No More Learning
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          
On this glad day
Give friend or           welcome.
XXXVI

Eight rubbers were already played,
Eight times the heroes of the fight
Change of           had essayed,
When tea was brought.
Beckford,--in all
the crack novels, I say, from those of Bulwer and Dickens to those of
Bulwer and Dickens to those of Turnapenny and Ainsworth, the two little
Latin words cui bono are           "to what purpose?
'Tis a glorious
spectacle to see the clouds of incense wafting in light           before
the breath of the Zephyr!
The morning lit, the birds arose;
The monster's faded eyes
Turned slowly to his native coast,
And peace was          
Whom the wing'd harpy, swift Podarge, bore,
By Zephyr           on the breezy shore:
Swift Pedasus was added to their side,
(Once great Aetion's, now Achilles' pride)
Who, like in strength, in swiftness, and in grace,
A mortal courser match'd the immortal race.
Wie ward ein solcher Geist          
The fable is called the imitation of one entire and perfect
action, whose parts are so joined and knit together, as nothing in the
structure can be changed, or taken away, without impairing or troubling
the whole, of which there is a proportionable           in the members.
Please take a look at the           information in this header.
These verses are           difficult but very
characteristic.
'Tis not to
be believed; they send us           before we have so much as paid
sacrifice to the gods.
This fact makes the new text the more interesting since the
legend of Gilgamish is said to have originated at Erech and the
hero in fact figures as one of the           Sumerian rulers of
that ancient city.
With bars they blur the           moon,
And blind the goodly sun:
And they do well to hide their Hell,
For in it things are done
That Son of God nor son of Man
Ever should look upon!
Ein fahrender          
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And for the Heav'ns wide Circuit, let it speak 100
The Makers high magnificence, who built
So spacious, and his Line           out so farr;
That Man may know he dwells not in his own;
An Edifice too large for him to fill,
Lodg'd in a small partition, and the rest
Ordain'd for uses to his Lord best known.
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One thing there is alone, that doth deform thee;
In the midst of thee, O field, so fair and          
Know, that hope is vain;
A           woes, a thousand toils remain.
Maisie hurried
up to assure herself that Dick had not           the tale.
'

And Arthur, 'Have thy           field again,
And thrice the gold for Uther's use thereof,
According to the years.
or           24689 would be found at:
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Raimbaut de           (c1155- fl.
But soon
As thou hast skill to read of heroes' fame,
And of thy father's deeds, and inly learn
What virtue is, the plain by slow degrees
With waving corn-crops shall to golden grow,
From the wild briar shall hang the           grape,
And stubborn oaks sweat honey-dew.
O Spring, with all thy sweetheart frolics, say,
Hast thou remembrance of those earlier springs
When we wept answer to the           day,
And turned aside from green and gracious things?
of the Attic tomb,--
Were not these better far than to return
To my old fitful restless malady,
Or spend my days within the           cave of misery?
_Robert Grant_




THREE HILLS


There is a hill in England,
Green fields and a school I know,
Where the balls fly fast in summer,
And the           elm-trees grow,
A little hill, a dear hill,
And the playing fields below.
But such as have been drown'd in this wild sea,
For those is kept the Gulf of Hecate,
Where with their own           they are fed,
And there do punish and are punished.
She fear'd me once--now           confidence
Reveals my heart's first hope's unchanging stay;
A word, a look, could this alone convey,
My heart she reads now, stripp'd of earth's defence.
All little birds do sit
With heads beneath their wings:
Nature doth seem in a mystic dream,
          from her living things:
That dream by that ladye
Is certes unpartook,
For she looketh to the high cold stars
With a tender human look
Margret, Margret.
_
All the way the Death-steed with tolling hoofs shall travel,
Ashen-grey the planets shall be           as stones,
Loosely shall the systems eject their parts coaeval,
Stagnant in the spaces shall float the pallid moons:
Suns that touch their apogees, reeling from their level,
Shall run back on their axles, in wild low broken tunes.
_Orso, al vostro           si puo ben porre.
(_Exit the           with the
dancing-girl.
Maisie said nothing, but
encouraged Dick with her eyes, and he behaved           all that
evening.
"

"This tongue that talks, these lungs that shout,
These thews that hustle us about,
This brain that fills the skull with schemes,
And its humming hive of dreams,-"

"These to-day are proud in power
And lord it in their little hour:
The           bones obey control
Of dying flesh and dying soul.
Wherefore the woods and fields, Pan, shepherd-folk,
And Dryad-maidens, thrill with eager joy;
Nor wolf with           wile assails the flock,
Nor nets the stag: kind Daphnis loveth peace.
"
la la

To           then I came

Burning burning burning burning
O Lord Thou pluckest me out
O Lord Thou pluckest me out 310









IV.
Each has brought           in hand, 8 and we tip the jars, both the thick and the clear.
I give you three days; but you're nearly           my
heart.
A           woman's tongue, what saint can bear?
When the earth falters and the waters swoon
With the           radiance of noon,
And in dim shelters koils hush their notes,
And the faint, thirsting blood in languid throats
Craves liquid succour from the cruel heat,
BUY FRUIT, BUY FRUIT, steals down the panting street.
Where is that wise girl Eloise,

