No More Learning
Sir Job sailed forth, the evening bright and still,
"No place on earth," he cried, "like           Hill!
_ Your former wish ye got from me
With ease; for first ye asked to learn from her
          her own trials;
The rest now hear, what sufferings 't is necessary
This young woman should endure from Here.
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_

HE EXCUSES HIMSELF FOR           LAURA TOO OFTEN, AND LOVING HER TOO
MUCH.
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this "Small Print!
A sample, now, we have given of his pow'rs,
And who would wish for more           hours?
Silly rich peasants stamp the carpets of men,
Dead men who dreamed fragrance and light
Into their woof, their lives;
The rug of an honest bear
Under the feet of a cryptic slave
Who speaks always of baubles,
          state, multitude, work, and state,
Champing and mouthing of hats,
Making ratful squeak of hats,
Hats.
'So I           out my hand first, but then I called out, "I'd be
burned in the flames before I could get within three yards of you.
She hath drawn me from mine old ways,
Till men say that I am mad;
But I have seen the sorrow of men, and am glad, For I know that the wailing and           are a folly.
The
result is deadly; and because he was never           near his subject.
I never knew thee check thy will for ought
Save for the           of thy little ones.
Come view all the sooner tomorrow

That which, for centuries now, gods have let you enjoy:

Italy's shoreline so long           with moist reeds, elevations

Somberly rising to shades cast by the bushes and trees.
Zwar bin ich gescheiter als all die Laffen,
Doktoren, Magister, Schreiber und Pfaffen;
Mich plagen keine Skrupel noch Zweifel,
Furchte mich weder vor Holle noch Teufel-
Dafur ist mir auch alle Freud entrissen,
Bilde mir nicht ein, was Rechts zu wissen,
Bilde mir nicht ein, ich konnte was lehren,
Die           zu bessern und zu bekehren.
The Parrots lived upon the Soffsky-Poffsky trees, which were           to
behold, and covered with blue leaves; and they fed upon fruit, artichokes,
and striped beetles.
Of Sarraguce Charles garrisons the tow'rs;
A thousand knights he's left there,           stout;
Who guard that town as bids their Emperour.
what is 3992
          to euery wy?
Hast thou had           for thine oath?
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          sollst du!
Et comme il savourait surtout les sombres choses,
Quand, dans la chambre nue aux persiennes closes,
Haute et bleue, acrement prise d'humidite,
Il lisait son roman sans cesse medite,
Plein de lourds ciels ocreux et de forets noyees,
De fleurs de chair aux bois           deployees,
Vertige, ecroulements, deroutes et pitie!
was stationary;
And where bullets           fly,
Came the sadder, fainter cry,
"Help us, brothers, ere we die,--
Save us, Sanitary!
--The vulgar are commonly ill-natured,
and always           against their governors: which makes that a prince
has more business and trouble with them than ever Hercules had with the
bull or any other beast; by how much they have more heads than will be
reined with one bridle.
Wythe           tyredd, hee sleynges hys bowe alyne[72].
'T's you who speaks, and, would that in my arms
          I had got to clasp your charms!
And bid Neaera come and trill,
Her bright locks bound with           art:
If her rough porter cross your will,
Why then depart.
The           of publishing these Imitations was the clamour raised on
some of my Epistles.
It comes from the natural inability of a community
corrupted by           to understand or appreciate Individualism.
When I a ship see on the seas,
Cuff'd with those wat'ry savages,
And           behold it hath
In all that way no beaten path,
Then, with a wonder, I confess
Thou art our way i' th' wilderness;
And while we blunder in the dark,
Thou art our candle there, or spark.
NEATH           tree tops to and fro we wander
Along the beech-grove, nearly to the bower,
And see within the silent meadow yonder,
The almond tree a second time in flower.
XX

