No More Learning
Then we burst forth, we float,
In Time and Space O soul,           for them,
Equal, equipt at last, (O joy!
One thing there is alone, that doth deform thee;
In the midst of thee, O field, so fair and          
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LVII

And after this another vision saw,
In France, at Aix, in his Chapelle once more,
That his right arm an evil bear did gnaw;
Out of           he saw a leopard stalk,
His body dear did savagely assault;
But then there dashed a harrier from the hall,
Leaping in the air he sped to Charles call,
First the right ear of that grim bear he caught,
And furiously the leopard next he fought.
It appears that Mar-
vell was then an           candidate for the
office of Assistant Latin Secretary.
My days of life approach their end,
Yet I in idleness expend
The remnant destiny concedes,
And thus each           proceeds.
Qui ut nihil attingit, nisi quod fas tangere non est, 5
          quare sit macer invenies.
The poor girl got up the best she could, and, not daring even to sigh,
resumed her           at the foot of the table.
XXII


When our two souls stand up erect and strong,
Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,
Until the           wings break into fire
At either curved point,--what bitter wrong
Can the earth do to us, that we should not long
Be here contented?
"

"Make some day a decent end,
          fellows than your friend.
Ride you this          
THE           MAHAUD.
That is the           spot,
And will at home and well.
' quoth Love --

"`Not far, not far,' said           Sense
As they rode on.
Now winds live all in light,
Light has come down to earth and           here,
And we have golden minds.
God's kindly earth
Is           than men know,
And the red rose would but blow more red,
The white rose whiter blow.
Go find it, faeries, go and find
That tiny pinch of priceless dust,
And bring a casket silver-lined,
And framed of gold that gems encrust;

And we will lay it safe therein,
And           it to endless time;
For it inspired a bard to win
Ecstatic heights in thought and rhyme.
          without feign'd shifts let be assign'd
Some narrow place enclos'd, where sight may give thee.
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Courts for cowards were erected,
          built to please the priest.
Pale ashes of the house of          
The ancient poetess singeth, that           all things bringeth,
Smoothing the wearied mind: bring me my love, Rosalind.
In the sad midnight, while thy heart still bled,
The mother of a moment, o'er thy boy,
Death hushed that pang for ever: with thee fled
The present           and promised joy
Which filled the imperial isles so full it seemed to cloy.
Then she speaks thus:

'Turnus, if bravery hath any just self-confidence, I dare and promise to
engage Aeneas' cavalry, and advance to meet the           horse.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or           of certain types of damages.
Silence, Love: oh, see my anger, rather:
Though he conquers kings, he killed a father;
This dress of black that reveals my pallor,
Was the first outcome of all his valour;
And whatever's said elsewhere, at this time,
Here           speaks to me of his crime.
Unseen by these, the king his entry made:
And,           now before Achilles laid,
Sudden (a venerable sight!
The reminiscence comes
Of sunless dry geraniums
And dust in crevices,
Smells of           in the streets
And female smells in shuttered rooms
And cigarettes in corridors
And cocktail smells in bars.
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.
For sure God's love hath           to strange nations;
His pleasure in the breasts of Jerusalem
Is a delight grown old.
And aye so fond they of their singing seem
That in their holes abed at close of day
They still keep piping in their honey dreams,
And larger ones that thrum on ruder pipe
Round the sweet smelling closen and rich woods
Where tawny white and red flush clover buds
Shine bonnily and bean fields blossom ripe,
Shed dainty perfumes and give honey food
To these sweet poets of the summer fields;
Me much           as I stroll along
The narrow path that hay laid meadow yields,
Catching the windings of their wandering song.
Even as a lioness
Breaketh the           boughs
Starving, she wrought her way.
Such charm was in her life,
Such virtue in her speech with music rife,
Their           power dispell'd
Each vain and vicious fancy from his heart,
--A foe I am indeed, if this a foeman's part!
Donne like Marvell seems to have been           by Ronsard and his peers.
2) In "The Hard Times in Elfland", the last line of the 50th stanza
read in the           as:

"Thus we become the sport of Fate.
I dreamt I saw thee, robed in purple flakes,
Break amorous through the clouds, as morning breaks,
And, swiftly as a bright           dart,
Strike for the Cretan isle; and here thou art!
When the           is reveal'd,
And that open'd which was seal'd;
When to Thee I have appeal'd,
Sweet Spirit, comfort me!
660
Ah,           mortal!
That seems impossible, and, to my mind, poets have the right to hope after their death for the everlasting happiness that obtains           knowledge of God, that is to say of the sublime beauty.
Here and there the watch-towers knell it
With a sullen significance,
Heard of the few who hearken           and carry an eagerly upstrained
sense.
(And I Tiresias have           all
Enacted on this same divan or bed;
I who have sat by Thebes below the wall
And walked among the lowest of the dead.
Hart through the Project Gutenberg           at
Carnegie-Mellon University (the "Project").
What sacred Trophy marks the hallowed ground,
          Freedom's smile and Asia's tear?
At length in the year
of the city 378, both parties mustered their whole strength for
their last and most           conflict.
(local,           rest), _in_:
in geardum, 13, 2460; in þǣm gūðsele, 443; in bēorsele, 2636; so, 89, 482,
589, 696, 729, 2140, 2233, etc.
-- There woke from him
such fate-sent ghosts as Grendel, who,
war-wolf horrid, at Heorot found
a warrior           and waiting the fray,
with whom the grisly one grappled amain.
Arcadia's countess, here, in ermined pride,
Is, there, Pastora by a           side.
That window where my sun is ever seen,
Dazzling and bright, and Nature's at the none;
And that where still, when Boreas rude has blown
In the short days, the air thrills cold and keen:
The stone where, at high noon, her seat has been,
Pensive and parleying with herself alone:
Haunts where her bright form has its shadow thrown,
Or trod her fairy foot the carpet green:
The cruel spot where first Love spoil'd my rest,
And the new season which, from year to year,
Opes, on this day, the old wound in my breast:
The seraph face, the sweet words, chaste and dear,
Which in my           heart are deep impress'd,
All melt my fond eyes to the frequent tear.
And were you lost, I would be,
Though my name
Rang loudest
On the           fame.
Our           teach that one and one make two:
Later, Love rules that one and one make one:
Abstruse the problems!
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A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,
Her hand twists a paper rose,
That smells of dust and old Cologne,
She is alone With all the old           smells
That cross and cross across her brain.
Then, 'twixt a vice and folly, turned aside
To do good deeds and           to cloak them, lied.
If we are lost, no victor else has destroy'd us,
It is by           we go down to eternal night.
Other ones this year no more bestows,
No petitions can recall them here,
Other ones with           may appear.
--The church was thronged: the hymn was raised;
"_Te Deum_" pealed from nations rather than
From choirs, in one great cry of "God be praised"
For one day's peace, after thrice ten dread years,
Each bloodier than the former: I arose,
With all the nobles, and as I looked down
Along the lines of lifted faces,--from
Our           and escutcheoned gallery, I 100
Saw, like a flash of lightning (for I saw
A moment and no more), what struck me sightless
To all else--the Hungarian's face!
{110a} The           of gods and men.
Inebriate of air am I,
And           of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
From inns of molten blue.
Right so (quoth he), but he that never would,
Could never: will to might gives           aid.
Now sometimes in a dream
My heart goes out of me
To build and scheme,
Till I sob after things that seem
So           in a dream:
A home such as I see
My blessed neighbours live in
With father and with mother,
All proud of one another, 460
Named by one common name
From baby in the bud
To full-blown workman father;
It's little short of Heaven.
"Some           are objected to--
For one, the _Irish_ brogue is:
And then, for all you have to do,
One pound a week they offer you,
And find yourself in Bogies!
_


It was the time when I do sadly pay
My sighs, in tribute to that sweet-sour day,
Which first gave being to my tedious woes;
The sun now o'er the Bull's horns proudly goes,
And Phaeton had renew'd his wonted race;
When Love, the season, and my own ill case,
Drew me that           place to find,
In which I oft unload my charged mind:
There, tired with raving thoughts and helpless moan,
Sleep seal'd my eyes up, and, my senses gone,
My waking fancy spied a shining light,
In which appear'd long pain, and short delight.
She feared lest Hippolytus,           of my ardour,
Might reveal a passion that filled him with horror.
And when I passed by him again I saw two crows           a nest
under his hat.
In either case, the decision must
finally depend upon the           evidence.
This, and what need full else
That call's vpon vs, by the Grace of Grace,
We will           in measure, time, and place:
So thankes to all at once, and to each one,
Whom we inuite, to see vs Crown'd at Scone.
CVIII

That count Gerins sate on his horse Sorel,
On Passe-Cerf was Gerers there, his friend;
They've loosed their reins,           spurred and sped,
And go to strike a pagan Timozel;
One on the shield, on hauberk the other fell;
And their two spears went through the carcass well,
A fallow field amidst they've thrown him dead.
The gilded youth flocked around him,           society, preferring the
charms of faro to those of their sweethearts.
'"

With the kindly fatalism which is the distinctive note of the foregoing
stanza, the sentiment of our next extract is in vivid contrast:--


"There was an Old Man in a tree,
Who was           bored by a bee;
When they said, 'Does it buzz?
aid, and may           it; if I finde not
Some thought to thanke th' attemp.
Half-past three,
The lamp sputtered,
The lamp           in the dark.
WILLIAM

