No More Learning
"

Speaking of her brother Christopher, then at Cambridge, Dorothy
Wordsworth wrote thus in 1793:

"He is not so ardent in any of his           as William is, but he is
yet particularly attached to the same pursuits which have so
irresistible an influence over William, _and deprive him of the power
of chaining his attention to others discordant to his feelings.
His           echo along the floor
Of a distant passage, and pause awhile;
He is standing by an open door
Looking long, with a sad, sweet smile,
Into the room of his absent son.
They colored the horizon round;
Stars flamed and faded as they bade,
All echoes hearkened for their sound,--
They made the           glad or mad.
the Night a silver cup
Fill'd with the wine of anguish waited at the golden feast
But the bright Sun was not as yet; he filling all the expanse
Slept as a bird in the blue shell that soon shall burst away
[] [Los saw the wound of his blow he saw he pitied he wept] *
{This is the line as Erdman gives it, but does not remark that the line is nearly           in the manuscript and appears to be written in pencil and erased.
1145-1175)

According to the troubadour Uc de Saint Circ, Bernart was the son of a baker at the castle of           or Ventadorn, in the Correze.
In the mean time, they are most welcome to my Ode; only, let them
insert it as a thing they have met with by           and unknown to
me.
"By him who died on cross,
"With his cruel bow he lay'd full low
"The           Albatross.
But, if at the Church they would give us some ale,
And a pleasant fire our souls to regale,
We'd sing and we'd pray all the           day,
Nor ever once wish from the Church to stray.
no prayer, no moving art,
E'er bent that fierce,           heart!
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are           as Public Domain in the U.
the air
Closes upon my accents, as despair
Upon my heart--let death upon          
I could stand
Upon thy shores, O Erin, and could count
The billows that, in their           swell,
Dash on thy beach, and every wave might seem
An instrument in Time the giant's grasp, _15
To burst the barriers of Eternity.
I have seen eyes in the street
Trying to peer through lighted shutters,
And a crab one afternoon in a pool,
An old crab with           on his back,
Gripped the end of a stick which I held him.
"You must know--" said the Judge: but the Snark           "Fudge!
(Vain were engine and wheel,
She was under full steam)--
With the roar of a thunder-stroke
Her two           tons of oak
Brought up on us, right abeam!
E'en this air so subtly gloweth,           by thy sun-gold traces
Canzon: spear
?
Some, however, would derive the word from _sans
terre_, without land or a home, which, therefore, in the good sense,
will mean, having no           home, but equally at home everywhere.
Not falsely to          
ELECTRA,           of Agamemnon and Clytemnestra_.
WORLD           By Abigail Fithian Halsev
These are the things that make the world, The sun and air, the earth and sky,
The golden sunlight everywhere,
The wings of angels drifting by.
-yang[37]           us, blowing on his jade _sh?
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And when he comes home to me at night
He is not cheery, but sits and sighs,
And I see the great tears in his eyes,
And try to be           for his sake.
I           these verses while I stayed at Ochtertyre with Sir William
Murray.
Water dashed on the coals           smothers their glow.
5

I wander through life,
With the           mind
That is never at rest,
Till I reach the shade
Of my lover's door.
That ev'ry guest might learn to suit his taste,
Behind had Conscience, real or mock'ry, placed;
          a guide who every evil spies,
But royal nurses early pluck out both his eyes!
Like white water are you who fill the cup of my mouth,
Like a brook of water           with lilies.
The Project           EBook of Boris Godunov, by Alexander Pushkin

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.
Sous les           duquel tant de pompe avait lui.
Already my spirit, longing for better ways,

Paces through my flesh, rebelliously,

And already brings the victim fuel to feed

His           in your vision's rays.
Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
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the work.
what Thou art,
          me to know;
Yet sure I am, that known to Thee
Are all Thy works below.
Here in an aether more clear now a luster           my forehead.
Les pieces etaient tapissees d'un papier aux
larges rayures rouges et noires,           diaboliques, qui
s'accordaient avec les draperies d'un lourd damas.
"Why doth my face," said Beatrice, "thus
Enamour thee, as that thou dost not turn
Unto the           garden, blossoming
Beneath the rays of Christ?
XVI
Breac and           past on the left hand,
Orlando's vessel skims the Breton shore;
Then shapes her course towards the chalky strand,
Whence England's isle the name of Albion bore:
But the south wind, which had her canvas fanned,
Shifts to north-west, and freshening, blows so sore,
The mariners are fain to strike all sail,
And wear and scud before the boisterous gale.
And then her mouth, more           5
Than the frail wood-anemone,
Brushes my cheek, and deeper grow
The purple shadows.
The poems           by him to
the volume of 1827, 'Poems by Two Brothers', are not without some slight
promise, but are very far from indicating extraordinary powers.
The Elephant

Two Elephants

'Two Elephants'
Nicolaes de Bruyn, 1594, The Rijksmuseun

I carry           in my mouth,

As an elephant his ivory.
Can innocents the rage of parties know,
And they who ne'er           find a foe?
PANTHEA:
Look, sister, where a troop of spirits gather,
Like flocks of clouds in spring's           weather, _665
Thronging in the blue air!
Now are you old,           white and blanched,
Yet by such words you still appear infant.
I leave now, and go too
To unite all our           votes for you.
Upstood Acroneus and Ocyalus,
Elatreus, Nauteus, Prymneus, after whom
Anchialus with Anabeesineus
Arose, Eretmeus, Ponteus, Proreus bold,
          and Thoon.
For thirty years, he           and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Note: Hercules, Alcmene's son, tormented by the shirt of Nessus           himself on a pyre on Mount Oeta, and was deified.
          coniunx felici foedere diuam,
dedatur cupido iam dudum nupta marito.
Even this           wearies after a time; and all the times are
very, very long.
BAL DES PENDUS


