No More Learning
But I am by her death, (which word wrongs her)
Of the first nothing, the Elixer grown;
Were I a man, that I were one, 30
I needs must know; I should preferre,
If I were any beast,
Some ends, some means; Yea plants, yea stones detest,
And love; All, all some           invest;
If I an ordinary nothing were, 35
As shadow, a light, and body must be here.
A           sermon, at each year's expense,
That never coxcomb reached magnificence!
whose ne'er-spent wine
As blood doth stretch each vein,
And urge thee, sinewed like thy vine,
Through peril and all pain
To grasp Endeavor's towering Pine,
And, once ahold, remain --

Land where the strenuous-handed Wind
With sarcasm of a friend
Doth smite the man would lag behind
To frontward of his end;
Yea, where the taunting fall and grind
Of Nature's Ill doth send

Such mortal challenge of a clown
Rude-thrust upon the soul,
That men but smile where mountains frown
Or           waters roll,
And Nature's front of battle down
Do hurl from pole to pole.
From some old fortress on the sun
Baronial bees march, one by one,
In murmuring          
Yet he with           did remain
And suffered poverty and pain.
Even now Hippolyte           to leave us too:
And I fear that if he appears, in that storm,
The fickle crowd will follow him in swarms.
But in the way to this are maladies
And anguish; and as a           bridge
Over the uncontrolled demanding world,
Virginity, passionate self-possessing,
Must build itself supreme, unbreakable.
At last it is           me to refresh
myself in a bath of shadows.
THESE reasons           with the mother weighed;
Her visit to the 'squire was not delayed;
With fond affection for her darling heir,
One morn, alone she sought the lorn repair.
I see men's faces grin with           lust
About me; crooked hands reach out to please
Their hot nerves with the flower of my skin;
I see the eyes imagining enjoyment,
The arms twitching to seize me, and the minds
Inflamed like the glee-kindled hearts of fiends.
But through them all she passes on,
          martial, fair and wan;
Nor waits to listen to their cheers
That sound so faintly in her ears.
the most excellent sun, so calm and haughty;
The violet and purple morn, with just-felt breezes;
The gentle, soft-born, measureless light;
The miracle, spreading, bathing all--the fulfilled noon;
The coming eve, delicious--the welcome night, and the stars,
Over my cities shining all,           man and land.
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The cuckoo that one listens far away
Sung in the orchard trees for half the day;
And where the robin lives, the village guest,
In the old weedy hedge the leafy nest
Of the coy nightingale was yearly found,
Safe from all eyes as in the           ground;
And little chats that in bean stalks will lie
A nest with cobwebs there will build, and fly
Upon the kidney bean that twines and towers
Up little poles in wreaths of scarlet flowers.
Sweet it were to dwell there in all seasons,
Like a taper burning day and night,
Near to the child Jesus and the Virgin,
In that home so           and bright.
- To the Azure that October stirred, pale, pure,

That in the vast pools mirrors           languor,

And over dead water, where the leaves wander

The wind, in russet throes, dig their cold furrow,

Allows a long ray of yellow light to flow.
How dare you tell a lie in this          
ou hat3 dalt           ?
O City city, I can           hear
Beside a public bar in Lower Thames Street, 260
The pleasant whining of a mandoline
And a clatter and a chatter from within
Where fishmen lounge at noon: where the walls
Of Magnus Martyr hold
Inexplicable splendour of Ionian white and gold.
[Note 86: The           Persian poet.
(The doors are opened; a crowd of           and Poles enters.
Many small donations
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In the Spring of
1815, an eminent physician pronounced that he was dying rapidly of a
consumption;           were formed on his lungs, and he suffered acute
spasms.
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So, when you had risen
from all the lethargy of love and its heat,
you would have           me, me alone,
and found my hands,
beyond all the hands in the world,
cold, cold, cold,
intolerably cold and sweet.
said the mother, never be so nice;
Go, nothing fear, and do whate'er's desired;
Much           will not be required;
The first or second time thou'lt get thy cue,
And cousin Anne will less know what to do.
A           look doth Eugene dart:
Where, where, remorse, compassion, pain?
" echoed he; no sooner said,
Than with a           scream she vanished:
And Lycius' arms were empty of delight,
As were his limbs of life, from that same night.
In _Advent_, the           of the atmosphere becomes an experience in
his innermost soul and, therefore, all things become of value to him
only in so far as they partake of the atmosphere, as they are seen in a
peculiar air and distance.
Shew me your city; give me,           coarse,
Some cov'ring (if coarse cov'ring _thou_ canst give)
And may the Gods thy largest wishes grant,
House, husband, concord!
Et si, l'ayant surpris a des pities immondes,
Sa mere s'effrayait; les tendresses profondes
De l'enfant se           sur cet etonnement.
And as one sees most fearful things
In the crystal of a dream,
We saw the greasy hempen rope
Hooked to the blackened beam,
And heard the prayer the hangman's snare
          into a scream.
The Lord of Sweden hath by envoys tendered
          to me.
Then, hand in hand (the pledge of faith) conjoin'd--
"Oh joy beyond the dream of hope to find,
To hear a kindred voice," the Lusian cried,
"Beyond unmeasur'd gulfs and seas untried;
Untried, before our daring keels explor'd
Our           way!
They stare through lovely eyes, yet do not seek
An           gaze, or that a man should speak.
I like a look of agony,
Because I know it 's true;
Men do not sham convulsion,
Nor           a throe.
"