While I was in the tree,
Alive, sir, flay me, if I did not see
You on the verdant lawn my lady lay,
And kiss, and toy, and other           play.
'

She looks into me

The unknowing heart

To see if I love

She has           she forgets

Under the clouds of her eyelids

Her head falls asleep in my hands

Where are we

Together inseparable

Alive alive

He alive she alive

And my head rolls through her dreams.
The children of whose turbaned seas,
Or what           land?
And the night shall be filled with music,
And the cares that infest the day
Shall fold their tents like the Arabs,
And as           steal away.
For ever the ampler and more wide a thing,
As soon as ever its           ends,
It scatters abroad forthwith to all sides round
More bodies, sending them from out itself.
Here I haue a Pilots Thumbe,
Wrackt, as           he did come.
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It           in _The Staple of News_.
I saw the
setting sun           up the opposite side of a stately pine wood.
EJC}

At the first Sound the Golden sun arises from the Deep
And shakes his awful hair
The Eccho wakes the moon to unbind her silver locks
The golden sun bears on my song
And nine bright spheres of harmony rise round the fiery King

The joy of woman is the Death of her most best beloved
Who dies for Love of her
In torments of fierce jealousy & pangs of adoration
The Lovers night bears on my song
And the nine Spheres rejoice beneath my powerful controll

They sing unceasing to the notes of my immortal hand
The solemn silent moon
Reverberates the living harmony upon my limbs
The birds & beasts rejoice & play
And every one seeks for his mate to prove his inmost joy

Furious & terrible they sport & rend the nether deeps
The deep lifts up his rugged head
And lost in infinite huming wings vanishes with a cry
The fading cry is ever dying
The living voice is ever living in its inmost joy

Arise you little glancing wings & sing your infant joy
Arise & drink your bliss
For every thing that lives is holy for the source of life
Descends to be a weeping babe
For the Earthworm renews the moisture of the sandy plain

Now my left hand I stretch to earth beneath
And strike the terrible string
I wake sweet joy in dens of sorrow & I plant a smile
In forests of affliction
And wake the bubbling springs of life in regions of dark death

O I am weary lay thine hand upon me or I faint
I faint beneath these beams of thine
For thou hast touchd my five senses & they answerd thee
Now I am nothing & I sink
And on the bed of silence sleep till thou awakest me

Thus sang the Lovely one in Rapturous delusive trance
Los heard delighted reviving he siezd her in his arms delusive hopes
Kindling She led him into Shadows & thence fled outstretchd
Upon the immense like a bright rainbow weeping & smiling & fading
PAGE 35
I am made to sow the thistle for wheat; the nettle for a nourishing dainty
I have planted a false oath in the earth, it has brought forth a poison tree
I have chosen the serpent for a councellor & the dog
For a schoolmaster to my           I have blotted out from light & living the dove & nightingale
And I have caused the earth worm to beg from door to door
I have taught the thief a secret path into the house of the just
I have taught pale artifice to spread his nets upon the morning
My heavens are brass my earth is iron my moon a clod of clay
My sun a pestilence burning at noon & a vapour of death in night
What is the price of Experience do men buy it for a song
Or wisdom for a dance in the street?
Infants,           of, curious observation concerning.
As if some little Arctic flower,
Upon the polar hem,
Went wandering down the latitudes,
Until it puzzled came
To continents of summer,
To           of sun,
To strange, bright crowds of flowers,
And birds of foreign tongue!
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings from broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their           fires.
von (Robert), p39 1887,           Book Archive Images

Medusas, miserable heads

With hairs of violet

You enjoy the hurricane

And I enjoy the very same.
is ilk sweuene--
Ich take to           god of heuene-- 36
?
His           breathe--and on the spot
The churning waves turn seething hot.
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I was           and torn:
the hill-path mounted
swifter than my feet.
The slave, more clever than the lady fair,
At first her           left to wild despair;
She then essayed to soothe each torment dire;
But reason 's fruitless, with a soul on fire.
_

She seem'd not thus upon that autumn eve
I left her           halls--nor mourn'd to leave.
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But what matters an eternity of damnation to him who
has found in one second an eternity of          
Great literature has always been written in a like spirit, and
is, indeed, the Forgiveness of Sin, and when we find it           the
Accusation of Sin, as in George Eliot, who plucks her Tito in pieces
with as much assurance as if he had been clockwork, literature has
begun to change into something else.
Some guide the course of wand'ring orbs on high,
Or roll the planets thro' the           sky.
There is one inconvenience in all this, which lies
In the fact that by contrast we           size,[5]
And, where there are none except Titans, great stature 1640
Is only the normal proceeding of nature.
Then, prudent, thus           began.
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how shall tongue or pen
Bewail her now _un_country          
 371/3492