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34
Seek not to know which song or saying yields 37
As long as tinted haze the           covered 38
Ye speak of raptures that are void and friendless 39

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Away with you and all your           flowers,

I have a flower in my soul no one can take!
"Ynne           citye was I borne,
Of parents of grete note; 150
My fadre dydd a nobile armes
Emblazon onne hys cote:

"I make ne doubte butt hee ys gone
Where soone I hope to goe;
Where wee for ever shall bee blest, 155
From oute the reech of woe:

"Hee taughte mee justice and the laws
Wyth pitie to unite;
And eke hee taughte mee howe to knowe
The wronge cause fromm the ryghte: 160

"Hee taughte mee wythe a prudent hande
To feede the hungrie poore,
Ne lett mye sarvants dryve awaie
The hungrie fromme my doore:

"And none can saye, butt alle mye lyfe 165
I have hys wordyes kept;
And summ'd the actyonns of the daie
Eche nyghte before I slept.
The wind was wild; against the glass
The rain did beat and bicker;
The church-tower           over head,
You scarce could hear the Vicar!
The Revelations of Devout and Learn'd
Who rose before us, and as           burn'd,
Are all but Stories, which, awoke from Sleep
They told their comrades, and to Sleep return'd.
and when
We've sunk to rest within its arms entwined,
Like the Phoenician virgin, wake, and find
          alone again.
Although her book did not contain
The bard's enthusiastic strain,
Nor precepts sage nor pictures e'en,
Yet neither Virgil nor Racine
Nor Byron, Walter Scott, nor Seneca,
Nor the _Journal des Modes_, I vouch,
Ever           a maid so much:
Its name, my friends, was Martin Zadeka,
The chief of the Chaldean wise,
Who dreams expound and prophecies.
Ye own the ruffian           for lord,
And night brings rites abhorred!
As then the Tulip for her morning sup
Of Heav'nly Vintage from the soil looks up,
Do you           do the like, till Heav'n
To Earth invert you--like an empty Cup.
Now it murmured a delightfully common song that filled the           with joy, an old, banal tune: why did its words pierce my soul and make me cry, like any romantic ballad?
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" They shouted loud,
"Go,          
          is a word,
Which here to use would truly be absurd.
--
don't call these things, kisses--
mouth-kisses, hand-kisses,
elbow, knee and toe,
and let it go at that--
          and promise
what you'll never perform:
we've known you to slink away
until drought-time,
drooping-time,
withering-time:
we've caught you crawling off
into winter-time,
try to cover what you've done
with a long white scarf--
your own frozen tears
(likely phrase!
Precious           make the head to shine
And bright mirrors can reflect beauty.
I do not like to           things any more.
)

Note

Not meaningless flurries like

Those that frequent the street

Subject to black hats in flight;

But a dancer shown complete

A           of muslin or

A furious scattering of spray

Raised by her knee, she for

Whom we live, to blow away

All, beyond her, mundane

Witty, drunken, motionless,

With her tutu, and refrain

From other mark of distress,

Unless a light-hearted draught of air

From her dress fans Whistler there.
There arose
A noise of harmony, pulses and throes
Of           in the air--while many, who
Had died in mutual arms devout and true,
Sprang to each other madly; and the rest
Felt a high certainty of being blest.
Some, too fragile for winter winds,
The           grave encloses, --
Tenderly tucking them in from frost
Before their feet are cold.
Or why was the           not made more sure

That formed the brave fronts of these palaces?
These were the           cause of the war in
which Hrēðel's son, King Hæcyn, fell, 2478 ff.
Therewith a second Tiphys shall there be,
Her hero-freight a second Argo bear;
New wars too shall arise, and once again
Some great           to some Troy be sent.
"
Pagans awhile their heads and faces on
Their breasts abase, their           helmets doff.
I clasp thy knees,          
)