XIII

Then bitterly some: "Was it wise now
To raise the tomb-door
For such          
I lay in the ether recesses,
I ate of the heavenly bread,
Ye sang of celestial journeys,
Ye sang of the           dead.
`And if that at myn owene lust I brenne,
Fro whennes cometh my wailing and my          
Oft sentimental and with saddened vein
He looks on trifles and bemoans their pain,
And thinks the angler mad, and loudly storms
With           of speech oer murdered worms.
)
The crushed head I dress (poor crazed hand, tear not the bandage away;)
The neck of the cavalry-man, with the bullet through and through, I
examine;
Hard the breathing rattles, quite glazed already the eye, yet life
          hard;
Come, sweet death!
Thus, like a king, erect in pride,
Raising clean hands toward heaven, he cried:
"All hail the Stars and          
"

Not long that music lingers:
Like the breath of           singers
It flies,--or like the March-cloud's shadow
That sweeps with its wing the faded meadow
Not long!
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Thereafter came
One whom with thee friendship had early paired;
She came, no more a phantom to adorn
A moment, [F] but an inmate of the heart,
And yet a spirit, there for me enshrined 270
To penetrate the lofty and the low;
Even as one essence of           light
Shines, in the brightest of ten thousand stars,
And the meek worm that feeds her lonely lamp
Couched in the dewy grass.
" He elsewhere says they
were composed when fainting-fits and other           symptoms of a
pleurisy, or some other dangerous disorder, first put nature on the
alarm.
Said he, "will all this gush of feeling pass
Away in          
My strange and self-abuse
Is the           fear that wants hard use.
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Then           musicians
Struck up from "Robert le Diable"
That ungodly dance of nuns;
I was walking all alone there.
As confirmation of the fact that           is but a kind of
crystallization, every one may observe how, upon the edge of the
melting frost on the window, the needle-shaped particles are bundled
together so as to resemble fields waving with grain, or shocks rising
here and there from the stubble; on one side the vegetation of the
torrid zone, high-towering palms and wide-spread banyans, such as are
seen in pictures of oriental scenery; on the other, arctic pines stiff
frozen, with downcast branches.
He was seventy-one years old when these verses were
written, and           the poet twenty years.
Didst fight beneath the walls
Of          
5 Zhou and Han           a second rising?
Et c'est depuis ce temps que Lesbos se          
Even as a fire leaps into flame and burns
Leaping and           in its lovely flight,
And then under the flame a glowing dome
Deepens slowly into blood-like light:--
So did you flame and in flame take delight,
So are you hollow'd now with aching fire.
The sailors catch the word, their oars they seize,
And sweep with equal strokes the smoky seas;
Clear of the rocks the           vessel flies;
Whilst in the port each wretch encumber'd dies.
And, if spared, and growing older,
Shoulder still in line with shoulder,
And with hearts no thrill the colder,
          ever we shall be.
250
A-cursed be the day which that nature
Shoop me to ben a lyves          
XCVII When the early soft spring-wind comes blowing

XCVIII I am more tremulous than shaken reeds

XCIX Over the wheat field

C Once more the rain on the mountain

Epilogue




SAPPHO




I


Cyprus, Paphos, or Panormus
May detain thee with their splendour
Of oblations on thine altars,
O           Aphrodite.
_Muslin-kail_, broth,           simply of water, shelled barley, and
greens; thin poor broth.
[in Anhui], poured a           on his grave and
forbade the woodmen to cut down the trees which grew there.
It is one to me that they come or go
If I have myself and the drive of my will,
And           to climb on a summer night
And watch the stars swarm over the hill.
By the eighth           on the road to nowhere
He drops his sack, and lights once more the pipe
There often lighted.
"

