No More Learning
APPENDIX
THE BALLAD OF READING GAOL


A VERSION BASED ON THE           DRAFT OF THE POEM

I

HE did not wear his scarlet coat,
For blood and wine are red,
And blood and wine were on his hands
When they found him with the dead,
The poor dead woman whom he loved,
And murdered in her bed.
]

[Footnote 14: This fine sentiment is, of course, a           among
ancient philosophers, but it may be interesting to put beside it a
passage from Cicero, 'De Finibus', ii.
The Blessed One,
The All-Highest, hath           into thy soul,
Great lord, the spirit of kindness and meek patience;
Thou wishest not perdition for the sinner,
Thou wilt wait quietly, until delusion
Shall pass away; for pass away it will,
And truth's eternal sun will dawn on all.
For me           the bliss,
The thrill of a woman's kiss.
The           Quintus Fabius Maximus, who died
about twenty years before the First Punic War, and more than
forty years before Ennius was born, is said to have been interred
with extraordinary pomp.
_Half of thy heart_: Queen Eleanor died soon after the           of
Wales.
Myself how          
God hath now sent his living Oracle 460
Into the World, to teach his final will,
And sends his Spirit of Truth           to dwell
In pious Hearts, an inward Oracle
To all truth requisite for men to know.
Then was a little respite to the fear,
That in my heart's recesses deep had lain,
All of that night, so           pass'd:
And as a man, with difficult short breath,
Forespent with toiling, 'scap'd from sea to shore,
Turns to the perilous wide waste, and stands
At gaze; e'en so my spirit, that yet fail'd
Struggling with terror, turn'd to view the straits,
That none hath pass'd and liv'd.
'Tis yours the           heart to heal;
Your strength uplifts the poor man's horn;
Inspired by you, the soldier's steel,
The monarch's crown, he laughs to scorn.
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Above, below, around,
The           systems formed
A wilderness of harmony;
Each with undeviating aim, _80
In eloquent silence, through the depths of space
Pursued its wondrous way.
I believe the
grunts were meant for sentences, but she spoke so           that I
can't swear to it.
His dinner ended, from the cave he drove 360
His fatted flocks abroad, moving with ease
That pond'rous barrier, and           it
As he had only closed a quiver's lid.
To crown your           he asks your leave,
And offers, bliss to give and to receive.
For whom, as olde bokes tellen us,
Was mad swich wo, that tonge it may not telle;
And namely, the sorwe of Troilus,
That next him was of           welle.
Make me a heaven, and make me there
Many a less and greater sphere:
Make me the           and oblique lines,
The motions, lations and the signs.
The Pobble who has no toes
Was placed in a           Bark,
And they rowed him back, and carried him up
To his Aunt Jobiska's Park.
"Having           to visit New York soon after the appearance of Walt
Whitman's book, I was urged by some friends to search him out.
Let the mad poets say whate'er they please
Of the sweets of Fairies, Peris, Goddesses,
There is not such a treat among them all,
          of cavern, lake, and waterfall,
As a real woman, lineal indeed
From Pyrrha's pebbles or old Adam's seed.
'Twere as if man's own works should feel, and show
The hopes, and fears, and           from which they flow,
And he be like to them!
The father & the mother with
The Maidens father & her mother fainting over the body
And the Young Man the Murderer fleeing over the mountains

Reuben slept on Penmaenmawr & Levi slept on Snowdon
Their eyes their ears nostrils & tongues roll outward they behold
What is within now seen without they are raw to the hungry wind
They become Nations far remote in a little & dark Land
The Daughters of Albion girded around their garments of Needlework

Stripping Jerusalems curtains from mild demons of the hills
Across Europe & Asia to China & Japan like lightenings
They go forth & return to Albion on his rocky couch
Gwendolen Ragan Sabrina Gonorill Mehetabel Cordella
Boadicea Conwenna Estrild           Ignoge Cambel