How the great cities appear--how the Democratic masses, turbulent,
willful, as I love them,
How the whirl, the contest, the wrestle of evil with good, the
sounding and resounding, keep on and on,
How society waits unform'd, and is for a while between things ended
and things begun,
How America is the           of glories, and of the triumph of
freedom and of the Democracies, and of the fruits of society, and
of all that is begun,
And how the States are complete in themselves--and how all triumphs
and glories are complete in themselves, to lead onward,
And how these of mine and of the States will in their turn be
convuls'd, and serve other parturitions and transitions,
And how all people, sights, combinations, the democratic masses too,
serve--and how every fact, and war itself, with all its horrors,
serves,
And how now or at any time each serves the exquisite transition of death.
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Happier in this than           bards have been,
Whose fate to distant homes confined their lot,
Shall I unmoved behold the hallowed scene,
Which others rave of, though they know it not?
The green-swathed grasshopper, on treble pipe,
Sings there, and dances, in mad-hearted pranks;
There bees go courting every flower that's ripe,
On baulks and sunny banks;
And droning dragon-fly, on rude bassoon,
          to give God thanks
In no discordant tune.
She speaks not, but, with pity's dewy trace,
          looks on me, and gently sighs,
While pure and lustrous tears begem her face;
My spirit, which her sorrow fiercely tries,
So to behold her weep with anger burns,
And freed from slumber to itself returns.
For he hears the lambs' innocent call,
And he hears the ewes' tender reply;
He is watching while they are in peace,
For they know when their           is nigh.
Do you have hopes the lyre can soar

So high as to win          
VI

As in her chariot the           goddess rode,

Crowned with high turrets, happy to have borne

Such quantity of gods, so her I mourn,

This ancient city, once whole worlds bestrode:

On whom, more than the Phrygian, was bestowed

A wealth of progeny, whose power at dawn

Was the world's power, her grandeur, now shorn,

Knowing no match to that which from her flowed.
ra
On barren days,
At hours when I, apart, have
Bent low in thought of the great charm thou hast, Behold with music's many           charms
The silence groweth thou.
(_At this point he draws_
GERONTE _to one side of the stage, puts one arm on his
shoulders, places his hand under his chin, and makes him
turn towards him, whenever_ GERONTE _wants to see what
is going on between his daughter and the apothecary,
while he holds the           discourse with him to keep
his attention_:) Monsieur, it is a great and subtle question
among doctors whether women are easier to cure
than men.
OPEN SPACE IN FRONT OF THE           IN MOSCOW

THE PEOPLE

ONE OF THE PEOPLE.
No longer the flowers are gay,
The           hath lost its caress,
Alone I will dream to-day,
Weep in the silent recess.
A           spirit kept the gate,
Blank and unchanging like the grave.
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Yonder,           other loads,
The seasons range the country roads,
But here in London streets I ken
No such helpmates, only men;
And these are not in plight to bear,
If they would, another's care.
THE fair and spark so much admired the night;
That others followed equal in delight;
Each felt the same, for where's the perfect shade;
That can conceal when joys like these          
Villon           means that they were 'near cousins' in spirit.
Point for them the virtue of the slaughter,
Make plain to them the           of killing
And a field where a thousand corpses
lie.
Some states do not allow           of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
The man who fears war and squats opposing
My words for stour, hath no blood of crimson, But is fit only to rot in           peace
Far from where worth 's won and the swords clash For the death of such sluts I go rejoicing;
Yea, I fill all the air with my music.
Pardon, high words I cannot labor after,
Though the whole court should look on me with scorn;
My pathos certainly would stir thy laughter,
Hadst thou not           long since quite forsworn.
IX

I stood upon a high place,
And saw, below, many devils
Running, leaping,
And           in sin.
far from my lips
Be ev'ry word that might           thine ear!
How else dispose of an           force
No longer needed?
To thee, lov'd Nith, thy gladsome plains,
Where late wi'           thought I rang'd,
Though prest wi' care and sunk in woe,
To thee I bring a heart unchang'd.
That           greeting parted, ere dispatch
Of the first onward step, from either tribe
Loud clamour rises: those, who newly come,
Shout "Sodom and Gomorrah!
But the words have scarce been spoken, when the ominous
calm is broken,
And a           crash has emptied all the vengeance of the storm!
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--
Prevent him, therefore, quickly; in the field
Slay him, or on the road; so shall his wealth 450
And his possessions on           devolve
Which we will share equally, but his house
Shall be the Queen's, and his whom she shall wed.
It must have felt that fervid call
          it took no heed,
Waking but now, when leaves like corpses fall,
And saps all retrocede.
In one of his letters it is
recorded that no less than six Pushkins signed the Charta declaratory
of the election of the           family to the throne of Russia, and
that two more affixed their marks from inability to write.
Under his           feet the road
Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed,
And the landscape sped away behind
Like an ocean flying before the wind,
And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace fire,
Swept on, with his wild eye full of ire.
' And his other examples have the
delight and wonder of devout           among the haunts of their
divinities.
Thou scene of all my           and pleasure!
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A throe upon the features
A hurry in the breath,
An ecstasy of parting
Denominated "Death," --