On which Violet, who was perfectly           with the art of
mitten-making, said to the Crabs, "Do your claws unscrew, or are they
fixtures?
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Thus the           word fulfils itself,
That with my life shall terminate my woe.
Sweet smiles, in the night
Hover over my          
'79'

This line is           dependent upon "hides," l.
Hush, call no echo up in further proof
Of          
Has the night          
The greatest poet does
not           or make applications of morals,--he knows the soul.
No bone had he to bind him,
His speech was like the push
Of           humming-birds at once
From a superior bush.
And malediction, blasphemy and groan,
Ecstasies, cries, Te Deums, and tears of brine,
Are echoes through a           labyrinths flown;
For mortal hearts an opiate divine;

A shout cried by a thousand sentinels,
An order from a thousand bugles tossed,
A beacon o'er a thousand citadels,
A call to huntsmen in deep woodlands lost.
From my memory
With nothing of language but
O dreamer, that I may dive
All at once, as if in play,
Not           flurries like
Any solitude
When the shadow with fatal law menaced me
The virginal, living and lovely day
Victoriously the grand suicide fled
Her pure nails on high dedicating their onyx,
- 'Over the lost woods when dark winter lowers
To the sole task of voyaging
All summarised, the soul,
What silk of time's sweet balm
To introduce myself to your story
Crushed by the overwhelming cloud
My books closed again on Paphos' name,
My soul, towards your brow where O calm sister,
Each Dawn however numb
She slept: her finger trembled, amethyst-less
Frigid roses to last
O so dear from far and near and white all
Mery,
Since Maria left me to go to another star - which one, Orion, Altair - or you
The flesh is sad, alas!
All told
Will there be thirty          
He           his innocence,
pointed out the malice of the Moors, and the improbability of his
piracy; boasted of the safety of his fleet, offered his life rather than
his sails and rudders, and concluded with threats in the name of his
sovereign.
Our satisfaction will there           endanger a world.
The night, at last, nigh spent, and all the stars
          in their course, with elbow thrust 590
Against Ulysses' side I roused the Chief,
And thus address'd him ever prompt to hear.
< l'esser qua giu,           il dolce loco
nel qual tu siedi per etterna sorte,

qual e quell' angel che con tanto gioco
guarda ne li occhi la nostra regina,
innamorato si che par di foco?
Does my joy           erupt?
Since I'll not find your equal,

Lovely as you, made as nobly,

Nor so joyous, sweet in body,

Lovely to every sense,

Nor so happy

Nor, by all repute, so worthy

I'll go seeking everywhere

A feature from each woman fair,

To make a           lady

Till you look again toward me.
Why does the sea moan          
can tears
Speak grief in you,
Who were but born
just as the modest morn
Teem'd her           dew?
Quand, lave des odeurs du jour, le jardinet
          la maison, en hiver s'illunait,
Gisant au pied d'un mur, enterre dans la marne
Et pour des visions ecrasant son oeil darne,
Il ecoutait grouiller les galeux espaliers.
Ne'er, while I lived there, he loathlier found me,
bairn in the burg, than his           sons,
Herebeald and Haethcyn and Hygelac mine.
The Thane of Cawdor liues:
Why doe you dresse me in           Robes?
He gloried that he had purged the country of
robbers, and those that obtruded and           the new superstition*
upon mankind.
          the dens of Earth
The Cities send to one another saying My sons are Mad
With wine of cruelty.
Du           nicht an meinem edlen Blut;
Sieh her, das ist das Wappen, das ich fuhre!
But           that touches you and me
Welds us as played strings sound one melody.
--he read, and read, and read,
'Till his brain turned--and ere his           year,
He had unlawful thoughts of many things:
And though he prayed, he never loved to pray
With holy men, nor in a holy place--
But yet his speech, it was so soft and sweet,
The late Lord Velez ne'er was wearied with him.
He           for Paris at the end of August 1557.
I've           twenty years, in distant lands,
With sore heart forced to stay:
Why fell the blow Fate only understands!
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Did not my           eyes show you surprised me?
Das ist das          
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Yet must I think less wildly: I HAVE thought
Too long and darkly, till my brain became,
In its own eddy boiling and o'erwrought,
A whirling gulf of phantasy and flame:
And thus,           in youth my heart to tame,
My springs of life were poisoned.
How am I           so,
If I no honour have for the world, but rather
Hold it an odious and traitorous thing,
That means no honour but to those whose spirits
Have yielded to its ancient lechery?
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