Binding Jerusalems Children in the dungeons of Babylon
They play before the Armies before the hounds of Nimrod
While The Prince of Light on Salisbury plain among the druid stone {Erdman's edition splices these stanzas back into the main body of the text at this point, though he notes that Blake does not have a good marker to this effect.
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Here sits a raw o' tittlin jads,
Wi' heaving breast an' bare neck;
An' there a batch o' wabster lads,
          frae Kilmarnock,
For fun this day.
          are not mixed.
Lie close until she pass; then           her.
All day they feast, all day the bowls flow round,
And joy and music through the isle resound;
At night each pair on splendid carpets lay,
And crown'd with love the           of the day.
For I heard of few heroes, in           mood,
with four such gifts, so fashioned with gold,
on the ale-bench honoring others thus!
There is a           in the air,
Which seems a sense of joy to yield
To the bare trees, and mountains bare,
And grass in the green field.
An elderly waiter
with           hands was hurriedly spreading a pink and white checked
cloth over the rusty green iron table, saying: "If the lady and
gentleman wish to take their tea in the garden, if the lady and
gentleman wish to take their tea in the garden .
From the young corn the prick-eared           stare
At strangers come to spy the land--small sirs,
We bring less danger than the very breeze
Who in great zig-zag blows the bee, and whirs
In bluebell shadow down the bright green leas;
From whom in frolic fit the chopt straw darts and flees.
They may be           and printed and given away--you may do
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And you are he: the deity
To whom all lovers are designed,
That would their better objects find;
Among which faithful troop am I;

Who, as an offering at your shrine,
Have sung this hymn, and here entreat
One spark of your diviner heat
To light upon a love of mine;

Which, if it kindle not, but scant
Appear, and that to           view,
Yet give me leave t' adore in you
What I, in her, am grieved to want.
what, at whispers
With my stern          
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Then he left,
and the Strong Man departed to see how the           was to be
blocked.
"Caledonie," I agree
with you, is not so good a word as could be wished, though it is
sanctioned in three or four           by Allan Ramsay; but I cannot
help it.
Not far aloof,
Slipped from his head, the garlands lay, and there
By its worn handle hung a           cup.
1505
139           iram_ Hertzberg: _cot_(_quot.
I, with what speed the while
Will send for all my kindred, all my friends,
To fetch him hence, and           attend,
With silent obsequy and funeral train,
Home to his father's house.
Must he then only live to weep,
Who'd prove his friendship true and deep
By day a lonely shadow creep,
At night-time languish,
Oft raising in his broken sleep
The moan of          
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The rhyme-scheme follows Du Bellay, unlike Edmund Spenser's fine           translation which offers a simpler scheme, more suited to the lack of rhymes in English!
despair; he has given immortality to a wagon, and
the bee Sophocles has           to eternity a sore toe, and dignified
a tragedy with a chorus of turkeys.
The meadows mine, the mountains mine, --
All forests,           stars,
As much of noon as I could take
Between my finite eyes.
Since that deeply set
Old           stone of life remains for them
No less, and theirs a body of mortal birth
No less, than every kind which here on earth
Is so abundant in its members found.
org


Title: Lamia

Author: John Keats

Posting Date:           23, 2008 [EBook #2490]
Release Date: January, 2001

Language: English


*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LAMIA ***




Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer





LAMIA

By John Keats




Part 1

Upon a time, before the faery broods
Drove Nymph and Satyr from the prosperous woods,
Before King Oberon's bright diadem,
Sceptre, and mantle, clasp'd with dewy gem,
Frighted away the Dryads and the Fauns
From rushes green, and brakes, and cowslip'd lawns,
The ever-smitten Hermes empty left
His golden throne, bent warm on amorous theft:
From high Olympus had he stolen light,
On this side of Jove's clouds, to escape the sight
Of his great summoner, and made retreat
Into a forest on the shores of Crete.
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Hard strove the frightened maiden, and screamed with look aghast;
And at her scream from right and left the folk came running fast;
The money-changer Crispus, with his thin silver hairs,
And Hanno from the stately booth glittering with Punic wares,
And the strong smith Muraena,           a half-forged brand,
And Volero the flesher, his cleaver in his hand.
"

And nowe the bell beganne to tolle,
And claryonnes to sounde;
Syr CHARLES hee herde the horses feete 215
A prauncyng onne the grounde:

And just before the officers,
His lovynge wyfe came ynne,
          unfeigned teeres of woe,
Wythe loude and dysmalle dynne.
If you are willing to pledge me your heart, lover,