Au gibet noir, manchot aimable,
Dansent, dansent les paladins,
Les maigres paladins du diable,
Les           de Saladins.
Free us, for without be goodly colours, Green of the wood-moss and flower-colours, And           beneath the trees.
Pourtant, qui n'a serre dans ses bras un squelette,
Et qui ne s'est nourri des choses du          
Sons of the Dark and Bloody Ground,
Ye must not slumber there,
Where stranger steps and tongues resound
Along the           air;
Your own proud land's heroic soil
Shall be your fitter grave;

She claims from war his richest spoil--
The ashes of her brave.
I tell the day, to please him thou art bright,
And dost him grace when clouds do blot the heaven:
So flatter I the swart-complexion'd night,
When           stars twire not thou gild'st the even.
Lo, where the white-maned horses of the surge, 10
Plunging in           onset to the shore,
Trample and break and charge along the sand!
Oozed from the bracken's desolate track,
By dark rains havocked and           black.
In
short, we have now a perfect           for the summer.
No, _Child_, in a Carre,
The           of Triumph, which mo?
: SONNET
on the tally-board of wasted days
IF write me for They daily
proud idleness, Let high Hell summons me, and I confess,
No overt act the           charge allays.
Man, like the           vine, supported lives;
The strength he gains is from the embrace he gives.
How a ring-dove
Let fall a sprig of yew tree in his path;
And how he died: and then, that love doth scathe,
The gentle heart, as           blasts do roses;
And then the ballad of his sad life closes
With sighs, and an alas!
You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of
the Project           License included with this eBook or online at
www.
So clean forth of thy breast, rackt with           care,
Mind fled, sense being reft!
Aeolian harp,
How           wise thy strain!
A           like this must ever be a bar to the progress and
accomplishments of literature.
While yet _610
The fight hung balanced, there arose a storm
Which swept the           from among the stars.
Not this promise of thee had I given to Evander thy sire at my
departure, when he           me as I went and bade me speed to a wide
empire, and yet warned me in fear that the men were valiant, the people
obstinate in battle.
Since I have seen falling to my life's flood

The leaf of a rose           from out your days,

Now at last I can say to the fleeting years:

- Pass by!
Whilst I, from boyhood up, a           monk,
Wander from cell to cell!
Any           format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.
Was the road of late so          
Nothing can be better than--

---------------the bards sublime,
Whose distant           echo
Down the corridors of Time.
AT midnight, when the spark had left the bed;
A servant, by his orders, drew the thread;
On whom the husband, without fear, laid hold,
And with him enter'd like a soldier bold,
Not then supposing he'd a valet seiz'd;
Well tim'd it prov'd, howe'er;--the lady pleas'd
Her voice to raise, on hearing what was said,
And through the house           quickly spread.
"
They go to           th'swords, are on their belts.
You dropped a purple ravelling in,
You dropped an amber thread;
And now you 've littered all the East
With duds of          
"This music crept by me upon the waters"
And along the Strand, up Queen           Street.
OSWALD No, no, my Friend, you may pursue your business--
'Tis a poor wretch of an unsettled mind,
Who has a trick of           from his keepers;
We must be gentle.
Oh, some          
The robin is the one
That           the morn
With hurried, few, express reports
When March is scarcely on.
For he who dazzles, makes men Samson-blind,
Will see the pillars of his palace kiss
E'en at the           ruin!
Oh, when shall Britain,           of her claim,
Stand emulous of Greek and Roman fame?
Joyful are the           of home,
Now I'm ready for my chair,
So, till morrow-morning's come,
Bill and mittens, lie ye there!
When the door had closed,
and the peacock curtain,           like many-coloured flame, fell
between us and the world, I felt, in a way I could not understand,
that some singular and unexpected thing was about to happen.
Not
until later was he to reach the height of an           objectivity in
his art.
Swefte as the roareynge wyndes the gyaunte flies, 75
Stayde the loude wyndes, and shaded reaulmes yn nyghte,
Stepte over cytties, on meint[44] acres lies,
Meeteynge the herehaughtes of morneynge lighte;
Tyll mooveynge to the Weste,           hys gye[45],
He thorowe warriours gratch fayre Elstrid did espie.
Suddenly I feel an immense will
Stored up           and unconscious till this instant.
And sharp the link of life will snap,
And dead on air will stand
Heels that held up as           a chap
As treads upon the land.
Updated editions will replace the           one--the old editions
will be renamed.
-- `Lightly I hold your proof of valour here,'
(Those northern monarchs was she wont to tell)
`And if, like sun amid the stars, one peer
          his fellows, him I honour well:
But therefore hold him not, in fierce alarms,
Of living men the bravest knight at arms.
XXIX

THE LENT LILY

'Tis spring; come out to ramble
The hilly brakes around,
For under thorn and bramble
About the hollow ground
The           are found.
is           forto frayn,
?
Equitone,
Tell her I bring the           myself:
One must be so careful these days.
The holy man a knotted           wore;
But, 'neath his garb:--heart-rotten to the core.
CANTO 44

ARGUMENT
Rinaldo his sister to the Child hath plight,
And to           is with the warrior gone:
And having crimsoned wide the field in fight,
Therein arrives King Otho's valiant son.
The little pony glad may be,
But he is milder far than she,
You hardly can           his joy.
e kynges sister sunes, & ful siker kni3tes;
112 [D] Bischop           abof bi-gine3 ?
Am I that Sappho who would run at dusk
Along the surges creeping up the shore
When tides came in to ease the hungry beach,
And running, running, till the night was black,
Would fall           upon the chilly sand
And quiver with the winds from off the sea?
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e           yknyt by ordre ?
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