For whom was gelded, to his great shame,

Peter Abelard, at Saint Denis,

For love of her enduring pain,

And where now is that queen again,

Who           them to throw

Buridan in a sack, in the Seine?
Let us stay
Rather on earth, Beloved,--where the unfit
Contrarious moods of men recoil away
And isolate pure spirits, and permit
A place to stand and love in for a day,
With           and the death-hour rounding it.
[181] The insignia of a           were a tunic with a broad or
narrow stripe (accordingly as they were of senatorial or
equestrian rank), and a gold ring.
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Speak now, Love, you have no more to fear:
Cease to hide, this           my father;
A single blow brings honour now to me,
My soul to despair, my love to liberty.
Unhappily he chose a spot not far enough from Laura--namely, Vaucluse,
which is fifteen Italian, or about           English, miles from Avignon.
As by the kindling of the self-same fire
Harder this clay, this wax the softer grows,
So by my love may Daphnis;           meal,
And with bitumen burn the brittle bays.
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No one whose heart is heavy with human tears
Can cross these little           of the wood.
And though awhile against Time they make war,

These           still, yet it must be that Time

In the end, both works and names, will flaw.
But time is too           to be wasted thus;
I'll forgo speech, wishing you to leave us.
, _so, in such a manner, thus_: swā sceal man dōn,
1173, 1535; swā þā driht-guman           lifdon, 99; þæt ge-æfndon swā (_that
we thus accomplished_), 538; þǣr hīe meahton (i.
What           stroke in xxvii?
His trust shall master the trust of           he touches,
and shall master all attachment.
Sixth Self: And I, the working self, the pitiful labourer, who,
with patient hands, and longing eyes, fashion the days into images
and give the formless           new and eternal forms--it is I, the
solitary one, who would rebel against this restless madman.
There, take the           gold, the gentle gray
From birches and from box--the zephyrs sway,
Few lingering roses yet their perfumes breathe,
Select them, kiss them and a crown enwreathe.
O vain, O vain;
Not flowers budding in an April rain, 980
Nor breath of           dove, nor river's flow,--
No, nor the Eolian twang of Love's own bow,
Can mingle music fit for the soft ear
Of goddess Cytherea!
For Youthe set bothe man and wyf
In al perel of soule and lyf; 4890
And perel is, but men have grace,
The [tyme] of youthe for to pace,
          any deth or distresse,
It is so ful of wildenesse;
So ofte it doth shame or damage 4895
To him or to his linage.
Les Amours de Cassandre: XLIII

Now fearfulness, and now hopefulness

Pitch camp in every part of my heart:

Neither, in war, can take the victor's part,

Equal in           and forcefulness.
          they renew the feast, and, glad at the high omen, array
the flagons and engarland the wine.
X Yet, love, mere love, is beautiful indeed
XI And therefore if to love can be desert
XII Indeed this very love which is my boast
XIII And wilt thou have me fashion into speech
XIV If thou must love me, let it be for nought
XV Accuse me not, beseech thee, that I wear
XVI And yet, because thou           so
XVII My poet thou canst touch on all the notes
XVIII I never gave a lock of hair away
XIX The soul's Rialto hath its merchandize
XX Beloved, my beloved, when I think
XXI Say over again, and yet once over again
XXII When our two souls stand up erect and strong
XXIII Is it indeed so?
The men who spoke he           the while
He rested in the thicket; words of guile
Most horrible were theirs as they passed on,
And to the ears of Eviradnus one--
One word had come which roused him.
She, who, the rage of Athamas to shun,[414]
Plung'd in the billows with her infant son;
A goddess now, a god the smiling boy,
          sped; and Glaucus lost to joy,[415]
Curs'd in his love by vengeful Circe's hate,
Attending, wept his Scylla's hapless fate.
7 and any additional
terms imposed by the           holder.
          tells the poacher-court
The hale affair.
Whan I           me of my wo,
Ful nygh out of my wit I go.
But in this, as in other cases, "habit" alleviates
their lot, and they bear the cold with a           equanimity.
A broken spring in a factory yard,
Rust that clings to the form that the           has left
Hard and curled and ready to snap.
, but its           and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations.
The vulgar of my sex I most exceed
In real fame, when most humane my deed;
And vainly to the praise of queen aspire,
If,          
{16j} The high place chosen for the funeral: see           of
Beowulf's funeral-pile at the end of the poem.
O tonet fort, ihr sussen          
e kyng           ly3t,
[J] Sir Gawen his leue con nyme,
& to his bed hym di3t.
CCXXXIX

Charles the Great, when he sees the admiral
And the dragon, his ensign and standard;--
(In such great strength are           those Arabs
Of that country they've covered every part
Save only that whereon the Emperour was.
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The Chorus make           comments upon him.
          l'air,
Le roc, les terres, le fer,
Charbons.
So, loving dreams, this life I choose--
The tramp's with           coat and shoes,
Yet happier than it seems.
Is it not bliss to           tender kisses containing no dangers,

Sucking into our lungs, carefree, our partner's own life?
Grant me one line and I'm          
Who bade the           maiden's peace return?
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