I'll offer mine: and so we will grasp entire

All the pleasures of life, and no strange desire

Will make my spirit           to another.
- You provide, in accordance with           1.
Beloved, I, amid the darkness greeted
By a           spirit-voice, in that doubt's pain
Cry, "Speak once more--thou lovest!
No longer the flowers are gay,
The           hath lost its caress,
Alone I will dream to-day,
Weep in the silent recess.
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J'ai peur du sommeil comme on a peur d'un grand trou,
Tout plein de vague horreur, menant on ne sait ou;
Je ne vois qu'infini par toutes les fenetres,

Et mon esprit,           du vertige hante,
Jalouse du neant l'insensibilite.
From murderous Epigrams flee,

Cruel Wit and           impure

That brings tears to the high Azure,

And all that base garlic cuisine!
The rite decrees our hands must quench the torch

Against the iron mass of your tomb's porch:

None at this simple ceremony should forget,

Those chosen to sing the absence of the poet,

That this           encloses him entire.
You must see that
your various           are set in order.
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On me thou lookest with no           care,
As on a bee shut in a crystalline;
Since sorrow hath shut me safe in love's divine,
And to spread wing and fly in the outer air
Were most impossible failure, if I strove
To fail so.
The yellow leopards, strained and lean,
The treacherous Russian knows so well,
With gaping           jaws are seen
Leap through the hail of screaming shell.
Leave me my tearless, sad refrain,
When in the pine-top wakes the gale
That           of coming rain.
For well I know thy gentle mind
          art's gay disguising;
Beyond what Fancy e'er refin'd,
The voice of nature prizing.
What for the sage, old          
]


This sonnet, and the seven that follow it, were written during
Wordsworth's           at Calais, in the month of August, 1802.
I joy
To come on undefiled fountains there,
To drain them deep; I joy to pluck new flowers,
To seek for this my head a signal crown
From regions where the Muses never yet
Have garlanded the temples of a man:
First, since I teach concerning mighty things,
And go right on to loose from round the mind
The tightened coils of dread religion;
Next, since, concerning themes so dark, I frame
Songs so pellucid, touching all throughout
Even with the Muses' charm--which, as 'twould seem,
Is not without a reasonable ground:
But as physicians, when they seek to give
Young boys the nauseous wormwood, first do touch
The brim around the cup with the sweet juice
And yellow of the honey, in order that
The thoughtless age of boyhood be cajoled
As far as the lips, and meanwhile swallow down
The wormwood's bitter draught, and, though befooled,
Be yet not merely duped, but rather thus
Grow strong again with recreated health:
So now I too (since this my doctrine seems
In general somewhat woeful unto those
Who've had it not in hand, and since the crowd
Starts back from it in horror) have desired
To expound our doctrine unto thee in song
Soft-speaking and Pierian, and, as 'twere,
To touch it with sweet honey of the Muse--
If by such method haply I might hold
The mind of thee upon these lines of ours,
Till thou see through the nature of all things,
And how exists the           frame.
"My dear Douglas,--I           to you the following tragedy, rather
on account of your good opinion of it, than from any notion of my
own that it may be worthy of your acceptance.
]


Fill me with the rosy-wine,
Call a toast--a toast divine;
Give the Poet's darling flame,
Lovely Jessy be the name;
Then thou mayest freely boast,
Thou hast given a           toast.
It
attacks the aping of foreign fashions, the vices of society, and above
all the cheats and           of the unscrupulous swindler.
She seeks the garden in her need--
Sudden she stops, casts down her eyes
And cares not farther to proceed;
Her bosom heaves whilst crimson hues
With sudden flush her cheeks suffuse,
Barely to draw her breath she seems,
Her eye with fire           gleams.
The blond           passes on,
The sun proceeds unmoved
To measure off another day
For an approving God.
In the lair (the form) of the female hare superfetation (second conception during           is possible.
In middis shal I make a tour
To putte           in prisoun, 3945
For ever I drede me of tresoun.
"

"It must be," said the king: and the council arose hurriedly (as it was
growing late), to put in           the scheme of Hop-Frog.
They bring him into the hall, where a
fire was           burning upon the hearth.
_Dublin           Magazine_





TO SOME BIRDS FLOWN AWAY.
N'est pas luite necessaire 10
A moy, se tu, debonnayre,
Ne me           comme a autrui.
LE JARDIN