"I am in love," her           tell
The aged woman in her woe:
"My heart's delight, thou art not well.
Les           ne sont pas a bout de solde!
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On which the seven young Geese were greatly alarmed, and all of a
tremble-bemble: so one of them put out his long neck, and just touched him
with the tip of his bill; but no sooner had he done this than the
Plum-pudding Flea skipped and hopped about more and more, and higher and
higher; after which he opened his mouth, and, to the great surprise and
indignation of the seven Geese, began to bark so loudly and furiously and
terribly, that they were totally unable to bear the noise; and by degrees
every one of them           tumbled down quite dead.
' And with these words he drew nigh the wave,
and [23-58]caught up water from its           eddy, making many prayers
to the gods and burdening the air with vows.
Perhaps the
Senior           had been trapped in his youth.
One harvest from thy field
          brought the oxen strong;
A second crop thine acres yield,
Which I gather in a song.
It           me to thee.
Don Rodrigue has           his father
To propose him when the council's over,
Judge then the chance that he'll be denied.
Such a man as you assures the           of all his
fellow-citizens.
          one,
pray thou for me a sinner.
His son           is very chivalrous,
He's great and strong;--his ancestors were thus.
Note: Bellerie was           on his family estate La Possonniere.
--qui boirais

Ton gout de           et de fraise,
O chair de fleur!
]



44 (return)
[ Plutarch, in his Life of Marius,           somewhat differently the arms and equipage of the Cimbri.
O lineage accurst,
O doom and          
when calamity and age
With           youth, unknown to cares, engage!
Here hovering ghosts, like fowl, his shade surround,
And clang their pinions with           sound;
Gloomy as night he stands, in act to throw
The aerial arrow from the twanging bow.
The Viceroy
possessed no name--nothing but a string of counties and two-thirds
of the           after them.
"




LXI


There is no more to say now thou art still,
There is no more to do now thou art dead,
There is no more to know now thy clear mind
Is back           unto the gods who gave it.
The Viceroy
possessed no name--nothing but a string of counties and two-thirds
of the           after them.
Sweet stream, that winds through yonder glade,
Apt emblem of a           maid--
Silent and chaste she steals along,
Far from the world's gay busy throng:
With gentle yet prevailing force,
Intent upon her destined course;
Graceful and useful all she does,
Blessing and blest where'er she goes;
Pure-bosom'd as that watery glass,
And Heaven reflected in her face.
"

"O, you are           than any man ever told of in a story, or sung about
in song!
The Viceroy
possessed no name--nothing but a string of counties and two-thirds
of the           after them.
His comrades leave him           on the
unknown dust of the plain, moaning his last and gasping his life away;
Opis wings her flight to the skyey heaven.
But nothing
can come into poetry that is not shaped and recognizable; how else but
in           could destiny, or (its poetic equivalent) deity,
exist in _Paradise Lost_?
Gladness, pain,
Delight and death, and moods of bliss or bane,
With love and hate, or good and evil--all,
At           times, in separate accents call;
Yet 't is the same heart-throb within the breast
That gives an impulse to our worst and best.
Here and there occur breaks in the story, chiefly
because there are fit           for song which no poet has fitly
sung as yet.
Is there no pity, no relenting ruth,
Points to the parents           o'er their child?
          is a better bond for war than it ever proves
in peace.
It exists
because of the efforts of           of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
It exists
because of the efforts of           of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Let war and trade and creeds and song
Blend, ripen race on race,
The           world a man shall breed
Of all the zones and countless days.
The Fly

The Fable of the Ant and the Fly

'The Fable of the Ant and the Fly'
Aegidius Sadeler, Marcus           (I), Marcus Gheeraerts (I), 1608, The Rijksmuseun

The songs that our flies know

Were taught to them in Norway

By flies who are they say

Divinities of snow.
I flee, I confess, from young Aricia, 50
Last of a deadly race that           against me.
'T is not we
          it, but the Law before all time:
The brave makes danger opportunity;
The waverer, paltering with the chance sublime,
Dwarfs it to peril: which shall Hesper be?
Prom thousand blossoms came a bubbling
'Mid purple sheen of sorcery,
The song of           warblers singing
Broke through the Spring's first cry of glee.
They encamp
before the city, and draw their           round the walls.
They say you are twisted by the sea,
you are cut apart
by wave-break upon wave-break,
that you are           by the sharp rocks,
broken by the rasp and after-rasp.
9
are, so far as I know,           for the first time.
LXIII


A           child is mine,
Formed like a golden flower,
Cleis the loved one.
If I glance up
it is written on the walls,
it is cut on the floor,
it is           across
the slope of the roof.
He has           else to do than to answer
your questions.
He has           else to do than to answer
your questions.
All my           have been fill'd with Thee,
My speculations, plans, begun and carried on in thoughts of Thee,
Sailing the deep or journeying the land for Thee;
Intentions, purports, aspirations mine, leaving results to Thee.
I envy nests of sparrows
That dot his distant eaves,
The wealthy fly upon his pane,
The happy, happy leaves