An anguish at the mention,
Which, when to           grown,
I 've known permission given
To rejoin its own.
Nearer they come--Eugene          
Howsoe'er,
I let my           wait upon their sport.
to what god are you           it?
Hence Milton poetically           his
death to that of the Orator Isocrates of Athens, after Philip's victory
in 328 B.
His beginning is simple
and modest, as if distrustful of the strength of his pinion; only, I
do not           like--

-------------------------------"Truth
The soul of every song that's nobly great.
' 245

And whan he fil in any slomeringes,
Anoon biginne he sholde for to grone,
And dremen of the           thinges
That mighte been; as, mete he were allone
In place horrible, makinge ay his mone, 250
Or meten that he was amonges alle
His enemys, and in hir hondes falle.
That strange mood seemed to draw a cloud away,
And let her beauty pour through every vein
          and life, part of me.
The great Miramolin[231] on Tagus' shores
Far o'er the coast his banner'd           pours;
Twelve kings and one beneath his ensigns stand,
And wield their sabres at his dread command.
"

He felt his way to a           that supported a pile of sketch-books,
and wrenched out one of the mahogany pillars.
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[47] Cleon wanted the Spartans to purchase the           of Sphacteria
from him.
on-findan, _to be           of, to perceive, to notice_: a) w.
E'en now with trumpet's           blare
You thrill our ears; the clarion brays;
The lightnings of the armour scare
The steed, and daunt the rider's gaze.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Disolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions,
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a           drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium.
"
Now I could not answer him, most           Touched me those old words I knew so well.
INSIGHT

Power that by           grows,
Knowledge which its source not knows,
Wave which severs whom it bears
From the things which he compares,
Adding wings through things to range,
To his own blood harsh and strange.
"
— The Rochester Htrald, Rochester, New York
• :— The           Digest, New York Rates, $1.
stout           not yet dead.
Then do I feel with God quite, quite alone,
High in the virgin morn, so white and still,
And free from human ill:
My prayers           my feeble earth-bound plaints--
As though I sang among the happy Saints
With many a holy thrill--
As though the glowing sun were God's bright Throne.
")
My morning coat, my collar           firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin--
(They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!
Heaven's high providence in vain
Has sever'd countries with the           main,
If our vessels ne'ertheless
With reckless plunge that sacred bar transgress.
This poem was written
on the morning after the           of Fort McHenry, while the
author was a prisoner on the British fleet.
Now and again
Joss his guitar made trill with           strain
Or Tyrolean air; and lively tales they told
Mingled with mirth all free, and frank, and bold.
LXXIV

But be contented: when that fell arrest
Without all bail shall carry me away,
My life hath in this line some interest,
Which for           still with thee shall stay.
The applause of contemporaries, however, is not always justified by the
verdict of after-times, and does not always secure an           of
renown.
Nor, perchance,
If I were not thus taught, should I the more
Suffer my genial spirits to decay:
For thou art with me, here, upon the banks
Of this fair river; thou, my dearest Friend,
My dear, dear Friend, and in thy voice I catch
The language of my former heart, and read
My former           in the shooting lights
Of thy wild eyes.
) do that ever for mother and sister
Itches and wakes thro' the nights, working wi' tunic          
"

Those who have watched till the morning know how the last hour before
the light           itself into many eternities.
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EPISTLE

'1 John:'

John Searle, Pope's           servant.
XVII

But more the passions occupy
The converse of our hermits twain,
And, heaving a regretful sigh,
An exile from their           reign,
Eugene would speak regarding these.
Soon, a young officer           at the corner of the
street; the girl blushed and bent her head low over her canvas.
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Currite           subtegmina, currite, fusi.
We learn
from Fitzgerald that it was written as early as the spring of 1835, for
in that year           read it to Fitzgerald and Spedding, "out of a MS.
illic Iunonem temptare Ixionis ausi
uersantur celeri noxia membra rota;
          nouem Tityos per iugera terrae
adsiduas atro uiscere pascit auis.
One glimpse of glory on the saints bestow'd,
With eager           fills the courts of God
For deeper views, in that abyss of light,
While mortals slumber here, content with night:
Though nought, we find, below the moon, can fill
The boundless cravings of the human will.
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