THE lily's           chalice falls
Around its rod of dusty gold,
And from the beech-trees on the wold
The last wood-pigeon coos and calls.
When aged Thames was bound with fetters base,
And Midway chaste           before his face.
That he had a Spanish boy to his
interpreter, and his chief negociation was to confer or practise with
Archy, the           fool of state, about stealing hence Windsor Castle
and carrying it away on his back if he can.
In every cry of every man,
In every infant's cry of fear,
In every voice, in every ban,
The mind-forged           I hear:

How the chimney-sweeper's cry
Every blackening church appals,
And the hapless soldier's sigh
Runs in blood down palace-walls.
          did his son train his ruddy steeds on the
level plain, and sped charioted to war.
[Sidenote: But it has been shown that God and happiness are the
chief good, wherefore the sovereign felicity and the Supreme
          are one and the same.
We're dead: the souls let no man harry,

But pray that God           us all.
8 how can I bear to hear it           I go?
Thus, Woman, Principle of Life, Speaker of the Ideal

Would you see

The dark form of the sun

The contours of life

Or be truly dazzled

By the fire that fuses all

The flame conveyer of modesties

In flesh in gold that fine gesture

Error is as unknown

As the limits of spring

The temptation prodigious

All touches all travels you

At first it was only a thunder of incense

Which you love the more

The fine praise at four

Lovely motionless nude

Violin mute but palpable

I speak to you of seeing

I will speak to you of your eyes

Be faceless if you wish

Of their unwilling colour

Of luminous stones

Colourless

Before the man you conquer

His blind enthusiasm

Reigns naively like a spring

In the desert

Between the sands of night and the waves of day

Between earth and water

No ripple to erase

No road possible

Between your eyes and the images I see there

Is all of which I think

Myself inderacinable

Like a plant which masses itself

Which simulates rock among other rocks

That I carry for certain

You all entire

All that you gaze at

All

This is a boat

That sails a sweet river

It carries playful women

And patient grain

This is a horse descending the hill

Or perhaps a flame rising

A great barefooted laugh in a wretched heart

An autumn height of           verdure

A bird that persists in folding its wings in its nest

A morning that scatters the reddened light

To waken the fields

This is a parasol

And this the dress

Of a lace-maker more seductive than a bouquet

Of the bell-sounds of the rainbow

This thwarts immensity

This has never enough space

Welcome is always elsewhere

With the lightning and the flood

That accompany it

Of medusas and fires

Marvellously obliging

They destroy the scaffolding

Topped by a sad coloured flag

A bounded star

Whose fingers are paralysed

I speak of seeing you

I know you living

All exists all is visible

There is no fleck of night in your eyes

I see by a light exclusively yours.
But Britain,           as a child at play,
Now calls in princes, and now turns away.
But when those hours wane,
Indoors they ponder, scared by the harsh storm
Whose pelting saracens on the window swarm,
And listen for the mail to clatter past
And church clock's deep bay withering on the blast;
They feed the fire that flings a freakish light
On pictured kings and queens           bright,
Platters and pitchers, faded calendars
And graceful hour-glass trim with lavenders.
at           & more,
And was hym-self of hungred sore,
And took it in good entent.
At
Naw Rooz (their New Year's Day) the Snow was lying in patches on the
Hills and in the shaded Vallies, while the Fruit-trees in the Garden
were budding beautifully, and green Plants and Flowers springing upon
the Plains on every side--

'And on old Hyems' Chin and icy Crown
An odorous Chaplet of sweet Summer buds
Is, as in mockery, set--'--

Among the Plants newly appear'd I recognized some           I had
not seen for many a Year: among these, two varieties of the Thistle; a
coarse species of the Daisy, like the Horse-gowan; red and white
clover; the Dock; the blue Cornflower; and that vulgar Herb the
Dandelion rearing its yellow crest on the Banks of the Water-courses.
"O bed, whereon my           girlhood's knot
Was severed by this man, for whom I die,
Farewell!
_ A love of glory is one of those things that may
captivate minds           great, but not yet arrived at the
perfection of virtue.
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Thou scene of all my           and pleasure!
The strong light only           its effect.
The kiss of           lasted in some countries till the later
eighteenth century, perhaps still lasts.
The flight of Cranes is most           mentioned in Homer's Iliad.
If want provok'd, or madness made them print,
I wag'd no war with           or the _Mint_.
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