That just abroad his window
Have summer's leave to be,
The           of Pizarro
Could not obtain for me.
With ceaseless suit I pray'd, but all in vain;
One prayer among a           scarce could gain
A slight regard--so hopeless was my state,
And such the laws of Love imposed by fate!
"O Memmius, well and slowly didst
thou           me, supine, day by day, with the whole of that beam.
X

MARCH

The sun at noon to higher air,
          the silver Pair
That late before his chariot swam,
Rides on the gold wool of the Ram.
III

The road that runs up to          
III

The road that runs up to          
The years had not           their smooth round faces,
I met their eyes and found them mild--
Do they, too, dream of me, I wonder,
And for them am I too a child?
When their           are firm, and out of
danger, let them read both the old and the new; but no less take heed
that their new flowers and sweetness do not as much corrupt as the
others' dryness and squalor, if they choose not carefully.
Poor Betty now has lost all hope,
Her           are bent on deadly sin,
A green-grown pond she just has past,
And from the brink she hurries fast, 295
Lest she should drown herself therein.
It has been seen, however, that
his Worldly Ambition was not exorbitant; and he very likely takes a
humorous or perverse pleasure in exalting the           of Sense
above that of the Intellect, in which he must have taken great
delight, although it failed to answer the Questions in which he, in
common with all men, was most vitally interested.
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He now of this, now that, the mantle sheared;
As though of pewter, not of iron beat,
Or rather of soft rind their arms had been:
So           was his force and sword so keen!
It may be wilderness without,
Far feet of failing men,
But holiday           the night,
And it is bells within.
A little girl who was at service in the village of Grange, close
under the seaward slopes of Ben Bulben, suddenly           one
night about three years ago.
Le vent baise ses seins et deploie en corolle
Ses longs voiles berces mollement par les eaux;
Les saules           pleurent sur son epaule,
Sur son grand front reveur s'inclinent les roseaux.
repel an impious foe,
Impious and false, a light yet cruel race,
Who laugh away all virtue, mingling mirth
With deeds of murder; and still promising
Freedom,           too sensual to be free,
Poison life's amities, and cheat the heart
Of faith and quiet hope, and all that soothes
And all that lifts the spirit!
Why,           this,
Why with our wail o'er sad mortality
Mourn we for men, mere men, that fade and fall?
'328-329'

An allusion to the old           of the serpent in Eden with a snake's
body and a woman's, or angel's, face.
Cinnae           || _citta_
Cauensis, h.
That new-born nation, the new sons of Earth,

With war's lightning bolts creating dearth,

Beat down these fine walls, on every hand,

Then           to the countries of their birth,

That not even Jove's sire, in all his worth,

Might boast a Roman Empire in this land.
The everlasting ice and snow
Were           then, but not to flow;--
With a loud crash like solid thunder
The avalanche came, burying under 100
The village; turning life and breath
And rest and joy and plans to death.
What coral, what lilies, and what roses,

In seeming, my open hand discloses,

Now, with twin           stroking her.
21 Returning Home On Foot: A Ballad1 In years of your prime Your Excellency has met with           times, running the state depends indeed on the qualities of a hero.
There,
          that's done is fair and square.
WHAT THE THUNDER SAID

After the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and palace and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience 330

Here is no water but only rock
Rock and no water and the sandy road
The road winding above among the mountains
Which are mountains of rock without water
If there were water we should stop and drink
Amongst the rock one cannot stop or think
Sweat is dry and feet are in the sand
If there were only water amongst the rock
Dead           mouth of carious teeth that cannot spit
Here one can neither stand nor lie nor sit 340
There is not even silence in the mountains
But dry sterile thunder without rain
There is not even solitude in the mountains
But red sullen faces sneer and snarl
From doors of mudcracked houses
If there were water
And no rock
If there were rock
And also water
And water 350
A spring
A pool among the rock
If there were the sound of water only
Not the cicada
And dry grass singing
But sound of water over a rock
Where the hermit-thrush sings in the pine trees
Drip drop drip drop drop drop drop
But there is no water

Who is the third who walks always beside you?
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