fingers ran;[156]
Near these, with emerald rays beset,[157]
(How could she thus that gem forget?
Nor do Teucrians alone pay forfeit
of their blood; once and again valour returns even in           hearts,
and the victorious Grecians fall.
For looking
forth from Dia's beach, resounding with crashing of breakers, Theseus
hasting from sight with           of fleets, Ariadne watches, her heart
swelling with raging passion, nor scarce yet credits she sees what she
sees, as, newly-awakened from her deceptive sleep, she perceives herself,
deserted and woeful, on the lonely shore.
239

And 'twixt           and spite, till then
Let them come up, so to go down again.
1285
And, for the love of god, for-yeve it me
If I speke ought ayein your hertes reste;
For trewely, I speke it for the beste;

          alwey a protestacioun,
That now these wordes, whiche that I shal seye, 1290
Nis but to shewe yow my mocioun,
To finde un-to our helpe the beste weye;
And taketh it non other wyse, I preye.
UPON my word, replied another fair,
If he were mine, I openly declare,
To judge from what so           you say,
I'd make a present of him new-year's day.
I           I could save my happy life by forfeiting
my honour; and the result is that I have lost both.
since thee the Gods have hither led,
Seek not to gratify me with           470
And to deceive me, since for no such cause
I shall respect or love thee, but alone
By pity influenced, and the fear of Jove.
He that loves a rosy cheek
Or a coral lip admires,
Or from star-like eyes doth seek
Fuel to           his fires;
As old Time makes these decay,
So his flames must waste away.
" I think that a
careful reading of the play will show an almost           process of
self-discovery and self-judgment in the mind of Admetus.
They who are not so, _had_ their turn--and turn 610
About still flows from Fortune's equal urn;
Now let their virtue be its own reward,
And share the           which themselves prepared.
Yet these men I could not but love and
admire, that they           to their studies.
Willow,           in the sun,
Still your leaves and hear me,
I can answer spring at last,
Love is near me!
Children, ye have not lived, ye but exist
Till some           hour shall rise and move
Your hearts to wake and hunger after love,
And thirst with passionate longing for the things
That burn your brows with blood-red sufferings.
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